#hes so funny. for just staying on the floor

[trashytracktales]

okay kinda of a weird question but how do you think lando would react at eating aphrodisiacs by accident or something and suddenly he’s all hot and salivating ….like he would definitely try to play it cool and stay nonchalant but he can feel the blood flowing south and south, he’s kinda dying inside lmao it would be so funny to witness

Phenylethylamine | LN⁴

🍫 summary ──── Lando has a habit of stealing her sweets, but after he accidentally eats her special chocolate, his girlfriend makes sure it’s the last time he touches them without asking.

🍫 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🍫 rating ──── explicit

🍫 warnings ──── 18+, graphic sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, smut, aphrodisiac use (very exaggerated symptoms for the sake of writing smut lmao), sexual frustration, teasing, mutual masturbation, pillow humping/grinding, praising, unprotected sex, soft power dynamics, light slapping, detailed descriptions of sweat, cum, and wetness + messy sex scenes with even messier finishes, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, post-sex banter (I apologize in advance for my broken humor).

🍫 word count ──── 5.3k

🍫 date ──── Jun. 30, 2025

🍫 a/n ──── I swear this was supposed to be cool and nonchalant while Lando died on the inside, but I saw this ask during ovulation so here we are, allow me ☝🏻🤓

LANDO IS IRRITATED.

He fumbles with the lock, only managing to open the door after the third attempt. The moment it swings inward, he’s hit with the familiar warmth of their apartment, but its comfort doesn’t tame the ache pounding through his bloodstream. Every inch of him thrums with a need he’s never felt before, not this intense and constant, and he can’t see the end of it, no matter how hard he tries to calm down.

He’s flushed from head to toe, his cheeks adorably painted in a pale shade of pink, his pulse visibly agitated under the hot skin. So hot that it can set him on fire.

The clothes are suffocating, making him wonder how it’s possible to feel the them on every inch of the body they make contact with, starting with his shoulders and ending with the tip of his toes.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, she hears the noise like a gunshot. It’s not just the sound, but the energy it propagates throughout the silent apartment, heavey and rushed at the same time. She also hears him muttering something to himself, which makes her smile with how bothered he seems.

Lando’s footsteps hit the floor like he’s even forgotten how to walk, but then he stops when he sees her waiting in the living room. Most likely looking forward to just point and laugh at him.

And he can’t blame her, since he probably looks like an idiot right now. A very horny idiot.

His curls are slightly damp at the temples, the collar of his team hoodie stretched and clinging to his neck with cold sweat. One hand clenches uselessly at his side, unable to sit still while switching his weight from one leg to the other. His lips are a little red and glossy, probably from licking them every few seconds, and his pupils are noticeably dilated.

He’s either already commited a crime or he’s about to, the girl thinks.

“You’re home early,” she teases, fighting a smile.

His breath comes shallow when he speaks, “Yeah, well,” Lando nods, stepping out of his shoes. Even the glide of fabric against his thighs makes him groan. Every movement of his muscles sends sparks firing straight to his cock, already hard, twitching in his boxers with every maddening beat of his heart. “Called Oscar about halfway to tell the team I wasn’t feeling well. And I’m pretty sure he heard me moan right before I hung up.”

She leans a shoulder against the doorway, arms loosely crossed. “Mhm,” she hums, “Are you sick, Lando? Coming down with fever or something?”

He snorts. “I think I blacked out driving back,” says Lando, rubbing a hand down his face like the memory — or lack of one — spooks him. “I don’t even remember when…” his eyes drop, landing directly on the hem of her shorts.

Her sleepwear is laughably minimal, he figures. Silk jersey shorts that ride high on the thigh, the kind that barely conceal the gentle curve of her ass cheeks when she shifts her weight. Plus the tank top that’s one size too small, holding her breasts like it’s one inhale away from failure. No bra, of course, because why spare him?

She catches where his gaze is pinned and lets her lips curl. “So it works then,” she purrs, stepping toward him with languid grace. “Interesting.”

Lando opens his mouth like he might agree, but nothing comes out except a strangled little exhale.

She gets in front of him, lightly brushing her chest against his, while letting her face tilt up toward his. She notices how hard he tries to remain casual and nonchalant, but she sees how he swallows his saliva every three seconds, like a thirsty, overly excited puppy.

Her mouth parts, going in for the kiss he’s clearly desperate for, but ends up planting a light peck on his cheek instead.

Lando’s jaw clenches beneath her lips. He knows her well enough to know that she will jump on any opportunity to make him suffer just to get even, so he’s in no hurry to put his thoughts in order now. In return, he grips her by the waist and yanks her flush against him. One hand slides down without hesitation and cups the underside of her ass, fingers splaying possessively over her skin. His breath catches when her body finally presses fully to his, making her gasp a little when he squeezes. His lips crash onto hers, tongue immediately sweeping past her lips as if asking would take too long.

She laughs into his mouth, amused yet breathless, because she can feel how every part of him is straining, twitching, and aching to be taken care of.

Pulling back a little, she licks her lips while keeping her eyes on his glassy, fucked-out gaze. “You’re sweating,” she informs him as if he’s not already aware of it. “You need a shower.”

“I need you,” he contradicts her with no hesitation, pressing her tighter against him.

She laughs again. “Right. As if I’ll let you have it that easy,” says the girl, pushing him in the chest in order to slip out of his embrace. “You ate my chocolate, Lando. All of it, like the greedy man that you are.”

“Exactly,” he points out. “You know I have a sweet tooth, and that makes it your fault entirely. For leaving it out on display like that.”

Lando is breathing hard as he watches her hips sway just ahead of him, each step teasing him harder than the previous one. Her shorts ride higher with every movement, revealing more of those soft curves he can’t stop thinking about, now that they’re right there.

She pauses at the bedroom door before turning around. “Well, then. Maybe next time you’ll ask before stealing, even if it is out on display like that,” she shrugs, and disappears inside, curious to see how long it takes until he’ll actually break.

Without wasting time, Lando trails behind her into the bedroom like a teenager who’s just been grounded, even more frustrated than he was a minute ago, and seconds away from whining.

“Wait, that’s it? You actually won’t let me fuck you now?” he asks, voice laced with slight annoyance. His brows are pulled together, chest rising fast beneath his hoodie. He looks half-wrecked already, like just being near her is doing damage.

As a response, the girl sits gracefully on the edge of the bed, her knees spreading slightly and her eyes holding his like a silent dare. “I will, I will,” she says calmly, voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re gonna have to work for it.”

He blinks in disbelief, a chuckle leaving his mouth in a breath. “Work for it? Look at me, darling.”

She leans back on her palms, the curve of her mouth going smug. “Yeah, I see you, needy boy. Sadly, the chocolate was meant for both of us,” she reminds him. “But you ate it all, so now you’re a mess, and I’m not even close. Not fair.”

Lando sighs, running both hands down his face. “No, you are unfair,” he accuses.

She shrugs. “Make me want it like you do,” she adds, then watches as he strips, without complaining any further, as if he already has a clear plan in mind on how to.

He yanks his hoodie over his head first, ruffling his curls and making them even messier in the process. The fabric lifts, revealing the toned stretch of his abdomen, leaving her admiring her boyfriend for a moment, until her gaze dips lower as his arms flex, veins prominent, just as he gets pissed at the drawstring of his pants like it’s personally offended him.

He kicks them off in a frenzy, almost loses balance, stumbles a step back, then mutters a breathless, “Fucking hell.”

She lets out a small laugh, biting her lip while she watches him stand there, half-naked and impossibly bothered.

His cock bobs free when he kicks off his boxers, flushed a deep red, thick with arousal and already glistening at the tip. He’s hot, and she’d have no issue letting him fuck her into oblivion like this, but the game she’s planned for Lando is more complex, meant not only to remind him not to steal her sweets again, but also to get revenge for every time he teased her while she was the needy one.

“Spread for me,” he orders soflty in a barely audible voice.

She complies, her legs parting slowly as she stares at him with a knowing look. Lando can’t read that expression at first, but when he’s close enough to kneel in front of her, the girl lifts one leg with practiced grace and places the ball of her foot gently against his chest. The pressure is light, but commanding, making him freeze in place.

“Right there,” she says. “Stay.”

The flicker in his eyes stops too, somewhere between adoration, confusion, and desperation, all at once.

Lightly, she trails her foot down his torso then up again, leaving tiny goosebumbs behind. As tamed, her hand slips beneath the waistband of her shorts, feeling her breath catching and lips curving upward in a sort of smirk, but far more intimate. Her eyes don’t leave his, especially not when her fingers easily find the clit, but then she closes them, inhaling through her mouth like she’s trying to remember how air tastes like.

Lando exhales sharply, the sound loud in the silence, doing the only thing he can at the moment: stares.

“Baby…” he starts, then trails off.

One of his palms curls around her ankle, placing a wet kiss there, his hungry eyes watching her pleasure herself as she purposefully tortures him with her pretty noises.

She hums in response, but not to mock him this time. It’s just light satisfaction, as she stays focused on the movement of her fingers, the heat building slowly but surely. Her other hand rests on the sheets beside her, gripping them tightly as she finds deeper places inside. Each breath she takes deepens the burn in his belly, too, and when she opens her eyes again, Lando’s are dark and fixed. On her.

“Come here,” she says.

Lando doesn’t hesitate. He leans over, kissing her lips like he needs to be saved. His hand rests beside her head, steadying himself in the process, while the other brushes her waist. He always loved her velvety skin, but now its smoothness sends his whole body into overdrive; he needs to grab, to squeeze and bite, to leave traces that they can admire together later.

Luckily, her mouth is meeting his with the same urgency, and she pulls him deeper into the kiss, sighing against him like it’s the only way to stay sane.

His fingers slide under her top, and she lets him undress her one piece at a time, her soaked shorts first, then the barely-there tank top. She’s so beautiful beneath him, flushed and breathless and so mean for doing this to him. And then, just when Lando thinks he might finally have her, she gently pushes him down onto the mattress.

He lies back in surprise, watching her with expectant eyes. Waiting. She straddles his hips for a second, her weight a short relief on top of him, their skin meeting just for a beat, but still enough to make him think she’s about to ride him. To finally give him the release he’s craving.

It’s such a disappointment when she leans in and tugs the pillow from beneath his head instead, causing him to lie completely flat and defenseless on the mattress.

Lando closes his eyes, frustration surfacing through his words next time he speaks, “Baby, come on,” he sighs. “I get it, yeah? What do you want from me?”

“I need this big mouth shut,” she whispers, leaving a kiss on his tensed jaw, “And your pretty eyes on me,” the girl continues.

Lando lifts his head slightly the second he feels her absence, only to watch her placing the pillow between her legs, settling herself on top of it; his breath catches in his throat so sudden that his heart skips a beat for that fraction. Her thighs part, her hips roll forward, and the movement is fluid and sensual, making his thought process devastatingly slow.

He studies every shiver though, monitoring as the soft fabric disappears into the slick heat of her pussy as she sinks on it, letting out a delicate moan. She knows how to move with intention, rising and falling like a tide that pulls Lando under without his permission. His cock twitches at the sight of her grinding against the smooth cotton as her folds glisten, dragging more sticky wetness into the fabric.

His mouth goes dry and his throat feels like he’s been drinking sand. Almost like it’s an automatism, he fists himself again, not because he wants to, but because he has to.

She’s driving him mad, and they both know it. Her body is art, guiding herself with a lush precision designed to shut down the rational part of him — if he ever had one. There’s not a shy bone in her body, and no hesitation in her pleasure. And she gives him nothing more than a front-row seat to it.

Gradually, her hips catch on, moving faster and faster, as her hands clutch the pillowcase. Lando’s name escapes her lips in short spasms as she does, and that has the power to nearly break him. On the other end, he can barely speak, burning alive in his own skin. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the way she rocks, hips flexing in a rhythm that’s pure madness.

The breathy sounds wrap around his spine, pushing Lando to keep looking, to see exactly why she’s so lost in it. He wants nothing more than to touch her. Every single cell in his body screams at him to do so. Instead, he settles for the heat of his own skin slapping against his fist, nothing compared to what he imagines hers would be like: slick and tight and pulsing around him. The thought makes his hips quiver, and he begins to stroke faster, matching her rhythm.

His voice is wrecked when he manages, “Hate this. It fuckin’ hurts, but can’t stop.”

Her moans grow louder and arches her back in response. “That’s the point,” she replies.

“Please,” he whines, but isn’t sure what’s he begging for anymore.

She smiles as she grinds harder, letting the pillow press deeper into her clit.

As if he had reached his limits, Lando can’t bear the distance anymore. The ache in his chest is consuming, matching the one in his cock. It’s an overwhelming need, not just to touch and be inside her, but to be close, to breathe her in. So he moves, cautiously, like she might banish him if he oversteps.

Lando kneels closer to her on the mattress, muscles locked with restraint and the need to just relax. His nostrils flare, eyes flickering with carnal hunger at how she bounces, her lips opening around breathless moans that immediately ripple through him like shockwaves. His thumb slides against the swollen tip at that, smearing all the pre-cum there as he watches her move.

She lifts and sinks, again and again, so needy and so close that her moans starts coming out in short, broken cries.

“Lan…”

“That’s it, fuck. Show me how good it feels,” he whispers, eyes locked on her every tremor. “Could’ve been under you, but you’re too stubborn to ride me, hm? Trying to prove a point, aren’t you?”

She cries out again, clutching the pillow more firmly while fucking it with more urgency. Her thighs tremble as her hips chase the sweet friction, each bounce sloppier than the last. And soon after that, Lando’s cock jerks in his fist harder, watching her body unraveling in front of him. The muscles in his forearm are tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. His eyes can’t afford to leave her now that they’re so close. Not when every little whimper and every roll of her hips is dragging him into their own heaven.

“Shit. You gonna come, baby?” he pants. “Let me see your pretty cunt soaking my pillow.”

“Come closer,” she breathes, lifting her head to give him a knowing look.

And that’s all it takes for Lando to understand.

Her eyes flick briefly between her thighs and then back to him. There’s no hesitation in what she wants: him to be there, with her. On her. In this with her, in every way she can take him without actually having him inside her. And the implication lands like a weight in Lando’s chest.

He exhales another fuck under his breath, ragged and helpless and so greedy. His body moves before his mind catches up, sliding close enough that he can see hers shaking. The image makes him stroke rougher, everything tightening inside him as he angles himself lower.

She shifts ever so slightly, adjusting her hips so she’s dragging her soaked center over the very center of the pillow, welcoming him. Lando presses forward, his hand working in a blur, eyes burning into hers as his release crashes over him like a freight train. He lets out a strangled cry as his body tenses, then jerks; thick ropes of cum spill from him, splattering across the fabric beneath her, streaks of white painting the same cotton her pussy continues to ride, her body tweaking with a choked cry.

She sobs at the feeling, thighs clamping down and grinding right into it, catching his release with her folds, smearing it all over her clit like she’s trying to claim it.

“Fuuuck,” he almost shouts, eyes following every second of her using him, even in this way. “You’re so fucking perfect. Fucking mean, but so perfect.”

She collapses at the intensity, burying her face in the scent of their bedsheets. Lando’s still breathing hard, his hand sticky with release, the pillow soaked and shining between her thighs. His eyes are glued, watching her completely wrecked, realizing how completely in love he is, and how completely sure that nothing has ever looked more beautiful than his girl on this bed, right in this moment.

She turns her head just to catch him in her periphery. “You want to feel it?” she asks, voice velvety-soft, different from before.

She lifts herself up then, careful and fluid, staying on her knees. The pillow remains between her legs, and she adjusts it just enough to keep her clit in contact with the soaked cotton as she spreads herself open on all fours. The curve of her back is sinful, her ass arching perfectly, folds glistening in the low light, shining with her own slick and now streaked with his cum.

Lando’s mouth goes completely dry.

“Show me what that chocolate did to you,” she almost begs, closing her eyes at the irony of how quickly the tables have turned.

He’s behind her in an instant.

One hand finds her hip, then cups one ass cheek, his fingers digging in like he needs to anchor himself before drowning in his own needs. The other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to her entrance.

She’s so wet that the tip slides easily through her folds, coating in the mess they’ve made together. And when he finally pushes in, the sound he makes is broken — a choked, inhibited whimper that shoots out of his chest like a bullet. His head drops between his shoulders as her wet heat clamps around him, drawing him in, inch by inch.

“Oh my fuck,” he breathes, hips jerking deeper involuntarily. “You feel so good, love.”

Her mouth falls open, rocking back enough to take him fully. The pillow shifts under her, and her clit finds it again, angled perfectly for her to feel it every time he moves behind her.

“Just like that… Stay close.”

Lando’s hands grip her firmly, fingertips pressing into her skin in order to make sure she’s not moving a single inch without his approval. Then, he begins to thrust, shallow and controlled for a fraction, breath catching with every grind of her hips. The slick sounds of their bodies joining blend with the wet friction of her pussy dragging against the cum-soaked cotton, making her melt under him like ice-cream forgotten in the sun, her spine flexing with every roll of his hips.

“So close, baby,” he speaks against her back, barely able to breathe from how hard he’s pushing inside her. “You take me so easy. Opening up like it’s nothing, hm?”

She responds to him by pushing back into him again, and the groan Lando lets out is harsh, and almost pained.

“More,” she tells him. “Wanna feel all of you while I ride your mess.”

The smile blooming on his face is diabolical, his hips slapping against her ass as the wet squelch of her grinding continues beneath them. She swallows her whimpers instantly, biting her lip to stifle the sounds as her clit gets overstimulated, friction sending lightning through her limbs.

He can’t stop praising her, voice breaking between thrusts, “So good around me. So fuckin’ tight. Not gonna last, baby.”

“No,” she pants. “Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. The need to feel her around his cock like that is greater than any rational thought he’s ever had. Every time he pushes into her, it’s like the first time all over again, and he can’t see a place in time where he will ever stop.

She’s so full of him. Every inch of her stretching sweetly, clutching tight, sucking him deeper with a need that borders on pure lust. He opens her wider, but her thighs press together weakly in order to prolong the pleasure.

His second climax crashes into him violently and unannounced. Lando buries himself as deep as he can go, body locked in place, and lets go with a throaty moan that tears straight from his chest. His cock pulses hard inside her, again and again, hot spurts of cum flooding her cunt, so much of it that it spills around his length, dripping down her thighs.

Her body jolts forward with every thrust, the bed creaking beneath them and, as a result, her arms give out beneath her, causing her to collapse face-first into the pillow, all of her moans muffled that way.

Somehow, his hips are still moving.

Even as he comes, his body keeps going with hard thrusts that punch wet sounds from between them, desperate and uncontrollable.

His brain fogs over, drowned in heat and light and so much pleasure. His skin burns from his cheeks to the soles of his feet, heart pounding against his ribs like it’s trying to escape his ribcage. His muscles are on fire, too, burning from the inside out as if they’re tearing away from his bones with every twitch and instinctive snap of his hips into her soft, fucked-out body.

Lando can’t take his eyes off where she’s stretched tight around him, glistening and clenching, drawing him in, not wanting to let go. It feels like he’s getting harder inside her, the pleasure and pain blending together and sending both of them to a realm where nothing else exists, except their bodies, intertwined.

The high doesn’t fade, but tears start stinging at the corners of his eyes. Worn out, Lando leans in and pants against the sweat-damp skin of her back, overwhelmed and on the edge of begging for mercy. Or more. He presses his forehead to the space between her shoulder blades and groans, a loud noise that doesn’t sound human anymore.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales. “This is... holy shit. I can’t stop fucking you.”

He’s leaving marks on her skin, whether he means to or not. Red smudges blooming beneath his fingertips where he grips her hips, fingerprints on her waist, even the shadow of teeth at the swell of her ass from when he’d bit down, without remembering exactly when. His thighs slap wetly against hers, over and over, as he drives his cum deeper into her, their combined mess dripping in thick trails, soaking further into the sheets.

Yet, she’s still muffling her moans into the pillow.

Lando frowns through the daze, instincts cutting through his pleasure like a blade. Gently, his hand lifts and slaps the flesh of her ass, enough to jolt her body and shake her back to the surface.

“You still with me?” he asks, barely holding together.

She lets out a soft cry, assuring him that she is.

At that, he moves without thinking, one arm wrapping around her middle, pulling her up until she’s kneeling against his chest, her back flush to his front. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, and he cups her breast with one hand, the other holding her steady as he keeps moving inside her, slower now, but no less desperate.

Her pussy squeezes around his length, still so warm, so slippery and wet from the storm of sinful whimpers and sounds between them.

“Ask your friend where she got the goddamn chocolate, yeah?” Lando urges her. “And order a dozen of ‘em.”

She would’ve laughed at the irony, but she’s far too busy to feel every sensation in her body, that’s crumbling against his heated chest with every passing second.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold them up like that. Every muscle in his body is shaking with exhaustion and bliss and something close to a irrational fear that he might actually never come down from this high.

With that in mind, Lando’s hand drifts down her stomach, then south enough to find her clit, fingers brushing the swollen bundle gently. She twitches in his arms, back arching, thighs trying to close around his wrist, but he holds her open with his knee.

“Let go all over me, beautiful,” he asks in a soft, wrecked tone.

He can feel her throbbing under his touch, puffy, drenched, and so sensitive it’s almost pains him that he’s not eating her out instead. But her hips roll into his fingers anyway, chasing the friction while grinding on his cock, the new angle hitting just right.

For a moment, Lando closes his eye only to listen to her breathing, knowing he’s the reason why she’s so utterly spent. Then he shifts the girl onto her back, her legs falling open like muscle memory. He leans over her, cock still nestled inside her heat, and continues to shove all of his need inside.

One thrust.

Then another.

Until she finally breaks.

Her cry splits the air, eyes fluttering shut as her orgasm crashes through her. Her walls are fluttering and coating his cock in fresh wetness, so much of it that he can feel it sliding down his thighs. Her body is convulsing with it, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving behind crimson crescent moons, that she’ll kiss tomorrow morning in order to wake him up.

Lando is so lost in the feel of her, stopping for a beat just to stay inside her like that, deep and still, watching her fall apart around his cock.

He leans down then, lips pressing to her skin, tracing wet kisses down her neck, continuing up the curve of her ribs, then over her heaving chest. When he reaches her nipple, he takes it into his mouth, gently sucking until she lets out the softest whimper, then releases it with a wet pop that echoes in the room.

His nose brushes her silk skin when he pulls back to look at her again. “This taught me nothing,” Lando jokes.

“What do you mean?” she asks, brushing the hair off his damp forehead.

“I mean,” he exhales a relieved sigh, “If you wanna train me not to eat your sweets, this is not the way to do it.”

She lifts her hand to cradle his face, thumb brushing across his flushed cheek. Lando’s eyes close at the touch, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to hold back the way he’s feeling everything so deeply.

It doesn’t matter. Quite frankly, she doesn’t even care anymore.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she whispers.

That opens Lando’s eyes, and he looks at her like she’s just spoken the only truth he’s ever needed to hear.

Without warning, his mouth presses against her, all tongue and spit and too much teeth, but neither of them minds. Their bodies can barely keep up, nerves fried, but their lips move like they’ve still got everything to say without words.

Eventually, Lando lets out a breath and finally pulls out of her, both of them wincing a little at the hypersensitive drag. Their combined release spills out of her in messy drips, soaking everything around them as they let out a sigh of relief together.

The room is warm and smells like sex and sweat and something far sweeter underneath — maybe the chocolate that’s finally leaving his bloodstream, but still clinging to him like a final reminder.

She shifts against him, tired and sleepy yet satisfied, curling her body into his side and resting her head on his chest. His heart is still pounding, steady and exhausted beneath her ear, like a lullaby.

Lando glances down at her, eyes soft that makes him look so in love.

“What?” he asks, once he hears her giggle.

She bites her lower lip, grinning up at him while her fingers start drawing lazy circles on his damp chest. “I thought you were gonna hump the door the second you walked in.”

He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “Don’t start,” he warns.

She laughs harder at that, a little breathless still, and kisses a line along his ribs.

“I was sweating in places I didn’t even know I had pores,” Lando cotinues, “And I still feel my dick vibrating. Like, it’s just sitting there… vibrating.”

“Shit,” she chokes on another chuckle. “Is it about to detach and walk off on its own?”

Lando lifts his head slightly, giving her a tired, unamused glare. “If it does, I hope it finds you and haunts the rest of your days. Like some cursed dildo with abandonment issues.”

Her hand is slowly drifting downward, familiar and teasing, fingers just grazing his stomach with a dangerous glint in her eye.

He jerks under her, grabbing her wrist immediately. “Stop that.”

She blinks up at him, all fake innocence. “Why?”

“I’m not even joking. If you touch me right now, I will go fetal and weep,” he says flatly, eyes wide with honest fear.

“That bad?” she asks, more curious now than anything.

Lando groans and drags a pillow over his face, before realizing it’s the same pillow they’ve ruined. “Fuckin’ hell, mate,” he cries, lifting it in the air to shoot a look at it, his curls flattened to one side, eyes wide and scandalized. “I just shoved my face into our crime scene. It’s in my nostrils, fuck’s sake.”

She’s still laughing when he glances down at her, only for her expression to freeze mid-giggle, brows touching together in complete horror.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Lando.”

He blinks. “Hm?”

She points an accusing finger at his feet, “You didn’t even take your socks off?”

He lifts his head slightly, looks down at his bare chest and his entirely naked body, except for the pitiful white socks still clinging to his feet like two forgotten soldiers.

He shrugs, flopping his head back. “I was in a rush. You don’t know how it feels.”

“You animal,” she gasps, looking personally offended, like she’s just been betrayed by the man she loves. “You fucked me like a possessed man with socks on?”

“They’re my beautiful Quadrant socks,” he defends, waving a hand weakly.

“Your overpriced Quadrant socks,” she corrects him. “Who charges twenty dollars for a pair? You need to be castrated.”

Lando leans in and presses a sticky kiss to her forehead, letting out a spent chuckle. “After my bee stops buzzing, love.”

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[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (3)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 8k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, resentment, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, co-parenting, long distance, growth, comfort, vulnerability, domestic, resistance, fighting/arguments, fear of reattachment, time skips, bad flirting explicit: praising, kissing, missionary, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, flirting

A\N: hiii bbys 🫶 i am (tentatively) 80% done writing for daddy kookie

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I didn’t expect the message when he landed.

Jungkook: Wheels down. First thing I saw was a vending machine that had banana milk and I thought of you. I know you hate it. But I smiled anyway.

I didn’t respond.

But I smiled, too.

He sent a picture of his hotel room next. A messy corner, a pair of AirPods, a hoodie on the floor. Nothing special. Except it was.

Because it meant he was thinking of me.

Of us.

That night, he FaceTimed just before Eun Ae’s bedtime.

Her face lit up when she saw him.

“MR. KOOKIE!!”

He grinned like she’d just handed him the stars. “There’s my girl.”

I watched from the kitchen, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other pressed against my ribs where my heart felt too big for my chest.

He read her a bedtime story- one she picked out herself. She held the book up to the camera so he could follow along.

He stumbled over the voices.

She corrected him, dramatically.

They laughed.

I felt like I was watching something sacred I wasn’t allowed to touch.

After the call ended, I found myself staring at the empty screen like it had more to say.

The next day, he texted both of us good morning.

Jungkook: Hope today’s full of soft things and fewer meetings.

Jungkook: for Eun Ae- Don’t forget your snack. Eat the grapes. Not just the crackers.

She giggled when she read it.

“I like him,” she said casually.

My throat tightened. “Yeah?”

“He’s funny. And he knows I don’t like raisins. That’s cool.”

I nodded, fighting the part of me that wanted to cry.

Because this? This felt like the part I never thought she’d get.

A dad.

A person.

Someone who stayed.

And I hated how easy it was to get used to it.

═══════

By the third day, he called at lunch just to see what she was eating. She showed him her juice pouch and half-eaten sandwich. He pretended to cry dramatically about the lack of crusts.

“You cut the best part off!” he whined.

“You’re a crust,” she said, unimpressed.

He laughed so hard, she laughed harder.

Later that night, after she was asleep, he called again.

Just for me.

He looked tired. Makeup-free. A hoodie pulled tight around his head.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

Neither of us said anything for a second.

Then he whispered, “You looked really beautiful the morning I left.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I know you didn’t say anything,” he added. “But… you let me stay.”

“I did.”

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.”

I stared at him through the screen.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Not yet.”

He didn’t ask for anything else.

Just watched me.

Just stayed.

And I let him.

For an hour.

Without speaking.

Just breathing.

Like maybe this wasn’t a screen between us.

Like maybe the world was a little bit smaller when he was on the other side.

═══════

Tour life was supposed to be a blur.

And it was.

Call times. Sound checks. Hair and makeup. Interviews I barely remembered giving. Airports I couldn’t name. Cities that blurred together through tinted windows and hotel glass.

But no matter where I was, what time zone, what country…

I called her.

I called them.

Every single day.

Sometimes twice.

Sometimes three times.

Didn’t matter if I’d just come off stage dripping in sweat with an hour of sleep. I’d FaceTime and wait for that little beep that meant she’d picked up. That meant Eun Ae would come into view with bed hair and peanut butter on her cheek and a smile big enough to make me forget how tired I was.

“MR. KOOOOOKIE!!”

She always screamed it.

Always made me laugh.

She told me what she ate, what she wore, who she sat next to in school. She told me what color her mood was and what new word she learned and that the moon was her favorite planet because it followed her home.

I wrote every word down.

Had a notebook I kept just for her.

Eun Ae: Day 5. “Do bees have moms?”

Eun Ae: Day 9. “I drew you in my picture. You have big ears but it’s okay.”

I’d stay on the call until her eyes drooped and she rolled into her stuffed tiger.

Sometimes Y/N would come on after.

Sometimes not.

I didn’t push.

But when she did… God.

Her voice in the dark was the only thing that made this feel real.

She’d tell me about her day. Her boss. Her stress. Her coffee order. Her favorite new nail polish.

And I’d listen like every word was a verse.

I didn’t flirt.

Not really.

I didn’t want to break this.

Didn’t want to scare her.

I just… showed up.

That’s all I knew how to do now.

And in the quiet moments, when the lights went down, the crowd noise faded, the crew packed up and the hotel room settled, I stared at my screen and whispered:

“Goodnight.”

Even if she’d already gone.

Even if it was just me.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

And sometimes, I swear…

I could still hear them say it back.

═══════

I wasn’t expecting much from the panel.

Just another industry event. A half-full auditorium. Stale coffee. Small talk with men who thought “event coordinator” meant I arranged party balloons.

But I’d been invited to speak- one of five women in venue management across the region. I had notes, a blazer I hadn’t worn since college, and a pit in my stomach that only grew deeper the closer I got to the podium.

I hadn’t told Jungkook about it.

It wasn’t a secret.

I just… didn’t think he’d care.

He had a stadium full of screaming fans in Singapore last night.

My keynote about budgeting for backline crew wasn’t exactly Billboard material.

But the morning of the event, while I was brushing my teeth with a knot in my throat and lipstick half-smeared on my palm, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: There’s something for you in the lobby. Happy Panel Day.

I stared at the screen.

My stomach twisted.

I almost didn’t go.

But I did.

And when I got to the front desk of the building, there it was.

A vase full of wildflowers.

No roses.

No lilies.

Just crooked stems. Sun-warmed color. Survivors.

And a note, scribbled on plain hotel stationery.

“First time I saw you, you were holding a bouquet of these. You’d just moved and it was your first day. You said they reminded you that growing was hard- but still worth it. You’ve been growing ever since. I see you. I remember. - JK”

I didn’t cry.

Not right away.

I carried the flowers to the greenroom, set them next to the bottled water, and stared at them like they’d speak first.

They didn’t.

So I did.

I sent him a picture. Then a message.

Y/N: Thank you. You remembered.

He replied almost instantly.

Jungkook: I remember everything.

I should’ve closed my phone.

But I typed again.

Y/N: It’s nice. Being seen.

Three dots flashed on the screen. Then stopped. Then flashed again.

Finally:

Jungkook: I’ve never stopped seeing you.

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I didn’t say anything.

Not until the panel ended and I stepped offstage to applause, blinking under the house lights.

I checked my phone again.

One new message.

A voice note.

I almost didn’t play it.

But I did.

His voice filled my ear.

Soft. Breathless. Like he was recording in the dark.

“You looked incredible today. I know I couldn’t be there. But I’m proud of you. I hope you felt it. Because you should. You should feel proud every day. You’re… everything I wish I’d been brave enough to love right the first time.”

I closed my eyes.

The tears came then.

Quiet and fast and real.

Because it wasn’t just the words.

It was the fact that this time, for once,  he was saying them when it mattered.

When I needed them.

Not too late.

Just… in time.

═══════

She was humming when I picked her up.

Big skip in her step. Hair falling out of her pigtails. Glitter marker smeared across both hands.

“Hi Mama!” she beamed, leaping forward like I’d been gone for a year and not just six hours.

“Hi baby,” I said, catching her as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “Did you have a good day?”

She pulled back, nodded furiously, then shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand.

“I drew our family.”

I blinked. “You did?”

“Uh-huh! It’s us. Me. You. Mr. Kookie. And Kookie Tiger.”

I unfolded the paper.

Crayons. All the colors. A stick figure with my hair. A smaller one with pigtails. A third with a lot of black swooped across his forehead and stars drawn around his head. The stuffed tiger was hovering next to him, smiling.

My chest squeezed.

“You even drew Mr. Kookie’s earrings,” I said.

“He has sparkly ears,” she explained. “And he’s tall. And he always says my name right even when the internet is bad.”

I knelt down.

“Baby… what did you say when the teacher asked who that was?”

She blinked at me.

“I said it’s my daddy.”

The air left my lungs.

“Oh.”

“She asked me if I had one. And I said yes. I have Mr. Kookie. He’s my daddy and he’s on the phone a lot, but he always says goodnight. Even if I forget to say it back.”

I didn’t know what to say.

So I said nothing.

We walked to the car in silence.

That night, I sat on the couch and watched her fall asleep on the video call- phone propped up, stuffed tiger under her chin, cheeks pink and eyelids fluttering.

Jungkook whispered, “Goodnight, my little star,” before ending the call.

He didn’t even know I was still listening.

When the screen went black, I stayed in the hallway for a long time.

Just watching.

Listening to her breathe.

And thinking.

About the way her arms flew open when she saw his face.

About the way her smile bloomed when he laughed.

About how fast she’d drawn him into her world.

And how easy it would be to follow.

═══════

It came in the middle of the night.

No warning.

Just a notification.

Video Message: Jeon Jungkook

I was still awake.

Still replaying Eun Ae’s words.

Still watching the ceiling breathe.

I almost didn’t open it.

Thought maybe it was another bedtime moment. Another drawing. Another “Hey, I miss you.”

But it wasn’t.

It opened with static.

Then a soft flicker of lamplight.

His hotel room.

The camera was set up on a chair.

He was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. No makeup. No filter. Just him.

He cleared his throat.

And then he said:

“This is something I wrote right after I left. When I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but didn’t have the guts to reach out. I never recorded it. Never sang it out loud. But I found the notebook last week. And it still sounds like you.”

He picked up a guitar.

His fingers shook a little.

Then he started to play.

It was rough.

Unfinished.

But it was us.

Every word.

Every verse.

Lyrics about sidewalks and wildflowers.

About long-distance silence.

About the girl he loved before he knew how to love.

I pressed the phone to my chest halfway through.

And I cried.

Hard. Quiet. Shaking.

Because he didn’t have to do this.

Didn’t have to open this wound. Didn’t have to let me see what he never showed anyone.

But he did.

Because he meant it.

Every second.

When the video ended, I sat in the dark for a long time.

Longer than I meant to.

Then I opened our thread and typed one message.

Y/N: I’m proud of you. We are.

The dots blinked on screen.

Then stopped.

Then blinked again.

Jungkook: I love you.

I didn’t reply.

But I whispered it into the room.

Not for him.

Not for anyone else.

Just for me.

Just once.

“I love you too.”

═══════

I’d been outside her door for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

Not that I was counting.

Okay- I was.

I’d rehearsed this moment in every city. Every country. Every hotel bed where I lay awake listening to her voicemail on loop, wondering what it would feel like to knock again.

To be let back in.

I was sweating through my shirt. Holding a bag full of small gifts I picked out like a man on a mission- stickers for Eun Ae. Bracelets. A tiny globe. A t-shirt with a cartoon tiger on it. A notebook for Y/N. Local coffee she once told me she missed. Wildflower seeds. And a letter.

I hadn’t given it to her yet.

Didn’t know if I would.

I raised my hand.

Dropped it.

Raised it again.

Then knocked. Soft, twice, like muscle memory.

The door opened before I could breathe.

And there she was.

Hair pulled back. No makeup. A sweatshirt I’d left years ago wrapped around her waist like she forgot it wasn’t hers. Bare feet. A guarded expression that just slightly melted when her eyes landed on mine.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

She raised one eyebrow.

“Took you long enough.”

I huffed a breath. Half-laugh. Half-collapse.

“You counted the seconds too?”

She didn’t answer.

But she stepped aside.

And I walked in.

Her apartment hadn’t changed.

Same chipped tiles. Same coat hooks. Same coffee smell.

Except now it had toy dinosaurs on the counter and a child’s jacket hanging beside her own. And a pair of little shoes by the door.

She caught me staring.

“She’s at school.”

I nodded. “I brought her something.”

She gestured toward the table. “You can put it there.”

I set the bag down gently like it might explode.

She moved to the kitchen.

I followed her with my eyes, not my feet.

She poured coffee.

Sipped it once.

Then leaned against the counter and said, “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“You look good too.”

I blinked.

“So do you,” I said, too fast.

Her lips twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But not not a smile either.

Silence settled between us like something sacred.

Then I took a step closer.

“I missed you.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Good.”

That made me pause.

“Because I missed you too,” she said.

Something cracked in my chest.

She took another sip. Set the mug down. Then walked past me, slow and steady, until she reached the table.

She picked up the bag.

“You got her another tiger shirt?”

“She calls me Mr. Kookie. I figured it was time to commit.”

She laughed. Soft. Real.

I could’ve cried.

But I didn’t.

I just watched her.

Watched her fingers run over the handles of the bag.

Watched her shoulders drop by a fraction.

Watched the smallest piece of her let go of something she’d been gripping for too long.

“You’re staying for a while?” she asked.

I nodded. “If you’ll let me.”

She turned.

Met my eyes.

And whispered:

“I think we both know I already have.”

═══════

It was weird how fast it became normal.

Him being here.

The sound of the front door unlocking at 3 p.m. right after Eun Ae got dropped off from school.

The way she sprinted down the hallway yelling “MR. KOOKIE!” like she hadn’t seen him the day before.

The way his jacket hung next to mine now.

I told myself not to overthink it.

He wasn’t staying over. That was the rule.

He left at night. Always.

No lingering. No wandering into my room. No lines crossed.

But every morning, he brought coffee.

Every night, he made dinner.

He loaded the dishwasher like he’d done it a thousand times. Played background music from his phone while he stirred pasta. Let Eun Ae sit on the counter even though she wasn’t supposed to.

He laughed when she dropped carrots on the floor.

Groaned dramatically when she told him she liked Yoongi’s part better than his in a song.

He helped her with homework, even when the math confused him.

He held her hand crossing the street.

He braided her hair one morning - terribly - and she wore it proudly all day.

And at night, when she fell asleep on the couch, he’d carry her to bed with the same careful touch he used when we were kids sneaking out at midnight.

I pretended I didn’t see it.

Pretended I didn’t melt when I caught him humming the song he wrote for me under his breath.

Pretended it didn’t feel right- him here.

Like he’d never really left.

Like this was the version of us we were always supposed to be.

But I still didn’t let him stay.

He’d gather his things by the door, hoodie over one shoulder, keys in hand.

“Thanks for dinner,” I’d say.

He’d nod. “Thanks for letting me cook.”

And every time I watched him walk down the hall, I’d wonder why I didn’t ask him to stay.

One night, I found him asleep on the couch.

Eun Ae had already gone to bed.

I came out to grab my laptop and there he was, curled up with a storybook half-open on his chest. His mouth slightly parted. Eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

He looked younger.

Softer.

Like someone who still had pieces to offer.

I pulled a blanket from the armchair and covered him gently.

He didn’t stir.

I stood there a moment too long.

Then whispered, “You’re doing better.”

And walked away before I said more.

═══════

She held my hand the whole time.

We walked out of her school building and she didn’t even hesitate- just latched on like it was something she’d always done.

Her backpack bounced. Her little braid was crooked. And she talked so fast I barely caught half of it.

“Okay so today we got cupcakes and they were chocolate but the frosting was vanilla and I don’t like vanilla but I ate it anyway ’cause Mr. Peters said no wasting. oh! and I told Maddie I was gonna go to the zoo with you and she said that’s cool and I said duh because you’re cool and she said cool people wear leather jackets and I said you have a lip earring so you win.”

I blinked. “You said what?”

She giggled. “Never mind.”

We stopped at the park first. She made me push her on the swing for twenty full minutes. Then the slide. Then the monkey bars, which she insisted she was a champion at, only to fall dramatically into the sand.

I caught her. She laughed harder.

We ate sandwiches under a tree. She stole my chips.

Later, we went to the library.

She picked three books. I picked one. She said mine was boring and I said hers were brilliant and she looked at me like I’d just given her a trophy.

Then came the bakery.

She marched to the counter, slammed two crumpled dollars on the glass, and said, “One tiger cookie and one smiley face for my daddy.”

I froze.

The cashier smiled.

My heart did something I don’t know the name for.

When we sat down, I asked her- quietly, gently- “Do you know who I am?”

She took a big bite of her cookie and nodded.

“You’re Mr. Kookie. But you’re also my dad.”

I couldn’t speak.

“I think you are,” she said, licking frosting off her fingers. “You look like me. You smile like me. You laugh like me, y’know?”

I blinked fast.

“Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just… happy.”

She grinned.

Then reached over, tiny fingers sticky with sugar, and grabbed my hand again.

That was it.

No fanfare.

No tears.

Just a six-year-old who already knew love when she felt it.

═══════

When we got back to the apartment, she tugged me to the living room, pulled out a coloring book, and curled up beside me like she belonged there.

And she did.

Y/N stood in the hallway, watching us for a long time.

She didn’t say anything.

But when I met her eyes, I knew.

Something had shifted.

Not just in me.

Not just in our daughter.

But in her, too.

═══════

It was getting too easy.

Too natural.

Too good.

He knew how I took my coffee now. With oat milk. One sugar. No questions.

He made it before I got out of bed, without staying the night. He’d come by early, just to start the day with us. Pretended it was for Eun Ae. We both knew better.

He made space without asking.

Claimed a drawer.

Bought the kind of cereal she liked and refilled it when it ran low.

Cleaned without being told.

Listened when I vented. Laughed when I snapped. Stayed when I went quiet.

It was good.

And that’s what scared me most.

Because I remembered what good felt like before it broke me.

Tonight, the apartment was quiet. Eun Ae was asleep. The dishes were done. The lights were low. It was just the two of us on the couch, a movie playing, barely watched.

He sat close.

Not too close.

But enough that I could feel his warmth seeping through the space between us.

I was curled in the corner, legs tucked under me. He had his arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers inches from my shoulder.

Neither of us said anything for a long time.

Until I did.

“What do you want?”

He turned.

“Right now?”

I nodded.

He didn’t hesitate.

“You. Still you.”

My breath hitched.

It wasn’t said with expectation. Or desperation. It was just the truth.

Like it had been sitting in his chest for years, waiting to be named.

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The curve of his jaw. The dip beneath his eye. The scar on his lip that only showed when he was tired. The way he always looked like he was about to ask permission, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

And I wanted to kiss him.

God, I wanted to kiss him.

But I was still afraid.

Afraid that if I let myself want it - really want it - I wouldn’t survive losing it again.

I shifted.

Closed the space between us.

Let my hand drift to his.

He looked down.

Met my eyes.

And leaned in.

Just enough.

Just close enough that his breath hit my cheek.

I held mine.

Then I pulled away.

Stood up.

And whispered, “Goodnight.”

I didn’t look back.

Didn’t see the way his shoulders dropped.

Didn’t hear the breath he let out when the door to my room clicked shut.

But I felt it.

All of it.

Pressed tight against my ribs.

Too full to carry.

Too heavy to ignore.

Too late to stop.

═══════

He was gone before I woke up.

No text. No call. No mug on the table with a bad pun on the side.

Just quiet.

And a note.

Folded once.

Tucked beneath my coffee cup like he’d hoped I’d find it before I noticed he wasn’t here.

I stared at it for a long time.

Didn’t touch it.

Didn’t want to.

Because I already knew.

It wasn’t an apology.

Wasn’t a plea.

It was him- leaving something behind.

Eventually, I picked it up.

His handwriting was messy. Familiar. Like he’d written it fast, before he could change his mind.

Y/N,

I’m not writing this to ask for anything.Not forgiveness. Not answers. Not even hope. I just needed to say a few things. Without waiting for the right time. Without hoping you’ll say anything back.

You’ve always been better than me. Stronger. Smarter. Braver. You kept going even when I disappeared. You kept your heart beating while mine hid behind silence. You didn’t need me. But I need you to know. I always needed you. I just didn’t know how to say it.

I still don’t, sometimes. But I see you now.

Not just the girl I loved. But the woman you are.

The one who raised our daughter alone. The one who learned how to laugh without me. The one who still makes my chest hurt when she smiles.

I’m not here to fix the past. I’m just here now. And I’ll keep being here. Even if it’s just as someone who brings coffee and folds laundry wrong and says the wrong thing at the wrong time.

I’m here because I love you.

Not the memory. Not the version of you I broke.

You.

Right now.

If that’s all I ever get to say- fine. But I meant it. And I’ll mean it every time you wake up and I’m not at the door.

Always,

JK

I read it three times.

Then a fourth.

Then I folded it back the way he’d left it. Carefully, like it might tear.

I didn’t cry.

Not this time.

I just placed the letter inside my notebook. Poured my coffee. Sat at the table with my feet tucked under me.

And breathed.

Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for someone to come back.

He already had.

═══════

She asked me when we were brushing our teeth.

One of those moments where your guard is down, where the day is done and the world is quiet, and suddenly your six-year-old asks a question that guts you.

“Why wasn’t Daddy Kookie here when I was a baby?”

I froze.

The toothbrush in my hand stopped mid-circle.

She stared at me in the mirror, foam on her chin, eyes wide and waiting.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Just… waiting.

I rinsed my mouth. Toweled her clean. Sat us both on the edge of the tub like we were about to plot something secret.

And then I said the words I’d been avoiding for six years.

“He didn’t know how to stay.”

She blinked.

“But why?”

I breathed deep.

“Because we were young. Because we were scared. Because sometimes people don’t know how to do the right thing, even when they love you.”

She frowned.

“He left because he was scared?”

“Yes.”

“Did he stop loving us?”

“No,” I said immediately. “No, baby. He didn’t stop. He just… forgot how to show it. For a long time.”

Her little mouth twisted, processing.

Then she asked, “Are you still mad?”

That one took longer to answer.

“Yes,” I admitted softly. “Sometimes.”

“But you still let him come over.”

“I do.”

“Because you love him?”

I looked down.

At her small feet swinging under the tub’s edge. At her tiny fingers curled in her lap.

“I don’t know,” I said.

And that was the truest thing I could say to her.

She nodded, like that made sense.

Then leaned into my side and rested her head on my shoulder.

We sat there for a while.

No more questions.

No more stories.

Just silence.

And the quiet strength of a little girl who somehow already knew that love didn’t have to be perfect to be real.

═══════

She confirmed it.

I don’t know how I knew.

Y/N didn’t say it.

Eun Ae didn’t say it.

But something in the air shifted- subtle, sharp. Like the sound of a glass cracking under pressure before it actually breaks.

Eun Ae looked at me different the next morning. Not bad. Not cold.

Just… clearer.

Like she’d connected something in her head. Like the puzzle finally made sense.

We were sitting at the table. She was eating cereal.

And she said, “I think Daddy Kookie just didn’t know what to do when I was a baby.”

I blinked.

She took another bite.

Then said, “But it’s okay now. ’Cause you’re here. And I like when you make the dinosaur eggs.”

I smiled, because what else could I do?

But inside, I was splitting open.

Y/N passed by behind her, brushing her hand gently across Eun Ae’s hair.

Our eyes met.

She didn’t look away.

And I knew.

She told her.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Didn’t go to the hotel either.

I just walked.

I ended up at the river, hoodie pulled up, air sharp in my lungs.

I sat on a bench and opened my phone.

Scrolled through our message thread.

Watched a couple of the videos Eun Ae had sent - her singing off-key, showing off her school shoes, giggling uncontrollably while calling me “Banana Kookie.”

Then I opened my Notes app and stared at a blank screen.

I wanted to say something.

To her.

To Y/N.

To anyone.

But what could I say?

That I’d earned it?

That I understood?

I didn’t.

I just felt sick.

Guilty.

Heavy.

Like I’d been borrowing time I didn’t deserve.

The sun came up and I was still there.

Still writing nothing.

Still waiting for a peace I wasn’t sure would ever come.

By the time I made it back to their apartment, my chest was tight with apology.

I didn’t even knock.

I texted.

Jungkook: Can I come up?

A pause.

Then:

Y/N ❤️: She’s waiting for you.

I swallowed hard.

Stepped into the elevator.

When the door opened, Eun Ae was already running down the hall.

She launched herself into my arms like she’d never questioned me. Like she didn’t care about mistakes or time or what I should’ve said six years ago.

“Daddy Kookie!”

Two words.

So loud I couldn’t miss them.

And they hit harder than anything I’d ever heard.

I closed my eyes.

Held her tight.

And whispered back:

“Hi, baby.”

═══════

It started with something small.

They always do.

He offered to pick up Eun Ae from her sleepover and take her to the museum Sunday morning. Just the two of them. Said she’d been begging to go and she’d love the new dinosaur exhibit.

He said it casually. Smiling. Warm. Hopeful.

And I froze.

“Just you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, still smiling. “I figured you’d want a break.”

A break.

Like that’s what I’d been doing this whole time- waiting to clock out.

I set down the dish I was washing a little harder than necessary.

“I don’t need a break.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, confused. “I just thought-”

“You thought you could just pick up like nothing fucking happened?” I snapped.

The words came sharp. Loud.

He blinked.

“No,” he said carefully. “I thought I could help. You’ve been doing everything for years-”

“Because you weren’t here!” I cut him off.

Silence.

Then he stepped back, hands raised slightly, voice lower now.

“I know I wasn’t.”

“Do you?” I said, breathing hard. “Do you really understand what that did to me?”

His face shifted, not anger, just ache.

“Y/N…”

“You left,” I said, voice cracking. “You didn’t just leave me. You blocked me. You fucking vanished. You didn’t wonder if I was okay. You didn’t care. I was pregnant and alone, and every day I woke up and hoped maybe you’d remember-”

“I did remember,” he said sharply.

“Not enough.”

He swallowed.

“Not soon enough,” he admitted. “But I never forgot.”

I crossed my arms, cold all over now.

“I still don’t know how to forgive you,” I whispered.

He looked at me like I’d pulled something out of him he wasn’t ready to name.

“I don’t know how to forgive me either,” he said.

And that-

That stopped me.

Because there was no defense in his voice.

No plea.

Just… shame.

Heavy. Real.

He looked away. Then back.

“I think about it all the time,” he said. “What I missed. What I ruined. What she could’ve had if I’d just been better. You… you could’ve had a different life. And I ruined that too.”

“You didn’t ruin me,” I said softly. “But you broke something. And I’m still finding the pieces.”

He nodded. Slow. Like that hurt more than yelling ever could.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said. “I’m just asking you to let me stay while you figure out if you ever can.”

I looked at him.

And for once, didn’t know what to say.

So I didn’t.

I just walked to the bedroom door.

Opened it.

And whispered, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His eyes widened.

“I won’t leave.”

“I mean- ” I hesitated. “Stay. But don’t go to the couch.”

═══════

I followed her.

Not because I expected anything.

Not because I thought this would fix it.

I followed her because I’d follow her anywhere.

She didn’t look at me when she closed the door to her bedroom. Just stepped to the window, tugged the curtain slightly, checked the streetlight like she needed the outside world to stay still for one night.

Then she turned.

Met my eyes.

And in that moment, I knew.

This wasn’t forgiveness.

This wasn’t closure.

This was her choice.

Right now.

Not because she owed me anything. Not because I deserved her.

But because she wanted me.

Still.

She crossed the room slow, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The air between us crackled with the weight of unspoken words, of years apart, of mistakes and regrets. I stood there, rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat calling her name.

She lifted the hem of her sweatshirt over her head, tossing it aside without a second glance. 

No fanfare. No tease. 

Just skin. 

Real. Warm. Familiar in ways that made my breath stutter. 

I stepped forward, my hands shaking more than I wanted them to. 

She didn’t stop me. 

Didn’t rush. 

Just let me reach for her. 

My fingertips brushed her waist, my palm cupping her cheek. Our eyes locked, and in that silence, I saw everything- the pain I’d caused, the love she still carried, the question of whether we could ever truly come back from what I’d done.

Then-

She leaned in.

And kissed me.

Soft.

Certain.

Like the space between us had finally run out of time.

I kissed her back, pouring every ounce of regret, every whisper of longing, into that touch. Let her press me into the edge of the bed, her hands sliding beneath my shirt, her nails scraping my skin in a way that felt both punishing and forgiving.

I whispered her name against her jaw, my lips brushing the delicate skin there. She moaned quietly, her hips tilting into mine, a silent plea for more. 

I wanted to give her everything- to make up for every missed call, every unspoken apology, every night I’d spent wishing I could take it all back.

With a gentle push, I flipped her onto the bed, her hair spilling across the pillow like a halo. She looked up at me, her eyes dark with desire, but also something else. A vulnerability that made my chest ache. I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her lips against mine.

I kissed my way down her body, tracing the lines of her collarbones, the curve of her breasts, the dip of her stomach. Her skin was soft under my lips, her breath hitching as I sucked gently on her nipples, teasing them until they pebbled against my tongue. 

She arched into me, her hands tangling in my hair, her moans filling the room like music.

I kissed her hips, her thighs, my fingers brushing the edges of her panties. She was already wet, her scent intoxicating, a reminder of how perfectly she fit me, how perfectly I fit her. 

I hooked my fingers into the lace and slid them down her legs, tossing them aside without breaking eye contact.

“Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I didn’t answer. 

I couldn’t. 

Not yet.

Instead, I settled between her thighs, my hands resting on her hips as I kissed her inner thighs, my breath ghosting over her core. She squirmed, her legs falling open wider, inviting me in. I teased her, my tongue tracing lazy patterns along her folds, my lips brushing her clit before pulling away.

“Please,” she begged, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I smiled against her skin, then finally gave her what she needed. My tongue plunged deep, lapping at her eagerly, savoring her taste, her sounds, the way her body trembled under my touch. 

I fucked her with my mouth, relentless and worshipful, my fingers joining in, sliding inside her as I sucked her clit into my mouth.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her body arching off the bed, her cries echoing through the room. I held her there, drinking her in, my tongue never stopping, even as her body shook with release.

When she finally stilled, I kissed my way back up her body, my lips brushing hers softly. 

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

She looked at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears, telling me to keep going without saying a word.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I kissed her deeply, our tongues tangling as I positioned myself between her legs. She was still trembling, her body open and willing, her trust in me a gift I didn’t deserve. 

I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance, teasing her, my lips never leaving hers.

“Jungkook,” she murmured, her hands gripping my shoulders.

I thrust into her slowly, savoring the way she enveloped me, the way her walls clenched around me like a promise. She gasped, her head falling back, her chest heaving as I filled her completely.

I held her there, my forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, her lips brushing mine. “Show me,” she whispered.

I began to move, slow at first, each thrust deliberate, each withdrawal agonizingly slow. I kissed her, touched her, praised her, my hands roaming her body as I fucked her with a desperation born of years of longing.

Her nails dug into my back, her moans growing louder, her body meeting mine with equal fervor. I sped up, my hips snapping against hers, my cock pounding into her relentlessly. She was tight, so tight, her walls milking me, her clit rubbing against mine with every thrust.

“Kook,” she cried, her body tensing as she neared the edge again. “I’m-”

“Cum for me,” I growled, my voice rough with need. “Cum on my cock, baby. Let me feel it.”

Her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing around me, her cries filling the room. I followed, my own release crashing over me like a wave, my cock pulsing deep inside her as I whispered, 

“I love you,” against her neck.

We lay there, tangled together, our hearts pounding in unison, our breaths slowly syncing. I kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her lips, unable to stop touching her, unable to stop apologizing.

She curled into me, cheek pressed to my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her like I never had the chance to before.

And when she whispered, “Don’t leave,” into my skin-

“I’ll never leave you again,” I promised, my voice thick with emotion.

I kissed her forehead and said:

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

═══════

The sun woke me before he did.

It stretched through the blinds like a whisper, soft and gold, warming the blanket tangled around my legs.

His arm was still draped across my waist.

His nose was tucked behind my ear.

And the rhythm of his breath was the calmest thing I’d felt in years.

I stayed still for a long time.

Not because I was afraid to move.

But because I didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to break the spell.

Didn’t want to face the real world when this one- this quiet bedroom, this borrowed peace- felt like something I could actually believe in.

Eventually, his fingers flexed against my hip.

A slow inhale. A stretch. A groggy hum.

Then-

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Mm.”

“That’s all I get?”

I smiled against his skin. “You’re lucky I’m giving you that.”

He chuckled.

The sound vibrated through me. Calming. Familiar. Right.

I rolled over to face him. His hair was a mess. His smile wasn’t.

“You hungry?” I asked.

He nodded. “For food, yeah. Also for you.”

I snorted and smacked his chest. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m honest.”

In the kitchen, I pulled out pancake mix. He tried to steal it. I smacked his hand with a spatula.

“You’re not allowed to mess these up,” I warned.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I only flip when I’m told.”

“You’re lucky I’m letting you eat.”

“I already ate,” he said with a wink.

I threw a towel at him.

We laughed.

Really laughed.

The kind that felt like it came from a version of us that still believed in soft mornings and shared sunlight.

He burned the first pancake.

I made fun of him.

He blamed the pan.

I called him a liar.

He kissed my cheek when I wasn’t looking.

And for a second…

For one suspended moment in the middle of a too-quiet apartment with pancakes on the stove and sunlight through the blinds-

I forgot we’d ever been anything but this.

I didn’t say “I love you.”

He didn’t ask.

But when he reached across the table and took my hand…

When his thumb brushed over my knuckles like he could still feel me from the inside out…

I knew he already knew.

And I knew that someday…

I’d say it again.

And I’d mean it.

═══════

Eun Ae came home from her sleepover mid-morning, bouncing through the door like she hadn’t slept at all and telling stories at a mile a minute.

“Daddy Kookie!” she shouted when she saw him, dropping her backpack to barrel into his legs. “You missed everything! They had a movie and pizza and a game and I won and I told them you’re my dad and they said you’re famous and I said ‘Duh’- ”

He picked her up and spun her once.

“Whoa, slow down! You’re gonna run out of breath.”

“I already did!”

I laughed from the kitchen.

═══════

We spent the afternoon at the park.

Eun Ae insisted on sitting between us on the swings. Then made us race. Then sat on Jungkook’s shoulders for the entire walk back.

He carried her like it was nothing.

She fell asleep on the couch before dinner even started.

We let her stay there.

Jungkook helped me plate the food, just something simple. Rice. Fried eggs. Kimchi from the corner store.

We sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, legs crossed, sharing chopsticks.

“I’ve missed this,” he said.

I glanced at him.

“This?”

“This… life. This ease.”

I didn’t answer right away.

But I reached out.

Took his hand across the table.

He didn’t flinch.

He just laced our fingers together like it was natural.

Like we hadn’t fought. Like we hadn’t broken.

Like maybe - somehow - we had always been coming back to this.

═══════

I almost didn’t say it.

Almost kept pretending we had forever- that my time off didn’t have an end, that the clock wasn’t winding down on this borrowed miracle of a life.

We’d had a good day.

A perfect day.

And I didn’t want to ruin it.

But when I saw her brushing her teeth beside me- head tilted, foam at the corner of her mouth, one of my old shirts hanging off her shoulder, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Y/N,” I said quietly, setting my toothbrush down.

She looked at me in the mirror.

Not startled.

Just waiting.

I stepped into the hallway as Eun Ae’s door clicked shut behind us. She was already asleep, full from dinner, exhausted from laughter. Safe.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

She nodded, drying her hands.

We sat on the edge of her bed. Not touching. Not tense. Just… not easy.

I cleared my throat.

“My break ends in a week.”

She didn’t look at me.

“I know.”

“I have to go back to Seoul.”

A pause.

Still no eye contact.

“I know that too.”

I swallowed hard.

“I’ve been thinking…” I hesitated. “I wanted to ask if you’d ever consider moving there. You and Eun Ae.”

That did it.

Her head turned sharply.

“What?”

“I mean- not right now,” I said quickly. “Not even soon. Just… if it’s something you could ever see. For her. For you.”

She stared at me.

Like I’d just kicked the legs out from under a table we’d been building together.

“Jungkook…”

“I’m not asking you to decide anything,” I said, softer now. “I just- I want to be a father. Fully. I want to come home to her. To you. I’m not asking for marriage or moving in. I just want to know if - someday - you’d think about it.”

She stood up.

I froze.

She walked to the window.

Opened it.

Let the night air in.

Then whispered, “You waited until everything felt good to say this.”

I didn’t respond.

“Do you know what it feels like to hear that the second I trust you again, you want to take me away from everything I rebuilt?”

“I’m not trying to take you,” I said quietly. “I’m trying to give us somewhere to grow.”

Her shoulders tensed.

And just like that, the perfect day was gone.

═══════

I didn’t sleep.

Not even for a second.

I stared at the ceiling while he breathed beside me- slow, steady, unaware that my mind was tearing itself apart in real time.

Seoul.

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

But I was.

I thought we were safe here. In this apartment. On this couch. In this version of life where things were small and quiet and real.

But maybe that was naive.

Because Seoul meant everything we weren’t.

Cameras.

Schedules.

Airports.

Secrets.

Distance.

It meant the version of him that ghosted me. The version of him that chose ambition over love and couldn’t even say goodbye.

I watched him sleep for an hour before I finally moved. 

Slipped out of bed. I walked barefoot to the living room and curled up on the couch with a blanket and a hundred racing thoughts.

═══════

By the time the sun rose, my chest ached.

When he padded in wearing a hoodie half-zipped, hair wild- I was still curled there, staring at nothing.

He sat on the floor beside me, quiet.

Then:

“I’m sorry.”

I turned slowly.

“For what?”

“For saying it last night. For how I said it. For not asking if you were ready.”

I nodded once.

Then said the thing I’d been avoiding for hours.

“What happens when the spotlight comes back on?”

He blinked.

“What?”

“What happens when the fans scream louder than me? When you’re booked for twenty hours a day and Eun Ae forgets what your voice sounds like? What happens when I ask for more and it’s inconvenient?”

His face fell.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“But you were,” I whispered. “You were, and I forgave you for me. But now I have to protect her. And I don’t know if I can trust you not to break her heart the same way you broke mine.”

He looked down.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t fight.

Just… let it hit.

“You want me to move across the world for you,” I said, voice shaking. “And I’m still trying to figure out how to stay in the same room as you without crying.”

That one landed.

Hard.

He looked up.

“I don’t want you to move for me. I want you to move because it might give us a chance to build something together. For her. For us. But I’m not asking you to pack a bag.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m asking you,” he continued softly, “to think about it.”

I stood.

Backed away.

Then said- because it was the only thing I could say:

“I need space.”

He nodded.

“I’ll pick her up from school,” he said gently. “You rest.”

And then he left.

No door slam.

No fight.

Just quiet.

Too quiet.

═══════

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MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/29/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @mygukkiebaby @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @annpeachy-blog @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim @gigi4evr @jjk970901 @bangtanily @vtaehybts @smoljimjim @welcometomyworld13 @aaliy89 @marihoneywk @fiddlebiddls @battlingmyowndemons @superstarfishsandwich @rinkud @withluvjm @Strxqrd1 @singingjk @nia197 @ficluvr613 @roseidol @jungkookswifeeeeeee @uli_o7 @looneybleus @ermno97 @carobrekker @bunnyjk97 @mochisabs @rainandmatcha @katie-tibo @cheolwoo

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 4 [Draft]

Saja Boys x Isekaid!Demon?Reader x Huntrix

Content Warnings: This chapter contains some OOC-ness—personal interpretations of characters; Historical Inaccuracies—I'm not well-versed in Korea's history, culture, and language, so please go easy on me 🙏

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

That night, no matter how you curled beneath the thick blanket or how many times you tried to count sheeps, sleep would not come.

Your body was tired.

But your soul…

Something gnawed at it.

You shifted onto your side.

Then your back.

Then sat up entirely.

No use.

There was a prickle at the nape of your neck. Without thinking, you slipped out of bed.

Your bare feet moved soundlessly across the wooden floor, muscle memory guiding you through the darkened house.

You reached Granny’s door.

You pressed your palm gently to the wood, and your eyes softened.

There she was.

Granny, fast asleep on her side, soft snores rising and falling like tide, a blue branch from a cup of tea long gone cold beside her looming over—

Wait a fucking damn minute.

Golden eyes bulging like a startled fish. Blue skin, lanky form. Purple, jagged markings curling around the whole body. Webbed hands held still mid-air.

And tusks.

Two large, curved ones framing its gaping mouth.

In any other context, its face might have looked… funny.

Startled.

Like someone walked in on them stealing a cookie.

But this was no joke.

You recognized it instantly from the sketches in the demonology texts.

A water demon.

An it was leaning over Granny. Inches from her.

No.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY GRANNY!”

Your body shot forward in a blur. Your fingers—claws—circled its throat before it even blinked, its surprised expression hadn’t even changed by the time your grip tightened.

The momentum would’ve made the demon slam into the wall if not for—

Poof!

Granny stirred, rubbing her eyes slowly.

She yawned into her sleeve.

“Mm...? Hm?”

She tilted her head toward the window, blinking at the moonlight.

Then laid back down.

“…must’ve been the wind.”

——oOo——

The moment you reappeared parting the white smoke—deep in the woods just beyond the reach of the village lantern light—you slammed the water demon into the earth.

Grassy dirt kicked up around you as your claws dug into his throat, pinning him hard.

White mist curled and snaked around his wrists and ankles, dragging them down, holding them tight to the earth—mist made manifest, a power you barely understood yet, but somehow, it obeyed you now.

The demon struggled, webbed fingers twitching in vain.

If you weren’t furious, you might’ve marveled at your strength.

Instead, your fingers squeezed.

“̴S̷t̵a̸y̷ ̴a̴w̷a̷y̵ ̷f̶r̸o̶m̴ ̷m̴y̵ ̸G̵r̴a̸n̶n̵y̸.̸”̶

Your voice rippled out of you—lower, distorted, almost echoing over itself. Your claws, sharper than bone and cold as the season, dug into his skin.

You felt it—the flesh giving way. Something warm and thick began to seep through your grip.

Blood.

The water demon whimpered.

A soft, high-pitched noise like a kicked puppy.

You blinked.

Wait—

Your eyes darted to its face again.

Big watery gold eyes.

Lips trembling slightly.

Why does it look… cute?

No, NO, NOT THE TIME, ME—

Poof!

The demon burst into a puff of red smoke with a pitiful pop.

Gone.

You stared at the space where he once was.

Still on your knees. Still breathing hard as your claws grasped at nothing.

You stared at your hands, the tips dyed in—

“Huh.”

Dark and thick like warm syrup.

“So demons bleed red.”

Without thinking, you dragged your tongue along one claw, and your eyes widened.

“It tastes…”

Rich?

Sweet?

You licked your lips.

“Delicious.”

——oOo——

Granny stirred for the second time that night.

Her eyes scrunched, trying to make out the figure looking over her.

“Mm… sweetheart?” Her voice was soft and groggy. “You alright?”

She saw you opened your mouth, then closed it.

“…A nightmare,” you said in a whisper.

“Oh, my poor thing. Want me to brew you some moonflower tea?”

Your head shook quickly. “No—no, it’s fine. You should rest. I didn’t mean to wake you, Granny, I just…”

You rubbed your arm, glancing away.

She tilted her head, then patted the space beside her on the bedding.

“…Want to sleep here tonight?”

You stiffened.

Then, a little embarrassed, you nodded.

She smiled, her eyes softened.

“Tch. Come here, you silly girl. Get under the blanket, quickly, before the night air bites you.”

You slid in gently beside her, careful not to press too close with your still sweaty body.

But Granny curled an arm around you anyway, warm, gentle, and steady.

“…It’s good to have you back,” she murmured, already drifting.

You laid there, wide-eyed, staring into the dark.

And you clutched her hand tight.

——oOo——

You were tending the garden when it happened.

The sun was bright, the soil warm beneath your nails. The herbs were growing strong—almost time to harvest the chrysanthemum. You hummed a little under your breath, patting the earth down—

"How fascinating..."

You froze.

The voice was deep. Husky. Smooth. With a strange, trailing echo that seemed to bend at the end of each syllable.

You turned your head so fast your neck might’ve popped.

“Granny?” you called out.

She glanced up from the porch, where she was stringing herbs. “Yes?”

“Did you… did you just hear someone talking?”

She blinked at you. “No, child. Why?”

“…No reason,” you lied, and turned back.

"Be not afraid—"

“Would.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

A long, awkward silence.

You cleared your throat, returning to the garden bed and trying to pretend none of that happened.

“So what is this, am I just—hearing voices now? Great. That’s new. Maybe I’m finally losing it.”

"Not quite."

Your hands paused over a patch of mint.

You waited for more context.

You received none.

"If you're not gonna talk, then don't talk.” you snapped, rubbing at your temple.

"You are... quite impatient."

"And you sound like a rejected Shakespeare understudy.”

There was a gasp in your mind.

You could practically hear the indignation.

But also… confusion?

"While I do not know of this ‘Shakespeare’ you speak off…"

His voice dipped into a soft mutter.

"I feel like that is an insult."

“No shit, Sherlock.”

More droning followed—something about mortals and respect and your “undignified tongue”—but you tuned it out.

“Dear, I’m opening the shop!” Granny’s voice floated from the doorway. “Come help when you’re ready!”

“Be right there!” you chirped, cheerfully.

As if you didn’t have a mysteriously sexy, possibly eldritch entity screaming in your brain like a cranky stage actor.

And apparently, you spoke that out loud in the form of muttering:

“If Mister Big Voice in my skull doesn’t get me smited before lunch.”

"I heard that."

“Then stop lecturing me, you’ll get nowhere with me in that tone, Mister.”

“…Mister?” he repeated.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a name, do I?” You smirked. “Unless you want me to keep calling you Dramatic-Old-Man-Who-Might-Be-a-Cult-Leader.”

A beat of silence.

But somehow, you felt him simmering.

Like a teeny, furious little fireball. Brimming with evil and indignation. The image made you laugh.

“…You are treating this far too casually.” the voice sulked—can you believe that?

“Says the one who just popped into my head and started lecturing me about etiquettes.”

“Very well,” he said finally, regaining his regal edge. “Then allow me to properly introduce myself.”

You rolled your eyes.

"I am Gwi-ma."

Well, there’s your daily dose of headaches. Should you even be surprised?

“The—"

"Let me stop you right there.” You turned to the herb basket and recited flatly, “Gwi-ma. The King of Demons, Demon King. Sealed by the Honmoon. Said to lead the hordes of demons if ever unsealed. Also rumored to grant mortals’ wishes in exchange for something, yada yada.”

"In the flesh, my dear."

Of course he said it like that. With such smug pride.

You sighed, dragging your hand down your face.

A migraine was coming on. You could feel it.

“Seriously. I just want to live a peaceful life with my Granny. Is that too much to ask for?”

Gwi-ma chuckled, as if this was some inside joke between you.

“Oh, we both know why that is, don’t we?”

You froze.

This time, you didn’t need to speak the question out loud for him to give you the answer.

“Gwak Seol-jun. The name ring some bells, no?”

Shit.

“You, my dear, took a soul belonging to me.”

“…”

"Do you truly not understand what you are?" His tone shifted—deepened. “You are far more than you believe,” Attempting something…

You took a guess, “You want something.”

“Sharp indeed.” he said, silken. “You are… unique.”

“You mean I’m a freak.”

"I mean," he said, slow and velvet-slick, "I want you to work with me."

You paused.

Work with him? Why does he not just—forcibly control me like the rumors suggested?

“…Why?”

Another chuckle, “You will understand with time. But I know that you are anything but a humble girl—”

“You’re refusing to elaborate, huh?”

He said nothing.

“Yeah, well, no thanks,” you said flatly.

“Rejecting my offer already?”

“Yup.”

“Then, what is your greatest desire—"

“Wow, how original.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Nope.” You cut him off flatly, uprooting another herb. “Not playing the monkey’s paw game.”

"You don’t even know what I was going to offer—what is this ‘monkey’s paw’ you spoke off?"

“I know the drill,” you dusted your hands. “Wish granted, tragic twist, ‘oh no it’s cursed,’ cry in dramatic rain.”

You started ticking them off.

“Immortality? Great. Except no eternal youth—so you end up a thousand-year-old prune shuffling through centuries like a raisin with regrets.”

“…Wait—”

“Wish for gold? Oh, everything you touch turns into it—congrats, now you can’t eat, sleep, or hug anyone without liquefying their spine into bullion. Love that for you.”

“That’s not—”

“Craving knowledge? Fantastic. Enjoy knowing everyone’s dirty secrets, exactly when they’ll die, and every horrifying cosmic truth your mind is not remotely equipped to handle. Hello, lifelong existential dread.”

You held up another finger.

“Want to cheat death? Sure—say hello to eternal labor, pushing boulders up hills or ferrying souls across rivers till the end of time while screaming internally. Or cursed to watch everyone you love die over and over again, this can work with the immortality one as well.”

You weren’t done. You were just getting warmed up.

“—Those are just some from the myths abroad. But even I could come up with more of these.”

You kept going, launched into it like you’d been waiting your whole life for this rant.

“If not immortality, then wish for youth? Sure. You stay sixteen forever while the world decays around you. Everyone thinks you're possessed. Or worse, keeps trying to marry you.”

“Protection from all harm? Ooooh, nice. Except now nothing can touch you. No hugs, no high-fives, no sense of temperature—go ahead and try sipping hot tea, you walking ceramic plate.”

“Want to protect the people you love? Hope you’re ready to feel every single injury they take. Knife wounds, fevers, childbirth, emotionally distant dads—yep, all yours now.”

“…I—what—”

“Fame forever? You got it. As a mass-murdering villain history twisted you into. Every bard sings about your crimes while your ghost listens in mild outrage.”

“Wish for freedom? Boom. You’re untethered from fate, law, reality—can’t die, can’t connect to anyone, forgotten the second they look away. Enjoy eternal ghosting.”

“No heartbreak? Sounds peaceful. But now you’re numb to everything. Can’t feel joy, can’t fall in love. Just blank-eyed staring into sunsets while puppies make you feel nothing.”

“Eternal happiness? You’re locked in your happiest memory forever, drooling in a corner while people feed you rice porridge. It’s a trap and a nap.”

At this point you were pacing in a small circle.

“Unlimited power? The world collapses under you, now you’re alone. Ruler of nothing. Congrats, emperor of the void.”

“And the ‘fix everything’ dream? Every touch heals the world—but chips away at you. Your life, your soul, your memory, until you’re just an empty meat puppet who forgot how to spell your own name.”

You glared into the middle distance, muttering now.

“Oh—and the crowd-pleaser—‘Be loved by all.’ Congrats, you’re now the protagonist of a yandere horror story. Everyone wants to date you, kill for you, kill you, pick one. Or, now you’ve got a cult. Wide-eyed weirdos singing your name in harmony while you scream inside because none of it’s real. You’re a god with no friends.”

“Don’t even get me started on strength—"

You trailed off, hand still mid-gesture.

Only now did it fully registered—Gwi-ma had gone silent. Complete radio silence. In the unsettlingly thoughtful way.

“You’re quiet. Why are you quiet?”

A beat.

Then:

"Those are… actually quite inspired."

You stared at the horizon.

“Oh no you didn’t.”

"I could adapt several of these into very compelling contracts..."

“If you’re gonna use my paranoia as deal templates, at least give me credit!” you snapped, jabbing a finger into the air. “I want my name in fine print at the bottom of your next doomed soul contract, with a little floral border. Oh! And I demand royalties, thank you very much.”

“…You’re absurd.”

“Thanks. It’s a defense mechanism.”

——oOo——

It had been a long day.

Not physically, no. You were already used to pulling weeds, running errands, and haggling with customers who still tried to short-change an old lady’s tea.

It was your head that felt bruised.

And it was all because he wouldn’t shut up.

"A soul like yours, lingering among human bones, really is a waste of potential."

“You call Granny a waste one more time and I swear I wouldn’t even consider that offer.

There was a pause.

Then a slow, syrupy drawl.

"So you are considering right now~"

You groaned, and by the time the moon rose above your rooftop, you'd endured several hours of Gwi-ma’s long-winded commentary.

Correction: Gwi-ma’s whining.

You’d tried ignoring him.

Really, that’s the only thing you could do since he’s in your head and not whispering in your ears, even though he sometimes made it feel like he was. Thus, stuffing your ears with cotton would prove ineffective.

You really hope he couldn’t follow you into your dreams.

“Have you ever been told you’re so insufferable?”

“Who would dare?”

So, only you then.

Collapsing back-first onto your sleeping mat like a punctured rice sack, you buried your face into the blanket, muffling a scream.

A beat of silence passed. You turned your head slightly.

Your eyes shifted toward the demonology scrolls near your pillow.

They were there, spread out, aged, and fragile, their edges curled like dried leaves, seemingly glowing faintly in the lanternlight.

You’d meant to train tonight. More. To explore your abilities now that your last feast kept the hunger at bay.

Sharpen your skills and perhaps you would gain more control over that side of you.

But...

“…”

“…”

You squinted toward the ceiling like it personally offended you. “Well? Aren’t you gonna say something?”

"Hm." A thoughtful hum echoed through your mind. "Would you like me to teach you the ropes?"

You sat up warily. “What’s the catch?”

“None." he replied, almost too smoothly. "I simply… want to observe you. Your potential intrigues me."

“…You mean you want to watch me fumble around like a glorified test subject.”

"Semantics."

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not agreeing to anything unless I know exactly what I’m getting into. So answer me these first,” Though you wouldn’t put it past him to lie or twist the truth. “What happens if I follow your instructions? Do I really not owe you anything? Does it bind me to some deal? Will I owe you a favor in some vague future? If I go along with this, will I be cursed, hunted, warped, accidentally married, or doomed to carry your demonic spawn?”

"…That’s oddly specific."

“Answer the questions.”

"None of the above. You’re not making a wish, you’re asking for guidance. No contracts, no soul-deals, no blood price—unless you'd like that aesthetic. I do miss the old rituals."

You narrowed your eyes. “So this isn’t another Monkey’s Paw situation?”

A long sigh came from him. “Must you assume the worst of me?”

“Yes,” you said flatly.

"You wound me."

“Like I care.”

You rolled over to the side, fingers trailing along the worn edge of a scroll. You opened it with a quiet rustle, ran your fingers along the edges, tracing the faded ink drawings of grotesque demons and chaotic beasts, all with his jagged marks in purple.

Then—at the center—something abstract. Swirling mess of violet and hot pink? fire with a barely discernible face. You had trouble making out the eyes from the shapes alone most if not all the time. Though, you supposed the lightest part of the flame was the mouth.

“…This you?”

"My better side, if I do say so."

You snorted softly, still dragging your fingers along the curled edges. Your other hand reached toward the binding, loosening the last corner.

“So... where do I start?”

And for once, his tone changed.

Quieter. No lazy purr. More… serious.

"Your true form."

You blinked.

“…I thought the glowing white markings, fangs, claws, and red eyes were my demon form.”

"No. That’s a transitional state. An echo. A fragment. An instinctive mask. I can feel it,” he said. “Something deeper. You’re… different. You carry light like it’s bone-deep. But it’s twisted, refracted. What lies underneath… even I can't see. Not yet."

“You keep saying ambiguous shit like that.”

You stared at your hand. Was he referring to something more connected to that hunger?

You made a face. “...Well, how am I supposed to turn into it if I don’t know what it even looks like?”

"Instinct. Memory. Desire. All three. I’ll guide you."

He paused, and you sensed his attention narrow, like a whisper brushing the inside of your mind.

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "Now breathe in through your mouth, not your nose. Let the cold fill your chest."

You did.

"Now think—not of shape, not of skin or face—but of feeling. The first instinct. What felt most right when the world first made sense."

Your breath slowed.

The cold seeped in.

"Beyond what you think is you. Where the first light touched your bones...”

Your fingers twitched.

Your markings flickered.

“Let go of the memory of being human."

A beat.

Your pulse thrummed. The mist in your veins surged.

"Open the door you keep sealed."

Your heart slowed.

Your breath stilled.

Then—

You stepped through.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [26/06/2025]

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you make alan a scarf. he tries to repay you for everything you've done for him.

COMMENTS: happy birthday @dove-da-birb :3 i hope u have a good day !!!

The soft yellow yarn looks almost funny in his rough hands. Alan gazes upon the fabric with a furrow brow, cheeks red from the winter chill. You stand before him, waiting for him to give you any reaction at all to your gift.

“What is this?” he asks, voice soft and rough, sweeter than honey as he addresses you.

“It’s a scarf. I made it for you. Noticed you didn’t have one and decided to fix that,” you shrug, watching as he turns it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he murmurs, eyes widening with wonder.

“I did, yes.” you confirm.

Alan looks touched. It’s the softest you have ever seen him, standing outside Clementia’s door, hunched over as snow piles by his feet. He came all this way to see you, just to check in after a particularly stressful day—and yet, he was making you feel better just by being around.

Snowflakes dot his hair, melting into the dark, tousled strands. You almost want to reach out and brush them off, to run your fingers through it and do away with the wetness from the melting snow, but you don’t. He looks so pretty like this—and you reckon he would look even prettier if he was wearing that scarf and keeping warm.

“Let me put it on for you,” you offer, placing your hands on top of the soft woven yarn.

Alan freezes, much like the icicles that have formed overheard, looking so sturdy and yet being so, so fragile. One touch and they could fall, plummeting toward the Earth before shattering completely.

Removing the scarf from his hands, you take care when wrapping it around his neck. Alan’s face feels warm—you have gotten close enough to feel his body heat, taking the opportunity to do so, slowly moving the scarf around and around his neck.

You’re lucky it’s not snowing harder, or else the moment would be ruined and you’d have to crowd inside this broken down building. Not exactly the most ideal for a romantic getaway.

It isn’t until you pull away that you realize Alan has hunched over, trying his hardest to make it easy for you to help him. It sends a warmth flowing through your veins, even as the cold air nips at your nose.

“You can come inside, if you’d like,” you say.

Right, yeah. Because you just wrapped the scarf on him so of course he would come inside and take it off. That makes perfect sense.

You just don't want him to leave.

“No, I—I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to check in,” he says gruffly, shrinking in on himself, “If you’re alright, then...goodnight. See you.”

“Alan, wait.”

You don’t reach out to him. He might run away if you touch him. Your words, thankfully, are enough to freeze him in place, his trembling back your only indicator of how he feels right now.

“It’s cold. Let me make you tea. You can sit across the room if you want, just—let me.” you plead.

Your front door is wide open, and for him it always will be.

“...I’ll make the tea. You sit down,” he mumbles, turning back to face you, “You should rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“So you’re staying?”

He hesitates.

A nod.

Relief floods your veins and you beam, stepping aside to let him through. The shitty wooden floor creaks under his feet and your heart sings at the familiar sound.

Clementia only ever feels like home when he’s inside of it. You only even feel at home when he’s around.

Stay the afternoon? You hope he stays forever.

[wom-womp]

 (An Invitation) Dean + Cas - Invite

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Au: University/Collage

Word Count: 1.4 k

(Click For Better Quality)

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Notes: So I finally got into the habit of daily/semi daily writing (idk how long that will last) but while doing so I cracked into the volt of my previously un-posted works andddd here you go! thought the interaction were funny. No beta we die like my will to finish this<3

Ok, Winchester buck up, you can do this.

Dean sighs and opens the door to the fourth floor, Jo and Charlie giggle behind him while Benny just rolls his eyes. With all the courage and gracefulness he has Dean walks out, heading straight for the door labelled “138” where he has been told one Castiel N. is staying at.

Dean goes to grab the invitation flyer out of his pocket before a box of mints hits him in the dead in the back of his head, a sharp pain starts to ache through his skull.

“Fuck!!! Jo what's freaking wrong with you!?” Dean howls, gripping the painful spot trying to subdue the pain into submission. Only more giggles erupt from his “support” team. “Some mints for you and your boyfriend” snickers Jo, he's not making the mistake of pregaming with them ever again.

“Har har very funny!” Hisses Dean, rolling his eyes as the ache starts to subside from agonising to something more dull. He straightens up and sighs, patting himself down and while he is at it grabbing the mints, quickly snacking down on a few Dean feels almost ready.

Rather not stink of beer while talking to that hot mysterious guy from study hall.

Before Dean can knock the door opens to reveal him, mystery guy, or as he has come to know him “Castiel” with the help of Charlie and her hacking skills (“No Dean it's not hacking, it's called navigating the university website you tech illiterate dumbass”). He stands there, rumpled sex hair and a navy robe pulled around himself.

The 2 stand at a standstill, no one speaking while Cas’s gloriously blue eyes bore into Dean.

“Uh-”

“Do I know you?” rough voice and utterly unamused tone. Dean stands a little surprised before breaking into one of his famous Dean Winchester grins.

“You do now sweetheart,”

The man only rolls his eyes. Cute.

“How did you know to open the door before I knocked anyways? You a psychic or something?” A bit of amusement plays on Cas’s face as he pulls the robe tighter around himself. “Mmm, what if I told you yes, I in fact am one?” A birdish tilt of the head goes along with it.

Dean is a little taken aback by the comment, starting to come up with some pick-up line about crystals and balls.

“You and your friends are just incredibly loud and these walls are thin.” He notes glancing over at the group still standing by the fire exit, Dean’s face heats up and god he's fumbling this so badly fuck fuck fuck why can't he just be normal about a guy for once in his lif-

“It was nice speaking to you” States Castiel before the door starts shutting.

“Wait Cas no!” He calls out, hand grabbing at the door, retching it open making Cas step away, eyes narrowing ever more. “How do you almost know my name?” His tone is harsher now, shit no no no why did he say that!! “My name is Castiel not Cas” He adds, smartass.

Trying to keep the mood light and not come off as a creepy stalker Dean nods and steps away too, mirroring Cas yet his hand stays firmly planted on the door. “Well Castiel ‘s a bit of a mouthful so you know..?” He winks, but Castiel just keeps staring, hand reaching for something beside the door. “Is it?” He quarks an eyebrow.

Shuffling is heard from behind Cas, a blonde much shorter man appears behind him, face mask on and hair pushed up with one of those fuzzy things Sam always used to use. Dean’s thoughts go straight to boyfriend and a fizzy sort of jealousy wraps around his neck he quickly pushes away cause no – Dean will not be one of those guys who get possessive over a guy they don’t even know. Hell Cas might not even be into dudes!! Must be a roommate then, right??

“Cassie, is my package here? Do I need to sign something?” The man grumbles and oh? Cassie?? “Cassie huh?” Grins Dean, smile becoming even brighter and bolder. He’ll file that away for later. “No no Gabriel this in-” Castiel pauses and turns his glare back on Dean. “Don't” He commands seething and Dean only laughs noding. “Ok ok no Cassie then, I’ll stick to sweetheart and Cas”.

Cas shakes his head and starts to talk with this mystery Gabriel dude in some other language that Dean has no understanding of. “Ok I get that but why is he holding our door open??” Thankfully Gabriel switches to English after some time in Dean’s favour. “Don’t know, you ask him, I’ve been trying to get why he's here” Grumbles Cas in an adorable way that seemingly only he can pull off with that exhausted yet hot look he has.

“Well??” The shorter man asks, both their attention now turned solely on him.

“You two angels or something?” Dean asks, mind a little empty so only the 2 men’s names come to mind. “Archangel Gabriel and Seraph Castiel right?” Don't call Dean a stalker but he researched Cas and well Mom always said angels were watching over them so she had mentioned the Archangel who had told the Virgin Mary she was knocked up.

The two men just stare at him blankly before Gabriel coughs, clearly covering the snickering that had come out a second earlier.

“Was that a flirtation??” Castiel asks before enticing the now crumbled flyer in Dean’s hand attention now focused on it as opposed to the reddening Winchester in front of him. “Umm, do you want it to be?” Audible laughter can be heard from the now-closed fire exit door, seemingly Benny had taken pity on the poor foul and saved him at least a little bit of his dignity from the girls.

“So what's with the flyer then? Trying to ask my baby bro to join your cult?” Gabriel tilts his head, so brother then, the sharp noes whose shadows make an illusion of a beak-like shape and those same blue eyes now make sense. “If you are, you're quite bad at it” Ouch Cas don't say that but amusement and a little bit of fear do sit quite nicely on his sharp features.

“Just ask him out Dean!!!” Yells Charlie who seemingly got away from under Benny’s watch and opened the door to the stairs where the rest of their group stayed, waiting for Dean to man up.

“Will you?” Asks Castiel, eyebrow quirked, he steps a little closer to him. Dean is a mess and he feels like he's starting to burn up, mind only focused on Cas and those damn eyes that swallow him up like a black hole. Having already forgotten Gabriel who's just watching this all unfold.

“Gabriel you going to stand here and observe?” Asks Cas not as enthralled as Dean seems to be. “Mmmm perilously little bro, this is better than the shit I was just watching so please do continue and let this first year embarrass himself.” Dean can hear some soap opera playing in the background

“I ugh was wondering if you wanted to come to a party my friends and I were hosting. I saw you around campus a couple of times and you seem like a pretty chill dude so…?” Heat rises in Dean’s body as Cas graces him with a ghost of a lip-sealed grin. “So instead of just approaching me in a public place you decided to find out my name, find out where I live and personally show up to hand deliver me this crumpled flyer?”

“Will it make it better if I say I ain't sober?”

The paper is ripped from Dean’s hands, Castiel isnt afraid to get in real and personal it seems. Good.

“Is that a yes?” A hopeful little butterfly blooms in Dean’s chest slowly fluttering around on its barely formed wings.

“Goodbye Dean”

A door is slammed in his face. In his awestruck glory, Dean seems to have forgotten to keep the door held open.

“Smooth Winchester”

“Oh fuck off Jo!!!”

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Ending Notes: Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoyed it!!! I might post more of these little oneshotes as the month goes by but who knows. Also once I get enough written I will post a collection on A03 (will link it to this post later). Anyways I have to let you know that there WAS a crystal ball / ball foundling joke in there but it didn't make the cut....

[queersyourgender]

Hi! I hope your day has been good so far! I just wanna ask if you’d do something for Whitaker! You have free range but something fluffy maybe? Maybe picking fun at him for how many scrub changes this poor boy has had? Regardless, have a great day, eat sum, and stay hydrated!!!!!

Found a Keeper — Dennis Whitaker x GN!Reader

Notes: DENNIS MY EVERYTHING i'm so happy someone sent something for him!! Any excuse to write my scrungly little "day's only have over" mf!! Here's what I managed to write up after my nap, thank you for your well wishes, and I hope you have a wonderful day as well!

———

You don’t mean to start laughing, you really don’t, but when you suddenly cross him wearing bright blue instead of the mandated black scrubs of the ER doctors, you hold your charts up to your face to hide the way you start giggling.

It doesn’t do shit, evidently, because he notices immediately, turning to you with an exasperated look in his eyes. “They only had morgue scrubs left in my size,” he explains monotonously, like he’s already said this exact same sentence in that exact same cadence multiple times before.

Unfortunately, you seem to find that the most hilarious thing in the world because you double over laughing. Dennis emits a small groan, but his smile is fond, like he doesn’t actually mind it all that much that you’re laughing at his expense.

You don’t even get to see it though, your hands on your knees as you direct your laughter towards the floor in an attempt to not be as rude as you feel like you’re being. “It’s really not that funny,” he tries to say, but that just makes you choke on your chuckling.

“Oh man,” you wheeze as you straighten back up, wiping a stray tear from your eye and finally looking at his own. The lost, wet-weasel-looking stance he’s standing in nearly sends you to another fit of hysterics, but you manage to control yourself.

You don’t understand how someone so competent could have so many happy little accidents in such a short span of time. And you know he’s competent, you’ve seen him take everything in stride and keep working despite it all, and he’s criminally hilarious while doing it, too.

“I’m sorry,” you finally manage to say between your peals of giggling, still holding up your charts to your face like that’s going to save you now. Dennis at least doesn’t look all that offended, just exasperated. “I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a day and you already switched professions.”

The MS4 rolls his eyes like he’s heard the joke before, and you have no doubt that that’s Dr. Santos’s doing. However, unlike Dr. Santos, you’re not poking fun just for the hell of it. You’re very aware of your pig-tail pulling technique.

“It’s a shame,” you muse on, which seems to draw his attention, since he thought you were finished. It also gives him that ever-curious look on his face, the one that had you keep your eye on him from the beginning of the day until now. “I was just starting to get used to having you around.”

A small, pink blush seems to color his cheeks at your words and you grin behind your charts, because that’s the intended reaction. With a lop-sided smile, he wrings his hands in front of himself and shrugs at you. “Well, I’m not actually going anywhere, so…”

You snort quietly, because where’s that quick-wit of his at all of a sudden? With a smile, you walk forward and make to move past him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning in to speak to him in a low tone. “Good,” you tell him. “Because I really do like having you around.”

The heat radiating off his head gives him away, but you don’t comment, just stare into his owlish eyes and wink before sauntering away, feeling more confident than you have in a while. Maybe a resident flirting with an MS4 isn’t the best idea, given that he’ll only be here for the length of his rotation, but who knows? Maybe you’ve finally found a keeper regardless. You sure as hell hope so, anyway.

[ananiel]

Hello hello

Here is the Romeo fic i promised, please enjoy

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Romeo had expected this assignment to be dull.

Another spoiled heir, another porcelain doll to trail behind, to nod politely at, to keep alive while she fluttered about the city like she owned the air.

He’d done this before — not officially, of course. Still in training, still a “sweeper,” not yet licensed to kill without permission. But everyone at the Academy said the same thing: this job would make or break him.

What he hadn’t expected was you.

You didn’t walk like royalty.

You didn’t dress like them.

You didn’t speak the way rich girls usually did — all affectation and polished boredom.

There was something—off. In a good way.

Like music played on a slightly wrong instrument: recognizable, but always laced with something sharper underneath.

Romeo had seen you for the first time in the garden behind the house — sitting under a dead tree with your coat open, one shoe dangling from your fingers, watching the sky like it might answer back.

He was sent to escort you to a meeting.

You hadn’t even glanced at him.

Just sighed.

“You’re new.”

“Romeo,” he said, standing too straight.

“Sweeper in training. Assigned to you.”

“Hm.” You finally looked at him, but your eyes didn’t stay.

“That’s unfortunate.”

And just like that, he knew he was in for it.

She didn’t ask for protection.

She didn’t act like she needed it.

She didn’t speak much when others were around, but when she did, it was in quicksilver phrases — soft, vivid, barbed. And sometimes, even funny.

Romeo had never met someone who made silence feel like a challenge.

So, of course, he talked too much.

He told stories from the Academy — most of them exaggerated, half of them flat-out lies — because when he got you to snort or smile, it felt like a victory more precious than praise.

“We had to run through fire once. Blazing corridor. They didn’t tell us it was fake until after we’d all burned our eyebrows.”

You blinked.

“Your eyebrows grew back weird.”

“They grew back stronger. Like vengeance brows.”

You had looked at him, blinked once, and then laughed. Really laughed.

Romeo smiled like a fool for the rest of the day.

He’d never say it aloud — not even to himself — but there was something about how you existed that made him feel like a boy again. A boy who hadn’t been carved into a weapon yet.

You walked barefoot when no one looked.

You snuck off to places you weren’t meant to be.

You lit candles in rooms that were already bright.

And yet, somehow, the moment someone else entered, you folded yourself up — composed, unreadable, perfect.

Romeo noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He noticed everything.

One night, it rained during a formal event.

Everyone else crowded under parasols, whispering complaints.

You stepped out alone into the garden in your evening shoes, let the downpour soak into your skin. You didn’t dance or pose or twirl like girls in movies.

You just stood there.

Still.

Like a part of the storm.

Romeo followed, of course. He didn’t say anything. Just watched. His black coat heavy with water, his fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know if he should stop you or protect you from lightning.

You turned your head slightly and spoke without looking at him.

“You always follow orders this blindly?”

“No,” he answered.

“Just you.”

“You think I’m worth the effort?”

“No,” Romeo said, quickly.

“I think I’m already in trouble.”

You tilted your head then — barely — and smiled without teeth.

And somewhere in the garden of stone statues and soaked roses, Romeo forgot every reason he had not to fall.

.

.

.

The ballroom shimmered with gold and false smiles.

Crystal chandeliers bled warm light across the faces of the old money, the new money, and the desperate ones pretending they were either. Violin strings trembled through the air like fragile glass, and gowns rustled like gossip across the polished floor.

You hated these nights.

Too many eyes. Too many shallow questions.

You stood near the long table of champagne flutes and sliced fruit, sipping something that tasted vaguely expensive, wearing a dress you didn’t pick. Around you, conversation bloomed like weeds—boring, brittle.

And then he appeared.

He had that glint.

That rich-boy boredom behind the eyes.

Tailored silk. Arrogant smirk. The type that called girls “darling” and meant “property.”

“You must be the heiress with the tragic little pet bodyguard,” he said, circling like a vulture.

“I was expecting… colder.”

You didn’t smile. Didn’t frown. You just tilted your head.

“And I was expecting a man with less perfume.”

He grinned. Tried to touch your arm.

And then he wasn’t there anymore.

Romeo’s hand closed around the boy’s wrist with casual precision — not hard, not soft, just enough to say something. Something with sharp edges.

“She’s not interested,” Romeo said, voice low, polite, final.

The boy scoffed. Until he saw Romeo’s eyes.

Stalkers had a look.

A way of standing like shadows with weight.

A way of not blinking.

The boy swallowed, muttered something about “overstepping,” and disappeared with his cologne in tow.

You opened your mouth — maybe to scold him, maybe to tease — but you didn’t get the chance.

Romeo stepped forward. No hesitation. No permission asked.

One hand found the side of your jaw. The other, your waist.

And then he kissed you.

Slow. Certain.

Like he’d been waiting.

Not for a green light.

Not for a perfect moment.

Just… for the right reason.

And this — you being his — was reason enough.

The kiss didn’t feel like a ballroom kiss. It felt like a forest fire snuck into a palace.

Messy. Hot. Too real for the room full of glass masks.

When he pulled back, his voice had dropped to something gravelly and close.

“Don’t let boys who smell like money talk to you like that.”

You blinked. “You’re my bodyguard.”

“And apparently your problem, too.”

“...You kissed me.”

“I know.”

He was too calm. Too smug. Too close.

“I’m going to yell at you later,” you muttered, cheeks flushed.

“Later,” Romeo said, grinning.

“But right now, I’d like to enjoy the fact that I just kissed you stupid in front of everyone you hate.”

You stepped back, almost breathless, glaring.

But your lips curved upward all the same.

“Oh You want to tease? Fine by me…two can play this game”

.

.

.

The party was long behind you.

But its whispers lingered, sticky in the folds of your dress, in the ache of your feet, in the way your shoulder still carried the ghost of someone’s entitled hand.

The carriage rocked gently as the two horses trotted through the city’s stone-veined streets. Lanterns passed like dying stars.

Romeo sat across from you at first. Silent. Watching.

The space between you crackled.

His jaw was tight. His arms folded. And even without looking directly at him, you felt it — the way his mood rolled like thunder just under his skin.

You leaned back against the plush seat, your head cocked, your voice laced with knowing mischief.

“So quiet, mon garde. Did something happen?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away.

But you saw the twitch in his brow. The way his eyes flicked briefly to your shoulder — where someone’s hand had lingered too long during that last waltz.

You smiled sweetly.

“Was it the third dance partner? Or the fifth? Or the red-haired one who asked if I liked poetry—”

“Don’t.” His voice was low. Clipped.

That made you laugh. And stretch your legs. You tilted your head to the side and met his gaze — the kind of look that teased and tested, all in one.

“Are you pouting?”

“You think this is pouting?”

“Well, you’re brooding. Dark eyes. Arms crossed. Lips tight. I’ve read novels, Romeo, I know the signs.”

He stood in one smooth, sudden movement — the kind you didn’t see so much as feel — and crossed the carriage in two steps, stopping directly before you.

He didn’t touch you. Not yet.

But his knee pressed between yours as he leaned down, crowding your space, his voice a notch above a whisper.

“You let every boy in that ballroom ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say yes to every one.”

“You didn’t say no either.”

You looked up at him, completely unfazed.

“Why would I? I had fun watching your eye twitch every time someone bowed.”

He exhaled through his nose. A humorless sound. A warning.

“You think this is a game?”

“No,” you said softly, letting your finger trail up the edge of his sleeve.

“I think it’s very serious. So serious that my bodyguard forgot himself long enough to kiss me in the middle of a thousand eyes.”

He finally touched you. One hand on your knee. The other lifting your chin just slightly with a thumb under your jaw.

“I haven’t forgotten a single second since.”

And then he kissed you again — slower this time. Less performance. More possession.

The kind of kiss that rewrote territory.

By the time he pulled away, your heart was thudding like a war drum, and your lips were parted just slightly — breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“You're mine," he said simply. "They can look. Ask. Wonder. But they won’t touch you again.”

“So dramatic,” you murmured, though your voice had gone husky.

“You don’t like that?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

He sat back again, but this time beside you. Not across. His arm settled along the top of the seat, fingers brushing your shoulder, his thigh pressed against yours — warm and solid and unmoving.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

But it was a silence thick with everything unspoken — with the electricity of a storm building behind calm skies.

You didn’t mind it.

And from the soft smirk that curved Romeo’s lips as he watched you out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t either.

[forecast0ctopus]

[fumifooms]

Onis, cannibalism and the above-divine power of human conscience in Touge Oni

"It can only be referred to as the curse or by its ancient name, kidou (Way of the oni). It is the greatest, mightiest and most abominable power of all humankind. The source of the ??? selfish prosperity accomplished through the relentless reaping of the harvest that is the people. It [is] a be[???] formless concept but it is the foundation on which civilizations and t[he ???] kami are built. What must be done, I do not know. It will not suffice to merely kill and be rid of it, it must be taken." -Sansei Shounin Kozumi

Hello! Short opener because I want to get straight into it- Have you read Touge Oni? If you haven’t, stop right the fuck here and go read it!!!!!!!! Go read it go go go!!!!!!!!! With that said, I’ve been having this thought since vol 5~6 but I just did a full reread before going into reading volume 7 and I am only more confident now. Because of the nature of this analysis, word choices are very important, there is no official english translation currently and although I also read the manga in french, there is a high quality english translation by Penny Theater, thank you! The pages shown here are theirs.

There are 2 sections here to cover: what are onis and what is the power that be: what gives onis credence at all, what gives the oni curse power, what gives gods power. Going into these two things points us towards an answer to perhaps our current biggest question in the story— what the hell is the oni curse?

About Onis

So, first I think we have to acknowledge the real life counterparts to the beings and beliefs Touge Oni references. In our real world, En-no-Ozuna, or En-no-Gyoja, is a half-historical half-legendary person that is credited for the creation of Shugendō, a religion. With this knowledge there’s a lot of fun links that can be made with the story, like how its religious practice involves hiking through mountain ranges (Touge Oni: oni of the [mountain] pass). Or how, Zenki (Zen’s alias) and Goki (future-Miyo’s alias in the first chapters) in legends are (mountain) onis that En-no-Gyoja rallied to his side, they pledged to renounce their evil and follow him. Shugendō means "the path of training and testing", which is also very reminiscent of themes the story has been pointing towards. "Let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate".

Ehem, all this to say, shugendō is a religion that’s very syncretic, which means it combines ideas a lot of different religions and schools of thought, including buddhism, taoism (remember that En-no-Ozuna in the story is referred to as an unaffiliated daoist monk), ainu beliefs and shintoism. For the purpose of this analysis, (including my lack of finding shugendō ressources about onis) that means it doesn’t narrow down what interpretations of onis may be relevant. In Touge Oni, many beliefs and religions similarly coexist pretty much seamlessly, and it even references several ancient texts on deities and whatnot, and the "canon" on the details of onis is pretty much unheard of from my research. I’m not a religious or Japan expert by any means but I know just enough to affirm that this sort of mix and mash is accurate to the era, beliefs coexist in ways that are sometimes not cut and clean. For this analysis I went diving into the wikipedia for onis and let me tell you that was an example of this, buddhism, shintoism, folktales, without mentioning non-japanese cultural equivalents subtypes and influences— there are so many variations of onis through time.

All this to say…! We can’t rely on historical depictions of onis to solve this, there’s no cheat code, we have to analyze through what Touge Oni gives us for the answers we seek. Even Touge Oni tells us how onis can refer to different things, oni not only being used for man-eating monsters but also for ‘eccentric people’, those who don’t fit in, those who people want to villify and dehumanize. Nevertheless, from the humble amount of research I did, I found a couple of real life examples that can give us something to work with:

— Akiko Baba classifies onis into five categories: 1: Folklore onis, associated with ancient ancestral spirits, especially earth spirits. 2: Onis associated with religions held by people living in mountainous areas, like the yamabushi (who follow shugendō!!! Yamabushi meaning, those who lie down in the mountain). (Baba-san please tell me your sources I need to find any sources on Shugendō-specific onis… Are you just talking about Zenki and Goki?!!) 3: Onis linked to buddhism, like evil demons (jakki) and devil figures from outside cultures like yakshas and rakshasas. 4: Human onis, bandits or violent people who became onis as divine punishment. 5: Onis from transformation stories, where someone transforms into an oni because of intense resentment or anger, especialy in nō theater.

You’ll notice here that many of these have interesting implications for Touge Oni onis, especially the human oni category! But also how Zen notably succumbs to his violent rage against Shounin has some similar implications to the transformation oni, and of course there’s the yamabushi oni, which as far as my research went mostly means onis who can be "tamed". Onis eating humans isn’t a constant, but it’s a very common (and often central) aspect of their presence as a myth.

— Lafcadio Hearn in his book Shokunjinki ("the man-eating oni") says that "those who have been greedy of their living are supposed to become gakis (starving spirits)" before falling into the Gakidō (the kingdom of starving spirits) after their death.

So here it’s greed that corrupts. This will be more topical in the conclusion section of my analysis, but for now let’s just piece all of this together and remember that there is half nature and half nurture to onis in most myths that are relevant to us here, half earned and half innate. In versions like in Touge Oni where onis were humans before being changed, they started out the same as anybody but through immoral actions or negative emotions have transformed into literal monsters, either as divine punishment or just the innate corrupting nature of their acts or feelings. Cannibalism is most definitely an immoral action haha, with or without the concept of sin, so this slots neatly into that. So that’s the earned half— But once you become an oni, something has been innately changed within your being, even if your actions were your own as a human— and like in Touge Oni, it’s not unheard of than an oni would want to reform themselves, but still quite uncommon for them to be able to or invited to, En-no-Ozuno’s act like in the legend to extend a helping hand to onis, offering to direct their life towards good, and for the onis to accept and join him… This is a big act of faith in these onis, these people, in that they haven’t been warped enough that they can’t enact any free will for good anymore.

Okay! Lastly for the only irl-historical section of this analysis… The onis in the oni village call themselves ayo-no-oni, or in its full name Ayo-no-Sato-no-Oni. It’s a one-eyed, man-eating oni that’s the oldest verifiable depiction of an oni in japanese literature (Izumo-no-Kuni Fudoki). Thank you Penny Theater! Fun fact, one of the irl origins for onis is thought to be miners and such, so the onis here being metal workers who have injured eyes from their work is a fun detail.

Okay, that’s all the obligatory context out of the way… Now, onto the mystery of the Touge Oni.

Cannibalism is the sole thing known to turn people into onis. Only humans become onis, and the only way to do so is eat human flesh. Like mister monk here, I think the oni curse being divine punishment in a strict sense is unlikely — and was disproven in the manga. But even then it doesn’t feel like the oni curse truly has morality attached to it, it seems like just a… Phenomenon. Uninterested in the circumstances around those it afflicts and impartial in how and who it develops and hounds.

And well… As we see soon enough, the kamis have no power over onis’ state. Like En-no-Ozuno points out it’s very unexpected, the extent to which kamis, especially ookamis and especially Hitokotonushi, should be unlimited, but it seems that this curse of the onis’ even has power over the kamis, is above them, something almost higher than gods in the hierarchy of the laws of the universe, maybe an innate energy or power of the world, like life.

Incidentally, there’s something that humans have and nothing else does, which could explain why the curse only affects humans, a power that becomes central to the story… Something like mantra.

Additional info would be that in Touge Oni, an oni’s horns have a huge focus on them. They’re often referred to as if they are what holds the curse, maybe are the origin of it, where the seed of the curse is planted, like if the horns fall from your head then the curse will just leave you as well. They’re the only visible trait of an oni in most cases, the first and most iconic one at least, and En-no-Ozuno has designed a way to "block" them from appearing through putting a hoop on blood vessels, to which Shounin points out that you can also block their "murderous urge" and "madness" in the same way, perhaps in a process akin to blocking chi flow, a concept that exists in some forms of medicine like acupuncture. The exact mental effects of being an oni are unknown, it’s implied that being an oni comes with side-effects of violent urges and a short temper, but we see with the village of onis that that’s not exactly… Relevant, or noticeable? A lot of this more fragile mental state could logically be attributed to what would push you to commit cannibalism in the first place, famine and horrible conditions that put you in a survival of the fittest mode, trauma and extreme circumstances. So in the end, the finer points of what it means to be an oni in-world are left vague. Different degrees of transformation exist, so to speak. Future-Zen in the capital chapter grows to an enormous size. The appearance of horns onto someone eating human flesh is immediate.

About mantra

From the very start, Touge Oni places a lot of emphasis on the power of language.

Even every chapter ends with records of the sacred treasures being made/shown, religious writings and information archiving. The story references older stories for its own era, and also it very much has a meta dimension to it (that it spells out at the camera with its diegetic fourth wall breaking and timetravel shenanigans-), Touge Oni is a story from the old past of our real world reaching us readers through a book.

The manga ends up talking about philosophy a LOT, and strives to teach a way to think of life where you become aware of the gigantic infinite cosmic scale of the universe and without forgetting or undermining the meaning in a life, the joy to be had in the small things and deciding your own fate. These two aspects of the story, the importance of communication and philosophy, make the entrance of the concept of "mantra" (呪) fitting, smoothens it with coherence and intuition both.

Mantras are thoughts, concepts, wants and will all wrapped into one word. Mantra is your conscience. Mantra is soul. Mantra is kidou.

Kamis see things like bonds between people, Sadera’s zenmiyo shipping goggles etc, and similarly Ookuninushi says that Miyo has a nice mantra after meeting her and it’s… Well, it’s vague, we’re unsure what to make of it, in meaning and measure. Most direct and substantiated theory imo is that she has nice willpower and life philosophy, like when she talks to Susanoo and he takes an immediate liking to her because of her words about life and joy and how to find happiness even in cosmic insignificance. But still! Vague as hell, in good part due to just how wide of a concept mantra is, even just hard to wrap your head around it and visualize it fully.

In the end it’s a pretty abstract concept, so there’s still much to finetune about how it acts and the philosophy around it. For example, Hitokotonushi says this about the nature of wishes and mantras.

The nature of wishes and the nature of mantra… Perhaps she means how Zen understanda how a want affects the whole of the world, that everything is give and take and that when taking balance doesn’t stay the same. Something gained somewhere is something lost elsewhere, like in the ukei, gaining ground and ressources are things enemy man-grass cannot have, and all these things that Miyo taught them and did for them are things for which they in turn attributed to her, it generated thoughts and emotions and worship and mantra, Miyo gave and they gave back.

Mantras can be seen as the power to grant wishes… Interesting indeed. In this way, mantra, like worship points in the ukei, could rather be seen as an unlimited ressource that humans generate. Then, maybe it’s more that Zen wishing for Miyo’s feelings to be changed would be suppressing her mantra, rather than taking, disrupting the flow of this mysterious, powerful energy… Like disrupting chi.

But let’s step back! Kamis are made of mantra, "humans brought them forth through mantras and gave them forth". And THIS is why when a kami has less worshippers and gets less worship, less reverence and thoughts from people, they become smaller and weaker, enough that now most kamis can’t step outside their shrines, enough that some become microscopic when completely forgotten— Wait why are kanjis making up atoms and the fabric of the universe?

Let’s remember that when Miyo got smaller than microscopic, smaller than atoms, the essence of matter and time was writing characters. The kanjis here move, they seem alive almost. There is something divine about human language, human thought, in its essence. Many times we see how important consciousness and thoughts and will are important within the world of Touge Oni, how the concept of them exists and lives as a force. This is a kami talking abotu what resides in a black hole- death and nothingness yet everything that is.

Who knows how much mantra truly has power over! Fascinating. But see, while having people’s indifference as a kami is bad, having their hate is worse. Like Hitokotonushi states, humans’ terror for kamis have turned into a plague over kamis. Hitokotonushi is an impossibly powerful kami that is by that virtue terrifying, and perhaps more importantly is a easy target for anger- with infinite power to grant wishes yet only grants wishes from people who successfully climb her mountain, even granting harmful wishes. The jealousy, the frustration, the injustice— there are so many reasons why Hitokotonushi would become a target for negative emotions, so many reasons she would have to flee to the moon to be far enough from humans, in fear of their sole mind’s will’s power.

So humans, their worship, mantra, people’s thoughts and feelings and conceptualization of a kami, are what gives kamis their status and power, and also what takes it away. Even more than simply taking what they have away, what they have given in the first place, mantra can curse.

Let’s remember the description of kidou by Shounin that I opened this analysis with. "It can only be referred to as the curse or by its ancient name, kidou (Way of the oni). It is the greatest, mightiest and most abominable power of all humankind. The source of the ??? selfish prosperity accomplished through the relentless reaping of the harvest that is the people. It [is] a be[???] formless concept but it is the foundation on which civilizations and t[he ???] kami are built. What must be done, I do not know. It will not suffice to merely kill and be rid of it, it must be taken."

Kidou is mantra. The foundation on which civilizations and kamis are built. The mightiest power of humankind. The reaping of the harvest that is the people like harvesting worship points from man-grass. Shounin wants to save Hitokotonushi from her current affliction, something that can only be done by countering human mantra somehow, something kamis and even sennins, who seem to operate through a lack of mantra rather than under it like kamis, cannot do. It will not suffice to be rid of it, it must be taken, it must be given to the kamis to be self-sufficient, it must be presented to the divine. The oni curse is mantra.

Shounin’s goal is saving Hitokotonushi by removing mantra. Although I think remove might be the wrong word— I theorized that removing mantra from humans could save Hitokotonushi either through directly removing the bind of human mantra upon kamis, or stopping the mantra from changing- deteriorating with time with less worship or turning to anger disrespect and terror, BUT his presentation to the divine consists in giving mantra to kamis- presenting it to them, hence my saying just earlier that this could instead be giving them the power of mantra, rather than just removing it from existence entirely. Instead of telling a fire it no longer needs fuel to keep going, you give it the power to feed itself wood and gasoline endlessly.

And just now I spoke of sennins in a way living without mantra- let’s get into that.

The final step to becoming a seinin is to walk through a town wracked by famine and misery without stopping or lifting a single finger. To offer no help and remain focused on the task to get through it above everything. It’s about leaving empathy behind and putting yourself above the situation, it’s about growing indifferent, as though the suffering of others even around you is inconsequential and doesn’t concern you.

To become a sennin is to leave the scale of thinking of humans, it’s to have learned as a human to think like kamis and see humans as small and meaningless within the cosmic design of the universe. Or rather, a type of transcending humanity that grows cynical, almost resentfully so, where emotions are worth less than nothing and cold logic reigns. But to what design, to what goal? The pursuit of spiritual ascendance is motivating and tempting enough for most, but we do see that some of what we see in Shounin are character flaws specific to him. The sennin mother was kind enough. Shounin talks like no one should care about anything if they are enlightened, but everything he does is ironically out of love for Hitokotonushi-sama.

This incoherence can probably be explained by the "reintegration" Shounin regularly does. We can look at the sacred treasure record of saiukou. "Regular disintegration and reintegration are necessary to keep personality-mantra coherence. Remember your heart." Something Shounin does to brute-force not fully leaving his feelings behind and remembering his goals? I hit the 30 pics per post limit so lemme just stitch the rest of the relevant sacred treasure record puzzle pieces together whike I’m here…

To ascend is to leave mantra behind. Somehow, to wield mantra is to be above-divine, it is incompatible with godhood or ascendance yet it influences and all is bound by it. It is a power that as a sennin you give up, a sacrifice instead of a granted wish, mantra is like the power to grant wishes and ascendance in true ascetism fashion is to, like Zen, refuse to use it and take.

Mantra, the human-exclusive level of thought and philosophy and communication and ability to visualize and build and want. The power of desires. The thing through which one can ascend or curse.

To become a divine being is to leave humanity behind, to leave humanity behind is to leave empathy and compassion and emotions behind. These things are however what makes us different from gods, what gives us powers over them, what makes life as insignificant man-grass worthy.

What is the oni curse?

Kidou, the curse of the oni, as per Shounin’s explanation what civilizations and kamis are built on, what he seeks to take to unchain kamis. Kidou is mantra.

Okay so… The curse of the oni is mantra, but how? What does that even mean?

Well, we’ve learned that most things are ruled by mantra, aka human will and imagination. Becoming a sennin has to do with transcending your own, mantras are what empower and disempower gods. The oni, too, in text, is said to be directly tied to the power of mantra, it is what shuts kamis’ mouths. But sennins, unlike kamis, are not created by human’s mantra, sennins do not rely on humans’ worship (mantra) for their powers and so their mouths aren’t shut, they are outside of mantras’ reach.

To remove an oni’s horns, their curse, by Hitokotonushi’s words is to rob them of their soul. To remove their oni curse is to remove the oni’s mantra. Which means the curse of the oni has tainted their mantra. The… mantra of the curse has tainted and fused with the person’s own mantra, the mantra involved in eating another human being has changed their own mantra innately forever until death. There’s a couple of different ways in which this could happen or for what reason, more precisely.

Human thoughts aka mantra, are what gives gods their forms, we are taught explicitly during the ukei that humans’ conceptualization of a kami dictates their appearance, wether they become a dragon or some other figure. Human mantra also has the power to curse gods- terror for a god becomes a plague that saps at their life and power.

A narrative then becomes clear, does it not? A koi that eats a koi remains a koi, a bear that eats human flesh does not become afflicted by an oni-like curse, the curse is human-bound. If it is the form-altering power of mantra that could curse onis into being, then… Human cannibalism is abhorred and demonized more than perhaps anything else, on a very innate and visceral level.

So by my favored theory, humans becoming monsters after doing cannibalism is that the intense judgement people who commit cannibalism face, this thought that immediately such an act makes them no longer human, takes form and manifests as a mantra that makes it true physically and spiritually— they not only become monsters but their very being is tainted, and since the stereotype of the average cannibal is a heartless emotionless bloodthirsty beast, that’s what onis are forced to become like on an intrinsic level. It is a more or less common myth worldwide, even just often a non-spiritual belief, that committing cannibalism saps at your humanity and turns you into something monstrous, like for example with the wendigo. Like we said earlier, onis are creatures of myth, and the biggest constant is that they are man-eating monsters. Mythical beings are somewhat like kamis, and since kamis can be of disaster or misfortune etc they can be believed in while still being negative in nature, so what’s to say committing an act that intrinsically changes so much about your spiritual state and your reputation in society, fitting the requirements for being an oni, turn you into one? A curse, placed on humans by humans, mantra, thought given form. It is no divine judge,ent, this is not Buddha’s doing, wether or not people can be "redempted" or wether they "deserve" it doesn’t matter, just the intense ostracization and dehumanization that the act inflicts upon you. Now anyone can see at a glance that you’ve committed such an heinous act, and the fear of onis continues on, as many are exiled ir isolated and encouraged to keep eating humans.

To commit cannibalism is to abandon your humanity. AbsoluteColor has an interesting theory centered on this. In their words, becoming an Oni might be something along the lines of transcendence, incomplete as it might be. In the Gabi trial, the aspiring sennin should shed his own emotions and go through a land devastated by war or famine without doing anything, and in a way the Oni who used other humans to feed himself had to shed his emotions, although they did so to gain something for themselves (food), making it a "stunted" transcendence...

My other theory is that since humans possess mantras, eating one breaks something/ fundamentally changes something in your being, either your spirit or body, because mantras are a power that can’t be consumed. So trying to consume it instead deflects it, channeling it in a way, and in this way becoming corrupted because something went wrong. But if it’s unrelated to the taboo as in theory 1 then it’d be weird that animals eating humans don’t become cursed- but the trouble could be that it’s a human eating mantra specifically, again that theme of a human’s special sentience being specially affected by things. Like, an animal doesn’t have the capacity to hold mantras so it slides off their back no trouble, but instead a human eating mantras is like trying to absorb or process it but it causes swelling past the bursting point. After all the process of becoming a god or something divine/above-human is a big topic, and we see how it changes someone and the strain that comes with it, the sacrifices, since by becoming a sennin you shed human emotions. In this reading human sentience itself is transcendant essentually, (and thus deeply affects the world,). Becoming a oni is to be chained by mantra, but the why exactly is up in the air, here it’s that eating another’s as a human, creature that generates mantra rather than being made of it like kamis and absorbing it within yourself messes you up, maybe because by digesting mantra you become made of mantra in some way, maybe the horns are pure mantra, part of them now. The other thing that makes this less likely is that the taboo theory offers some explanation as to why gods would be forbidden to speak about it despite knowing the details of it— it’s something so vile you cannot even speak of its origins, something sow oven into the laws of mantra and the universe that undoing it is unthinkable to even amatsus.

It could be a fusion of these. By consuming mantra you ascend to godhood in a way, and that is what allows one to become affected by mantra. Become bound by it. I’ve also entertained the idea that maybe it is their own mantra affecting their appearance, self-loathing and self-doubt and low self-esteem, your own consideration for your own humanity, after eating human flesh, that you no longer feel human or think you are monstrous. But it has low chances, because that can’t possibly be a phenomenon that always occurs impartially then, not everyone would think of themselves that way, especially with how out of it famine can make someone. This could be not unsimilar to this presentation of the divine deal, where you give the power of having mantra to a being only affected by mantra, onkt the other way around, where a being that generates mantra is now also commandeered by it, an essentialist tool of fate and the universe or something.

So,

to recap!

In my opinion either the oni mantra is strong because the taboo of it is strong, or because mantras are a tangible specially-corruptive thing when consumed.

Since the oni curse is mantra, removing it would have to be done through countering the mantra in some way, perhaps with a stronger positive one about how onis are humans like the rest of us or they can choose their own fate etc etc, or like what Shounin seeks to do to save Hitokotonushi from her curse, through removing mantra entirely.

The koi eats koi thing that the monk brought up is super interesting, any time a manga or japanese media touches on cannibalism it’s go-to example/case study to bring up, I regularly see it referenced even when I pick up a random manga. Asura by George Akiyama from 1970 is just one example. It seems koi eating koi is vey present in japanese consciousness… Which yeah is interesting— Kois are one popularized example but anytime we hear about animal species committing cannibalism we’re shocked by it, so it’s interesting how likely due to japanese exposure to kois it’s what sometimes haunts their stories. This sort of thing is visceral it feels like an innate wrong, so for talking about morality and nature and the innate status of things, yet the concept of higher sentience and how virtues are what makes humans special— it feels very emblematic and topical in many ways, and a very uniquely charged one.

I’m thinking that if they were to through with the Presentation of the Divine and the world became mantra-less Zen’s horns would fall. Which would be an interesting conflict because then Zen would have to consider "ok nice but is it worth trading for human sentience…", which ties back to the theme of wishes… Since human sentience is explicitly connected to mantras I feel like that supports the link I’m making here right, and how human emotions are something not below but rather above and inaccessible to the divine. Gods channel the power from their will through literal god powers that shape the world meanwhile humans can only channel their will through their actions, maybe it’s an inherent shift there that changes everything.

If onis have a strong mantra, and the kami, which are made of mantras, can’t undo the mantra of onis… Then perhaps, the same way that humans gave and take power of the kamis through mantras, humans are what made onis such a strong curse. Perhaps for the horns to fall, the devil’s mark as Ozuno said so fiercely once, the horns that are the mark of the oni, that give them their bloodlust and madness, then all it takes is for humans at large to stop fearing onis so— or rather, stop seeing cannibalism as an irredeemable act that strips your humanity from you forevermore. The power of thoughts is at the core of the story, and the intrigue with Shounin is baiting people to wonder, would it be so bad if that was taken away? Ozuno is tempted to go through with the Presentation to the supreme because it would cure his beloved, and if that were to cure Zen as well… Either from humans no longer being able to make mantras, or kamis becoming more powerful than the onis’ mantra, then that could be one more point of contention. I doubt Zen will be tempted, though, as someone who himself experienced it— survival at its rawest, mindless form. Hitokotonushi said it herself, that he understood the nature of wishes and thus mantras, with how he refused his second most important wish. Miyo herself is stated by people around her to have a fine mantra, a fine will and way to think, so I think that’s why our trio is the stuff of fate, the heroes of this tale. They have a bond so strong that the gods recognize it, and it’ll be because they’ll reach erudite knowledge on mantras and life without sacrificing their compassion or the perspective of a lowly human, baby!! Through shugendō, the path of training and testing, of trial and error and will to keep going!

Touge Oni is a lot about choice and willpower, carving your own path, the desires and ideologies and willpower and sentience of humans, how humans are both small vulnerable and insignificant on the scale of the cosmos and yet how such small beings can have so much impact and influence on the the world and their own fate— let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate. Miyo has changed the destiny the world thrusted upon her, herself bending time to change her own fate, Zen is determined to break his curse that’s stronger than gods and is already defying what should be dictating his life and behavior by acting upright and travelling with humans— humans are not divine but damn…… There’s something to us, isn’t there.

[dantent]

i love how he just throws us out of his room

[leviathanleva]

Neighbor! Simon who is sitting cross-legged on your kitchen floor, a hand on his stubbly chin while he tries to figure out how your washing machine works.

Meanwhile you're stirring a pot on the stove and glancing down at him apologetically every now and then.

Funny that there's a pack of Marlboro on the windowsill of your balcony along with an ash tray you'd bought especially for him.

Simon's muddy shoes are in your hallway more often than not, and you decided to get him a pair of slippers since he spends so much time there.

He wears them religiously, you find it adorable.

When you finally hear a click and the washing machine whirrs to life, you're so overjoyed that you wrap your arms around his waist and stand on your toes to press a kiss to his jaw.

His expression barely changes except for the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight.

He rubs gentle circles into the small of your back. You insist he stays for dinner.

He ends up sleeping on your couch, just in case something else goes wrong in your new apartment.

[seven-thewanderer]

This is something I did not expect to actually achieve

…but I’m about to get Shrimpo’s vintage skin

[wxxpingangxls]

mr munch!

he slammed the door, huffing. "what the fuck is your problem?" you asked, watching as he throws his gym bag on the floor.

"no one believes i have game!" he whined. armin scrunched his face as soon as he heard you snort, not taking your eyes off the tv, once. "something funny?" he asked, clearly unhappy with your response. he pathetically plumped himself on the sofa next to you.

armin was a nerd. your typical tv nerd. one who knew wayyy too much about things that were less than ideal, academically gifted and zero game when it came to getting women. i mean it wasn't his fault that he was sooo eager to please his teachers. sure, he was cute with his glasses that seemed more like a magnifying glass glued to his face, and not to mention that fuck ass bob of his. but you know what, he wore it well. and you had to give him that much.

"ok so, how do you pick up a pretty girl then?" you asked, now directly facing him. he fiddled with his bony fingers before swallowing harshly. "well?"

"well i'm charming?"

"according to who?" you bellowed out in laughter as he pouted. "you're a nerd, and there's nothing wrong with that," your hand rubbed on his knee as you gave him a pitiful smile.

"are you...giving me pity right now?"

"no? i'm comforting a friend," you said curtly.

"can i ask you something?"

you smiled expectantly, knowing that he was probably going to splutter out some fuckary. however, nothing could ever prepare you for what came out of his big mouth.

"what's a munch?"

your eyes widened in shock.

"is it a bad thing? everyone was asking if i was a munch, so i just said yes,"

"why the fuck would you say yes to something you don't know the meaning of?"

"well to be honest, it seemed like a good thing..." he put his head down as his face grew hot.

you weren't any better because now your palms were sweaty. "armin, aren't you like, a know-it-all?"

"oh please, i'm not that smart..."

"clearly," you couldn't help but pity the poor baby. and he didn't like that. he didn't like it when others looked down on him especially with pity.

"so, are you gonna tell me?"

"a munch is a man who loves to eat pussy, okay?"

"but i've never...done that before,"

"i can tell," you huffed out while he visibly blushed. "well now the whole school knows that you loves to eat pussy," you giggled loudly. you half expected armin to whine like he always does, but he stays silent. "oh come on, i'm just kidding, laugh a little,"

"so, being a munch sounds fun, i wanna try it out," he turns to face you.

"sorry? armin, are you fucking okay? you don't even know how to eat it,"

"how am i supposed to learn?"

and that's how you ended up with your legs held all the way up to your ears, with armin and his bob between your legs. his tongue piercing swirled on your clit. "you're...you're a fucking liar!" you squealed, as his mouth suckled on your clit. he moaned, completely ignoring you. unbeknownst to you, he was smirking as your syrupy slick dribbled down your ass crack. but that didn't stop him.

his tongue trailed all the way down to the winking hole, as his thumb rubbed your bud with ease. you were unbelievably wet as he tongue moved up towards your hole, squeezing it into your tight pussy. you pulled on his hair, bringing him impossibly closer to it, smothering him completely. each time, his tongue subtly stretching you out. he grunted and groaned, sending vibrations straight to your heart. that lying bastard. he's not fucking new to this shit.

you mewled, watching him remove himself from your cunt for a hot minute. "what's wrong? i'm just showing you what a munch is," he slyly grinned, his chin covered in nothing but slick and saliva. fuck, was he nasty, fingers never leaving your clit. your toes started throwing gang signs as tears formed in your eyes. before you could tell him to move his ass and finish his meal, he's already attaching his mouth in a suction motion onto your clit. you played with your nipple as your hips literally bucked up into his face, greedily trying hard to get more. more of that attention he was giving to the entirety of your sweet pussy.

honestly, you were mad you hadn't just sat on his face to shut him up sometimes. and trust me, you'd thought about it. the ball of his tongue piercing rolled continuously on your clit with speed, as you damn near closed your legs in overwhelming pleasure. this nerd was flicking your clit raw, but you loved every moment of it. "just like that," you whined, yanking his hair a little too harsh. if you had pulled it the right way, he might've just cum in his pants for the second time that night.

"mfphm, fuck armin!" you squealed a little too loud, that wretched piece of metal and his tongue making you cry tears of and pleasure. it seemed almost sadistic with the way he kept repeating the same motion that made your legs shake and quiver. "okay, armin, m'cummin!" and all those words did, was spur him on. watching as he attempted to push his face into your sticky cunt, your leg locked up, with your back arching steeply.

you came hard, but that didn't stop armin from flicking his tongue on your clit, over and over again. and the worst part? you couldn't get him to move away. "okay, i get it!" you moaned out, damn near screaming. he was lucky that your legs felt weak, or else he would've been crushed by your thighs, not that he would mind. "armin, i'm done!" you sobbed out, and the obscene sounds of him slurping and sucking on your pussy never stopped. your hand moved to place itself on his head and attempt to push him away.

a feeling arose in your tummy, something unfamiliar, and at the point you were crying hot tears. you even couldn't let out one coherent sentence before you came again. even harder than the first. you genuinely felt ethereal, ringing in your ears and seeing nothing but white. your heartbeat was in your ears as he finally removed himself after riding your orgasm out.

two slim fingers slowly slipped into your cunt. "you bastard,"

"hey, that's not anyway to talk to the guy that just gave you the orgasm of your life," he pouted, fingers curving upwards towards your g-spot as you moaned out loud. he swiftly pulled them out before slapping your cunt.

you sat up immediately, and gave him one harsh slap across his face. "you said you've never eaten pussy, what the hell was that?" you huffed out.

"thanks!"

"it wasn't a compliment,"

that sneaky bastard. of he knows how to eat it. but now you had to find out if he could lay it down. well, you actually didn't have to worry about that, cuz baby, despite cumming in his pants twice, he still had more in him.

that fucking nerd.

[dirtylilspawn]

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ

Summary: You prank the lads boys by aggressively manhandling them.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Zayne x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Rafayel x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Works been killin my butt. But anyways I saw many prank tiktok videos about women aggressively handling their own partner. Whether it be kissing them, love bites, or putting them on top of the kitchen counter. Figured it make a funny small prompt of how it would go lol.

Warnings: Fluff & humor, suggestive stuff, cursing

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

You've been feeling pretty clingy today.

You didn't know what it was that made you feel this way. Maybe just seeing Zayne, waking up in his bed, staying over at his place, not bothered by work, both of you doing very domestic stuff, made you feel really touchy feely. And Zayne was much aware of this notion from the very start of the day. Not that he every denied your loving affection, no not ever.

He accepted every hug or kiss, and returned it with much love. Oh, how it only fuels the fire of your clingy nature even more.

Here you are, coming out from the kitchen, to lean against the wall, with a glass of sweet tea in hand. You tilt the glass towards your mouth as your eyes were trained on one thing in particular.

There Zayne sat on the large couch, in the living room, with a book in hand. His eyes soft but narrowed in focus as he reads the pages, he's currently on. His back leaning on the cushions, skillfully flipped each page with his thumb. As his elbow was pressed against the arm of the couch, with a small portion of a sugar cookie the two of you had baked not long ago, in his hands. He immediately finishes it, taking it into his mouth with a small hum. Licking off any specks of crusts lingering on his fingers.

Watching this perfect, handsome, hunk of man as your sipping your tea just sent you up in orbit. It was too much to take in. Does he know how amazing he is, just sitting there? That's what you thought, the audacity of this man to sit and read so cutely, in his causal home attire -white shirt and grey sweatpants-

You had to do something about it.

You walk up to where Zayne was, placing the cool glass on top of the glass ottoman in the middle of the living room. The clink of the glass made Zayne look up at you. His demeanor calm and relaxed, before looking down at his book.

"Any thoughts about what you'd like for din-"

Before he could even finish that sentence, Zayne was attacked.

He found your hands squeezing his cheeks harshly, pulling him closer to your face. You bend down to kiss him on the lips. His eyes widening in shock and confusion.

But you continue you assault on him.

You kiss him very passionately and aggressively. Hands running along his jet-black locks like a crazy loon, messy up his hair. All while you muttered along his lips, words of affirmation.

"God dang it Zayne! You -kiss- are so -kiss- perfect -kiss- uugh!!"

You start to kiss all over his face. To his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, and anywhere else you could get your lips on. His book on the floor, as he had already dropped it do to your aggressive love session. His eyes still wide with so much confusion.

It didn't even stop there, as you suddenly push this man, laying his back onto the couch. Pinning him by his shoulders just to keep him still. Your kisses never stopping, as you go lower to his neck, giving him rough kisses down to his collarbone.

Finally, you pull away.

You had found yourself straddling the poor man, your arms still pinning down his upper body.

You look to see his full face that was very much a very funny and cute site. His ears were burning red, hair a mess as he stared at you with such unreadable green eyes. His mouth was slightly agape as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you in that moment. But he closes it, his lips in a tight line, eyes closed, inhaling a long breath to re-catch his own thoughts.

His head leans to the side as he opens his eyes, not looking you in your own eyes. Zayne's heart was pounding in his chest right now.

"You...-sigh-"

You couldn't help but laugh at this site of him. It was too funny to behold, seeing Zayne completely embarrassed and yet flustered at the same time.

"Caught you off guard huh?"

You quip with a prideful smirk on your lips. Zayne brings his eyes to look up at you. You could see he was trying to act all serious, and calm, but it was obviously faltering. As you could see the corners of his mouth flick up in a small grin. His emotions getting the better of him, as he lets out a laugh. A mix between disbelief and fondness.

"Well, I didn't expect to be attacked in my own home by my partner."

He states this, and you laugh even more. An endless supply of giggles and laughter that you couldn't stop. One that Zayne couldn't help but join in, loving the sound of your laughter.

You let go of his shoulders, before leaning down to give a soft kiss to your boyfriend. A sweet smile stretching across your mouth.

"Well, you're just going to have to get use to it. Because there's definitely more to come in the future."

He rolls his eyes at you.

"I fear for my safety."

He says this sarcastically of course, but deep down he's already preparing for the next attack. Just in case, so next time you do this stunt again, he'll be able to calm his heart. Because that shit made him feel like he was having a straight-up heart attack.

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

You were laying on your bed.

Stomach first, as your feet were up in the air. Your hands clutch onto your phone, watching silly videos. Xavier was up in your bathroom taking a shower from a hard day of working. You had already taken a shower first, reasons being that Xavier told you to go in first, and second was because he was already on the verge of sleep. You were about to say to take a shower together, but the man was already nodding off as he sat on your bed. So, you decided to allow him to take a quick nap while you take your shower.

It has been a long day for the both of you, as you had both just got done with work. A bunch of wanderers to take down here and there, nothing too serious of a threat to get badly hurt, but enough to feel exhausted. And it definitely showed with the both of you, glad that it was the end of the day.

Xavier wanted to come over your apartment, because he finds it more comfortable, and wanted to sleep with you tonight. Plus, you figured he was too lazy to go up to his own apartment complex that was just a floor above yours. You never complain, as you would also come over to his complex and sleep there sometimes.

As you were kicking your feet, over the audio on your phone, you could hear the shower suddenly turn off. Indicating that Xavier was all done with his shower. He soon later came out, opening the door the connected to the bedroom. He lets out a silent yawn; while wiping his hair with a small white towel, a large towel was wrapped around his waist. His body shinning in the dim light from the room lights, due to the excess water cascading down his chest and stomach. You can see his full tempting v-line below his abdomen making your face heat up from the delicious site alone. He looked so appetizing yet cute at the same time.

You turned off your phone, placing the device on the bed-side counter. You sat up before getting off the bed, making strong strides towards your gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes open a bit seeing you coming forth, watch as you wrapped your arms around his torso head leaning on his slight wet chest. You didn't mind though, as you snuggled with him, smelling his freshly showered body. The scent of sweet vanilla filling your nose; he used your body wash.

"Hmm...You smell good."

A goofy smile presents itself on your lips. Xavier smiles softly, leaning in your touch as his own arms wrapped around you. His arms holding onto your shoulders rubbing them gently. The small towel he held was draped securely around his neck. His head buried into your hair, nosed pressed against your hair, smelling you as well.

"So do you.."

He whispers this in a low hum, eyes closed as he embraces you. You could feel his heart beat slow and relaxed inside his chest. Xavier's soft snores making you chuckle. The fact that this man can sleep standing up still amazes you.

"Sleepy?"

"Hm."

Xavier hums again, as if to say yes, his arms holding you closer to his body. His body leans into yours, the weight of him not fully on you, as if he was stopping himself from falling on top of you. You let out a sigh rolling your eyes. The cuteness of this man was just too much; it made you giggle a bit.

Without a thought or hesitation, your hands go lower till you reached the back of his thighs. Xavier can feel this, but he doesn't back away nor think anything of it. That was until you used all of your strength, bending your knees, and you use this strength to pick up your boyfriend. Xavier eyes widen as he was suddenly up from the ground, your struggling of course but still it was an achievement. Carrying your sleepy boy by his own thighs, before waking back to the bed. Xavier was very shaken from this move, his hands clinging to your shoulders as he blushes heavily.

"[Y-Y/N]...what are you doing?"

You smiled looking up at your flustered boyfriend, "Carrying...ngh my exhausted boyfriend of course~"

It was all you said, and only Xavier could look at you with wide eyes and a simple nod of okay. His tiredness going away as he watched his own girlfriend carry him around, he didn't know how to feel about this, but it wasn't unwelcomed.

It wasn't long till you reached the bed, slamming the boy right on to the soft bed, making him lay on his back. His small towel was already gone, falling onto the floor when you picked him up. His other towel wrapped around his waist, was defiantly loose, clinging onto him for dear life. But still covered his crotch.

Once settled onto the bed, you crawled your way in between his thighs, your hands running along up his thighs to his stomach. Making way to his chest then finally his soft cheeks. You squish his cheeks in your hands, body resting on top of his. You lips lean in to kiss him on the nose before moving to his lips. His hands were now at your waist, rubbing your sides.

"Are you sleepy now?"

You say this pulling away, but it seemed like Xavier was chasing your lips. His cheeks were still flushed with pink, but his shock expression turned into a very sweet playful grin. His hands tracing along your back, slightly teasing underneath your tank top you were wearing.

"Not at the moment no."

You were suddenly rolled over, as Xavier had now turned the tables. His body pinning you underneath him, his baby blue eyes looking down at you with so much mischief. His hand made its way to your cheek, stroking it was such softness as if you were a delicate relic.

"I think I'd like to stay up for a little while, how about you~?"

You chuckle as you pulled Xavier by his neck, His face and lips close you yours.

"Sounds fine by me~"

You whispered back before his lips connected with yours passionately.

════════════════════════════

CALEB

Pranks were nothing but natural for you and Caleb.

Ever since you were kids you two would pull all types of small pranks on each other. Not mean big pranks that would cause problems in one's relationship. But small harmless pranks that make each other laugh and keep the relationship more fun and fresher. To get competitive and try to one-up each other the next month or two.

It was your love language.

And it was your turn.

Oh, how you've been dying to try and get Caleb back. You were still pouting over the last prank he did. You could remember it like it was yesterday. The man had deliberately placed fake cockroaches all underneath your bed comforter. You of course did not realize it. Already freaking out with disgust and fear, running to Caleb about your "unfortunate" situation. Hugging and whimpering to him while you pushed him to the problem. Only for him to laugh and say how those cockroaches were all plastic toys.

You then start to curse him, while beating his chest -soft punches- giving him the biggest mean mug pout. One that he finds absolutely adorable. He makes up for this by promising to take you out to this new big carnival that just opened up around the neighborhood.

Today was the day of the carnival.

And both you and Caleb were getting ready that late afternoon. Hoping to get there early and on time for the rides and games.

You closed the door to your shared room, checking your small purse to make sure you got everything you needed. You're wearing a nice yellow blouse, white tank top underneath with a light jean skirt. It wasn't going to be cold, just a nice warm day.

Once you made it to the spacious room where the living room and kitchen connected. You could see your boyfriend turned to you. His back bent a little as his focus was on his phone, scrolling aimlessly, elbows on the kitchen counter. He was dresses up as well, in a very familiar outfit. His sleeveless white logo shirt, with black jeans pants.

He looked so handsome in the moment. His muscular back and shoulders showing of through the white shirt, His long arms, especially his biceps that flexed a bit on top of the kitchen counter. His hips tutting to the side a bit. You couldn't see his face fully, but you could already imagine how he looked. Eyes narrowed but soft, probably biting his lip as he scrolls through whatever feed he's on, all while he's waiting for you.

It was in that moment...you had an opening.

Slowly, you sneak your way over to Caleb. Making sure your sock covered feet won't make any noise against the tile floors. It seems he doesn't notice you at all.

So, taking your only shot, as you make it behind him, your hand raised to aim for his ass. Immediately striking him down against his left cheek harshly, causing the man to gasp loudly. His eyes were wide, but before he could turn around and say anything, your hand that slapped his ass, remained there. Giving his ass couple of good squeezes while your chest was flushed against his back.

"Fuck, you're lookin so hot! Look at this ass!"

"[Y/N]..!"

You didn't give him any time what-so-ever. Turning him around roughly, only to push him back. You could see his very shocked and surprised face now. His cheeks full on flushed with red, a face that made you grip his cheeks with on hand to pull his close to yours. You give him a big fat kiss onto his lips, before pushing him off, making the man look at you dumbfounded.

"Face matches up nicely, not bad at all~"

You tease as your hands rested against his ass, giving his cheeks a squeeze while playing humping his waist. He looks at you so confused, as if you had two heads. There was a moment of pure silence. That was until Caleb begins to grin so big that it could hurt, before a big laugh erupts his whole body.

His chest heaving and rumbling as his hand makes it way to cover his eyes in embarrassment but much amusement as well. He couldn't stop laughing, and it made you laugh as well, your hands coming off his ass to just wrap around his torso. Head leaning against his chest.

"W-What was that pipsqueak!?"

Caleb's hand goes down from his face, looking at you with a big playful smirk gracing his lips. You smirk back with a wink.

"Nothing! Can't I appreciate my boyfriend's hotness?"

Caleb chuckles, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss.

"Never said you couldn't...but with a stunt like that, I say you must be getting even with me huh?"

Before you can retort back, Caleb grabs up by the waist using his strong arms. You gasp as you're now in the air, Caleb turning you to the counter so he can settle you done on the cool marble. Your legs wrapped around his waist, as your arms wrapped around his neck. He held your tightly against him.

"I would congratulate you on that prank of yours, but I would be lying saying that prank won't cost ya. We might be a bit late arriving to the carnival. After that bit, how can I possibly let you go...naughty girl~"

He says this as his head moves to your neck to place feathered kisses along your collarbone. It tickled causing you to giggle, the thought of missing the carnival making you wiggle in his hold whining.

"Caleb, nooo..!"

Yeah, you were definitely going to be late.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

Catching Sylus off guard, can be a very difficult task at hand.

It seemed like no matter what, he always knew what move you were going to make. Calculating each future ten step you would say or do just so he can throw it right back in your face. And it definitely frustrated you.

A fierce man who was hard to take down.

In fact, he was the one catching you off guard. He was the one surprising you the most and getting you all flustered in the cheeks with his devious nonchalant attitude. It's a rare and very rare moment when Sylus was ever caught being flustered. And even in those rare occasions, he can easily and quickly hide it inside, composing himself as if it didn't phase him at all. As if he had already predicted your tricks, before you can ever see his reactions.

And so, you were on a mission.

A mission to complete subdue and fluster your Onychinus leader boyfriend. It took you half a month to come up with any idea. A good top idea to catch this man way off guard, just so you can win. You just wanted win over him, even if it's just one time. To get him stuttering over his words. And finally, you came up with an idea, a brilliant idea, one where you hoped and prayed that it will very much work.

You texted Sylus on how you'll meet him tonight at his place. He of course welcomed this arrival, his home literally opened to only you at any time of the day. You made your way, rushing to the N109 zone to Sylus's grand mansion. Preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

Once there, you greeted both Luke and Kieran who both welcomed you back. Wondering what the rush was, but you could only give them both a question back asking where Sylus was.

"Boss is-"

"-In his office." They both said.

Perfect!

Working out exactly how you wanted.

"Thank you, see ya later!"

They watched as you rushed down the hallway with a very confused but interested look, wondering what you were planning.

Sylus was in his office, just finishing up closing a deal via phone call. He sighed as he leaned against his chair running a hand through his own locks, looking around the room with his ruby red eyes. Mephisto was in his office - more luck for you -, and Sylus was thinking about you. Waiting for you to come to him.

He then hears a knock at the door making his lips curl into a smile. He can tell from just the knock alone that it was you.

"Come on in kitten."

Nothing.

The door didn't open, nor was there any sound before or after that came with it. His brow quirks at this peculiar moment.

"Kitten, I said you can come in."

He says this a bit louder, but again no answer, or door opening. And he was already confused from the start, because normally you'd just barge right in with that innocent smile of yours. But you didn't even do that. So, know Sylus was on edge but gratefully intrigued by what was going on. Wondering what you were planning behind that door.

He gets up from his chair, walking towards the lavish design door. Once he made it and he opens the door, he gets suddenly pulled by the collar of his shirt. His body leaning and his lips quickly connecting to yours. His eyes looked at you, wide and in disbelief but it wasn't over yet.

Using a tackling move on him, you swiftly used your leg to grapple behind his left leg. You used you full weight so that he would fall to the ground with a harsh thud. Your lips still on him as your hands moved to grab his own wrists and pin the above his head so that he wouldn't go anywhere. You were now straddling his waist, kissing him roughly before pulling back to only bite his cheek.

The man gasps as he was still to stunned to speak. He could only watch as you aggressively manhandle him. Your bites moved to his neck which caused Sylus to grunt lowly. His cheeks and ears red, still so confused. His brain trying to regain any semblance of reasoning but failing terribly so.

Once you pulled away to look at him, a big smile came to your lips as you looked at Sylus. His expression was priceless, funny, cute even as he looked up at you. You can finally say you've taken down Sylus.

Sylus clears his throat, lips curling into a smirk, shaking his head from your actions.

"Is...this some type of new fighting strategy of yours? If so, I'm not so keen for you to use it on other people."

You laughed.

"Nope, I just wanted to tackle you into submission. And I finally got you!"

You hear a big rich laugh come from Sylus. The pitch a bit heightened as he found this incredibly silly and adorable. He could just maneuver his way out of your hold easily or even use his evol to overpower you. But he doesn't, liking the proud face you made of finally overpowering him. Using your smart skills to gain the upper hand of the situation. It made his heart jump inside his chest happily.

"You know, if you wanted to over-power me, you could have just asked~"

"That's a load of bull and you know it! As if you'd gone easy on me if I did asked!"

Sylus laughs again, making you roll your eyes at him. But your body suddenly sits up right, as Sylus uses his strength to break from your pinned hands. He traps your arms behind your back with his one strong hand, his other hand gripping your chin gently, thumb rubbing the bottom of your lip. His eyes shooting down to your eyes, with his infamous smirk that made your stomach flip.

"You're right kitten. It's more fun to tease and let you work for your food, then to let you have it easy. But don't worry, I'll be gladly waiting for the next time you try to catch me off gaurd~"

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel decided why not work out together.

Well, more like you were going to work out and train your body. But a certain purple-haired artistic man called before you could even go to your local gym. Of course, you picked up your phone hearing him complain about he was bored. You told him how you were going to the gym, and Raf found that as the perfect moment to come along with your endeavors.

He suggested going to his private gym he uses at home. He says he's been wanting to blow off some steam due to Thomas insisting -more like pestering to Rafayel - to create more art for his gallery. The deadline was almost due and Rafayel has been procrastinating with other projects. Telling Thomas there is no deadline to when it comes to art, he'll feel the inspiration when he feels it. And so here he is with you.

This is honestly a first for you.

Working out with him that is.

Watching that beautiful man stretching his own body with much ease as you both did warm-ups. Seeing his biceps and forearms flex as he does push-ups. The way his abdomen tenses when he did crunches. Or how he looked so pretty on the treadmill, running full laps. Hair bouncing, sweat dripping, muscles moving, ass tempting. Even when he took a few walk breaks you could hear his controlled breathing and pants.

He looked so pretty in those moments, truly you were captured by this handsome siren. God, you felt so lucky in that moment, you could watch him run all day long. So much so that you had completely lost track of time, your mind on auto pilot throughout your whole workout session.

The both of you were panting, sweat dripping down your foreheads, Body sore but refreshed in a way all in a day's good work-out. Rafayel sighs sweeping a hand through his front locks with a relieved sigh escaping his mouth.

"I'm exhausted, I don't know who's working me to death, you or Thomas~"

Rafayel grins while joking making you roll your eyes with a small laugh.

He goes into a corner of the gym. There was L-shaped counter with a sink. A mini refrigerator that was set up top, And a round circular table in the middle. Rafayel immediately went to the fringe to grab a bottle of water. Leaning against the table he unscrews the cap taking a few gulps of cool water down his throat.

You do the same, following your boyfriend, but your eyes were only trained on Rafayel. His left arm, behind him, hand placed upon the white table to stabilize himself. His back a bit arched, showing the indent of his pecks and abs through his black sleeveless tight compressed shirt. His waist looking so snatchable as his legs slightly crossed over one another.

Drinking the cool water did nothing to ease the burning tension inside of you.

Rafayel places his water down on the table, his hand reaching out to his shoulders to rub them a little. All while he rambled on and on about his problems, Thomas nagging, and blah blah blah.

That was it you can't take it anymore.

"I swear, I bet Thomas is calling my phone about no-"

Quickly you made your move on Rafayel. You grab at his thighs tightly making him blush and shut up. But then you start to lift him up, causing the man before you to gasp and wiggle in your hands.

"[Y/N]! Aah w-wait!"

You didn't listen to his gasps and pleas, as you use your full strength to pick him up and place his ass on top of the table. His legs wide and spread for you, almost wrapped around your waist. His water bottle accidently falling, spilling onto parts the table and floor. You kept a good tight hold onto him, giving his thighs a good squeeze,

Your lips meet his to kiss him briefly, a tease at the most. Before moving to his cheeks and nose, even his exposed neck.

Rafayel's hands were on your shoulders, not knowing whether to push you off of hold you close to him. His face was redder than a tomato, ears included, as he watches his own girlfriend assault him like this.

You then pull away with mischievous smirk on your face, all you could see was Rafayel with that sweet brattish pout pursing his plump lips. He looks at you, eyes narrowed but it was soft. Rafayel gives you a look of incredible disbelief and shock from what just happened.

"I-I can't believe, did you just..?!"

You laugh at him, causing his cheeks to flush even more. His eyes looking away from your gleeful face. It was adorable to witness it. Seeing him in this type of position. Your hands moved, sliding up to his ass, you can feel him tensing up, his breath getting heavy as though he was working out again. You gave him gentle pats at first, but them with your right hand gave him a hard smack placed upon his cheek.

Rafayel lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, his eyebrows furrowed in a glare. Looking at you with such a appalled face. He was truly was embarrassed.

"H-Hey watch it!"

"What, are you embarrassed baby~?"

Rafayel says nothing, the nickname only making him groan, letting out a long dramatic sigh. His eyes once again still darted away from your owns.

"This must what it feels like to be a woman, being preyed upon by others. I'm all defenseless here, it's scary thing. My own bodyguard taking advantage of me, in my own gym."

"It's not my fault my boyfriend is so beautiful. You really are, looking so pretty while you worked out today."

Rafael didn't really say anything, but you can he was trying not to let your words get to you. But it was failing, as your compliments only made his heart race even more. Fidgeting while you held on tight to him trying to distract himself with the gym appliances around the room.

"Sooo...you're saying you don't like it?"

You give him another kiss on the cheek playfully, making him turn his head finally towards you. His legs bringing you even closer, wrapping fully around your waist to lock you in. While his hands wrapped around your shoulders. It made you giggle, his actions way louder than his actual words.

"I never said that."

You smile as he can't help but smile back at you. He couldn't prolong his pout anymore, he's just too damn infatuated - and slightly aroused - at this new position of his. He leans in to kiss you on the lips, the kiss starting off as sweet before slowly turning deep and passionate. His eyes haze over with a growing smirk of his own.

"I'm definitely not going be able to finish my art piece now cutie~"

════════════════════════════

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PRANKING ROOMMATE TOJI THAT YOU’RE MOVING OUT FOR APRIL FOOLS

Toji stepped through the front door, the familiar heavy thud of his leather boots clomping and echoing on the tiled floor. He dropped his keys with a clang and sighed as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly worn out from the day.

“Hey Toji,” you said as you stood by the doorway, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, “Can we talk for a second?”.

His eyes narrowed slightly and you could tell he was already on alert because of the serious detection in your tone. “Yeah, what is it? You sound a bit too serious”.

You took a deep breath, practically forcing yourself to stay composed. “I’ve been thinking…” You hesitated for a moment, searching his face before finally saying it. “I think it’s time for me to move out”.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. Ever since you’ve moved in together, things had been easy and comfortable. You two got along well, no drama, no issues, so this came out of nowhere.

His brow furrowed as he set his work bag down. “Wait, what? Why? You serious?”

You nodded slowly, watching his expression shift to disarray and confusion, maybe even a flicker of something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” you said, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I’ve already started looking at places… I just think it’s time for a change”.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his tired and weary eyes scanning your face. You could see him trying to figure out if you were joking or not. After a beat, he stepped closer, his voice dropping a little. “Hold on. You’re really gonna just leave? Just like that?”

You nodded again, trying to keep up the act. “Yeah. I don’t want to be a burden, you know? With your job and everything… it’s just better if I go”.

He didn’t move at first, his arms crossed tightly, like he was trying to process what you said. You could see the gears turning in his head, his usual confident demeanor slipping just a little.

His jaw tightened, his broad shoulders looking even more imposing as he walked over to you. You could feel the tension building, and you had to hold back a grin. Toji was a tough guy— tougher than most people but right now, you could see the concern flickering in his eyes. It was working and he looked so so defeated but also trying his best to keep himself up.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice low and gentle. “I don’t know what’s going on but you don’t need to leave. I— shit if it’s rent, I can help you out more. You don’t gotta go. We can work something out y/n”.

For a moment, you almost felt bad— he sounded so sincere like he was genuinely trying to figure out how to fix things. You wanted to laugh at how serious he was because you had never really seen this side of him before but you held back. It was almost too easy.

You let the silence hang in the air before you dropped the bomb. With a smirk, you leaned back and said, “April Fools”.

Toji froze, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to process what you just said. Then slowly, his expression shifted. He let out a sharp sigh, clearly annoyed as fuck but mostly relieved. “You’re a pain in the fucking ass, you know that?”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach because of how funny it was. “You should’ve seen your face. You totally fell for it!”

“You little brat,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a light chuckle. He took a step closer and before you knew what was happening, he reached down and squeezed your cheek— hard enough to make your face squish between his fingers.

“Next time you pull something like that, I’ll get you back,” he warned, his voice playful but more relaxed. You gasped, flailing a little as you tried to push his bigger hand away. “Oww! Hey! You can’t just—”

Toji laughed, obviously pleased with the reaction. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. You’re lucky I even like you”.

You rubbed your cheek, half amused and half annoyed. “That was mean!” you whined, still trying to fight the grin that was spreading across your face. He gave you a knowing look. “You deserve it, I thought I was losing my mind for a second there”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up on your face. “Just wait until next time. I’ll get you back even more”.

Toji gave you a pointed look, just relieved that you’re even implying there’s gonna be a next time. He walked over to the fridge to grab a beer to calm his nerves. “You’ve got some nerve pulling that on me in the first place, I’ve had a long day, kid”

You grinned, but your heart skipped a little. It was moments like these— his teasing, the soft side of him that made living with Toji so entertaining and easy.

You knew he wasn’t actually mad. In fact, you could tell he was secretly impressed that you even pulled it off.

“Next time I pull a prank, it’s gonna be worse so watch out, old man,” you teased. “Yeah yeah, sure,” he muttered, cracking open the beer. “We’ll see about that”.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oh please, please, please something short, funny with 141 where their wife calls them on their way home from work “yea, I think I’m having contractions!” And by the time they rush home, she’s sitting in the bath tub with their new baby. And she’s all casual like ‘Hey! Look at this cool thing I’ve got!’ And it’s their baby.

(My Grandmother had this happen! Each kid under an hour. My grandfather nearly had a heart attack! He’d always hesitate to leave her alone. Suspicious she was ‘purposefully’ going into labor when he wasn’t there to help her. Lol…)

Okay, that is so funny and adorable! Hehe, omg, I love this. Dad!141 is my favorite. I love writing them as fathers or as potential fathers. And this prompt is just an excuse to do that! Thank you so much for sending it in. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): married life, pregnancy, childbirth, domestic fluff, swearing, humor

Word Count: 2.1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Price rubs at his temple, releasing a deep sigh.

It’s late. The base is nearly empty. Another late night filled with paperwork.

His phone buzzes, the cellular device vibrating on the desk. Price reaches for it, checking the screen. It’s you calling him, and his stomach flips.

“Cabbage,” he greets with a smile, answering the phone.

You’re pregnant, due date just a week or two away. Price doesn’t like leaving you home alone, but this is the last push. After tonight, he can come home early.

“John?”

His name is a question. There’s a hint of worry—of nervousness—and Price immediately picks up on it.

“Everything okay, love?” he asks, slowly standing, paperwork suddenly forgotten.

“John. I—I think—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m having contractions.”

By the time the words leave your mouth, Price is already grabbing his coat. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He swallows, pushing down his own anxiety, smothering it so he can be strong for you. “Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming home.”

On the other end of the line, you breathe heavily. Each whimper worries him.

“John,” you gasp, voice strangled as he throws himself into his car and turns it on.

 “I know. I know. I’m coming.”

Price is doing his best to stay calm, to stay alert as he drives off base and heads for home, but all he can focus is on you.

“Keep talking to me, love,” he says, attempting to sound encouraging.

“Okay,” you reply, but then go quiet.

 “Cabbage?”

When you don’t answer him, Price uses your name. Nothing. No sound at all as if the line’s gone dead.

“Shit,” he mutters, holding the phone out to check.

Call Dropped.

“Fucking shit,” he says, louder.

Price continues to dial—continues to call. Every time, he expects you to pick up, but you never do. The worry grows, becoming deafening as the seconds tick by. Traffic laws are broken, but it gets him home faster.

He’s throwing himself out of the car, dashing to the house, not caring if he forgot to put the vehicle in park. In the front entryway, he calls out to you, using your name.

There is no response.

 “Fuck,” he whispers as he dashes up the stairs, heading for the bedroom. He enters, and it’s—

Empty.

“Where are you?” he breathes, turning away to check the rest of the house.

But then Price hears your voice, soft and soothing. Frowning, he checks the bedroom again, only to head toward the bathroom.

You’re sitting on the floor, back pressed against the tub. There’s blood and a fluid Price doesn’t recognize smearing the floor between your legs.

You glance up. Smile. “Hi,” you laugh as Price drops to his knees beside you.

There’s a baby in your arms. Its hands are tight fists, face pinched like it’s annoyed to be here.

“No wonder you didn’t answer the phone,” sighs Price, placing his hand against yours that cradles the infant’s head.

“A bit busy,” you chuckle.

Price laughs with you, taking his phone out his jacket pocket to dial the hospital.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s fine, Simon. Really.”

Simon crosses his arms over his chest. “The last time I left you this close to your due date, you gave birth while I wasn’t here.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “That’s not going to happen again.”

“It might,” he growls.

“It won’t,” you insist.

As you start to walk away, Simon blocks your path. “You’ve been complaining about your lower back all morning.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I always complain about my lower back.” Simon begins to object but you continue on. “And we need milk. And eggs. And bread.”

“Fine,” mutters Simon. “Fine. I’ll go. But you call me immediately if anything happens.”

 “Okay, dad,” you reply, mocking him.

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in to kiss the top of your head. “Pumpkin,” he replies, and you hear the smile in it.

“The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be back. You can worry and fuss over me all you want then.”

Simon pulls you in for another kiss before heading out the door. The trip to the store isn’t peaceful. In the back of his mind, Simon stews, a little voice telling him that you’re going to call him any second and tell him you’re in labor. That’s what happened with your first, and Simon came home after you’d given birth.

He was devasted. Upset. Not with you—never with you. He was upset with himself for not being there to support you through it. To hold your hand. To encourage and shower you with love.

Simon is standing in line at the meat counter when you call him.

“Don’t be angry,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Are you having contractions?”

“…Yes.”

“Goddamn it.”

Simon abandons the shopping trolley, apologizing to the workers as he rushes out the door and to the car. When he enters the house, he hears your labored cry. Dashing up the stairs, Simon enters the bathroom at the same moment you cry out, clearly pushing. You’re on your hands and knees, sweat beads your brow, hair sticking to your face.

He dives to his knees, arms outstretched and reaching beneath you as the baby’s head emerges.

“I’m here,” Simon says, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

You start crying, head tilting to lean against his shoulder.

Another push, and then the rest of the baby is out and in Simon’s hands. The infant is silent at first, then releases a cry of displeasure.

“Bloody hell,” exhales Simon, “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

I’m having contractions, reads the text.

Johnny’s mouth drops open, gaze growing distant.

You’re having contractions. You’re having contractions, and he is on the other side of the city. With traffic, he’s likely an entire hour away from you.

“Soap?” asks Gaz, waving his hand in front of Johnny’s face.

“I have to go,” says Johnny quickly, shooting up from his chair, almost knocking it over.

Gaz and Ghost both stand abruptly, clearly startled by Johnny’s sudden panic.

“Everything good?” asks Ghost.

Johnny shakes his head. “The missus is having contractions.”

“Oh,” replies Gaz, eyes growing a bit wide. “Damn. Go. You should go.”

“We’ll cover your tab,” adds Ghost.

Johnny groans. “Her due date isn’t for another bloody week.” He grabs his jacket.

“You’re going to be a father, Soap,” chuckles Ghost, punching him in the shoulder.

“Fuck. What if she has it while I’m not there?”

“Don’t these things take forever anyway?” muses Ghost. “Contractions don’t mean anything. Right?” He glances at Gaz.

Gaz shrugs. “I think you should worry if it’s close together.” Gaz holds his hands close to indicate the lack of time.

“Shit,” mutters Johnny, tapping away at his phone.

Are they close together?

It’s a few seconds and then the three little circles pop up, indicating that you’re typing back.

They’re close. A few minutes apart. I’m on the phone with the midwife.

“Oh fuck,” mutters Johnny, elongating the vowel as he tugs on his jacket.

Gaz grimaces. “It’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure as Johnny rushes past him. “Congrats!”

Johnny hardly hears him, he’s too focused on getting to the car. Every second is agony—not knowing what’s happening while he’s driving. When he pulls up to the house almost an hour later, there’s a car Johnny doesn’t recognize in the drive.

As bursts through the door, he hears calming music. Rushing forward into the living room, he finds you on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket, propped up by a nest of pillows. The midwife putters about as you gently rock back and forth, cradling an infant in your arms.

You glance up. “Look,” you laugh, lifting the infant that you’ve just birthed, presenting it like you’ve completed a fun DIY craft project.

Johnny almost faints.

“Oh, babe,” he exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The midwife makes a sound of annoyed agreement and Johnny winces.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “She came quickly.”

“I should have been here,” he groans, sliding to the floor next to you, draping an arm over your shoulders.

You lean into him. “You’re here now,” you sigh, eyes closing as you snuggle against him.

Johnny looks to the midwife, and she smiles at him—a reassurance. You’re fine, and so is his daughter.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Ignoring it, Kyle keeps his attention on Captain Price, focusing on the briefing for the upcoming mission. The phone goes silent. Seconds later, it starts up again. Frowning, Kyle reaches into his pocket, sliding out the phone just enough to see the screen. Your name and picture appear on the screen, your smile bright and lovely.

“Need to answer that?”

Kyle’s head snaps up at the sound of Captain Price’s voice.

“Sorry, Captain. It’s the missus.”

Price inclines his head, the middle of his brow creasing slightly. “It’s she pregnant?”

“She is,” affirms Kyle.

“Then you should answer it.”

Kyle gives him, Ghost, and Soap a brief nod. “Excuse me,” he mutters, standing and heading for the door.

When the meeting room door slams shut, the phone starts up again.

Kyle answers, his words falling from his mouth quickly, sounding like one solid word instead of several. “What’s going on, love?”

“I’m having contractions.”

You sound panicked.

 “You’re—are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” you gasp. “Water broke earlier—"

Kyle’s voice rises slightly. “Your water broke and you didn’t call me?”

“I wasn’t feeling anything,” you reply, as if that makes it okay. “But now, it’s constant.” Your sigh is labored. Tired. “They’ve come on so suddenly, Kyle. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, love. Don’t apologize.” You have nothing to be sorry for. He’s just happy you called. “I’m coming home. Right now.”

“But you have that meeting. You can’t—”

“I’m coming home,” he reiterates. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hang in there, dove. I’ll be there soon.” Kyle disconnects the call and bursts through the meeting room doors. “It’s happening,” he announces.

Soap blinks, confused. “What’s happening?”

Ghost side-eyes him. “He’s about to become a dad.”

“Fucking shit. Really?” Soap turns to Kyle, beaming. “Congrats.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest, a look of pride on his face. “Go, Sergeant.”

Kyle nods, giving a half-wave as he backs out through the toward, heading toward the parking lot. He’s practically running—rushing to turn the car on. Taking off, Kyle hardly cares if he hits anything, and he doesn’t blink when breaking nearly a dozen traffic laws.

He makes it home in half the time he usually does. Every second counts. Every moment important. If the contractions are coming quickly and close together, it means the baby is ready, and he needs to get you to the hospital.

As he enters the front door, he calls out to you. Your answer comes, but it’s distant. Upstairs. Kyle takes the stairs two at a time, walking into the bedroom to find it empty. But the bathroom light is on.

A few steps, and he pushes open the door.

You’re not standing at the sink putting on your makeup or getting ready to leave. You sit inside the shower on the tile floor, the glass door wide open, pantless, and cradling an infant in your arms.

“Shit,” he breathes, moving forward. “Shit.” Kyle crouches just outside the shower door.

You grin sheepishly, lifting the baby like it’s an accident. “She came minutes after I got off the phone with you.”

“Oh, bloody hell, love,” laughs Kyle.

There are tears in your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t be, my love.” Reaching out, he grasps the back of your neck. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your forehead. “She’s beautiful.”