#how would i know who i am without knowing what i could be?

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[mulloey]

distracted

bad students must face the consequences of their behaviour. it doesn’t matter who your boyfriend is.

words: 2.9k

part of my february festival event

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warnings: dom!professors matz x sub!student reader, teacher-student relationship (hongjoong x you), power dynamics, threesome, punishment, spanking with ruler, very light anal play, face fucking, double penetration (mouth & pussy), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, sir kink, degradation, light dumbification etc

i am not responsible for the content you consume.

“What is this?”

He waves the sheet in front of your face indignantly and you recognise it instantly as the test you’d taken last week; the red D scrawled in the top corner gives you away and you huff. “How did you even��”

“Seonghwa,” he says, cutting you off. You’d roll your eyes if you thought you’d get away with it right now.

You knew it was a bad idea, really, dating Hongjoong; he may not have been your professor, but he is a professor, so you should’ve figured he’d be in cahoots with your teachers. It’s not like discretion was a massive concern, anyway; your relationship is an open secret among the staff. It’s technically not allowed, but you’re a grad student, an independent adult and your parents donate enough money to the school that neither of you would be in too much trouble if anyone did find out anyway. So you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that, when you turned in a piss-poor exam, Seonghwa had run off tattling to your boyfriend. Dickhead.

“I was just having a bad day,” you say. “I studied, really. I don't know what happened.”

Neither of you believe that, but you push your lips into a pout and do your best to look contrite—to play the sweet, innocent girl your boyfriend loves to ruin.

“Joong…” You try to sound scared but you both know you’re not; there’s nothing he could do to you that you wouldn’t enjoy, after all. You’re just as sick as each other.

Hongjoong chuckles, clicking his tongue. He looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s pretending to be conflicted over whether to punish you or not, but he’s not very good at hiding his excitement. The regretful sigh he lets out when he makes his decision is laughably disingenuous. “Bad girl,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I can’t let you get away with this, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to respond but he doesn’t give you time; he shoves you down harshly, bending you over his desk so your ass is sticking up in the air. It’s a familiar position that you’ve found yourself in time and time again since you met him and you body prepares itself automatically; expecting him to spank you, you stick your ass up higher and wait with bated breath for the first blow. It doesn’t come. You crane your head around, confused. “Joong, what—” Oh.

You don’t need to finish the question; standing behind you, next to Hongjoong, is the very man who’d got you in this predicament in the first place— your medieval history professor, Park Seonghwa himself. He tilts his head, smiling sweetly. “Good afternoon.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t expected this—when did he even come in, anyway? “Joong—”

“You think we didn’t notice how you look at him?” Your boyfriend asks coolly. It’s only because of the cock in his hand, hard and already leaking, that you’re not worried he’s mad at you; no, he loves this. You should’ve known.

“Is that why you failed?” Seonghwa asks. “Too busy dreaming about me bending you over your desk? You have a boyfriend; an esteemed colleague of mine, in fact.” His tone is chiding and you feel yourself flush.

Hongjoong snorts almost petulantly. “As if she cares about that.”

“No?” Seonghwa asks. “What does she care about, then?”

“Pull her panties down and find out.”

Your cunt throbs painfully at the surety of the demand and the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes as he obliges without hesitation. He doesn’t ask permission before he touches you—he already has it from the one who matters, after all—but when he pushes your skirt up your back, his hands still momentarily; you smile into the wood as you realise what they’re both looking at—the white, lacy panties sitting snugly across your pert cheeks.

“Well, isn’t that a sight.” Seonghwa’s voice is hoarse and affected as he rubs a hand across the delicate material. You feel yourself tense under his touch, the unfamiliar feeling of his skin on yours, and he gently pinches the soft flesh. “Relax,” he mumbles. “Be good, yeah? I won’t hurt you, I’ll be gentle.”

A sweet sounding lie; you can tell from the heaviness of his hand as it comes to rest on your ass that he has no such intentions. He fingers softly at the lace of your panties, sighing ruefully. “These really are beautiful,” he muses. “I hate to have to take them down like this, but bad students have to learn, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.” You crane your neck to follow your boyfriend’s voice and find him leaning against the wall behind Seonghwa, staring you down with familiarly cold eyes. He cocks an eyebrow when you finally catch his gaze. “Got something to say, precious?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“Turn around, then,” he smiles. “I’m just here to watch.”

You turn back, though more so he doesn’t see you roll your eyes than out of a desire to obey him. Seonghwa has carefully shimmied your panties down to the middle of your thighs and the cold air of the office bites at your sensitive pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Show me how wet you are.“

Blushing furiously, you part your legs, spreading them as far as you can without snapping the panties bunched around your thighs. Seonghwa hums, running a long finger through your wet folds. The touch is unexpected but Hongjoong’s trained you well enough that you manage to stay still despite your surprise. You whine a little when he pulls away and you hear both men chuckle.

“Professor Kim,” Seonghwa says. His voice has a new quality; delicate and flirtatious as he addresses your boyfriend. “Come and taste how wet she is.”

You hear Hongjoong approach the elder and try to move around to see it, but Seonghwa’s firm hand on your neck holds you still. “I don’t think so, bad girl,” he tuts. “Only good little girls get to watch. Keep still.”

“Good call,” Hongjoong purrs. “She’s always loved seeing me with other people. Little pervert would probably start humping the table if she saw me doing this.”

You hear the wet, lewd sounds of Hongjoong sucking at Seonghwa’s finger, lapping up your juices with a noise of pleasure. “Delicious little slut,” he chuckles. “Let’s get her properly disciplined so we can play with her how she wants.”

Somehow you hear the wide grin in Seonghwa’s voice as Hongjoong backs away. “I quite agree.”

His hands rests on your ass again, squeezing it softly. “This is what’s gonna happen, little one. You got a 48 on my exam, didn’t you?”

You’re almost embarrassed to hear the number and you know Hongjoong is too. “Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes, Professor will do,” he says. “You’re not my friend, sweetheart. You’re just a wayward student being put back on the right path.”

Shame courses through you but it would be a lie to say it’s anything but thrilling. “Yes, professor,” you whisper.

He taps your ass appreciatively. “Good girl. So, you got a 48 on my exam. What was the pass mark?”

“60, Professor,” you mumble.

“Now that’s not very hard to achieve, is it Professor Kim?”

“It’s not. The pass marks in my class are higher, in fact.”

You want to roll your eyes at their smug, jovial tones but you’re too aroused now to do anything but anticipate.

“A pathetic score, really.” Seonghwa’s voice is closer than ever and you feel his presence just inches away. “Especially for such a bright young woman. I think you need to learn to separate your head—” he gathers a piece of your hair, gently folding it behind your ear “—and your pussy, hm?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.“ Something long and thin taps at your bare skin and you recognise it instantly—the wooden ruler Hongjoong keeps in his desk drawer for when he’s feeling particularly on-the-nose about the taboo nature of your relationship.

“I’m going to hit you with this twelve times,” Seonghwa purrs. “For each of the marks you easily could have gotten if you hadn’t been too busy imagining my cock in your mouth. Yeah?”

You nod, feeling yourself pulse. “Yes, Professor.”

“Repeat after me, alright?” The first hit is quick and sharp, spread over your ass and it makes you gasp. Seonghwa chuckles and rubs the reddening flesh before he grabs your hair, yanking your head back to whisper in your ear. “One,” he says. “I’m sorry for being such a slut, Professor.”

You repeat it quietly and he tuts. “Louder than that, love. I’m sure your boyfriend wants to know you’re learning your lesson.”

You oblige, repeating it louder and he makes a noise of satisfaction before the ruler comes down again, this time at the tops of your thighs. “Two,” he says. “I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

“Two, I’m… I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

The next hit lands in the same spot. “Three. I’m sorry for dripping over Professor Kim’s desk just from being spanked.”

You blush in embarrassment; you’d half hoped he wouldn’t notice, but that was a tall order anyway. When it comes to Hongjoong and anything to do with him, you’ve never been subtle.

The next hits follow the same pattern, spread across your ass and thighs with each one making you gasp louder than the last.

“Four. I’m sorry for making Professor Park waste his time disciplining me.”

“Five. I’m sorry for daydreaming about choking on another man’s cock.”

“Six. I’m sorry for being arrogant enough to think I’d get away with such an embarrassing performance.”

The last one hits you right on your dripping pussy, making you scream and he grabs your hair, spinning you around to face him and your boyfriend; your eyes hone in on Hongjoong’s cock, pulsing in his hands before Seonghwa forces your attention back to him. “Twelve,” he growls. “I’m sorry for being such a cockwhore that I’m making Professor Park break his rule about sleeping with students.”

You can’t help but grin as you repeat his words, feeling proud. Of course, you knew from the moment you turned around and saw him standing there what was going to happen, but it’s nice to hear it from him. He smiles, grasping your neck gently. “Did you like that?” He asks. “Getting spanked by your professor while your boyfriend jerks off to it?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I liked it.”

“Well, now that you’ve learnt your lesson,” he says, “I think it’s time you got fucked, no?”

You nod and turn to your boyfriend; he tilts his head, nodding towards his hard cock. “You know what to do,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” You sink to your knees, staring up at Seonghwa and sending him a teasing smile before crawling towards Hongjoong. You open your mouth, letting him push his dick inside; after all this time together, he doesn’t need to ease you into it anymore and can go straight to fucking your mouth and you take it diligently, opening your throat the way he’s trained you to. You hear Seonghwa whistle, admiring.

“She sucks cock like a fucking pro,” he laughs; the arousal in his voice is thick and unmistakable. “You’ve trained her well, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong laughs too, patting your head. “I had an excellent student,” he grins. You smile around him at the praise and he curses. “You’re too good at this, babe, Jesus. Gonna cum before I even fuck you.”

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before pulling out abruptly, shoving you off of him and in an instant Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as he pulls you to your feet and shoves you back over the desk. You collide painfully with the wood but you barely notice; you’re used to being manhandled by now, and it only makes you more excited.

Large hands you recognise as Seonghwa’s grab your ass cheeks, pulling them apart slowly; the air hits your exposed holes and makes you jump in surprise but you quickly regain your composure. As you still yourself again you feel Hongjoong’s finger running gently across your asshole, almost like he’s inspecting it, before it slides down to toy with your pussy.

“Hm…” Seonghwa’s voice is teasing. “What’s your favourite hole of hers, Professor Kim?”

“What a question,” Hongjoong chuckles and you hear the smile in his voice. His finger prods gently at your rim, making you tense unconsciously and he tuts, lightly slapping the tight little hole. It’s a subtle, painless chastisement but it makes you whine all the same. “Now, now, kitty cat,” he chuckles. “I didn’t train you to squirm, did I?”

“No, sir,” you mumble.

“Good,” he says. “To answer your question, Hwa, I’d have to say her pussy. I love her ass, of course, but nothing compares to the way that little cunt clings to my dick like it’s just begging for a baby.”

“Well that does sound nice.” Seonghwa’s hands leave your ass, returning to your pussy to spread you open. “It looks snug,” he says. “What do you think, little one? Want your professor to breed you?”

It takes you a moment for your brain to catch up with the rest of you and you frown in confusion. “I- you mean you, Professor Park?” You ask. It comes out as more of a strangled cry; your head is a mess of arousal and you barely even register what he’s saying to you, let alone comprehend it fully.

He laughs, patting your soft skin gently. “Yes, perhaps I should be more clear. It must be confusing to be bending over in front of two of your teachers.”

Your face burns at the obvious mockery; the degrading, sneering tone of his voice but you say nothing. Seonghwa hums. “So?” He asks sweetly. “You want me in your cunt, baby girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Professor.”

“There’s those manners,” he praises.

He keeps a firm grip on your hips as he slides in from behind; the feeling of his skin against your still burning ass is uncomfortable, but the way his cock is stretching you as he buries himself inside you is the only thing your brain can process right now.

He’s just as big as Hongjoong, maybe a little bigger, but his thrusts are more fluid and controlled; where Hongjoong fucks you like an animal hungry for more, Seonghwa fucks you with precision; with intention. His hands on your hips are firm yet gentle and the way he finds you in your deepest places has your head spinning with euphoria. “Jesus,” he curses. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth to respond, barely getting a whine out before you feel hands in your hair, yanking at it to pull you forward. Hongjoong comes into view on the other side of the desk, his dick somehow still hard as he feeds it into your mouth. “There you go,” he coos. “Keep it hard, baby.”

You nod as best as you can and the friction against his dick makes your boyfriend groan. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking good with cock you could make me cum on accident.”

The feeling of two dicks inside you makes it hard to focus on either one; let alone to begin to process the filthy words they spit down at you. Intesd you close your eyes, letting the tears fall as Hongjoong starts to fuck your throat again; you’re limp against the desk now, held up solely by the wood and by the two men using you to satisfy themselves. “Oh shit,” Hongjoong says, seeing your dazed expression. “Baby’s gone dumb already.” He strokes your hair gently, a small comfort between punishing thrusts. “You okay, little dove?”

You groan in response, unable to do much else; it makes them laugh and Seonghwa pats your ass affectionately. “You’re doing so well,” he says. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Gonna fill you up real nice, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp.

The feeling of Seonghwa’s thrusts growing faster and harder and more desperate is overwhelming; coupled with the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock hitting the back of your throat again and again, it’s almost unbearable. Your fingers claw against the wood, surely leaving marks but you don’t care; you feel unlike you ever have before, stuffed full and used by two of the most attractive men you’ve ever even imagined.

You’re in so deep that you don’t even realise it’s over until the emptiness of your mouth and cunt becomes obvious; you feel cum leaking from your hole, a wet substance dripping down the desk and only when you look closer do you figure out what it is—squirt. You squirted. You squirted all over your boyfriend’s desk with another man’s cock in your pussy and you’ve never been more fucked out and satisfied than you are now.

When you stand up fully your legs, numbed and weakened by their abuse, start to give out but Hongjoong is there in an instant; he catches you in his arms, lowering himself to the ground so he can cradle you in his lap. You’re faintly aware of Seonghwa’s voice and strong hands stroking your hair before he’s gone, and it’s just you and Hongjoong.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “You took that so well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I only hope your performance in Professor Park’s class improves soon. Otherwise he’ll have to tutor you if you want to keep your spot in his class.”

Your heart jumps. “What?”

“Uni rules,” he shrugs, appearing nonchalant but the knowing smile on his face tells all. “If you fail two exams in a row, that’s what happens.”

You don’t know why he seems so surprised when you turn up in his office a month later with a D-minus and an already leaking pussy. He always knew you were insatiable.

Lucky for you, so are they.

—

comments/reblogs appreciated! i’m not sure im super happy with the ending but we move. let me know your thoughts! love🖤🖤🖤

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta (unable to tag: @lemonkait00 @mylovelymito)

february festival taglist: @hohongsan @nopension

[hasufin]

I really don't want to be a conspiracy theorist about all this, but the supposed circumstances of his arrest make no fucking sense.

It had been what, almost a week?

The guy who did the shooting had an exfiltration plan. One which involved pretty solid knowledge of the city, and had a clear idea of when and how police would find evidence.

The shooter intended to leave without getting caught, and succeeded. They managed to either go to ground in the city, or leave the city undetected.

Mangione was arrested in a small town in Pennsylvania carrying the supposed weapon and a manifesto. And he gave a fake ID when his real ID would have worked and very possibly not resulted in an arrest.

In the timeframe in question, the shooter could have walked into the woods for like two hours, buried the gun and any other incriminating evidence, published the manifesto online anonymously, and been anywhere in the country or very possibly have left the country.

So I see three possibilities:

Luigi Mangione is not the shooter. He was framed by the police, who were desperate to find someone to blame and have the appearance of competence.

Luigi Mangione is not the shooter. He knows who is the shooter and agreed to let himself be arrested in order to serve as a public face and let the shooter's motives be known in a public venue while making the police look corrupt and incompetent and allowing the actual shooter more freedom to escape.

Luigi Mangione is the shooter. He fully intended to be caught so that he could have a public venue for his motives and to demonstrate that he does believe in justice even if the police and our government in general do not.

What I am entirely discounting is:

4. Luigi Mangione is the shooter. Upon successfully leaving New York City he suddenly became a complete moron regarding an act which he carefully planned and executed, and police were able to catch him by dint of "good old-fashioned police work".

So to catch you up to speed

Luigi Mangione is an innocent man who has not been confirmed to have been involved in any crime.

We have police documents confirming he was not DNA tested or fingerprinted, and confirmation no usable DNA or fingerprints were recovered at the crime scene due to incomplete prints and immense DNA contamination of New Yorks streets.

No evidence has linked him to the crime.

No facial recognition has even remotely come close to identifying the cctv suspects face as that of Luigi. His own family and friends do not see a resemblance. Most people agree the features in the cctv do not match the very well documented features of Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione has no history of violence nor with firearms. He is a vegan pacifist with no history of mental illness and an aversion to killing even bugs.

He is still only a SUSPECT and all involvement in any crimes are merely ALLEGED at this time. Alleged by the most corrupt police force in the entire nation; the NYPD who do more organized crime than they've ever stopped.

Luigi Mangione's attorneys confirmed they have been shown absolutely nothing that even places Luigi at the scene of the crime.

People have repeatedly tried to recreate the entire timeline of events and found it is not physically possible to do what was alleged in the time frame police gave. Especially dubious for Luigi Mangione to have done given his recent, crippling back injury.

Luigi Mangione in his own words has said police planted evidence on him and are not being honest about his arrest or what he had on him at the time.

There is no body cam footage of Luigi's arrest.

There is no autopsy report for Brian Thompson.

Luigi has so far been:

Stripped of his hat, jacket and shoes and forced to walk in the cold in December wearing wet socks.

Forced to urinate on himself where police then took and published humiliation photos of him.

He was then stripped of his shirt pants and socks and put in a blue psychiatric gown and strapped to a chair inmates called "the torture chair" and left for prolonged periods of time. To the point the entire inmate population at the prison protested in anger.

He was slammed unto a brick wall, choked, and shoved by various police officers for no reason.

Was marched through nyc at gunpoint by officers with military firearms, forced to wear chains

Was called a murderer by the mayor of NYC on national television.

Was then placed in solitary confinement for weeks. Something extremely damaging psychologically to be exposed to for even just a few days. Something usually reserved for cannibals.

He is now being forced to sleep on the floor despite again, a crippling back injury.

Again, he has not even had trial yet. He is an innocent man by the very definition of the law. He has nothing tying him to any crime. And even the crime itself was a nobody being shot in a city where nobodies are shot everyday, seven days a week. And those shooters don't get this treatment. Cannibals don't get this treatment. Serial killers don't get this treatment. Why are they doing this? Because we entered an oligarchy and they want people who are rich to matter more than people who are not. The NO ONE, no name, insignificant person that Brian THOMPSON always was and WILL ALWAYS BE is more important because of his net worth, to the fascist oligarchy we've entered into, than the innocent man, data scientist and robotics engineer with a promising future that is Luigi Mangione.

The NYPD doesn't want him to be innocent. They are torturing him gleefully and postponing his trial because they know he's innocent. They just want to scare the public into understanding that the ultra rich, even those who's names will never be remembered as anything other than markings on a never visited tombstone, are the only persons who matter now. Not yours. Never yours. You're poor. They'll torture you without a trial too. Your life means nothing to them. Your children dying in school shootings means nothing to them. Pinning a crime on an innocent man they can beat to scare the public out of class consciousness is the only thing that matters to them now. Depose them.

[comfxrtablykai]

hey kai!

can you please write a fanfic about dae ho comforting us after a game. (with a one bed trope 👉👈)

btw love ur writing smm!!🎀

EEEE I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!! dae ho is my shayla😭 (TW: Blood, gunshots, talk of death. let me know if there's more i should've added!) This is also for my favourite kang dae-ho stan @lanadelreyworshipperr

Kang Dae-Ho x reader ────୨ৎ──── The gunshots rang from the distance as you covered your ears, your palms pressed tightly against the shell, till all you could hear was a faint ringing. You whimpered quietly as you look at the blood pooled on the floor. How quickly had they cleaned up the bodies? The smell of blood made you gag as you choked out desperate sobs. "I wanna go home..." Your teammates Gi-Hun and Dae-Ho picked you up from the floor as you took in shallow breaths. You couldn't hear anything, not their words, not the other players talking and rushing out to go back to the bunks. No. The only thing you could still hear were bodies thudding the floor and the harsh sounds of the bullets leaving their guns to pierce through the heads of the innocent people. You couldn't breathe. Everything looked blurry for some reason, getting darker and faded. If you hadn't died from losing the game, you'd surely die from this panic attack. You saw Gi-Hun run to go to Jung-Bae and Young-Il, but Dae-Ho stayed with you. You sniffled and tried to recognise the world around you, trying to ground yourself in this terrifying situation but nothing worked. It wasn't until a certain former marine picked you up from the ground, hugging you close and carrying you bridal style back to the beds through the obnoxious amount of stairs. You curled against his chest and sniffled, hearing his heartbeat and coming back to reality just enough to croak out his name to tell him you were fine and awake, "Dae-Ho..." You moved you hand to your face, wiping the remaining tears. Dae-Ho looked at you with kindness shining in his eyes. A kindness people here seemed to have forgotten, "Ah, you're coming back to us. I know it's scary but I'll protect you, ok?" His voice was so soft as he put you down to your bunk. You hadn't even realised you both had reached the bedroom already. You hand was still grasping at the sleeve of his jumpsuit like your life depended on it, and quite frankly, you felt like it did depend on it. You felt yourself slip away when he started to go back. Nobody was really paying and attention at you both and thanks to Gi-Hun, your mattresses were in a perfectly hidden spot. "Dae-Ho, stay with me?" You asked, feeling tears prickle your eyes again, you weren't sleeping yet you could feel the nightmare that would haunt you for multiple nights on end. You also felt pathetic. Everyone here was so strong, even Jun-Hee who was pregnant and here you were. You couldn't go a single game without crying. Dae-Ho's eyes softened and you could swear you saw a fondness in his eyes. Though he quickly hid it. "Of course I will. I promise that no matter what happens in these games, I'll never leave you." He said it with such surety that you two would stick together, it couldn't help but make you optimistic as well. Dae-Ho settled on your mattress besides you and took this opportunity to curl up into him even more, "I feel so dumb." His hands found their way into your hair and gently massaged your scalp. "You're not dumb. Panicking in a scene like this is... normal. I'd be surprised if you weren't. I know I am as well." He joked and you couldn't help but smile as you buried your head in his chest. "It doesn't look like it. You're so brave." You muttered and looked up at Dae-Ho's face, it was rigid for a second before turning back to the soft, smiling face she liked. "Yeah, well, you're my sunshine and you're crying. That doesn't seem right either, does it?" Dae-Ho wiped another tear that had fallen from your eyes and gently pressed his lips against your forehead. You close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion from the day finally bring you down. You fought against your sleep and also blushed at the kiss he had just given you. "Dae-Ho..." "Go to sleep, sunshine." He said and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft round skin of your face. You gulped in fear and held him closer. "Only if you stay..." You said and pressed your forehead against Dae-Ho's, breathing in and out, slowly, following the pattern of his breathing.

He smirked and leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing against the tip of yours, "I'll always stay." He whispered to you like a promise and before you knew, you were drifting to sleep in his arms. ────୨ৎ────

[adilqalbi]

What's True Love If Not Necromancy?

pairing: ramdevi

tagging: @rc-catalog

word count: 799

tw: light mentions of death

rating: g

summary: a different take on devi waking up for the first time in hertfordshire, finding ram and their conversation.

additional note: A SUPER LATE birthday present for the one and only JB/ @webanglikethat!! Jbaby you're one of the greatest people I have had the honour of knowing. i did my best here but forgive any mistakes. i hope you have an amazing year and whatever troubles you, i hope it goes away asap. i'll always love you (platonically)

Ram hadn't realised just how much he missed Devi until the night she showed up to his room, complaining of a headache. 

She had been unconscious for weeks, but the British physicians had seemingly done their best to help her recover from her injury. 

Now, here she was, sitting on Ram's bed, breathing deeply and massaging her temples. 

Ram sat on the floor at her feet, watching her, his palms resting on her knees, waiting patiently for her to break their silence. 

Finally: ‘’Where are we?’’ Her voice was a whisper, and Ram had to lean in to hear the question. 

He sighed. She didn’t know. Of course, she had been dead, roaming around in the afterlife probably, and now she was back but in a foreign place. 

‘’We are in Britain. Hertfordshire.’’

‘’Hertfordshire? How? This…doesn’t make sense.’’

‘’Shh, I know it doesn’t. I’ll explain everything, rakshasi.’’ Ram ran his hand through Devi’s messy hair, trying to calm her down. 

‘’Please, Ram. Just tell me. I was dead. Dead. What happened?’’

Ram bit his lip. There was no delaying this. She had to know. 

He sat down next to her on the bed, took her hand in his and began. 

‘’You did die. Dixit stabbed you. But, you killed him before your final breath. And, then you died.’’

Devi was silent. 

‘Ram continued: ‘’I figure you would be upset to know that the last time you breathed was in…Christian’s arms.’’ 

‘’By the gods. Dying in the arms of a foreigner.’’ 

‘’Yes, well, it’s okay though. We got you back very quickly.’’

Devi looked up at Ram. ‘’Yes, how did you manage that?’’

Ram rubbed his neck, nervous, ‘’There’s this ritual that can be done. It had never been successful before but it worked with you for some reason.’’

‘’A ritual?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’It had never worked before?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’But, here I am.’’

‘’Indeed.’’

Devi rolled her eyes. ‘’Of course, you would know a ritual. But wasn’t it too big a risk?’’

Ram looked at the bedroom floor, dark oak. He was silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. 

It was risky to have done the ritual. He could have made everything worse. But, he knew one thing was true, which would never change. 

‘’I wanted to do everything in my power to get you back. I don’t think I could live without you.’’

Ram looked directly into Devi’s eyes, ‘’Five years, Devi. Five years of stolen glances, and flirty jokes, and searching for each other in the crowd and yet not being able to talk openly. I’d already suffered for five years, without you by my side.’’ Ram stopped here, his voice failing him. 

Devi completed his thoughts: ‘’And after five years, once we just began taking steps towards…happiness…that’s when I was taken away from the world of the living. And you…’’

‘’Couldn’t bear it. Not for one minute.’’ 

Devi curled her lips inwards, not sure what to say to Ram’s sudden confession. 

‘’I’m sorry, maybe this was too much altogether.’’ Ram quieted down, mentally berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut. He was always so good at it, so what happened now?

The next thing he knew was that Devi was holding his hand tighter. ‘’No, Ram. It’s…I appreciate you so much. I love you dearly. It’s just that…I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting it.’’

Ram raised his eyebrow, askance. 

‘’You were the one who said that what we have can’t be anything more than a secret.’’ Devi smirked, her old self coming back slowly as her mind got used to being alive again. ‘’What changed?’’

Ram looked at her again, her sparkling eyes, her smile. He thought back to how she laughed. 

‘’I want to make you laugh, I think. I want to do that for the rest of my life.’’ 

Devi blinked. She had expected a sarcastic joke, but this was serious. 

She smiled softly again, rubbing her thumb against Ram’s palm. 

‘’Ram…truly…I’d love to laugh with you forever. But-’’

‘’Oh god, there’s a but.’’ 

Devi, ironically laughed, ‘’Listen to me, you rakshasa. But now was not a good time to confess. I came back to life  half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure my body isn’t used to being alive currently. I think I need to sleep, actually. So, if you would please continue your tale of true love later on, I’d love to be able to sleep.’’

‘’True love? What do you mean true lov - wait!’’

It was no use. Devi was already under the covers with her eyes closed.

Under the covers. Sleeping. 

On Ram’s bed. 

In Hertfordshire. 

Where the maids liked to gossip. 

He looked at the empty side of the bed. He thought about it for perhaps one minute. Then he cuddled in right next to his true love.

[luigifan1998]

luigi x wife!reader headcanons. can be set before or after he went mia

right right right. married lu. throws myself on the floor

for the sake of length ill keep this to before he dropped off the face of the earth but ive written a memo to write about the after in a separate post soon

my personal biases might get in the way of this because i am unwell and genuinely think he is in desperate need of someone whos up at 3 am fighting a manifestation of their own hubris in their bed. he needs someone that experiences romantic delirium and is convinced her dreams tell her stories of the two of them from thousands of years ago. a girl thats considered showing up to a convent and who has a favorite saint. a rotten girl who wants to eat a piece of his birth certificate. this is so crucial to me unfortunately

that being said. its my belief that lu is saccharine, something he didnt know until you came along and peeled the wallpaper off his psyche. the way his customary sweetness unravels itself is sickly and all enveloping. hes the neediest boy in the world, forever coming to you with quiet infirmity. he drapes himself over you whenever he can, always saying how you were made to hold him. his incessant appetite for affection didnt ease with marriage. he plays with your ringed finger absentmindedly. presses his lips against it, not registering the habit

he would think of marriage early on in the relationship, unreachable to the anxious expressions of others when he'd say hes going to marry you weeks into dating. when he decided this, he paced back and forth in his bedroom, hardly able to focus long enough to tell the time before seeking his mom out to tell her. it all came out in one big prosaic wave. she thought he sounded like a child but his cheeks were flushed and his heart is so painfully stitched onto his sleeve in regards to you. he doesnt press the idea of the union but he likes to tell you how hes going to make you his wife during random moments. when youre eating. when you make him laugh. when hes fucking you

i can see lu trying and failing to preserve going all the way when you mess around once youve accepted his proposal. the engagement would be long. he is so busy and so wanted by everyone around him, but the novelty of you being his fiancé would wear off after the first couple of months. he wants to fuck his wife, not his girlfriend. he wants the sanctimony of marriage to wrap around the two of you when hes inside. the vow acts as a spectator in the bedroom, and he needs it. needs you to be his and only his under a holy decree. he calls you his bride and his little wife

in my heart of hearts....... i know lu would want to propose in the most cheesy way ever. his sister behind foliage, filming the whole thing. balloons. one knee. the rest of your family nearby. the video would be uploaded onto instagram, people you havent ever met commenting with what a beautiful couple the two of you make. but i think the right girl could pavlov him into asking in a whisper under the soft cotton of a bedsheet. face kisses and crying and pleading for the rest of your life to belong to him in some capacity. he cant live without this

the ring would be beautiful and heavy with weight and the diamond would be absurdly large. he'll never let onto the price, just like hes been doing with the checks at each restaurant youve been to together since your first date. bastard. whats next? steak tartare at the reception? he starts biting you each time you deny being able to accept such an insane piece of jewelry

[thedensworld]

Time Is Brewed | L. Sm

Genre: angst, time travel, fantasy, exes au!

Summary: After discovering that the old brewing machine he had just purchased allowed him to travel back in time, he tried to fix his relationship with you.

Seokmin had already visited the past three times this week. If he told his best friends, Mingyu and Myungho, they wouldn’t believe him. As always, they would tell him to stop being delusional. But hey, being delusional had led him to run a successful café in a prime location in Hongdae!

This time, Seokmin found himself back on the same day—the day he decided to quit his managerial job. That familiar knot of anxiety settled in his stomach as he stepped into the office. But something was different. Something stronger. He wasn’t the same nervous wreck he had been years ago. No. He was ready for this.

He handed in his resignation letter the same way he had back then—hand outstretched, a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His boss took it, eyes scanning the paper. And then the magic moment arrived.

Seokmin cleared his throat. "You gave me plenty of chances to grow, and I’m grateful for that," he said, voice smooth, not a quiver in sight. Who was this confident guy? Oh right, it was him. "But you're wrong. You are wrong to say I won’t succeed without this company."

Those words—he had swallowed them down so many times, had watched them burn in his throat, unsaid. But now? Now they slid out like butter. The tension he didn’t even know he was carrying was gone, evaporating into thin air, leaving only the crisp taste of freedom.

His boss blinked, clearly startled. Good.

The silence between them stretched on, but Seokmin didn’t even flinch. He was done. He had finally spoken up.

And then, just like that, the weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying started to lift. He walked out of the building with his box, each step feeling lighter than the last. The door closed behind him with a soft whoosh, as though it were sealing away everything he no longer needed.

Outside, the air tasted different—fresher, like the world was offering him a second chance. He walked toward his car, a grin tugging at his lips. He wasn’t leaving something behind; he was heading somewhere, toward something.

He sat in the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel. The world seemed to pause around him. The weight of his past—all of it—felt distant now. Almost like someone else’s.

For the first time in forever, Seokmin wasn’t weighed down by the fear of what was to come. He wasn’t haunted by the what-ifs. No, now all he could feel was that little spark of satisfaction deep in his chest. He had finally done it. He had stepped away from a life that had never felt quite right.

His chest felt lighter. His head felt clearer. And hey, wasn’t that the definition of freedom?

Seokmin let out a long breath, not realizing how much he had been holding in. "Finally," he murmured, glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

For the first time in ages, he wasn’t looking back. He wasn’t looking at anything. He was just moving forward.

And that felt, well... pretty darn good.

"Now, I should go back to the present," he murmured to himself.

But—

Oh?

"Why am I still here?" he muttered in confusion.

Usually, he could return to the present whenever he wanted. But now? Something was stopping him. His fingers tightened around the wheel. Was it because he was in the car?

He quickly stepped out and stood under the warm afternoon sun.

Still here.

A wave of panic surged through him. What if he couldn’t return this time? He had worked so hard to build and manage his café for the past seven years. He couldn’t just be stuck in the past.

"Seokmin?"

The familiar voice made his heart skip a beat. He turned quickly, and there you were—walking with a group of colleagues before they left you to approach him.

"Are you leaving for somewhere?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Seokmin’s heart pounded in his chest at the sight of you. It had been so long since he last saw you with short hair. He had almost forgotten that you worked in the same building as him. He never expected to run into you while revisiting this moment in time.

"Y/n.. Hi…" he greeted, but his voice came out awkward.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Seokmin bit his lower lip. He just couldn’t tell you that in the future, you would date him, love him, and then break his heart after five years.

Shaking his head, he let out a small, nervous laugh. "It's just…" He hesitated, holding his breath. Could he say it? After a moment of deep thought, he exhaled and finally admitted, "I kinda miss you, I guess."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Sorry? You miss me?" you echoed, confused. "We literally saw each other this morning in the elevator."

You laughed, thinking he was joking. But Seokmin wasn’t. He might joke about a lot of things, but when it came to you? Never. You just didn’t know.

"Hey…" You stepped closer, your brows knitting together in concern. "Are you okay? You look a little red, Seokmin."

His breath hitched at your sudden closeness. Before he could react—

Darkness.

And then—

The familiar scent of coffee beans and the soft hum of a jazz tune playing in the background.

Seokmin found himself back in his dimly lit café, sitting at his usual spot. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to process what had just happened.

He was back.

But for the first time since discovering his ability to travel through time, a strange, lingering feeling settled in his heart.

Seokmin took a deep breath before sighing heavily. Seeing you again—even if it was in the past—was harder than he had expected. He didn’t think his heart would race so much from reliving an old conversation.

He remembered that day vividly. The day he resigned. The day he first told you he was leaving the company. And, unknowingly, the day that sparked everything between you two. It had started as a simple chat, just two coworkers talking. But that conversation had brought you closer.

A series of rapid knocks pulled him back to reality. He blinked, turning toward the glass door, where Mingyu stood with a deep frown on his face.

"I was knocking like crazy while you just sat there daydreaming. Long day, man?" Mingyu asked, stepping inside as Seokmin unlocked the door for him.

Mingyu walked over to the table where Seokmin was sitting and set down a couple of plastic bags, the weight of them making a soft thud against the wood.

"Myungho's on his way with food," Mingyu added, already pulling out his phone and scrolling through it like the conversation was over.

Seokmin reached for the drinks Mingyu had brought. They were heavy, and judging by the labels, definitely on the expensive side. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you planning to get wasted in my café tonight? In case you forgot, I have to open at seven in the morning," Seokmin said, eyeing his friend with mild exasperation.

Mingyu sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, man. We'll take it slow. We won’t get wasted—you know me." He threw Seokmin a playful wink before turning his attention back to his phone.

As the three of them gathered, Mingyu immediately took charge, arranging the food and drinks with an excitement that had no real reason behind it. He always got overly invested in things like this. Meanwhile, Myungho—the calmest of the three—watched in silence as his two friends bickered over something as trivial as street food plating.

"Put the tteokbokki in a bowl, obviously," Seokmin argued, gesturing toward the steaming dish.

Mingyu scoffed. "No way, a plate makes it easier to pick up!"

"And the tangsuyuk sauce?" Myungho finally chimed in, sipping his drink. "Poured or dipped?"

Seokmin and Mingyu both turned to him at the same time.

"Dipped."

"Poured."

They glared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Classic.

But just as Seokmin prepared to defend his stance, Myungho’s voice cut through the playful atmosphere.

"Did you get the invitation?" he asked suddenly.

Seokmin turned to him, momentarily distracted. "What invitation?"

Mingyu let out a sigh, shaking his head as he watched Seokmin successfully pour all the sauce over the tangsuyuk. Defeated, he dropped his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair.

The three of them sat in a small circle, their laughter fading as the conversation shifted.

"So you really didn’t get it," Mingyu mumbled, nodding to himself.

Myungho pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward Seokmin, showing him a digital invitation.

You're getting married.

The words glowed against the screen, and as Seokmin scrolled through the details, the color drained from his face.

Mingyu and Myungho exchanged a quick glance, guilt settling over them. This gathering hadn’t just been a casual hangout. It had been arranged for one reason—to soften the blow, to distract Seokmin from the inevitable heartbreak.

Seokmin’s hands tightened around the phone before he slowly slid it back across the table. He looked at his friends, a chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no humor in it. Only disbelief.

"Woah…" His voice was quiet, but the betrayal in his eyes was evident. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Is it him? That guy?"

They knew exactly who he was talking about—the so-called "best friend" who had played a part in your breakup.

Mingyu shook his head. "Not that one."

Seokmin let out a bitter laugh, his grip on his drink tightening. "So it's another guy, huh? She's quick, though." His words were muttered, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than them.

A heavy silence fell over the table.

Myungho sighed before raising his glass. "Let’s not talk about other men," he said, his tone firm as he held his drink out for a toast.

Mingyu followed, clinking his glass against Myungho’s. They both waited for Seokmin.

For a long moment, Seokmin didn’t move. His heart pounded against his ribs, beating twice as fast, as if it was ready to burst.

Then, finally, he exhaled, forcing a small smirk onto his lips as he lifted his glass.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Screw that."

And with that, their drinks clinked together—a silent agreement that, for tonight, they would drink away the pain.

"I’M SERIOUS!!!"

"That machine has taken me back to the past four times already!" Seokmin slurred, his words tumbling over each other as he waved his hand toward the vintage brewing machine sitting proudly on the counter.

Mingyu let out a loud laugh, his own face slightly flushed from the alcohol. He might have been drunk, but not that drunk—not to the point where he’d start believing Seokmin’s wild claims. "Where the hell did you even get that?" he asked, barely able to stifle his laughter.

"From an old man across the road," Seokmin explained, his words slightly incoherent. "I was just trying to help him, but he insisted I buy it—for very cheap, I swear."

Myungho chuckled, clearly amused by the drunken storytelling. "Alright," he humored him, leaning back in his chair. "So where exactly did you travel to?"

Seokmin perked up, turning to Myungho with an appreciative look. At least one of his friends was paying attention.

"First," he began, raising a finger. "Remember our road trip to Busan after we graduated?"

Myungho nodded, recalling the memory.

"That was one. Then I visited the day I broke my mother’s vase when I was six." He sighed dramatically. "Got scolded all over again, by the way."

Mingyu scoffed, swirling the drink in his glass. "Wow, what a life-changing experience."

Seokmin ignored him. "And then, I went back to the time my sisters ganged up on me to tease me mercilessly." He shuddered at the memory, throwing a side glance at Mingyu, who was looking at him with pure judgment.

"And the last one," Seokmin continued, his voice growing softer, "was the day I resigned. Seven years ago."

Mingyu chuckled once Seokmin finished his tale. "I told you to stop daydreaming. You drank too much, now your brain’s broken." With that, he took another shot, shaking his head.

Seokmin was ready to throw a punch at Mingyu, but Myungho, ever the peacekeeper, reached out and held him back.

"Did you change anything?" Myungho asked instead.

Seokmin froze at the question, caught off guard. "I don’t know... I didn’t visit to change anything. So…"

"But is there something you want to change?" Myungho pressed, his voice quieter, more thoughtful. "I mean, isn't that the natural instinct? If you could go back, wouldn't you want to fix something?"

Seokmin fell silent.

Mingyu, ever the skeptic, mouthed to Myungho, You actually believe him?

Myungho simply giggled and shook his head. Mingyu covered his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter as Seokmin sat there, lost in deep thought.

Was there something he wanted to change? A regret so strong that he’d risk altering the past?

Then, after a long pause, Seokmin exhaled.

"There’s one thing," he admitted, his voice quieter now.

Both Mingyu and Myungho looked at him, their amusement fading slightly.

"There’s something I want to fix," Seokmin said, looking up at his friends with newfound determination.

And for the first time that night, neither of them laughed.

*

Seokmin was pacing around, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of his cafe. Today was one week before your wedding day. He could still see the date written on the elegant invitation in his mind. He sighed, a weight in his chest that he thought had long since lifted. But deep down, he knew he hadn’t moved on—not really. His heart still ached for you, even though you had broken it more times than he could count.

The cafe had just closed, a long day finally over. He had worked the after-lunch shift too, his staff shorthanded. After bidding them goodbye as they went home, Seokmin lingered by the counter, cleaning up the remnants of the day. His eyes, however, were drawn to the brewing machine sitting in the corner.

It had been a week since he last used it. The discovery that it could send him to the past had shaken him. After that morning, he’d told his staff to leave the machine alone, insisting it was just a decoration—something for the aesthetic. He couldn’t risk anyone else getting sucked into its mystery, let alone the confusion of being sent back to the past.

But tonight, it called to him.

With a resigned sigh, Seokmin walked over to the machine and began making his coffee. He didn’t know why—he wasn’t in the mood for it, not really. But it felt... right. He prepared the coffee the same way he always had, the routine grounding him. Once he was finished, he sat at a table, wrapping his hands around the warm mug.

Taking a deep breath, he let his mind wander, the way it often did when he needed an escape. Seokmin was always a dreamer, his thoughts effortlessly drifting toward places and moments he longed to revisit. His eyes fluttered closed as he imagined the soft, familiar surroundings of his old apartment. He could feel the weight lifting off his body as he let the image grow sharper, clearer.

Slowly, almost absentmindedly, he raised the mug to his lips and took a sip of the warm coffee. But when he opened his eyes, the world had shifted. The cafe was gone, and in its place was the worn wooden dining table of his old apartment. The warm glow of the lamplight bathed the room in a cozy, nostalgic hue. In his hands, the red mug had changed too, filled not with coffee but with hot chocolate—the one he always made for himself after a particularly long week at the cafe.

He remembered this moment, so clearly. It had been a quiet evening after an exhausting week, his body sore from hours spent on his feet. He had come home that night, craving comfort, craving something familiar. And here it was, as if the past had pulled him back in.

For a moment, Seokmin let himself just be there, soaking in the memory. But deep down, the question gnawed at him. Could he change anything if he stayed? Could he find a way to stop this—to stop you from marrying someone else?

"You're home."

He could hear your voice, and though he expected it, the familiar ache in his chest didn’t lessen. He had been here before, so he knew what was coming next.

A fight.

Arguments.

Yells.

Tears.

He remembered it all too well—the tension that always seemed to hang between them.

"You remember home today?" Your voice was laced with sarcasm as you leaned against the fridge, eyes locking with his.

In the past, he would’ve said, "Don't start it."

But now, when he thought about it, he realized it was always him who started it. All of your frustration, your anger—it had been triggered by his absence. He hadn’t been home for three days, choosing to stay at the cafe to pour himself into work for the five-year anniversary. His team was counting on him, but he had let that responsibility push you to the side.

"I'm sorry," Seokmin mumbled, his voice low, but sincere.

Your frown softened a little, though there was still a flicker of something in your eyes—a question, a need for something more than just the apology he had offered. You didn’t seem to fully believe it yet.

"Why are you home, then?" you asked, arms still crossed tightly over your chest, a guarded expression remaining on your face.

Seokmin paused, his old reflex kicking in. The Seokmin from before would have answered defensively, “Can’t I? It’s my house too. I pay the rent.”

But now, a more mature version of him stared back at you, a version that had grown, that had learned, that understood the weight of words and actions.

He gulped, swallowing the bitterness that tried to crawl up his throat, before answering, "Because... because I miss you." The words slipped out, almost painfully, and he could feel the lump in his throat. He fought the tears threatening to fall, but he could feel them—hot, sharp—and you seemed to notice.

Seokmin set the mug down on the table, his hands trembling slightly. He wiped his face quickly, trying to regain his composure, but it was no use. He had already cracked.

And before he knew it, you were there, pulling him into an embrace.

The warmth of your touch, your familiar scent—it hit him like a wave. He hadn’t expected to break down so quickly, but here he was, clinging to you as if he could somehow undo all the hurt he had caused, all the time lost between the two of you. He hadn’t come here for this, but it was happening anyway—this rush of emotions, this sudden rush of longing.

You pulled back just enough to brush a hand through his hair, your fingers gentle and soothing, sending a ripple of calm through him.

"You must have had a hard time preparing for the event," you murmured, your voice soft, understanding. Your touch was comforting, like a balm to the rawness he was feeling.

Seokmin pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. "I'm so sorry... Forgive me, please."

You looked at him with concern, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness that made his heart ache. "Hey, you don’t need to apologize this much. You know I'll forgive you..."

And then, you kissed him. Just a soft, fleeting kiss on his lips. The butterflies that erupted in his stomach were almost overwhelming. After a year without your touch, your kiss felt like a sweet, familiar melody, bringing him back to life in an instant.

"You know I’ll always forgive you," you whispered, and in that moment, Seokmin’s heart clenched painfully. He had forgotten what it felt like to hear those words from you. Had you always been this forgiving? He couldn’t remember, but right now, it felt like everything.

“Don’t cry, baby... I’m sorry too…”

Your words hit him like a wave. You were apologizing? He almost couldn’t believe it. You had always been the tough one, the one who hid your emotions beneath a hard exterior. You never apologized for the fights, not unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, it was rare. But now, here you were, admitting you were sorry too. It was a side of you he hadn’t seen in so long.

"I'm sorry that I acted like that earlier," you added, your voice thick with emotion. "I was just... worried."

And just like that, the warmth of the moment began to slip away. Seokmin felt the coldness creep back into his bones, like a shadow settling over him. The sound of the jazz music he always played in the cafe swirled around him, pulling him back to reality.

He was back in the present.

This wasn’t the past.

And yet, somehow, this feeling—this hope—remained, flickering in his chest.

*

Seokmin was surprised when he saw your best friend walk into his cafe. He watched as your best friend placed his order while Seokmin was busy fulfilling other customers’ requests at the dessert counter. After a brief moment, your best friend found a table, sitting down with his phone in hand, seemingly lost in thought. Seokmin could feel a slight tension in the air, but he brushed it off as he prepared the order: an Americano and a slice of carrot cake.

He walked over to deliver the order, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor. "Seungkwan, right?"

Seungkwan looked up in surprise, his gaze shifting around as he realized where he was. His eyes widened slightly at the realization that he was in Seokmin’s cafe—the cafe owned by his best friend’s ex.

"Oh, Seokmin. How are you?" Seungkwan asked, the air between them suddenly feeling awkward. Seokmin made an effort to ease the tension.

"I'm good. How about you? Still working in fashion editorial?" Seokmin asked, trying to be warmer to someone who, in the past, had felt like a potential threat to his relationship with you.

Seungkwan blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. "Actually, I haven’t worked in fashion for almost three years now. I’m in TV show production now," he said with a slight shrug.

Seokmin, embarrassed by not knowing, quickly took the business card Seungkwan offered. It had been a while since they had spoken, and Seokmin only remembered Seungkwan’s involvement with the fashion industry. He felt a little sheepish, but Seungkwan waved it off.

"It’s okay, no reason for you to know that. Anyway, your cafe is doing great," Seungkwan added, his eyes scanning the bustling space, clearly impressed.

The two of them sat at a table together, a rare moment where Seokmin found himself truly getting to know Seungkwan. He had always been your best friend since college, but the few interactions they had shared had never gone beyond awkward pleasantries. Seokmin now realized that he barely knew the person who had been by your side for so long.

In fact, he remembered the last time Seungkwan had been in his life. The memory stung, but he pushed it down as they continued their conversation, both men navigating the strange space between them.

“You ungrateful bastard.” Seungkwan’s words were sharp the last time they had ever saw each other.

Seokmin's eyes widened as he stepped into his apartment after a week of staying in the cafe. He had barely any clothes left there and needed to change. His mind was still trying to forget the argument that had taken place the last time he was home. It was like any other argument—filled with tension, unspoken words, and frustration.

There had been countless times Seungkwan was mentioned during arguments. Seokmin didn’t know him well—just that he was a friend of yours from university. Despite meeting him a few times, there had always been a lingering, uncomfortable atmosphere between Seokmin and Seungkwan, one that others could feel but no one would openly acknowledge.

But when he stepped into the bedroom, everything seemed to freeze. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then stared again, certain that what he saw couldn’t be real. There, in his bed, was Seungkwan, your best friend, lying on his side of the bed.

It didn’t take long for the familiar anger to rise in Seokmin’s chest. His thoughts raced back to every argument, every moment Seungkwan had been mentioned, and the air of discomfort between him and Seungkwan.

He tried to shake it off, but the image of Seungkwan in his bed was burning into his brain, and the frustration, the years of pent-up tension, exploded.

“What is this?” His voice was thick with disbelief, his hands gripping the doorframe.

Your gaze flicked nervously from Seokmin to Seungkwan, and before Seokmin could react, you were moving towards him, pulling him out of the bedroom. “It’s not what it looks like,” you said quickly, but your voice trembled with uncertainty.

Seokmin’s eyes were wide, his heart pounding. “What do you mean ‘it’s not what it looks like’? Why is he in my bed?” His words were clipped, his frustration quickly building. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening.

You kept your voice low, trying to stay calm. “Seokmin, listen to me. It's a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” Seokmin’s voice rose, unable to contain the anger. “What part of my bed being taken by him is a misunderstanding?”

You sighed deeply, stepping back slightly to avoid his fiery gaze. “He’s my best friend, Seokmin. He needed somewhere to sleep. We weren’t—” You cut yourself off, realizing how it sounded.

Seokmin’s face darkened. He laughed bitterly, the sound bitter on his tongue. “You think I’m stupid? You want me to believe you’re ‘just sleeping’?” He stepped closer to you, his voice shaking with emotion. “Are you cheating on me with him? Is that it? This whole time, while I’ve been working my ass off, you’ve been with him?”

You took a step back, stunned by his words. “No! I’m not cheating on you!” you pleaded, the frustration in your own voice rising. “Seungkwan’s my friend, my best friend. Why does it always have to be this way?”

Seokmin was pacing now, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to hold it together. His emotions were getting the best of him. “Because I saw it with my own eyes, Y/n. I saw him in my bed, sleeping next to you—” He swallowed hard, trying to get the words out. “What if I had walked in and seen something else? What if I had found you in the middle of... whatever it is you’ve been doing?”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically. “Seokmin, that’s not what’s happening!” You reached for him, trying to calm him, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch.

Seokmin let out a strained laugh, one filled with pain and betrayal. “Just sleeping? That’s your excuse? What do you expect me to believe? You’ve been so cold lately. So distant. And now this? I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I’ve been distant?” you shot back, the words sharp. “You’ve been gone for days, Seokmin. Days! And now you come back here accusing me of—of what? Cheating?”

Seokmin’s fists clenched at his sides. He was shaking, his breath coming faster now. “Don’t act like this is my fault. You can’t even look at me the same anymore. Every time I try to come home, it feels like I’m stepping into a house full of secrets and lies. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“I’m not the one who’s changed, Seokmin!” Your voice cracked, the weight of your words taking their toll. “You’ve pulled away. You’ve been gone, busy with the cafe. You didn’t even have time for me, for us. And now, you show up and this is what you do—accuse me of things that aren’t true!”

The argument grew louder, more intense. Words flew like daggers, each of you trying to hurt the other before the pain could sink too deep. Seokmin was on the verge of breaking down, but his anger was keeping him from seeing clearly. You were both caught in a whirlpool of hurt, accusations, and unsaid words.

Then, as if on cue, Seungkwan appeared in the doorway. His eyes were bleary from sleep, his head clearly pounding from the night before. He stepped out into the living room, rubbing his face and looking between the two of you.

“What’s going on?” Seungkwan’s voice was groggy, his confusion evident. He hadn’t expected to find a warzone when he came out of the room.

Seokmin whirled on him, his anger still burning hot. He grabbed Seungkwan’s shirt with both hands, his voice low and threatening. “What the hell are you doing in my bed with my girlfriend?”

Seungkwan blinked, still half asleep. “Relax, man... We were just sleeping.”

The words barely registered before Seokmin’s fist flew through the air, landing a punch on Seungkwan’s jaw. Seungkwan stumbled back, the shock of the hit taking him by surprise.

“Seokmin, stop!” You screamed, rushing forward, but in his anger, Seokmin pushed you aside, not realizing what he was doing.

You gasped as you hit the floor, but before Seokmin could even react, Seungkwan lunged, his fist connecting with Seokmin’s face. The force sent Seokmin stumbling backwards, his lip splitting from the impact.

“Get the hell out of here, you bastard!” Seungkwan shouted, his chest heaving with adrenaline as he shoved Seokmin toward the door.

Seokmin, dazed and bleeding, stood frozen for a moment. His heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline still surging through his body. But as Seungkwan pushed him out, his own words haunted him.

“You ungrateful bastard.” Seungkwan’s words were sharp, final, as he slammed the door in Seokmin’s face, leaving him outside in the cold, heartbroken, and alone.

*

Seokmin took a sip of his coffee, the warmth spreading through his body, but as he opened his eyes, something felt... off. The familiar scent of freshly brewed espresso and sugar filled his senses, yet the details around him seemed different.

He wasn’t in his apartment, where he had specifically visualized it. Instead, he was in his café—a year ago.

The table in front of him was the same, scuffed in places where he had absentmindedly tapped his fingers while brainstorming new recipes. The dessert counter was still small, a far cry from what it had become over time. The soft hum of the café's old refrigerator buzzed in the background, a sound he had long since tuned out.

Seokmin’s brows furrowed. Why am I here?

Just then, his phone vibrated. A message.

Y/n: Can you come home? I have a really bad stomachache.

Seokmin stared at the screen, a strange sensation creeping up his spine. He knew this message. He had received it before—exactly one year ago.

Now he remembered.

That night, you had asked him to come home, but he hadn’t. He had stayed at the café, drowning himself in dessert recipes, convincing himself that work was more important. He had ignored your message, promising himself he’d check on you in the morning.

But the morning had come, and by then, something had already started to break between you.

Seokmin clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his phone.

This was the moment. The turning point.

If he went home tonight, would it change anything between you?

He exhaled, forcing himself to think. Why had he chosen to stay at the café back then? What had been so important that he ignored you?

He had spent months after your breakup searching for answers—wondering why you had grown distant after five years together, why your warmth had slowly faded, why you had let someone else—Seungkwan—fill the space he had left empty.

Was that why you pulled away? Because you had already found someone else?

Seokmin shook his head. He had spent so much time blaming you, convincing himself that you had betrayed him. But deep down, he knew the truth—he had left you alone long before you ever looked elsewhere for comfort.

He stood abruptly, pushing his chair back.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

He wasn’t going to give another man the chance to take his place.

Wasn’t that why he had returned to the past in the first place? Because he didn’t want to lose you? Because he couldn’t bear to see you with someone else?

Without hesitation, Seokmin grabbed his keys and sprinted out of the café, the cold night air biting against his skin as he rushed toward your apartment.

"Y/n..." he called softly as he stepped inside, his heart hammering in his chest.

His breath caught when he saw you curled up on the couch, clutching your stomach. Your face was pale, and beads of cold sweat clung to your temple.

Seokmin crossed the room in long strides, kneeling in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was tight with worry as he reached out, scanning your expression. His fingers brushed against your forehead—it was damp, too cold.

You barely lifted your gaze to meet his. “I don’t know… It hurts so much…” Your voice was weak, barely a whisper.

Panic surged through him. He had no idea the pain had been this bad. Had you been suffering like this all night, alone?

Without another thought, Seokmin scooped you into his arms, holding you close.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said firmly, his mind made up.

This time, he wouldn’t leave you waiting.

Seokmin sat in the cold, sterile hospital hallway, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles turned white. The scent of antiseptic burned his nose, the bright fluorescent lights overhead only worsening the pounding in his skull.

The image of you, unconscious on the hospital bed, your skin sickly pale, was burned into his mind. He hadn't realized it was this serious. Hadn't known you had been suffering like this while he was too caught up in his own world, his own ambitions.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Please, just let her be okay.

The sound of footsteps made him lift his head, and he shot up when he saw the doctor approaching.

"How is she?" Seokmin asked immediately, his voice rough, desperate.

The doctor sighed, pulling down his mask before speaking. "She's stable now, but..."

Seokmin's heart pounded harder. The pause stretched too long. "But what?"

The doctor gave him a solemn look. "She was pregnant."

Seokmin felt the words hit him like a truck, his breath catching in his throat. Pregnant?

His vision blurred for a second, his mind racing back through time—had you known? Had you tried to tell him?

"But due to excessive stress and prolonged neglect of her symptoms," the doctor continued, "she suffered a miscarriage."

The word rang in his ears, shattering something deep inside him.

A miscarriage.

His legs felt weak, his hands trembled. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

There had been a baby. His baby. A life that had barely begun but was already gone.

Seokmin stumbled back onto the chair, his body cold, his mind reeling. He gripped his hair, exhaling shakily.

He had been so blind. So selfish.

All those times you had asked him to come home. All those moments when you had reached out, needing him. And he had ignored you, stayed at the café, convinced himself that his time, his dreams, his work mattered more.

And now, there was no going back.

His baby was gone.

And you—how were you supposed to handle this? How much pain had you endured alone while he had been too distracted, too distant to see it?

"Hey, do you know I'm never into women? I always have a boyfriend." Seungkwan’s words echoed in his mind, each syllable hitting him like a hammer to the chest.

Seokmin sat there, unmoving, the weight of those words settling deep in his bones. His breath hitched as the realization sank in—how wrong he had been.

All the accusations. The doubts. The fights.

All the times he had glared at Seungkwan, convinced that he was the reason for your distance, the reason you weren’t looking at him the way you used to. He had let his insecurities twist everything, had let jealousy consume him until all he saw was betrayal where there was none.

And while he had been drowning in his own delusions, you had been suffering in silence.

He pressed a hand over his face, his fingers trembling.

"I'm not cheating on you."

Your voice from that night played in his head, softer now, weaker. He could still see the way your face had crumpled at his accusations, the way you had begged him to believe you.

But he hadn’t.

He had let his pride win. He had let his anger control him.

And now, here he was—watching you lie in a hospital bed, pale and weak, after losing the baby he never even knew existed.

Guilt clawed at his throat, suffocating him.

"I should have been there."

But he wasn’t.

And now, it was too late.

*

Mingyu watched as Myungho sprinted down the hospital corridor, his breathing ragged, his face a mix of panic and frustration. Neither of them had expected to receive a message from one of Seokmin's staff, informing them that their friend had been found passed out in his café that morning—with ten empty espresso cups scattered around him.

Myungho raked a trembling hand through his hair, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Is it because of her wedding? Is that why he did something this stupid?" He turned to Mingyu, eyes desperate for an answer, but Mingyu looked just as lost, just as shaken.

Seokmin, their bright, ever-smiling friend, had nearly died of a heart attack.

Mingyu let out a heavy breath, rubbing his hands over his face as he sank onto one of the waiting chairs. His fingers fidgeted, betraying the unease thrumming through his body. "The wedding is tomorrow," he muttered, voice hollow.

Myungho stiffened at the words. He knew it. They both did. But hearing it out loud made it feel more real, made Seokmin’s pain more tangible.

Mingyu swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Doctor said if they hadn’t found him sooner, it could've been fatal."

Myungho clenched his fists. "That idiot," he cursed under his breath, his voice cracking. His eyes burned with unshed tears, the weight of almost losing Seokmin settling heavily on his chest.

Seokmin's eyelids fluttered open, the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room coming into focus. His body felt heavy, his head pounding as if a jackhammer was drilling into his skull. His mouth was dry, tasting faintly of bitter coffee and regret.

Before he could fully register his surroundings, a sharp gasp filled the room.

"Seokmin!"

Mingyu and Myungho rushed to his side, their expressions a mix of relief and frustration. Mingyu gripped his arm tightly, as if making sure he was real, while Myungho hovered nearby, his jaw clenched.

Seokmin blinked sluggishly, his throat constricting as he croaked out, "Where am I?"

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. "Where do you think? You're in the hospital, you dumbass." His voice wavered, trying to mask his emotions with irritation, but his grip on Seokmin’s arm gave him away. "You nearly died."

Seokmin groaned, attempting to sit up, but Myungho immediately pressed him back down with a firm hand on his chest. "Don’t even try. You drank ten cups of espresso in one go, Seokmin. Ten! Do you have a death wish?!"

Seokmin closed his eyes briefly, letting their words sink in. Then, in a hoarse whisper, he asked the only question that mattered to him.

"Did she get married?"

The room fell silent.

Mingyu and Myungho exchanged glances, their expressions darkening.

Seokmin's hands clenched the sheets, his breath growing unsteady. "Tell me," he pleaded, his voice cracking.

Myungho sighed, rubbing his temples. "Seokmin—"

"Did she or did she not get married?!" Seokmin's voice rose, desperate, raw.

Mingyu exhaled heavily, then finally muttered, "Not yet."

Seokmin's heart lurched. He wasn't too late. Not yet.

Ignoring the dizziness washing over him, he tried to push himself up again. "I need to see her."

"Are you insane?!" Myungho nearly shouted, pushing him back. "You almost died, and the first thing you want to do is chase after her?!"

Seokmin grabbed onto Myungho’s wrist, eyes wild with determination. "I have to stop it." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it made both of his friends freeze.

Mingyu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don’t even know if she wants you to stop it, Seokmin."

Seokmin swallowed hard, his chest aching. He knew that. He knew he had no right to do this. But he also knew one thing for certain—

"I need to see her."

Mingyu let out a long breath, gripping his knees as he tried to process Seokmin’s words. Myungho, on the other hand, looked like he was on the verge of throwing something.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Myungho snapped, glaring at Seokmin. "You just woke up from almost dying, and your first thought is running after her wedding? What the hell do you think is going to happen?"

Mingyu leaned forward, rubbing his temples. "Even if you do see her, then what? Do you expect her to come back to you just because you showed up? Do you think this is some kind of drama where the moment you say ‘don’t marry him,’ she’ll run into your arms?"

Seokmin’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His mind was clouded, tangled between desperation and the overwhelming guilt crushing his chest.

"This isn’t about what you want anymore, Seokmin," Myungho continued, his voice quieter but firm. "She’s about to start a new life. Whether or not she’s happy with it, that’s not something you get to decide."

Seokmin’s breathing became uneven, his heart pounding against his ribs. "But what if she’s making a mistake?" he murmured.

"And what if she isn’t?" Mingyu shot back. "What if she’s already moved on and you’re the only one stuck in the past?"

Seokmin’s fingers curled into the hospital blanket. That thought—her moving on, being happy without him—made his stomach twist painfully.

"I need to know," he whispered, voice barely holding together.

Mingyu ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "You’re being selfish, man. You don’t need to know. You want to know. And there’s a big difference."

Myungho sighed, looking away for a moment before turning back to Seokmin. "You think this is love, but it’s guilt eating you alive. You regret everything, and you think if you see her, if you stop her, maybe it’ll fix something in you. But it won’t."

Seokmin clenched his jaw. "I just—"

"You just can’t accept that you lost her."

The words cut deeper than Seokmin expected. His vision blurred slightly, his throat tightening.

Seokmin’s breath hitched, his shoulders trembling as he gripped the blanket beneath him. His head hung low, strands of hair falling over his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the way his body shook. A choked sound escaped his lips, something between a breathless laugh and a sob, as if he himself wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry.

Mingyu and Myungho exchanged a glance, their own expressions heavy with helplessness. Neither of them had an answer—because if moving on was easy, Seokmin wouldn’t be here, collapsing under the weight of what-ifs and regrets.

"I ruined everything," Seokmin whispered, his fingers pressing into his temples. "I should’ve come home that night. I should’ve listened. I should’ve believed her." His voice cracked at the last part, and his body folded in on itself.

He sucked in a sharp breath, but it did nothing to steady him. The dam he had been holding back for so long finally burst. A sob tore from his throat, raw and painful, his hands clutching at his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

"I thought I was doing the right thing." Another sob. "I thought I was protecting us." His words were barely coherent between gasps. "But I— I pushed her away. Over and over. And then when I finally—when I finally wanted to fix things, it was too late."

He pressed his fists against his eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears, but they kept coming. "She waited for me," he rasped. "And I never came."

Myungho, usually the colder one, exhaled and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He placed a hand on Seokmin’s back, firm but gentle. "You can’t change the past, Seokmin," he murmured. "No matter how much you regret it. You can't change anything."

Seokmin let out a bitter, broken laugh through his tears. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Mingyu kneeled beside the bed, gripping Seokmin’s wrist, grounding him. "You grieve, man," he said softly. "And then, one day, you start again."

Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut, his body wrecked with sobs. He had spent so long running—running from his emotions, from his mistakes, from the truth. And now, there was nowhere left to run.

All that was left was the ache in his chest and the cruel reality that no matter how much he cried, no matter how much he wished, he could never turn back time.

*

"No one can change things but themselves."

Seokmin let out a quiet chuckle as he read the faded tagline on the back of the vintage brewing machine. He ran a hand over its worn surface, the once-polished metal now dulled with age.

He pulled it from the counter, his fingers tightening around the handle as he lifted it. There was a strange sense of finality in the action, as if he were physically removing a part of himself from the past. He exhaled slowly. It was time to say goodbye.

It had taken him a month to come to terms with the truth. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he couldn’t change the past. Even after experiencing what felt like a second chance, he realized that some things were simply meant to happen. His mistakes, your choices—they were both pieces of a larger story that he had no control over.

He couldn’t be selfish anymore. You had your own life, your own decisions. And he had to respect that.

After being discharged from the hospital, Myungho had insisted he move in with him, at least for a while. “You need someone to keep an eye on your dumbass,” Myungho had said, dragging him into his apartment without giving him a chance to protest. Mingyu had taken over managing the café in his absence, making sure everything ran smoothly while Seokmin recovered.

Their support had been the reason he didn’t completely fall apart.

And now, standing in his café once again, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time—strength. Not just physical strength, but the kind that came from acceptance.

He was back.

And this time, he was ready to move forward.

Seokmin froze for a moment as he spotted the old man standing across the road, watching him with a knowing look. The same old man who had sold him the vintage brewing machine all those months ago—the one who seemed to have known more than he let on. Seokmin blinked, still trying to process the bizarre turn of events.

The old man raised his hand and waved, an almost mischievous grin on his weathered face. Seokmin's heart skipped a beat.

He made his way over, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. “You finished using it?” The old man asked, his voice gravelly, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. “Can I get it back?”

Seokmin hesitated for a second, the weight of everything that had happened still lingering in his chest. He glanced down at the machine in his hands, the one that had been his link to the past. "You know it too?" Seokmin asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This machine... it can send anyone back in time?"

The old man’s smile widened, and he nodded knowingly. "I always knew," he said with quiet certainty. There was something in his eyes—a kind of ancient wisdom—that made Seokmin feel like he was standing before someone who had seen far more than he let on.

Without waiting for any further conversation, the old man reached out and took the machine from Seokmin’s arms. Despite his age, the man was surprisingly strong, and Seokmin couldn’t help but watch in awe as the old man effortlessly carried the machine.

For a moment, Seokmin stood there, frozen, as he watched the old man walk away, the heavy sound of his steps receding in the distance. It felt surreal—like the end of a chapter, yet Seokmin couldn't shake the feeling that it was only the beginning of something far more complex.

As Seokmin stood there, watching the old man walk away, he couldn’t shake the nagging question in his mind—the tagline he had read on the back of the brewing machine. It had been on his mind ever since he first set eyes on it, and now, with the machine being taken away, it felt like there was a final piece to the puzzle that was still missing.

"Hey," Seokmin called out, his voice catching the old man’s attention before he disappeared completely. The old man turned around, a knowing smile playing on his lips as if he had been expecting this.

“What’s the tagline about?” Seokmin asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. "The one that says, 'No one can change things but themselves.' What does that really mean?"

The old man chuckled softly, the sound a raspy yet warm laugh that seemed to carry the weight of countless untold stories. He looked at Seokmin with a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

"It takes two for everything," the old man replied, his voice low and deliberate. "You couldn’t be the only one who wants it."

Seokmin stood in silence, the brewing machine now a distant memory in his hands, and the words of the old man echoed in his head. “It takes two for everything.” Was he truly ready to let go? To stop trying to control the outcome?

As the seconds ticked by, he realized that maybe, just maybe, the key wasn’t about turning back time, but about moving forward.

Seokmin’s phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Myungho.

Myungho: You're home already?

Seokmin frowned at the screen, his frustration rising. He quickly typed back:

Seokmin: Stop texting me like a creepy boyfriend!

Not even a minute later, his phone rang. It was Myungho calling this time. Seokmin groaned, rolling his eyes before answering.

“Why do you keep bothering me? What do you want, Myungho?” Seokmin grumbled as he headed back to the cafe, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Mingyu texted me, saying he saw your cafe lights still on!” Myungho said with a teasing tone, clearly amused.

Seokmin, now annoyed, rubbed his temples. “I’m just done recycling, okay? What the heck, how does Mingyu know my lights are still on?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Myungho’s voice came through, dripping with sarcasm. “CCTV?”

Seokmin froze mid-step, eyes widening in disbelief. “Ya! How dare you guys monitor me with my own CCTV?! We should’ve had a talk about this! You’re creepy, you know that?”

Myungho let out a laugh, clearly unfazed by Seokmin’s outburst. “Just get home already. I’ll text you in an hour!”

Seokmin scoffed, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way toward the cafe. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Before Seokmin could respond further, Myungho ended the call with a cheeky, “Don’t make me come over there and check on you myself!”

Seokmin chuckled in disbelief, muttering to himself. “As if I needed another reason to feel like I’m being watched…”

Seokmin woke up slowly, feeling the weight of Myungho's arm draped over his chest. His mind was still foggy as he tried to process the situation. Had Myungho come over last night? He had no memory of it, but the warm pressure on his chest was undeniable.

“Go away, Myungho,” he mumbled, trying to shift the arm off him and pull the blanket back over himself, desperate for more sleep.

But just as he was about to drift off again, a sharp slap landed on his cheek. His eyes snapped open in shock, his heart racing. He turned to see you standing by the bed, a frown plastered on your face, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Myungho? You dream about your friend?” you asked, your tone biting.

Seokmin’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. His mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Y/n? His eyes blinked rapidly, still disoriented from sleep.

He quickly turned his head toward Myungho, expecting to see his friend there, only to find the bed next to him empty. His eyes darted back to you, wide with surprise.

“Y/n?” Seokmin whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You raised an eyebrow, still standing in the doorway. The shock on his face must’ve been evident because your expression softened slightly, your concern starting to show. “I should be asking you that,” you retorted, your arms crossed over your chest. “Why the heck were you thinking i'm Myungho? Were you two—”

“No!” Seokmin interrupted quickly, his face flushing red. He sat up straight, heart pounding. “No, it’s not like that. I… I thought it was Myungho… but it was you…” He trailed off, still struggling to make sense of the situation. “What are you doing here, Y/n?”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze shifting from confusion to something softer, but still tinged with frustration. A small sigh escaped your lips before you spoke again.

“Why am I here?” you asked incredulously, a bemused look crossing your face. “What are you talking about? I'm your wife, Seokmin. This is my house!”

Seokmin’s breath hitched in his chest. His mind was reeling, unable to catch up with the rush of confusion, panic, and overwhelming guilt. He ran a hand through his hair, still stunned by the situation. His thoughts felt like they were slipping away from him, like he was in a dream, but everything was too real.

“Y/n…” Seokmin’s voice trailed off, still searching your face for some kind of explanation. “How did we— why did I—” He couldn’t find the right words. The mixture of emotions was overwhelming. Was this real? Had everything really led to this?

You shook your head slightly, your expression softening as you walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "Seokmin, what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Seokmin stared at you, the words stuck in his throat. He could feel the weight of everything crashing down on him—everything he had been running from, everything he had tried to avoid. But in that moment, with you sitting so close to him, so real, it all felt too much. Too real to escape.

Seokmin blinked, his mind racing as he looked down at his own finger. He felt the weight of a wedding band there, the same one he saw on yours. His eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest.

"We're married?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words couldn't quite sink in. "How?"

You rolled your eyes, clearly frustrated by his confusion. "A month ago, Seokmin! Stop being ridiculous or you’re going to be late."

Seokmin could hardly process what you said. "Late for what?" His mind was still trying to catch up, the fog from his sleep mixing with a heavy sense of disbelief.

You stood up from the bed and walked toward the door, tossing over your shoulder, "Your branch cafe opening, of course. We’ve been planning it for weeks now."

His eyes followed you as you left the room, still reeling from the whirlwind of information that felt too surreal. A month ago? He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to piece together the puzzle. He couldn’t remember any of it—the wedding, the plans, none of it. Everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers, like he had missed an entire chapter of his own life.

Seokmin hurriedly followed you, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. "But I didn’t… I didn’t drink any coffee, and I’m sure I didn’t return to the past," he muttered to himself, almost as if convincing himself.

You stopped in your tracks and glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Seokmin, you’ve been acting strange all morning. Maybe you should just focus on today, alright? You’ve got a cafe to open."

"But I—" He was cut off by the sound of his own phone buzzing in his pocket. The reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind had been clouded with confusion, but now it was clear—there was no going back.

"I know you're a newlywed, but please don't be late for today!" Mingyu's voice came through the phone, laced with frustration.

Seokmin froze, staring at his phone in disbelief. What was happening?

His thoughts were still spinning, trying to make sense of everything. Newlywed? A month ago? The cafe opening? The weight of it all was sinking in slowly, but it felt like his mind couldn’t keep up. His fingers tightened around the phone, and he felt a rush of panic creeping in.

"Mingyu… what’s going on?" Seokmin asked, his voice shaky as he stood in the hallway, still unsure of the reality he was facing.

On the other end, Mingyu sighed heavily. "Are you serious right now, Seokmin? You’re supposed to be here in an hour. Get it together."

Seokmin’s heart pounded in his chest as his mind raced. What did he mean, 'get it together'? Everything felt like a blur—like he had woken up in someone else’s life. The wedding ring, the cafe opening, your presence beside him—it was all too much to process.

Seokmin glanced over at you, still standing in the doorway, your arms crossed with a gentle but knowing expression on your face. You had your life figured out, but he… he was stuck in a whirlwind of confusion.

"Seokmin," Mingyu’s voice cut through his thoughts. "You need to snap out of it. You're really scaring me now."

Seokmin closed his eyes, trying to focus, but the weight of everything pressing on him was overwhelming. How could he have missed all of this? How could he have forgotten?

"Okay," Seokmin finally said, taking a deep breath and trying to steady his racing thoughts. "I’ll be there."

He hung up the phone and looked at you, the one person who seemed to know what was going on. "I—I don’t know what’s happening," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But I need to figure this out, Y/n."

You smiled slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting as you walked toward him. "One step at a time, Seokmin. Let’s get through today, and then we’ll talk."

Seokmin nodded, still in a daze, but he felt a strange sense of reassurance in your words. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as lost as he thought.

*

Seungkwan stepped into your place, drinks in hand, and immediately noticed something on the kitchen counter. "That's cool," he remarked, eyeing the vintage brewing machine with curiosity.

"I didn’t know you were into vintage stuff," he added, raising an eyebrow as he set the drinks down.

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing him off as you arranged the coffee table in front of the couch, placing the food you had ordered earlier. "It's just for display," you said, trying to downplay it.

Seungkwan chuckled and sat down on the floor, pulling bottles out of the bag with a grin. "Is it really okay to drink here? Your boyfriend won’t be home, will he?"

You sighed, glancing at him as you adjusted the arrangement on the table. "I told you, he hasn’t been home for days. I don’t know what to do anymore," you admitted, the frustration in your voice barely concealed.

Seungkwan looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes. He set the bottle down and leaned forward, his tone softening. "Let’s forget about him for now, okay? Tonight’s about you. Let’s drink, relax, and leave all the stress behind."

His words, filled with sincerity, brought a small but genuine smile to your face. "Yeah," you said, finally letting yourself breathe a little easier. "Tonight, we forget about everything else."

"So, I went back to the past, where he came home, and I didn’t act like a crazy bitch asking where he was or what he was doing. I saw how hard he was working for our future," you said, your words slurring slightly, but there was an undeniable sincerity in your voice.

Seungkwan watched you closely, his gaze thoughtful. "Do you always know why he worked so hard on the cafe?" he asked, his tone soft but probing.

You nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, it’s his romantic dream. I knew that all along, but I still acted like an asshole." Your voice faltered slightly, regret creeping in as you admitted your mistakes. "I let my insecurities get the best of me."

Seungkwan fell silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, almost as if he was speaking to himself, he muttered, "Maybe I’m just jealous... that I couldn’t make my dreams come true the way he did. He has something to fight for, something to believe in."

There was a quiet vulnerability in his voice, one that made you pause. You glanced at him, recognizing that his words weren’t just about your boyfriend. He, too, was struggling with his own battles, hidden beneath layers of laughter and bravado.

The day you found out you were pregnant, only to lose it in a heartbreaking miscarriage, felt like a cruel twist of fate. It was the morning where the two of you finally sat together, yet Seokmin was still letting you go, giving you space to breathe but also unintentionally distancing himself further. Maybe that’s how it was meant to be. Even after you returned to the past, even after you tried to fix things, it felt as if nothing would change. The bond you once had was slipping away, like sand through your fingers.

As you stood by the trash, about to dispose of the old brewing machine—the same one that had brought you back to the past—your thoughts were tangled with regret and confusion. That’s when you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, and you looked up to find the old man, the one who had given you the machine, standing there near your place.

"Oh, you're here..." you murmured, surprised yet not entirely shocked.

The old man smiled faintly, as if he’d been expecting this moment. "Can I get it back?" he asked gently, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You nodded, the weight of his words from before still lingering in your mind as you handed the machine back to him. It felt as if he had been a silent witness to everything that had transpired.

Before he walked away, he turned to face you one last time, his gaze penetrating yet wise. "Do you know," he began, his voice a low murmur, "you can’t change someone unless they themselves want to change?"

His words hit you like a heavy realization. He was right. It shouldn’t just be you who wanted change; it had to be him too. It had to come from both sides. The problem had never been about fixing things alone—it was about the both of you, working through it together.

With that, the old man walked away, leaving you standing there, holding onto the truth he'd just given you. A truth you didn’t know you needed to hear.

The end:)

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Wild Gods, part 2

Part 1

1.6k words

A new morning did not bring any change. Still the strange being insist you were his mate retuned to him and still you got very few concrete answers from him.

————

There were blankets wrapped tightly around you when you awoke, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe you could just creep away if that was the case, just avoid trying to convince him that you definitely weren’t who he thought you were.

As you looked around you spotted a small box that was clearly left to be in your line of sight when you woke up. Curiosity got the better of you and you opened it up slowly to find a beautiful bracelet, a thin gold chain adorned with large emeralds and rubies. The design was familiar and without a second thought you slipped it on before getting up.

The sun was already up and bathing everything in a soft, warm glow. It would have been quite beautiful here if you weren’t being held against your will. Your strange capture was sitting just outside, seemingly making breakfast.

“Good morning, my love” he greeted you cheerfully. “Breakfast is about ready, though it won’t be quite what you were used to before, apologies.”

Cautiously you sat across the cooking fire from him, trying to get a better read on the situation. He offered you food, local fruits foraged, a few small boiled eggs, and some sort of meat that had been skewered and roasted over the fire.

“Who are you?” you asked again.

“The lord of this place” he answered again.

“But what does that mean? What is your name?”

“All of this,” he vaguely gestured around, “is my domain. It’s not much anymore, but I will rebuild it all.”

“And your name?”

“You will remember it in time” is all he answered.

“I need to go home.”

“You are home.”

“I have a family! Parents! Siblings! Friends! They’re going to wonder where I am! I need to go back to them. You have the wrong person anyway!” You went to get up, to storm off and try to find your way back home. At this point you were annoyed by the strange being and from your rejection by the council yesterday, you could care less about convincing him that he was wrong. You just wanted to go home.

“You’re bound here” he called as you stormed off, though you ignored him.

You picked a direction and started walking, just eager to get away from him and you’d figure out the right direction to get home once you were out of the ruins. The tree line of the woods was visible and fast approaching as you made a beeline for it. Right as your foot stepped from the cracked pavers of the ruins and onto the dirt of the woods it felt as though the whole world lurched to the side, sending you stumbling, and when you looked up you seemed to be back in the ruins.

“I warned you” he was sitting not far from you and shrugged.

“Why did you do that?” you snapped at him.

“I didn’t do anything. I am bound to this place, and you are bound to me, ergo you are bound to this place.”

“So unbind me from you, you have the wrong person!”

He sighed, “You know that’s not how this works-”

“No! I don’t! Because you have the wrong person!”

Before you could even register that he moved, he was in front you and had a tight grip on your wrist, claws pressing into your skin, his voice was a low hiss, “That’s impossible! It was a thousand years ago when you were bound to me, when my mark was etched on your soul, you bear the same mark now as you did then. It has taken a long time, but you have finally returned to me and in time you will remember.”

You snatched your wrist away from him and immediately his expression fell.

“I did not mean to snap, I am sorry. It has been a long, lonely, thousand years so forgive my lack of manners” he quickly apologized. “But you are here now, with me, things will go back to how they should.”

You didn’t trust a word he said. He was bound here for some reason, trapped. Benevolent beings weren’t usually imprisoned, though it seemed for now at least you were stuck here too.

The ruins here were in much rougher shape than the rest. Blackened soot clung to the remaining walls, and at the very center where you stood felt slightly sunken in.

“What happened here?” you asked.

“It is a story for another time. Please, let’s go finish breakfast, then we can take a walk and chat.”

You followed him through the labyrinthine ruins back to where you slept last night, the food was still waiting for you. He just watched as you ate, big green eyes seemingly peering into your soul, never once looking away.

“I see you put your bracelet on” he broke the silence.

You glanced down at the bracelet that you already forgot you were wearing.

“That was one of the first gifts I gave you, it makes me happy to see it back on your wrist.”

You just gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

He had so many questions about how the world was now, so many years confined year had left him quite out if touch, though he didn’t actually seem to be listening to your answers. Instead he was just looking at you with a soft smile and seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts.

“Why can’t you leave here?” you asked.

“This is my domain, it is the only place I can be.”

“You said you were bound here though, like trapped.”

“Bound and trapped are not the same, and it used to extend far past the palace. All directions, all the way to the oceans, it was all mine. But a god without followers doesn’t have enough influence to control much” he gave a little shrug, but looked away from you.

“You aren’t a god.”

“Oh? Then what am I?” he asked, “Have you ever seen anyone else like me?”

You hadn’t. He spoke like a human, walked and moved like a human, though he very much was not one. Not entirely anyways.

His head was that of a tiger, and though his body was humanoid, he was covered in soft, striped fur in a tiger’s pattern. His hands were shaped like a human’s, but appeared to have claws that could retract like a cat’s. He had a long tail, and his feet were more akin to paws.

You had heard of demons with animal traits, or humans cursed to take odd forms, though he did not seem particularly hostile, just frustrated.

“Then what are you the god of?” you asked.

“This place, the land, the people here.”

“That’s not how it works! There’s the pantheon and-”

“No. I do not know who your ‘pantheon’ is nor do I care. They are not real. There is the Great Mother, and her children, that is all” his tone was curt, it seemed you may have hit a nerve with him.

You wracked your brain for any mentions of a Great Mother or anything similar to what he had said, but there was nothing you recalled. Unless…

“You’re one of the old wild gods” you said.

The wild gods, a contested topic in scholarly circles. Shrines and temples to ancient gods had been unearthed over the years, but very little remained. No writings or distinct artifacts, just nearly destroyed structures and the occasional mural or mosaic. Some scholars claimed the wild gods once walked the planet and preformed great feats, others claimed they were some sort of warmongering tyrants over their followers, though most believed that they were never real and just an early form of religion.

While you had never seen any of these supposed shrines, the ruins here were far grander than anything else you had heard of, and despite not being far from the seat of the council you had never seen them before. Had never heard of them. It was almost as though they just appeared.

“I don’t know about that name, but I am the god of this area, and I’ve certainly been here much longer than your supposed ‘pantheon’.”

“Then why doesn’t any know there ruins are here? This is pretty close to the city, but no one knows that there here.”

“This place is protected, at least for now, so only my faithful will be able to find it.”

“So why could I find it?”

“As I have said, my mark is on you, you are connected to me so of course you can find your way back home.”

“I’ve been out in these woods plenty of times but never found them before.”

“I do not have an answer for that, but it doesn’t matter. You are where you belong now, I can start rebuilding now.”

You gave him an odd look, everything he said just felt off, “And why wait so long to rebuild?”

“I did what I could: made sure I had a room and somewhere comfortable for you to sleep, cleared the soot from much of the palace, though as I said, a god with no followers doesn’t have much influence or power. But now I have my most devoted follower back, and soon you will bear our children. Our little family will be the beginning of my empire.”

————

Tag list

@mothmansanctuary

[muhlsworld]

WINNER WINNER

pairing: nika muhl x singer!reader

synopsis: you win a grammy and things get interesting at the after party

WARNINGS: suggestive themes (no actual smut) and cussing

you can find the request here

you had been nominated for a grammy this year with the new album that you put out. you were so grateful and excited for this opportunity. once you had received the news you had told your girlfriend, nika, and she was so happy for you. and of course she would be your plus one to the grammys.

nika has worn this black two piece leather set that hugged her curves just right in your opinion. you thought looked absolutely ravishing. you had worn this black skintight dress that nika absolutely loved on you.

so here you were sitting at the grammys with nika by your side. you guys had managed to sit together. and they had finally started announcing the winners of each category. and they reached the album of the year award. and your heart started beating rapidly. nika took notice and grabbed your hand and squeezed it softly and reassuringly. you smiled at her softly. and then you heard it.

your name was called.

you had just won album of the year. everyone erupted in cheers for you. nika slightly nudged you so you could walk up on stage and accept your award. you were so nervously as the speech your had prepared had been completely forgotten.

you had made it up to the stage and accepted your award. and here you were in front of the microphone. “i just wanted to thank everyone here for supporting me and my album.” you said and taking a breath. “all of this wouldn’t be possible without all the endless support i have from all my loved ones. friends, family and my beautiful nika. this wouldn’t be possible with you.” you said a tear escaping your eyes.

“look at me, i said i would cry but here i am.” you say with a chuckle and you heard a few laughs from the crowd. “but in all seriousness i am so grateful for this opportunity and i just wanted to say thank you to everyone.” and with that you finish you speech and walk off back to nika.

you and nika had been invited to an after party and both decided to go. on the way there nika would not stop congratulating you, telling you she was so proud of you and so happy for you. you thought it was so cute how happy she was for you.

someone had rented out a hall for a smaller gathering than the grammys and you of course had to come celebrate your win. so here you were with nika arriving to the hall.

as you walked in you had friends from the industry come up to you and congratulate you personally. you smiled and thanked everyone that came up to you. nika stood a couple feet behind you smiling and staring at you in your element.

is this what you felt every time you saw her on the court. she was completely and utterly in awe of you. she couldn’t believe that you were hers.

as the party went on you and nika were a few drinks in. and the party had calmed down quite a bit. just a few people who you knew personally and everyone was having a good time.

then nika came close to you to whisper in your ear and she said “hey, follow me.” you obviously obliged and got up and took her hand to follow her as she led you to the bathroom. she opens the door for you and you step in and she steps in behind you while closing and locking the door.

you look at her while raising your eyebrows at her slightly seductively. “you know you look absolutely stunning tonight in that dress.” she said stepping closer to you. you stepped back slightly and your legs hit the back of the sink.

nika was now directly in front of you with barely any space between you two. “yeah baby? you like this dress?” you asked in a husky voice. nika nodded slightly biting her bottom lip as she eyes you up and down. “and just watching you today be with your people and your job.” she said as she dipped her head next to your ear and placing her hands on your waist. “made me so so proud” she said kissing your neck.

you sighed contently at the feeling of her lips on your skin. your skin beginning to feel hot at the praises of nika. you wanted her. you craved her. you needed her. and nika felt the same way.

nika lifted her head up and finally pressed her lips to yours in a needy and passionate kiss. your tongues fighting for dominance but of course she wins that battle. with her tongue in your mouth you let out a groan. and at that sound nikas hands gripped your waist slightly tighter than before.

she pulled apart and you chased her lips but she placed a hand on your chest. “what?” you asked confused as to why she stopped. “you just look so fucking good in this dress.” she stated. “i wanted one last look.” she said again and then capturing your lips in a another bruising kiss.

as your kiss deepens and continues nikas hands start caressing your thighs. and your hips slightly thrusted forward and she smiled into the kiss. your hand slowly moved up to grasp a fistful of her hair and slightly tugged at her locks. she groaned softly enjoying the feeling. and with that she couldn’t take it anymore. she hiked up your dress to sit above your waist.

as she looked down she saw that you were wearing that lace set she loved. “fuck” she whispered. she looked up at you “may i?” she asked. and you got what she meant and immediately nodded.

nika had pleasured you in ways that you couldn’t even imagine. you were a mess.

once that situation was over in the bathroom you cleaned up and headed out to say your goodbyes to whoever was left at the after party.

back in your hotel room you and nika barely slept. enjoying every moment of pleasure the two of you provided for each other.

A/N: i hope this met you wishes to whoever requested this. i really enjoyed this request so if you have more feel free to leave them in my inbox!

[seitmai]

So many thoughts

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

I can't 😭

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside. You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

And I am trying to read through my tears 🥲

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him. Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family.

I respect that

Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

I just wanna give him a hug 🫂

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Unfortunately this is very true..

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

🥺🥺🥺

His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer. 

I'm glad though that this serves as a reminder that he hast to get his husband and dad duties back in order☝🏻

Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

I really hope for everyone's safety he is not going in the air today 🥴

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

Yeah let's round the troops, because he won't get out of this alone when he didn't even realize his fuck up on his own 🫣

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again.

Not to be petty, but I'm glad he gets a taste of his own medicine with BG and her pregnancy symptoms 🤷🏻‍♀️

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

This bitch 😤

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you." Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

STAND 👏🏻 YOUR 👏🏻GROUND👏🏻ROOSTER👏🏻

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time." "You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead. 

No fucking way!! But I mean with her behavior this should not surprise me 🤦🏻‍♀️🥴

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

Dont get me wrong, I think this is absolutely vile behavior, especially directly to BG, but she is just using the rules that always held women especially in male dominated field back and plays it with her own rules, so I kinda get it were she's coming from.. it's like the "women in male field" trend in a way, in a very morally fucked up way 😅🙈

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!" Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -" "She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Halleluja 👏🏻🙏🏻

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

Omg this is perfect!

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better. 

🥹🥹🥹

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

Ahh finally, I feel like I can breathe again😅

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect." The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

Yes he did 👏🏻😌

"I hate her." "Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo.

Me, three

He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home." "Home?" "Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home." Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you." When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately." "We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling.

🥰🥰🥰

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall." "What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?" You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together."

Iconic 👏🏻 😂

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway. "Nobody messes with my husband."

And BG takes that promise seriously ☝🏻

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner." "Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?" "Tomorrow."

Aim for the Sky Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're conflicted by your own words, unsure if you can stay away from your husband. There's only one person who can tell you the truth about Bradley, but she's the same one who seems to be on a quest to ruin your life.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, mentions of cheating

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Tramp whimpered at your feet. The muffled sound of the Bronco's door closing sent you to the front window to look out onto the driveway. It was dark, but you could see Bradley's tear-streaked face lit up by the dome light as you choked on a sob. It took everything you had to stand there instead of running to him. 

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

You wanted him to come back inside, but you just told him you wouldn't hesitate to take the kids and move back to Maryland with your parents. "What did you do?" you gasped as fresh tears filled your eyes. You couldn't tell if you were being strong or stupid or some combination of the two, but the longer you stared out the window, the more you realized Bradley wasn't leaving you even though you told him to.

Relief washed over you knowing he wasn't running off to Indigo. Maybe there was a way to salvage things. You couldn't take back what you said, and he couldn't take back anything he'd already done with her, but you didn't think you could stop loving him. You didn't think you could separate him from his daughters.

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside.

You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

-------------------------------

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him. 

Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family. And he wanted to be as close as you'd let him. Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Everything with the Navy took time. Mav was a big help, but a report would need to be written up for formal action. And now Bradley would need to notify someone about the new message Indigo sent with the world's worst timing, but meanwhile he was supposed to carry on like everything was completely normal.

As soon as daylight broke, he rubbed his exhaustion away from his eyes. He wanted to get to base to shower and change into the clean flight suit he kept in his locker, but he had to make sure you knew he spent the whole night in the Bronco first. So Bradley waited until he saw movement inside. Just a quick flick of the living room curtain, but he was sure you saw him. Nevertheless, he sent a text.

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

He didn't expect you to respond right away. He stretched, his body positively aching from sitting in one spot for so long before he started the engine. His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer. 

The locker room was empty as he changed out of his wrinkly uniform and slipped under the hot shower stream. Nothing was going to make him feel better if you didn't trust him. Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

As he pulled on his flight suit, he thought about going up to your office to wait for you to arrive. But he'd end up on his knees again, begging you to stay with him, and that wasn't what you needed to hear right now. He was exhausted, but he tried to clear his mind and think of some way to convince you he would never do anything to hurt you. But if Indigo already made comments directly to you, it felt like all hope was lost.

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

He settled in behind his desk, unable to look away from the wedding photo for a few minutes. You looked perfect that day. You were perfect every day. There was no doubt you'd be perfect without him, but he didn't want you going anywhere unless you took him, too.

"Fuck," Bradley gasped, lungs burning with the effort to hold back his tears. His students would be sitting down to take a practicum exam shortly. He didn't necessarily need to be there, but it would look good if he was. But he'd also have to face Indigo in the classroom. Maverick was still up in Lemoore, and he was the only one who knew Bradley filed a formal complaint.

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again. He needed something to drink. Some cold water. He threw his office door open wide and walked back up the hallway to the small lounge where he grabbed a water bottle and downed it in one go. Panting, he took a second one before slowly heading back the way he came.

He didn't even feel better as he started sweating profusely. He wanted you. He wanted you to let him hold you. He wanted to kiss Rose. 

His office door was just a few feet away when he heard her voice.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

"Sir," she said, voice bold and unbothered. "I thought we could walk to the classroom together."

Bradley spun and looked at her. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. He also shouldn't be talking to her alone in his office, but she was standing there expectantly, blinking those eyes up at him.

"Unless you're not ready to head over yet...."

Her words trailed off as she casually reached for the door, fingers grazing the wood.

"Do not close that door," Bradley barked, surprising himself with his angry tone. Indigo's hand dropped to her side, eyes wide, but she took a step closer as he backed up until he hit his desk. He managed to set the water bottle down, chest rising and falling rapidly. He shouldn't be talking to her, but he couldn't help himself as he shook his head. "What is your problem?"

She cocked her head slightly, a hesitant smile on her lips. "Sir?"

Bradley skirted along past his desk as she tracked him. "I don't understand why you're trying to ruin my life," he hissed.

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you."

Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time."

"You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead. 

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

"Unbelievable," Bradley groaned, ready to throw away all of his insignia pins and run away. "Lieutenant Jeffries, I have never laid a finger on you. We've never been alone in here with the door closed, ever."

"But you wanted to. You can admit it," she whispered, reaching once more for the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!"

Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -"

"She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

He was afraid she wasn't going to listen, the way she stood there and stared at him in surprise. But Bradley had nothing left. His fingers were shaking, and he was sure he was going to vomit. She finally turned and marched from the room with her chin in the air, and Bradley turned to face his desk.

Panic like he never felt before filled his veins. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now as he gripped the edge of his desk and stared down at his boots. His body shook with silent sobs as he tried to catch his breath, but his brain couldn't seem to get past the fact that his life was in absolute ruins.

"Oh, God," he gasped, lifting his head in time to see his office door move a few inches. Before he could fully register what was happening, you popped out from behind it and carefully pushed it closed.

"Sweetheart?" he croaked, examining your tear-streaked cheeks before you stumbled closer to him.

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you sobbed over and over, body shaking against him. "I was so scared, and I look so awful right now. And I'm just so sorry!"

"Shhh," he coaxed softly, kissing the top of your head before letting his chin rest there. "It's okay."

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

He let you cry, wiping your tears with his thumb as they fell for the longest time. He already felt like he could figure out a way to fix everything as long as you still wanted him. 

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect."

The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

"Baby Girl, that's what I tell everybody," he promised, relieved beyond belief that you witness that miserable exchange. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, keeping you snug against him as you looked up at his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you to want to see me."

"I came to talk to you as soon as I dropped Rose off." You wiped your tears on his flight suit as you added, "When I got here, the door was wide open, so I came inside. Then I heard her voice in the hallway. I panicked and hid behind the door."

"And I couldn't be happier that you did," he whispered.

"She really wanted to close the door."

"She really did."

"I hate her."

"Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo. He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home."

Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you."

When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately."

"We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling. "I just need to talk to Cat first."

Bradley groaned softly. He was already imagining the three of you at home. He would make lunch while you fed Rose, and then everyone could take a long nap. He just wanted everything to feel normal again. 

"Why do you need Cat first?"

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall."

"What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?"

You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together." You paused. "You know what? I'll just call Cat when we get home. I'm sure we can handle it from there. I really want to snuggle with you, and I'm starving."

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway.

"Nobody messes with my husband."

--------------------------------

You felt alive again for the first time in weeks. You were thriving. Bradley never let you out of his sight as he made lunch and burped Rose. He put her down in her crib, wrapped you in his arms, and led you toward the promise of an afternoon nap.

"Wait, Cat's calling me back," you whispered, watching his face fall as he tried to get you to the bedroom. "It'll just take a minute."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," he murmured, kissing your cheek before you backed away. "Just come in when you're done."

You watched him turn to the bedroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went. The temptation of his warm body wrapped around yours was almost too much to fight, but when you thought about Indigo, you wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or her face.

"Hi."

"Where are you?" Cat asked. "I thought I saw you in the parking lot this morning, and now you're magically nowhere to be found."

"I'm at home," you told her quickly. "Hey, how close are you to finishing the new code for the Super Hornet updates?"

There was a beat of silence. "Not that close. We aren't rolling out the updates until the end of the year. It'll ground some of the pilots."

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner."

"Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?"

"Tomorrow."

---------------------------------

Hearing that straight from Indigo had to make BG feel so much better! Is this me being nicer? Beginning to mend things? Stay tuned.

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[the-reader-insert-gazette]

Thanks for taking this on when I dmed you separately. The open comm you had and how you checked in w me regarding the ideas you were considering was appreciated! I'm super looking forward to reading this based on what we discussed! If you want to post with the request I'll put it here for context: Jing Yuan from HSR if he saw fem readers scars (some self-inflicted, others work-related) for the first time despite knowing her for a while + some implied spice and funnies 👀

The Scars You Carry - F!Reader x Jing Yuan

Featured Column - Honkai Star Rail

Reader never talked about her past, and despite their emotional involvement, Jing Yuan had never asked. But when an unguarded moment reveals the scars she’s carried for years, he can’t help but reach out. What begins as a quiet touch spirals into something deeper.

TW: Mentions of injuries/self-harm scars, touching without explicit verbal consent/implied consent, mild nudity/implied intimacy, possible undertones of existing PTSD

The scent of incense clung to the air, mingling with the faintest traces of mist from outside. It was a humid but otherwise cool and quiet evening in the Cloud Knights' chambers. It was the type of night that wrapped the Luofu in a false illusion of peace.

[Name] rolled her shoulder, testing the joint as she peeled off the top layer of her uniform. The fabric had stiffened from dried sweat, the aftermath of yet another long, grueling day at work. Being a medical examiner was her secondary role within the Cloud Knight beyond defending again abundance abominations, though this secondary role demanded more than simply identifying causes of death. Least to say, she had a habit of ending her nights here, half-draped over a chair in her private quarters, too exhausted to do more than breathe.

A breeze stirred as the balcony doors behind her clicked open. She barely reacted to the sound of footsteps behind her. “You’re late,” she murmured.

"Am I?" Jing Yuan’s voice was the same as ever—deep, smooth, tinged with amusement. “I thought I was arriving precisely when I meant to.”

She scoffed, but it lacked heat. He always did this. Jing Yuan rarely made his entrances known, but she had long since learned to expect him. The general carried a sort of unshakable patience, the kind that let him sit at a board for hours, moving his pieces at his own pace, certain the game would end in his favor. [Name] knew because she played the same way.

Tonight, though, she was too tired to match his wit.

“You shouldn’t keep a woman waiting,” she muttered, pulling out the pins that kept her sleeves in place. The last one slipped free, and the linen fell away, baring the jagged remains of old wounds across her back. Wounds, that she let few see, including Jing Yuan until this moment.

Jing Yuan, who had already been strolling toward the lacquered table near the balcony, stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, ever so quietly, he asked, “Why did you never mention these?”

[Name] paused, her fingers still curled around a cuff. The question was not unexpected, but the way he asked it—gentle, but weighted—caught her off guard.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You never asked.”

That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? She was used to questions, to prodding, to those who thought they had the right to dissect her past. She had spent years perfecting the art of redirection, of smirks and well-placed jabs to keep people from looking too closely. But Jing Yuan had never asked.

He had never needed to until now.

His gaze flickered over the old scars, tracing the uneven ridges with something unreadable in his golden eyes.

[Name] turned back around, feigning nonchalance. “They’re old,” she said. “Not worth your concern.”

Jing Yuan sighed. She heard the rustle of fabric, then, before she could predict his next move, his fingers brushed against her shoulder blade.

The touch was featherlight. A mere press of fingertips.

It should not have startled her as much as it did.

She didn’t flinch. She had long since trained herself out of such things. But Jing Yuan had a way of tilting the battlefield when she least expected it. He never moved aggressively, never pushed when it wasn’t warranted.

She could feel the warmth of his hand, just barely there, lingering over the deepest scar, the one that stretched from the base of her neck to the middle of her spine. It was old, healed over many years, but the history in it remained.

“Did this one hurt?” he asked, voice unreadable.

[Name] exhaled through her nose. “The most, for sure.”

His fingers moved again, tracing another mark along her side.

“This one?”

“No.”

His touch ghosted over a smaller scar near her ribs.

“This one?”

She swallowed. “…Not at the time.”

Jing Yuan hummed, as if he had already known the answer before she spoke it aloud.

His hand lingered. Not pressing, not demanding—just existing in that space between her past and present.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You never told me you carried such ghosts.”

[Name] let out a quiet breath. “You never told me you cared.”

That made him laugh, soft and knowing.

“Oh, [Name],” he murmured, his fingers finally leaving her skin, though the warmth remained. “I would have thought that was obvious by now.”

She turned to face him fully, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But there was none.

Jing Yuan was many things: calculating, reserved, infuriatingly patient, but he was never insincere.

[Name] tilted her head. “And if I told you I don’t need your pity?”

His smile was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. “Who said anything about pity?”

There was a shift between them, subtle but undeniable. A moment stretched between heartbeats, something fragile yet unyielding settling into the space they shared.

[Name] could have said something then. Could have teased him, could have thrown up her walls, could have done anything to disrupt the way he was looking at her.

But for once, she let the silence be.

Jing Yuan, ever patient, waited.

And when she finally, carefully, let her fingers brush against his own, letting herself take, just this once, and he did not pull away.

The moment hung between them, [Name] wasn’t sure who had moved first, if she had leaned in, or if Jing Yuan had closed the space between them, but the warmth of his fingers curled lightly over her wrist sent something deep in her chest thrumming.

She had spent years evading questions, slipping through fingers that tried to hold her still long enough to dig beneath the surface. But Jing Yuan did not dig. He did not prod or demand. He simply…

Waited.

And it was that patience that undid her.

[Name] swallowed hard, tilting her chin up just slightly. “If you’re expecting some dramatic confession, you’re wasting your time.”

Jing Yuan smiled—that slow, knowing smile that always made her want to either punch him or kiss him, depending on the day. “No confessions, then.” His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist, tracing the faint scars there. An old wound, self-inflicted in her youth, when the world had seemed too big and she had felt too small to hold her place in it.

His thumb skimmed over her pulse. Steady. Measured. Jing Yuan, for all his posturing as the lazy, dozing general, was a man who knew the weight of touch. He was not careless with his hands.

[Name] exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re not going to start spouting poetic nonsense, are you?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, low and amused. “Would you prefer something crude? I can oblige, if you’d like.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

“Surprised?” he murmured.

She tilted her head, considering. “Not really. I always figured you had a bleeding heart somewhere on that sleeve of yours.”

Jing Yuan sighed, though it was more indulgent than exasperated. “If I have a bleeding heart, then what do you call yourself, [Name]?”

“Efficient,” she said without hesitation.

His laughter was warm, and she hated that it made something in her chest tighten. “Ah. Efficiency. Of course. And it’s efficient to keep things bottled up?”

“I never said that,” she shot back. “But there’s no point dragging people into things they don’t need to carry.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. His fingers finally left her wrist, only to trace a slow path up her forearm. “And yet,” he mused, “you let me see.”

[Name] stilled. He wasn’t wrong. She had let him see. She hadn’t covered up, hadn’t hidden, hadn’t laughed it off as she might have with anyone else.

She should have been annoyed that he noticed.

Instead, she found herself exhaling, shoulders dropping in something dangerously close to relief.

“You have an irritating habit of getting under my skin,” she muttered.

Jing Yuan smiled, not the usual lazy thing, but something softer. He reached up, brushing an errant strand of her hair away from her face. “Likewise,” he admitted.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was something deeper, but [Name] leaned into his touch, just barely. It was reckless. A gamble.

Jing Yuan, ever the tactician, did not waste the opportunity.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw before resting just beneath her chin, tilting her face up toward his. Not forcing, not demanding—just waiting, always waiting, to see if she would move first.

[Name] was tired of waiting.

So she closed the space between them.

It was not the kind of kiss that belonged in sentimental stories. There was nothing tentative about it, nothing shy. She kissed him like she was proving a point, like she was testing him, like she was daring him to make the next move.

Jing Yuan, to his credit, did not disappoint.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, pressing just enough to remind her that he was here, that he was present. His lips curved against hers, a smirk just barely there before he deepened the kiss, slow and devastatingly thorough.

He kissed like he fought—measured, strategic, never rushing but never hesitating either.

[Name] felt the warmth of his hand against one of her deeper scars, the one that ran along her ribs, and despite herself, she shivered.

Jing Yuan pulled back just enough to murmur, “Still think I’m wasting my time?”

[Name] exhaled a laugh, breathless. “Oh, shut up.”

She kissed him again.

And this time, neither of them pulled away.

The taste of incense lingered between them—static in the air, the scent of mist clinging to their breath. [Name] didn’t think about what it meant to be here, pressed against Jing Yuan with the warm weight of his hands anchoring her in place. She didn’t think about the scars under his fingers, nor about the years of silence she had wrapped around them like armor.

She just let herself take.

Jing Yuan, ever the patient tactician, met her halfway. He always had a way of turning things on their head, of guiding the tempo without forcing it. The way he kissed her now—slow, unhurried, teasing—made it clear he intended to enjoy every second of this.

She almost wanted to fight him for control. Almost.

Then he traced a slow line along her spine, fingertips grazing old wounds with such absent-minded reverence that [Name] felt something shift in her chest. The tension she carried, the tight coil of self-preservation—he was unwinding it, piece by piece, and she hated how easy he made it seem.

She broke the kiss first, if only to breathe. Her forehead rested against his, their breath mingling in the dim light of the chamber. The balcony doors remained open, letting the night air cool the warmth threatening to spiral out of control.

Jing Yuan exhaled a quiet chuckle. “You’re full of surprises.”

[Name] huffed. “That’s what people say when they realize they’ve underestimated me.”

“Oh, I never underestimated you.” His fingers, still trailing over her skin, pressed just slightly—a silent acknowledgment, nothing more. “I always knew you were dangerous.”

She scoffed, but before she could fire back some quip, his lips brushed the corner of her jaw, the motion lazy and deliberate. “You really enjoy hearing yourself talk, huh?”

Jing Yuan hummed in mock consideration. “I do. But tonight, I think I’d rather listen.”

His fingers curled around her waist, his lips trailing back to hers, and [Name]—reckless, tired, and utterly done pretending—let herself forget about the rest of the world for a while.

[Name] laid stretched across the silk-draped lounge chair near the balcony, the cool night air tracing across her skin. The warm glow of lanterns cast soft shadows across the chamber, their flickering light just enough to catch the faint glimmer of silver strands in the disheveled cascade of Jing Yuan’s hair.

He sat next to her, one arm draped lazily over the back of a chair, golden eyes half-lidded with something unreadable.

Comfort, perhaps. Satisfaction, most definitely.

She huffed a soft laugh, tilting her head to look at him. “You’re staring.”

Jing Yuan smirked, resting his chin against his palm. “Can you blame me?”

[Name] exhaled through her nose, amused. She stretched, languid and unhurried, rolling her shoulder where his hand had once rested. There was a quiet soreness there, a reminder of their earlier activities.

This was… new.

Not unpleasant. But new.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that realization, so instead, she deflected. “You’re a menace, you know.”

Jing Yuan leaned back, utterly unbothered. “I believe you said that earlier.”

“Yeah, and it bears repeating.”

He chuckled. “If I recall, you weren’t exactly protesting.”

[Name] turned her head, meeting his gaze with something sharper, something knowing. “Neither were you.”

Jing Yuan hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as if debating whether to press his advantage or let her have the final word. Eventually, he relented. “I suppose I wasn’t.”

The quiet stretched between them, comfortable in a way [Name] rarely allowed herself to experience. It was a dangerous thing, this kind of ease.

But for tonight, she let herself have it.

Just this once.

[Name] was awake before him, which wasn’t surprising. Jing Yuan had perfected the art of sleeping in as though it were a divine mandate. She laid still for a moment, eyes half-lidded as she listened to his even breathing. His hold on her had shifted sometime during the night, after they made it back into the bed, one hand now resting against her hip, his other arm tucked beneath the pillow.

She would have let him sleep a little longer—really, she would have.

But fate, or rather, a very loud teenager, had other plans.

The doors burst open with no ceremony whatsoever.

“GENERAL! YOU—”

Yanqing’s voice cut off abruptly.

[Name], still tangled in the sheets with Jing Yuan’s arm loosely around her waist, turned her head just enough to stare at the young lieutenant standing in the doorway. His expression flickered rapidly between confusion, horror, and dawning realization.

Jing Yuan, in a true show of shamelessness, did not stir.

Yanqing’s grip on his sword tightened as if he were considering using it to gouge his own eyes out. “Are you kidding me?!”

[Name] sighed, rubbing her temple. “Do you knock?”

Yanqing made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t expecting to need to!”

Jing Yuan finally stirred, stretching like a lazy cat before cracking one eye open. His voice was thick with sleep, utterly unbothered. “Ah… morning already?”

Yanqing looked like he wanted to throw either him or himself out the window.

“You—! You promised morning training! I got up at dawn! I waited! And then I hear the other Cloud Knights gossiping about where you were, and I—” His face scrunched up as if the very memory pained him. “—I should’ve never come here.”

Jing Yuan yawned, stretching his arms over his head before resting one lazily back over [Name]’s waist. “Mm, my apologies. I must’ve lost track of time.”

[Name], feeling very little sympathy for him, pinched his arm. “You knew you had training with him.”

“Did I?” Jing Yuan murmured. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

Yanqing, in the doorway, was losing his mind. “YES! YOU DID!”

[Name] sighed, pushing herself up, making sure she was covered. Jing Yuan sighed letting his arm slide away from her but made no move to leave the bed.

Yanqing groaned into his hands. “This is so unprofessional.”

[Name], despite herself, smirked. “Well, General, shouldn’t you set a better example?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, sitting up at an unhurried pace. “Ah, but an important lesson can be learned here, Yanqing.”

The lieutenant glared. “What lesson?”

Jing Yuan stretched, far too pleased with himself. “That patience is a virtue.”

Yanqing looked seconds away from quitting. Moments later, he stormed off, muttering under his breath about irresponsible generals and unnecessary mental scarring.

[Name] turned back to Jing Yuan, who was watching her with that infuriating, lazy amusement.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

He smirked, reaching for her wrist to pull her back toward him. “Always.”

She sighed but didn’t resist.

They could afford a few more minutes.

Editor's Note: Hey "anon", not a problem, I'm glad we were able to collab on ideas for this, I messaged separately already but I hope you enjoyed~ Also thanks for encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone with this.

[b3ach-bunn7]

STEPHANIE

Gojo is your physics tutor and you’re sort of in love with him

Textfic, fluff, Highschool!au

(art Creds to @/eldritcheaven on twitter!)

—————————————————————————-

September 16th

5:38 pm

You: hiyaaa :D

You: is this Gojos number? Shoko says u can tutor me 😙

Gojo: whats the tutoring for

You: uh school?

Gojo: I mean what subject..?

You: OH LMAO

You: physics :((

Gojo: okay

Gojo: who r u again

You: Y/N

Gojo: okay meet me at the library Thursday after school

You: okayyy see u there 😁

September 18th

6:40 pm

You: gojo how am I gonna finish all this work BY MONDAY

Gojo: that’s three days

Gojo: this is easy stuff

You: FOR YOU

You: I have cheerleading until seven tomorrow night and Saturday

Gojo: okay..

Gojo: that’s my problem how?

You: okay just say u hate me

Gojo: I hate you

You: whatever

September 21st

1:06 am

You: IM DONE!

You: r u impressed

Gojo: no

You: wtf

Gojo: bring it to me at lunch so I can grade it

You: okayyyy

You: goodnight 🩷

Seen

September 21st

1:40 pm

You: GOJO WHERE R U

Gojo: in the library

You: why aren’t u in the cafeteria

Gojo: because it’s too noisy

Gojo: I can’t read in there

You: ha ha nerddd

Gojo: shut up and hurry up.

You: Okayyyy okay

You: Can u see me 🤔

Gojo: no the bright orange cheerleading costume is really hard to miss

You: 😒

You: So is the bone white hair and glasses

Gojo: hurry up

September 21st

8:12 pm

Gojo: ur so shit at physics

You: Uhm okay

You: thanks? 😭

Gojo: im sorry that was rude

Gojo: fear not that’s why I’m here

You: okay

Gojo: don’t worry it’s nothing my genius can’t fix

You: try not brag challenge fail

Gojo: you free tomorrow?

You: I should be yeah

Gojo: okay come to the library after school

You: can’t wait… 😔

September 22nd

4:06pm

You: Gojo

You: GOJO

Gojo: you are literally in front of me speak

You: nk the librarian is looking at me 😓

Gojo: okay so what

You: don’t look so annoyed at me

Gojo: im not annoyed at u

You: okay fine

You: do u have a highlighter

Gojo: …

You: DONT ROLL UR EYES AT ME

Gojo: there is LITERALLY ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF U

You: omg ur first caps lock 🙁🩷 I’m so proud

Gojo: stop laughing

You: I’m sorry u look so angry over a highlighter..

You: and I can see you smiling too 😒

Gojo: shut up.

September 23rd

7:06 pm

You: Nerdjo I have a question

Gojo: never call me that

You: 😒😒okay.. can I ask u a question now

Gojo: if it’s about the work I gave u just wait until Friday

You: UTS NOT

Gojo: oh

Gojo: okay what

You: would you rather only drink water for the rest of ur life or be allowed to drink anything you like but it always has to have a drop of pee in it

Gojo: where is the pee coming from

You: You don’t know..

Gojo: is it healthy pee

Gojo: because if not then idk what’s in it and I could contract a disease like typhoid or smth

Gojo: and also utis and that’s painful enough as is without me drinking to catch it

Gojo: also how much is a drop

Gojo: is it a ratio thing? So every 1% of any drink I drink is pee or is it always a drop

Gojo: because in that case I can just drink a lot of smth and the pee will cancelled out

You: wtf

Gojo: sorry I’m rambling

You: No.. don’t apologise.. U have opened my eyes

You: I never thought of it like that

You: Also do u think it would like make my drink yellow..

You: Cause that’s GEROOSS

You: voice note elapsed: 00:40

Gojo: voice note elapsed 1:02

September 24th

2:06 pm

You: IM SO EMBARASSED

You: Walk of shame to my seat in my cheerleading outfit god TAKE ME

Gojo: ha ha ha

Gojo: don’t be late next time

You: Shut up

You: I hate Yaga and he hates me

Gojo: he loves me

You: yeah cause ur good at physics and I’m poo at it

Gojo: better focus then

You: okay

September 24th

2:20pm

You: Gojo

You: Gojo

You: NERDJO!!

Gojo: stop texting me

You: move u bag from the chair next to u

Gojo: what???

You: MOVE IT

You: I’m coming to sit next to you

Gojo: tf why

You: the guy next to me won’t shut up

You: and I need ur nerd aura to make me smarter

Gojo: ur so stupid

Gojo: hurry up then

You: WOPPEE OMW

September 25th

1:06 am

You: Gojo r u awake

Gojo: we have school tmrw go to sleep

You: U R 😏

Gojo: freak

Gojo: what do u want

You: I’m bored

You: And I’m confused on question three on the history hw 😓

Gojo: okay..

Gojo: ask me tomorrow

You: Or I can call u rn an u can help me..?

Gojo: .

You: PLEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASE 🙏

Gojo: you have ten minutes

You: YAY

Gojo and Y/N

25/9/2024 Time elapsed: 30:07

September 25th

11:05 am

You: GOJOOOO

You: Can I sit with u in econ today 😏

Gojo: what do u need help with now

You: Uhmmm I don’t need help

You: I just wanna sit with u..

Gojo: oh

Gojo: okay

You: YIPPEEEE

September 26th

12:21 pm

Gojo: YOU WATCH ANIME??????

You: WHY R U YELLING 😭😭

You: Yes… it’s my deep dark secret don’t tell anyone 😔

Gojo: okay with the sasuke keyring on ur bag…

You: LOL

You: how did you even see it where r u..

Gojo: stalking you in the corridors watch out

You: Okay Joe from you

Gojo: ur living ur own Netflix series rn 🩷

You: EMOJIS???

You: Who r u and where’s Gojo gone??!?££?

You: Whats ur favourite anime

Gojo: voice note elapsed: 1:34

September 28th

2:06 am

Gojo: do u think time travel is real

Gojo: or like will be real in the future

Gojo: I feel it could be because like we just advance in technology more and more as time goes by

Gojo: like if u said FaceTime would be a think in 1920 they’d probably hang u

Gojo: there was that Stephen hawking thing he did with like the party invite but

Gojo: if I was from the future I wouldn’t time travel just to prove him right like u just have an ego now

Gojo: food for thought 🩷

September 28th

7:21 am

You: SORRY I WAS AT PRAVTISE and U messaged me at like one am?)

You: But I thinking about you the whole time

Gojo: awwwww youre making me blush

You: SHURRUP

You: i was thinking about ur question not u

Gojo: same thing kinda

You: enough

You: voice note elapsed: 00:54

Gojo: girl u r not Snow White dinosaurs will eat u

You: We will find out when I time travel to the Jurassic era and kiss one

September 29th

3:37 PM

Gojo: why do u keep staring at me do ur work

You: Cause i have a question for u but im shy..🥺🥺

Gojo: EW cringe

Gojo: just ask me

You: You keep looking at me with those bombastic blue eyes im nervous

Gojo: ur so dramatic

You: DONT LAUGH AT ME

Gojo: so text me then

You: okay….

You: We have a pep rally soon can u come

Gojo: was that it..

You: YES

Gojo: girl im coming anyway geto is playing

You: UR FRIENDS WITH GETO???

Gojo: hes my best friend

You: Wait thats true ur always together

You: You know allll the girls on my team have a phat crush on him🤧

Gojo: mhm

Gojo: and are you one of those girls?

You: Nah hes not my type

Gojo: and what is ur type

You: Boys with bombastic blue eyes😏

You: R U BLUSHINGGGG

Gojo: shut up and do ur work

September 30th

9:45 pm

Gojo: ar eu home

You: Yeah why..

Gojo: play roblox with me

You: LOL

You: How’d u know im a gaymer..

Gojo: hoe u is not a gaymer

You: HEY

You: ill have u know im plat on overwatch..?

Gojo: wait actually

You: Actually

Gojo: ….

Gojo: HOP ON OW

You: Uhm sorry i cant im doing the hw my annoying tutor sent me

Gojo: im sure ur sexy smoking hot tutor will let u off this time

You: YAY

Gojo and Y/N

30/9/2024 Time elapsed: 3:46:07

October 1st

12:34 pm

Gojo: pep rally in five days

Gojo: r u nervous

You: Gojo texting me in school..?

Gojo: dont change the subject sweetheart

You: POO

You: Im scared yeah

You: I always am before a game tho

You: Like what if my shirt slips when I’m flipping and i flash my bra

Gojo: the game will get ten times better?

You: HEY

Gojo: JOKUNG IM JOKING

You: As an apology take me out for lunch today 😙

Gojo: ugh fine

You: XD

October 2nd:

2:07 pm

You: WHERE R U

You: GOJO

Gojo: me and geto went out for lunch

You: COME BACK NOW

Gojo: are you okay????

You: YES I WANNA GIVE U A HUG AND A KISS

Gojo: are you having a stroke??

You: SHOKO GAVE ME THE KEYRING

You: A LITTLE NARUTO TO MATCH MY SASUKEEE

You: THANK U SM

Gojo: ur welcome

You: 😁😁😁

You: Bring me back a coke

Gojo: ugh fine

Gojo: do i still get that hug and kiss

You: hmmm I’ll see

October 3rd:

10:21 am

You: image attachment

You: LOOK LOOK LOOK

Gojo: WELL DONE

You: A BBBBBB

You: IN PHYSICSS WHO AM I

Gojo: WELL DONE

You: Thanks for the tutoring🤤

Gojo: wait im the goat

You: hoe EYE am the goat..?

Gojo: i guess it was a team effort

You: Yeah duh

Gojo: good job sweetheart

You: 😁😁😁😁

October 3rd:

9:06 pm

You: ik we had plans but let me come home then we can play

You: Practise ran so late sorry pookie

Gojo: wait ur at school rn??

You: Yes….. kms shortly😔

Gojo: how r u getting home?

You: Walking

Gojo: girl..?

You: My parents r working and i cant drive leave me ALONE

Gojo: wait im coming to get u

You: You dont need to do that gojo

Gojo: i do im omw

You: OKay

You: Btw i like ur new glasses

Gojo: u noticed?

Gojo: stop staring at me all the time omg..

You: I cant help it

You: i love u and all four of ur bombastic blue eys

Gojo: not picking u up anymore

You: IM SORRRY🙏🙏🙏🙏

You: PLZ COME MY KNIGHT IN SHINING GLASSES

You: PLEASEEEE

Gojo: ughhh fineee

Gojo: just because u begged so nicely

You: ahahahah SHUT UP

October 3rd

10:15 pm

Gojo: r u home

You: u literally just watched me walk through my door

Gojo: so..

Gojo: what if someone took u from inside

You: Ur right hoe…

Gojo: im always right

You: Yeah yeah freaking nerd

Gojo: dont hate me cause u aint me

Gojo: ima graduate cum laude in the future

You: Why u talkign about cum u freak

Gojo: shut up

You: cum laude more like cum load 🤣🤣

Gojo: i hate u

You: LMAOOO

You: Ik ur laughng rn

You: Call me

Gojo: say please

You: Please call me four eyes🤞

Gojo and Y/N

03/10/2024 Time elapsed: 4:20:07

October 4th

3:47 am

Gojo: omg did I tell you

Gojo: I was reading this essay on behavioural psychology and it was talking about how like the concept of territoriality in humans it’s so interesting

Gojo: it’s related to how primates make their space

Gojo: not like actually of course nobody is peeing anywhere

Gojo: it’s also related to quantum physics in an weird way

Gojo: voice note elapsed: 2:12

October 4th

7:54 am

You: Whatever you say gorgeous 🙏🙏🙏

You: THATS COOL THO A

You: I got like a quarter of what u said but icloveee psychology

You: I wanna study it at university

You: my fav part is attachment and like child development and stuff

You: so ur next rant topic is going to be about that thanks 🩷

Gojo: did u actually listen to all that

Gojo: sorry I get carried away

You: Duh I listened and don’t apologise or ill shoot u

Gojo: thanks 🩷

Gojo: i bought u a coffee

You: YAYY

You: I’ll meet u at the entrance

October 5th

1:07 am

Gojo and Y/N

05/10/2024 Time elapsed: 2:39:07

Gojo: good luck for tomorrow

You: Thank u 😁

You: I’m gonna need it…

Gojo: shut up ur gonna do fine

Gojo: I’ll cheer u on from the stands

You: YAY

October 6th

3:54 pm

Gojo: get off ur phone and lock in

You: I CANT FIND U

Gojo: I’m like the third row from the bottom

Gojo: next to Shoko

You: I SEE U

You: I recognise those bombastic blue eyes anywhere🩷🩷🩷🩷

Gojo: awww is that big smile all for me

You: Shut it

You: Are those big flowers all for me??? 😁

Gojo: no they’re for the huzz

You: What if I kill you?

Gojo: plz don’t

Gojo: they are for u

You: Ur such a nerd

You: Thank u 😏

You: Ur coming to getos after right??

Gojo: yes

You: Good

Gojo: but

You: Butbwhat

Gojo: we could hang out instead

Gojo: just me and you

You: Are u asking me out on a date gojo????

Gojo: yeah kinda

You: I can see u blushing from over here

You: DONT TURN AROUJD

You: Ofc I’d rather hang out with u

You: See u after the rally😙😙😙😙

Gojo: good luck

Gojo: u look pretty in ur uniform

You: Thwnk u 😁😁😁

—————————————————————————

NERDJJO ONE CHANCE PLEASEEEE 🤞🤞🤞😓🥺 these text fics r so fun to write oh my sigma..

guys I know Gojo was kinda mean at first but he thought u were using him for his smarts… also idk I headcanon that he’s not as energetic as he is canonically.. like u think hes always bragging and dry but hes actually just itching to tell u facts about quantum physics

I HOOE U ALL ENJOYED 🩷 as always drop any asks in my inbox !!!!

[pankekvenom]

This is just a little drabble, some little headcanons how they would try to make you spend time with them

I don't know if I'm capable of elaborating on something bigger, sorry for the misspellings english is not my first language. I got some information about the characters based on what Google told me and some fandom Headcanons.

Platonic! Yandere! Batfam x Neglected! Reader

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Greyson and Jason Todd

(This drabble takes place after the kidnapping thing)

You would be doing your own thing in your New Room, of course, and you would hear a soft knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, one of your siblings would enter, planning to do some activity with you.

Damian Wayne

-Damian would probably take you to do some activity where he can show you that he is more talented than your other siblings, something like sword art or painting, probably, I believe he is very good at painting as much as he is good at sword art, something about practicing concentration and patience, things you need to be good at both.

-The problem with spending time with Demian is that the activities he wants to do consist of you sitting and looking pretty. Of course, if you show that you're bored or losing interest, he'll suggest that you do the activity with him, he won't force you to do it, but he also won't let you just walk back to your room (in fear one of your other siblings would snatch you away, possessiveness what can I say).

-He would have you sit on a bench while he demonstrated how sword art works, and would try to do very exaggerated movements to try to impress you.

-did you see that? This takes years of experience to perfect.

He looked at you after doing some very difficult moves with his sword, Waiting for some sign of approval, you gave him a weak smile and nodded to show you were listening.

-He will also have you sit on a couch to be his model for a painting, in a position that is comfortable for you but looks good for the painting, and would keep asking if you are comfortable every 10 minutes, sometimes you would notice that he would stop painting and just watch you, looking like he is memorizing every curve of your face, he would snap out of it when you ask if everything is okay.

-Yeah, it's...I'm ok; I just need to get the details for the painting, you know.

He would give that same answer every time, with his ears a little red, for someone who needs to concentrate, with you around, Damian certainly couldn't.

Dick Greyson

- Dick would take you to see him doing some acrobatics and backflips (obviously), or to practice some kind of dance with you, a dance that could make you more comfortable with all the touching you are getting from your family in general, hugs, cuddles and even holding hands is still difficult for you so he wants to practice that more.

-To show you the acrobatics he would do smooth movements that seem to be done without the least bit of effort, but you would still notice that he would be trying to concentrate as much as possible so he doesn't miss any step.

-if you show that you are bored or not paying attention anymore he would pout and come to you and try to make you feel guilty for not paying attention while he tries so hard to put on a good show, and that you are not even giving him a chance to change (emotional manipulation would be strong with this one).

-Am I not good enough, baby bird? I know you'd rather spend your time with someone else, but you don't even want to give me a chance to prove that our time together can be fun.

he can very much be a hypocrite, but he would rather die than admit that.

- then he would take you to the dance hall to practice (the dance hall appeared after you returned to the mansion; you had never seen this room before, but you are sure that the room was used for something else).

-He would try to teach you some kind of slow dance at first, a dance that wouldn't make you lose your breath because you already seemed nervous from being so close to him, holding your hand gently but firmly so you wouldn't try to pull away (he would be beaming with happiness for such a small improvement).

-come on, baby bird, take a deep breath and let it out. Don't look at your feet. Try to look at me and concentrate on my movements, it's okay if you don't get it right on the first try.

he would say with a gentle voice, redirecting your face with his index finger, raising your chin so you were looking directly at his face.

-You were angry because his soft voice would make you feel a little bit at ease, but it would still be difficult to maintain eye contact with his dark blue ones that looked at you with such love.

-He would 100% take advantage of the situation, just being this close to you without you fussing or making a disgusted face is something to be celebrated, but he would try his best to control his facial expressions so he wouldn't scare you off.

Jason Todd

-Jason has a very normal choice of activity with you, he likes books, motorcycles, and weapons, which are totally different things from each other, so he sticks with the easiest one, books.

-he would love to show you his new bike modifications, but he knows you are not that into this kinda thing (well he thinks you don't like it, but how could he know what you like, right?).

-And weapons are not an option, never. (He doesn't like the idea, and he tells Damian to try not to scare you with his swords, Damian completely ignores him).

-He likes to read books to you in your room with your head resting on your pillow while he sits beside you, he reads each book differently, with more emotion or a firmer voice, trying not to make you bored.

-if he sees that you are losing interest or are starting to fall asleep, he would be the best one to deal with it, but in his own way; he wouldn't force you to stay awake, but he would take advantage of the situation to cuddle with you.

-closing the book and putting it on the bedside table, he would lay down with you pulling the covers up you both, trying to cuddle with you without disturbing your little nap.

-He would brag about it for the rest of the family, how he got to cuddle with you and you didn't even kick him out of the room. (You were sleeping, how could you kick him out?).

-You guys are never making it as far as me.

Your other siblings would just roll their eyes at him, but he couldn't care less. It's his victory today, and he is very proud, did he kinda take advantage of your tiredness? Maybe, but you didn't complain tho, neither did him.

That's It for today folks, good night.

Should I post other characters?

[beautifullilacsky]

It was late, and he had to go to work early again tomorrow. Though, when he mentioned that he was trying to fall asleep after asking me if I am tired, I wanted to help in a way. So, I offered him a massage. Little did I know it wouldn't help him sleep soon at all. We started talking more, and at one point we talked about which parts of my internship I enjoyed, and which I did not. Based on the fact that I am enjoying the designing part, he thought it could be a nice idea to look into jobs in that region. Yes, he was right; I told him about the job that I found interesting; UI/UX designer. I explained it a bit, and he said that the back-end part sounded more like programming. Then, I hesitated for a moment but decided that this is the exact moment to say it. I guess I had been a bit scared. A bit scared he'd find it useless, or out of character, or ... I don't even know. Anyway. Now it was time to spill how I figured that for (a part of) this job, programming might be needed, or a plus. So, that is what I've been learning for the past 2 weeks. He asked what exactly I was learning, so I explained the app and the languages that I was working on. He fairly noted a couple of times that I was getting shy, which, I was. He said I really didn't have to be, asking me to come lay besides him again. "Are you doing it because of me? Or because of the CC thing?", I was happy to assure him that no, I did not learn this for him. He thanked me for telling him about what I've been doing these days. I thanked him that eventho he knows that people aren't using these coding languages, he didn't demotivate me. According to him, it is really good to know the basics. I don't remember the exact order, but I do know he told me I was cute uncountable amount of times, accompanied with many back kisses. Also quite a few "I like you"'s.

"You know, if you want, you can use my desk or we can get you another monitor". I hesitated a bit, being my comfizone self who is afraid the double screen will be so good I'll not want to live without it. He said he can only offer, and I said it'd actually be nice. "Okay, we will look into it tomorrow afternoon then". He also kept his appropriate distance, while showing me his support, by saying that if I had any questions, I knew who to come to. Yeah. If anyone can answer my questions, it's him. Mt smart smart boy.

Anyway. I thanked him for listening and I apologized for keeping him awake for long. He didn't mind it at all. Instead, he was grateful. He went on to touch me. "Hey, boyfriend, have you looked at the clock?". He again, didn't mind. He was awake, and so was I. If I wanted him to stop, he said he would, but I honestly didn't. After he went down on me for a while, I pulled him back up. He kissed my neck and asked me if I was okay. I was, but I felt the time pressure, making it harder for me to reach that point, putting even more pressure on, etc etc. "Oh no. You don't have to feel pressured; all you should do is enjoy. We have all of the time in the world, okay? Take all the time you need. Really, don't feel pressured", he assured me multiple times. I asked for teamwork, which allowed him to softly tell me more loving words, such as saying he liked me, how I was hot, and how I was being a good girl. After I finished, he asked me if he should stop, and that I could say "no" to the question if it felt good. He sucked on the skin of the area between my neck and collarbone as I came for the second time. That was insanely intense. He already thought I did the first time, but now I actually did start crying. He held me, making comforting shushing noices, "go ahead, let it all out. It's okay, you can cry".

A lot of back kisses, sweet words and a tiny bite later, I fell asleep into his arms. Sjeesj, he made me feel SO SO insanely safe and loved. He said all of the right things, and knew exactly what was going through my brain, using that info to calm me down. He owns my heart, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am so sure that it is safe in his hands.

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Decked Under the Mistletoe - Christmas Special

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: A holiday party, a little too much eggnog, and a rivalry that’s anything but friendly. Tara Carpenter swears she won’t be the first to crack, but with the whole friend group watching—and meddling—fate has other plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

The holiday season had crept into New York like a quiet snowfall, slow and inevitable. Fairy lights were strung across the streets, wreaths hung on doors, and the faint sound of Christmas music spilled from every other storefront. The chill in the air was just enough to nip at exposed skin, a crisp reminder that December was in full swing. Inside the Carpenter apartment, however, the warmth of bodies, laughter, and the lingering scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate made it feel like an entirely different world.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Mindy announced, clapping her hands as she stood in the center of the living room, grinning like she was about to announce the greatest event of the century. “We’re making bets.”

I arched a brow from where I was sitting on the arm of the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. “Bets?”

Mindy nodded. “Holiday bets. You know, harmless stuff—who’s gonna drink too much eggnog first, how long until Anika falls asleep on the couch, and of course—” she turned toward Tara with a smirk, “—which one of you is gonna break first.”

Tara, who had been in the middle of sipping her cocoa, froze mid-drink. “What?”

“Oh, don’t ‘what’ me, Carpenter.” Mindy waved a hand between us. “You and Y/N have been dancing around each other for months. It’s exhausting. Someone’s gotta fold.”

Tara scoffed, setting her mug down with a thud. “Please. If anything, Y/N would break first.”

I smirked, leaning forward. “Oh? That sounds like a challenge.”

“It is,” she shot back without hesitation.

The rest of the group laughed, fully entertained by our ongoing back-and-forth. It was no secret that Tara and I had an… interesting relationship. We got under each other’s skin, pushed buttons, and exchanged sharp remarks like they were gifts. It wasn’t toxic, not really—it was just our thing.

“So what’s the bet?” Chad asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Mindy’s grin stretched wider. “Who caves first and admits they actually like the other.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“Agreed,” I added. “Mostly because there’s nothing to admit.”

“Sure, sure,” Mindy said, clearly not buying it. “But just in case, I’m putting my money on Tara caving first.”

“Excuse me?” Tara snapped, looking personally offended.

Mindy shrugged. “You’ve got that little glare, but it’s totally just covering the fact that you’re dying inside.”

Tara muttered something under her breath and crossed her arms, looking away. Sam, from her spot in the kitchen, simply sighed and continued stirring her tea, clearly tuning out our antics.

The night continued as expected—banter, games, and far too much sugar. At some point, Chad got wrapped in tinsel (“I am the Christmas King,” he declared), Anika did, in fact, pass out on the couch, and I caught Tara glancing at me more times than I could count.

Then came the mistletoe.

It wasn’t planned—not on my part, anyway. One second, Tara and I were arguing over which Christmas movie deserved the top spot (“Die Hard is a Christmas movie!” “It absolutely is not!”), and the next, Mindy was shoving us right under the doorway where, sure enough, a tiny sprig of mistletoe hung mockingly above our heads.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Mindy feigned innocence. “House rules say you gotta kiss.”

Tara’s jaw clenched. “Mindy.”

Mindy beamed. “Tara.”

A heavy silence stretched between us, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling a little too hot.

Tara folded her arms and scoffed. “Yeah, not happening.”

“Aww,” I teased, tilting my head. “What’s wrong, Carpenter? Afraid you might like it?”

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might sprain something. “Please, in your dreams.”

“So you have thought about it?”

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” I pointed out.

Tara glared, jaw tightening as she flicked her gaze toward the mistletoe, then back to me. I could see her debating it, weighing her options. Then, with an almost resigned exhale, she grabbed my hoodie and yanked me down, pressing her lips to mine in a way that was far more forceful than necessary—but I wasn’t complaining.

The room collectively lost its mind.

Someone (probably Mindy) whooped, someone else clapped, and I could vaguely hear Chad shouting, “Called it!” over the noise. But none of that mattered, not when Tara was kissing me like she had something to prove, her lips warm and a little too soft, her grip firm like she wasn’t planning to let go just yet.

Then, just as suddenly, she pulled back, her eyes burning into mine, her lips slightly parted.

“There,” she muttered. “Happy?”

Mindy was practically vibrating. “Oh, ecstatic.”

Tara huffed and turned to storm off, but before she could fully escape, a solid punch landed against my arm.

I grunted. “Ow, what the hell?”

Sam, standing beside me now, shook out her hand like she was barely fazed. “That’s for every time Tara’s come home ranting about how annoying you are.”

I blinked. “She rants about me?”

Sam ignored me. “And if you mess with her? I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

I swallowed. “Noted.”

With that, she turned and walked off, leaving me standing there, rubbing my arm while Mindy cackled in the background.

“Well,” she mused, “that was worth every penny.”

Chad clapped me on the back. “Merry Christmas, dude.”

Tara, across the room, was pretending to be completely unfazed. But when our eyes met, she held my gaze for a second too long before looking away, her cheeks still tinted the faintest shade of pink.

Maybe Mindy had been onto something after all.

The party had finally started winding down, guests slipping on their coats and saying their goodbyes, laughter still lingering in the air like the scent of cinnamon and pine. One by one, the group trickled out into the chilly New York night, some still buzzing from the evening’s events—especially the mistletoe situation.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside, shoving my hands into my pockets to brace against the cold. Tara was right behind me, moving quietly as the others scattered toward their cars or the sidewalk, chatting amongst themselves. When I reached my car, I expected her to just say goodnight and head off, but she lingered, shifting slightly on her feet.

It wasn’t like her. Tara Carpenter wasn’t one to hesitate. But here she was, looking uncharacteristically unsure.

I leaned against the car door, smirking slightly. “Something on your mind, Carpenter?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah,” I mused. “But you’re still standing here.”

Tara sucked in a breath. “Do you… like me?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. Then, grinning, “What gave it away? The months of flirting? The fact that I let you win that stupid gingerbread argument? Or was it the part where I didn’t drop dead after you kissed me?”

Tara groaned, shoving me. “You’re the worst.”

I caught her wrist before she could move away. “But to answer your question—yeah, I do.”

She hesitated for a beat before closing the space between us, pressing her lips to mine.

Then—

“OH MY GOD, IT’S OFFICIAL!”

We turned to see the entire group on the stoop, Mindy fist-pumping, Chad doubled over laughing.

Tara groaned and buried her face in my neck. “Kill me.”

I laughed, pulling her closer. “Way to embarrass my girlfriend, guys.”

Tara twitched and jabbed me in the ribs, making me wince. “Ow—”

“Don’t push your luck, genius,” she muttered. Then, before I could recover, she kissed my jaw with a smirk. “Besides… looks like I won after all.”

The group cheered again as I groaned, Tara’s laughter warm against the cold night air.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅/𝑽.𝑴𝒊𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂

Just a little something for my Vivi <3

Viv hadn’t told you she was sick. You had to hear it from Jill, who casually dropped it into conversation like it wasn’t something that would make your heart clench with worry.

“Yeah, she’s been looking awful all day,” Jill had said over the phone. “Coughing, sniffling. Honestly, I don’t even know how she made it through training.”

Your grip on your phone had tightened. “She trained?”

Jill snorted. “Of course she did. You know what she’s like.”

You did. Stubborn. Independent. Unwilling to admit when she needed help. It was just your Vivi, and whilst you were used to it, it definitely didn’t mean you liked it.

“She didn’t tell me,” you muttered, feeling a little annoyed now.

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Jill said, voice softer. “But she looks miserable.”

That was all you needed to hear.

You booked a flight that night.

*

Viv was exhausted. Training had been brutal, and she felt like absolute shit. Her whole body ached, her sinuses were a mess, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed glass. Still, she’d forced herself through the day, unwilling to let something as minor as a cold slow her down. But all she wanted now was to collapse into bed and preferably sleep for the next twelve hours.

What she didn’t expect was to find you there, sitting cross-legged on her bed, arms folded across your chest looking less than happy.

She froze in the doorway, blinking in surprise. “…Liefje?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hi, baby.”

Her brain struggled to process the sight of you. You were supposed to be in Manchester. Not in her hotel room. Not staring at her like she’d just been caught committing a crime. Which, in a way, she supposed she had.

“You’re here,” she said, dumbly.

“I am,” you agreed, tilting your head. “You, on the other hand, should not have been at training today.”

Viv swallowed. “Ah.”

“Ah?” you repeated, unimpressed. “That’s all you have to say?”

Viv shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

You sighed, standing up and making your way over to her. Up close, she looked even worse. Her face was pale, cheeks flushed with fever, and her eyes were glassy behind her glasses. You reached out, pressing the back of your hand to her forehead.

“Vivianne,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “You’re burning up.”

She leaned into your touch without thinking, her shoulders sagging.

“You should’ve told me,” you said, threading your fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. “Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed again, but you didn’t argue. This was just how Viv was. Stubborn to a fault.

“You hungry?” you asked instead, nudging her toward the bed.

She shook her head. “Just tired.”

You guided her to sit down before kneeling to untie her shoes. She protested weakly, but you ignored her, pulling them off and then stripping off her socks too.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, watching you with tired eyes.

“I know.” You pulled her legs onto the bed, tucking them under the covers before crawling in beside her. “But I want to.”

Viv exhaled, shifting so she could rest her head against your chest. “I missed you.” She murmured, throwing an arm around your waist.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head as you gently pulled off her glasses, placing them on the night stand closest to you. “I missed you too, baby.”

Her arms tightened around you, and she buried her face in your neck with a little sigh “Mijn liefje,” she mumbled.

Your softened a little, despite yourself. “Ik hou van jou, Viv.”

She hummed, already half-asleep. “Ik hou van jou, Liefje.”

**

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