#like the fact that he probably used to straighten his hair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

certaimromance · 8 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 The Book Thief.

Spencer Reid x Librarian!reader

main masterlist

Summary: In your uneventful first week at work, a man arrives to return a book two weeks late, and you decide to test his patience for a bit of fun.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. teasing. spencer from the firsts season with glasses meow. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm putting a lot of myself here because teasing a little to flirt is so fun.

Spencer's day was quickly turning into a complete disaster, and anyone paying attention would notice. He thought that he probably looked like a lunatic. His glasses were misplaced, his hair was blowing in the wind, his pants were rumpled, and his bag was still open with a book that wasn't his on the verge of falling out. Normally he felt like a disaster, but this was beyond his usual limits. He didn't even know how he had gotten into this situation, let alone how he had managed to get up from the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before.

His feet made their way to the stairs of the library, which were quite imposing, and he struggled up them, holding on to the railing so as not to fall. He was somewhat taken aback when he walked through the door and noticed that the place was empty, without a single soul loitering or even browsing through a book. All the tables were empty and shiny, as if they had been cleaned recently and no one had used them since. Even the librarian's desk was empty, if a bit more cluttered with various books, papers, and pens strewn about.

Where was everyone? Was the place closed?

Reid was on the verge of departing, having considered the possibility that his time there might have been in vain. However, you emerged from behind the bookcase, observing him with a keen interest, almost as though you were equally taken aback by his presence as he was by yours.

“Hi.” You were the first to speak without taking your eyes off him.

“Hi.” He replied immediately, still showing a bit of his nervousness at your sudden presence. “I'm looking for the librarian. Do you know if she's here?”

As you listened to him, you walked to your desk and sat in the chair, feeling his gaze follow you. “Here I am.” You said, waving a hand to point to yourself.

He blinked a few times, his brain short-circuiting for a moment because you looked nothing like the woman who had been the librarian for years, with whom he always exchanged a few kind words and talked about the occasional book. She was probably three times your age, drank a lot of coffee, and didn't smile at him or anyone else as brightly as you did now.

“You're the librarian now?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly, looking for confirmation on your face. Noticing your nod, he felt even more out of place with his disheveled appearance and tried to straighten his unruly hair to look more decent.

It might have been a bit silly, but the fact that you were so young and probably about his age made him a bit more nervous than he would have liked. His social skills were already not the best with anyone, but with a pretty girl they were even less so.

“Yes, I am.” You confirm, noticing his slightly disheveled appearance at that moment. His subsequent attempt to clean himself up makes you chuckle internally as you watch him awkwardly try to look more presentable after learning who you are.

Spencer's curiosity grew by the minute. He looked at your desk, even though he had seen it before, but this time he noticed that most of the books there had dividers and post-it notes that made it obvious that you were reading them. He also noticed that the old caffeine smell that hit you as soon as you walked in was gone, and that was when he saw the cup of tea in your hands. It was clear to him that you had a different way of working than your predecessor. So he took a moment to watch in silence as you settled in.

“How can I help you?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and startled him a bit.

He cleared his throat, hoping you hadn't noticed that he was trying to get to know you a little by spying on your stuff. His eyes moved quickly from the books on your desk to yours, pretending that nothing had happened and that he wasn't lost in his own thoughts.

“I've come to return a book.” He said after a few seconds, taking it out of his bag and placing it on the counter so you could take it.

You picked up the book and examined it with interest, running your fingers over the cover and checking that it was in good condition. It was the first time in your first week on the job that anyone had ever returned a book, or even approached your desk for anything more than asking where the bathroom was. After carefully checking to make sure the book was completely fine, you opened it to see if the due date was in order, and then you realized there might be a problem.

“Mr. Reid, you should have returned this book two weeks ago.” You pointed it out after going through the file. “And you didn't ask for an extension.”

When Spencer heard your comment, he looked surprised; his eyes went to the floor, and then he looked back at you with a hint of embarrassment. He realized that he had almost completely forgotten about the book after working on several difficult cases in a row for days. He had barely had time to get a good night's sleep as he had to travel non-stop from city to city.

“I'm sorry, I...” He begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had every intention of returning the book, but unfortunately the policy here is not to grant extension after extension…the last few weeks have been pretty hectic. I have to admit that I lost track of time a bit. I…”

At that moment, you noticed how nervous he seemed to be about the whole situation, and a somewhat wicked idea came to your mind to step into your total cliche librarian role.

“I understand your situation, Mr. Reid, but you are a regular visitor here, as far as I can see. The rules must be followed by all, and there are no exceptions.” You pointed as you handed the book back to the bookseller. “What if someone had wanted to read it? Imagine the sadness of someone who doesn't know if their favorite copy will ever be available again because someone missed the deadline.”

At your words, Spencer swallowed dryly, and a hint of horror came over his face at the thought that he might have prevented someone else from enjoying a good book. He automatically felt a bit selfish about it.

“I hadn't considered that.” He said, biting his lip nervously. “I really wanted to return it.”

Seeing him in all his nervous glory, you couldn't help but find him strangely adorable. You didn't understand how anyone could be so nervous about a library fine that wasn't even that high. You had already learned that most people didn't even bother to check out books because of the hassle and how easy it could be to forget to return them. Not everyone has a true appreciation for books, and to finally meet someone who does is comforting.

“This is a very serious matter. How do you plan to compensate the poor soul who might have been interested in reading that book?” You added, observing his reactions with careful consideration.

He looked down again for a few seconds and then looked up to meet yours in the midst of his great nervousness. He felt somewhat exposed and vulnerable, so he thought about apologizing again, but your expression suggested that perhaps that wouldn't be sufficient this time.

“I...” He seemed to have run out of words, his brain working quickly to think of a worthy excuse. “I'll pay the fine, of course.”

“Oh, certainly.” You laughed lightly at the obvious, easy way out I'd given him, and he raised an eyebrow as if expecting something else. “But I think that's a bit mundane, don't you? You can't throw money at every problem that comes your way.”

Spencer's mind began to consider what other possibilities you might be alluding to. He even contemplated offering more or apologizing again until he noticed a subtle gesture that suggested you were holding back a smile. It was then that you stood up from your chair to be closer to his height, surprising him. He wasn't accustomed to someone being so suddenly close to him, which made his cheeks flush a little.

“Can I ask you a question?” Your breath brushed against his, which made him nod quickly, indicating his willingness to engage in further conversation. “Are you a book thief, Mr. Reid?”

The question takes you by surprise, and he is momentarily at a loss for words, just watching the way the soft light from the lamps hanging above you two reflected in your eyes. The unexpected proximity and the sudden question were not what he had envisioned in any of the thousand scenarios his mind created per second. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then answered, his voice slightly hoarse.

“A book thief?” He repeated, as his brain processed what you had just asked him. “No, of course not. I would never...”

“Then what are you stealing, Mr. Reid?” You look into his eyes in a way that makes him shudder and feel both the urge to run away and the desire to never escape. “Maybe hearts?”

Spencer's cheeks reddened in a mixture of surprise and shock at your words. The idea of being considered someone capable of stealing hearts sounded so absurd to him. He stared at you, unable to find the right words to respond, his brain went blank for a few seconds, which was an unusual experience for someone like him. And the fact that you kept calling him ‘Mr. Reid’ didn't help his heart stop beating so hard and his rational side come into focus a bit.

“What? I don't...I didn't...” He finally managed to stammer. “I don't steal hearts. I…I only read books. I love books.” He blurted out, noting how sappy that last sentence had sounded.

Tell a librarian that you love books. Really? That's a good response to a weird kind of flirtation?

Reid wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Did you know that a Yale University study found that those who read books live an average of two years longer than those who don't?” The words were pouring out of his mouth before he could control them and think about whether it was timely or not. “Reading keeps the brain healthy and strong by keeping it active...which...which could be one of the reasons why those who read live longer.”

“Well, that's interesting. It seems like we'll be living longer.” You said this with a seriousness and interest that surprised him because he expected quite the opposite.

At that moment, you noticed that his glasses were out of place, and you couldn't help but feel the need to step closer and put them back on properly. As soon as you did, he froze. No one had ever done this before, and it seemed strangely intimate. He already felt quite vulnerable under your gaze, and your unexpected gesture made it even harder for him to keep his composure.

He swallowed dryly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Uh...thank you.” He murmured, his voice a little shaky.

Despite his considerable expertise and success as a profiler, he felt somewhat uncomfortable in this particular situation. The feeling of being watched so closely, along with your questions and your touch, left him almost speechless and unable to profile you. He wasn't used to people catching him off guard like that, and he found it challenging to come up with a witty response that would make even the slightest impression. He felt a little out of his depth, and in a strange way, he liked it.

“It's nothing, Spencer.” You replied with a smile.

His first name...it's possible that he had never liked to be called that name as much as he did until that moment, when it came from your lips.

“May I call you that?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts again.

“Yes, absolutely. Please.” He replied too quickly and now wishes he hadn't. He probably sounded foolish.

“Well, Spencer.” You repeated his name again, simply for the joy of it, which caused him to smile and try to talk again.

But the moment had to break suddenly.

You were both taken aback by the sudden opening of the front door, which prompted Reid to refocus his attention as soon as you both turned away from each other. You sat back in your chair, patiently awaiting the arrival of the newcomer. And at that moment, the former librarian appeared with a bag from a nearby restaurant in her hand, watching the two of you with interest.

“Hi mom.” You said.

His eyes widened as he looked back and forth between you, the former librarian, and the door. He was trying to understand the situation and how he hadn't foreseen it before. He hadn't even considered that there might be a relationship between the woman he had known for years and you, as you hadn't mentioned anything either.

“Mom?” He was frowning.

Spencer's phone suddenly rang, a high-pitched, shrill sound that echoed throughout the library, breaking the rule of silence. However, it was a rather timely interruption, giving him a chance to regain his composure and escape the increasingly uncomfortable and confusing situation. After apologizing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, saw the caller ID, and breathed a sigh of relief that it was his work.

“Sorry.” He muttered, his eyes darting between you and your mother, barely noticing the resemblance between the two of you. “I...I have to go, but thank you for the help. I won't forget to return a book again.”

And with that, he left.

“I think I scared him.” You said to your mother as the door closed behind him, and the sound of his footsteps as he walked away confirmed that he wouldn't hear you.

“And it's not even Halloween yet, honey.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #moontober <3 #spencer with glasses x me forever & ever <3

906 notes · View notes

cumironi · 7 months ago

Text

WOMAN, YOU ARE NOT A GODDAMN SNOW WHITE : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

thunderstorm, and you are nowhere to be found. your boyfriends is worried sick, wondering your whereabouts, until you come home a fat raccoon.

warning. established relationship au, fluff, crack.

> m.list

the sound of the storm outside was deafening, rain pelting down against the windows in sheets, lightning flickering through the darkened living room. the atmosphere inside felt as tense as the weather outside. gojo was pacing relentlessly, his usually bright and relaxed demeanor clouded over with worry. every now and then, he would glance at his phone, checking for messages or missed calls. but there was nothing—no response, no sign of where you were.

geto sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, frustration and anxiety etched across his usually calm face. he let out a heavy sigh, his fingers rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the headache that had been brewing since they’d realized you weren’t home. “she should’ve been back ages ago,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the relentless rain. “she always lets us know where she is… this isn’t like her.”

“i know,” gojo replied, his voice unusually tense. he stopped pacing for a moment, gripping the back of the couch so hard his knuckles turned white. “she promised she’d be home before the rain started. she said she was on her way,” his tone cracked slightly, the worry seeping through.

another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed closely by a rumble of thunder that shook the windows. gojo flinched, the uncharacteristic gesture revealing just how frayed his nerves were. “if only we’d left work sooner. we could’ve went home with her,” he muttered, more to himself than to geto.

the storm outside continued to pound against the windows, the relentless rain and booming thunder doing nothing to ease the growing tension in the room. gojo watched as geto tried calling you once again, his phone pressed tightly to his ear, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing second of silence.

when the call went straight to voicemail again, geto’s frustration hit a breaking point. “where the fuck are you?” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a sharp edge of worry and anger. his hand clenched around his phone before he threw it onto the couch with a frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

gojo halted his pacing and looked at geto, his own worry mirrored in his friend's expression. “it’s not like her to just go silent,” he said, a nervous energy in his voice that was so out of character for him. his usual confident, carefree attitude was completely gone, replaced by an anxiety that he couldn’t shake. “she always lets us know when she’s going somewhere or if she’s late.”

geto nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure. “i know. and the fact that it’s her out there in this storm, alone…” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought. his hands fisted at his sides, the helplessness gnawing at him.

“satoru, do you think…” geto trailed off, the worst-case scenarios that had been racing through his mind too painful to put into words.

“don’t even go there, suguru,” gojo interrupted, his voice fierce, though his eyes betrayed the same fears. “she’s strong. she’s probably just waiting for the storm to calm down somewhere.”

his words were cut off by another flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that shook the house, causing both of them to stiffen momentarily. it was as if the storm outside was mirroring the turmoil inside, an added layer of anxiety in the already tense atmosphere.

geto took a deep, calming breath, trying to keep hold of his emotions. he straightened up and looked at gojo, determination in his eyes. “you’re right. she’s strong. she can handle herself. we can’t just sit here and worry ourselves sick.”

another loud crash of thunder shook the house, causing geto to flinch. he hated feeling this helpless, hated the tight knot of fear twisting in dis chest. he glanced at gojo, who was biting his thumb, lost in his thoughts. despite their differences, they were both on the same page now—both terrified of the possibility of losing you.

just then, they heard a faint noise—a car door slamming shut. both of them sprang to their feet, their hearts pounding in unison as they rushed to the window. through the heavy rain, they could make out your figure, drenched but alive, struggling to carry what looked like a a big box. relief washed over them, but it was quickly replaced by a mix of irritation and concern.

geto and gojo exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring each other. “what the hell is she carrying?” geto muttered, his annoyance evident as he made his way toward the door.

gojo followed close behind. “and why the hell did she come home in this weather?”

they both stepped outside, the cold rain lashing at their faces, as they hurried towards your figure. their eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of you struggling with the heavy box in your arms.

geto reached you first, the rain soaking through his clothes as he approached. “are you insane?” his voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of relief and anger. “what the hell were you thinking coming home in this storm—and what is that?"”

gojo joined him, looking equally worried and frustrated. gojo caught up, his arms crossed as he took in the scene. “and what’s in the box? you better have a damn good explanation for all of this.” they grip your shoulder, pulling you into the house.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of both geto and gojo’s faces as they stood dripping wet, eyes wide in shock and mouths slightly agape. you adjusted the heavy box in your arms, a fucking fat raccoon inside peeking out with curious eyes. “look what i found!” you exclaimed excitedly, completely oblivious to the scratches on your face and the mud staining your clothes. “it was just wandering, isn’t it cute?”

the rain continued its relentless assault, soaking through geto and gojo's clothes and causing their hair to stick to their faces as they looked at you in disbelief. their initial relief was quickly replaced by a mixture of annoyance and worry, their brows furrowed as they took in your soaked appearance and the scratches on your face.

geto’s expression darkened, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at your face. “cute?” he sputtered incredulously. “you went out in this storm for a raccoon? you’re bleeding and muddy as hell!”

gojo, less composed, stared at you with a mix of shock and anger. “and didn’t you think to call or text us, genius? we’ve been going out of our minds worried!”

your smile faltered slightly as you looked down at your muddy shoes, realizing just how much trouble you might’ve caused. “i couldn’t just leave it there,” you mumbled, glancing up at them through your wet lashes. “it was all alone, and I thought… i thought i could bring it here until it’s safe to release it.”

geto ran a hand through his wet hair, exasperated. “did you even think about the possible danger? bringing a wild animal into our home—”

“not just any animal,” gojo interrupted, “a damn raccoon. it could have diseases, or rabies. jesus, you’re smarter than this—”

geto shot him a look, but gojo ignored it, his eyes fixated on you.

“and look at you,” gojo continued, his voice stern. “do you know how worried we were? how much trouble you could have gotten in? or, even worse, how dangerous it could have been?”

geto nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest. “you’re not a little girl anymore, baby,” he added quietly. “you have to start thinking things through.”

you glanced back and forth between your two concerned boyfriends, feeling like a child caught doing something they knew was wrong. their genuine worry and concern were evident, but so was their frustration. the raccoon in the box seemed to sense the tension, letting out a small squeak as it shifted uncomfortably.

you took a step backward, clutching the box tightly, feeling the weight of the heavy creature inside. “i know it was reckless,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “i just... i didn’t think. i saw it and...” you trailed off, your gaze lowering.

geto let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders softening just a bit. gojo scrubbed a hand over his face, his anger slowly giving way to worry and relief.

geto crossed his arms again, a small frown still on his lips. “well, you thought wrong,” he said firmly. “there’s a reason we keep telling you not to do things like this.” a moment of silence passed before gojo cleared his throat. “where the hell did you find it, anyway?” he asked.

you looked up at them through your lashes, swallowing nervously as their combined stares bore into you. you knew they’d be upset—more than upset. biting your lip, you hesitated, the weight of their worry settling heavily on your shoulders.

in your arms, the raccoon blinked up at them with wide, innocent eyes, seemingly oblivious to the tension filling the room. you glanced down at the little creature, which gave a tiny squeak, as if in solidarity, and you almost felt braver because of it.

“where did you find it?” gojo repeated, his tone softer but his eyes still sharp.

you mumbled, “... at school,” barely loud enough for them to hear.

“at school?” geto repeated, his arms crossing even tighter as he took a step closer. his voice was calm, but you could sense the frustration simmering beneath it. “we told you to come home right after class. and instead, you went off chasing… a raccoon?”

“it was stranded and soaking wet in the woods,” you explained, clutching the raccoon a little tighter, trying to make your point. “it didn’t have anyone else.”

gojo stared down at you, his eyes flashing. “so you were out there by yourself, in the storm, all because of a wild animal that could have had a million diseases? or attacked you?” his fists tightened as he spoke, his concern evident in his tone.

geto’s jaw tightened, his frown deepening as he listened to your explanation. gojo’s expression was a mix of concern and anger, his eyes never leaving your face.

“and you decided that it was your responsibility to play hero and bring it home? do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” geto asked, his voice quiet but laced with concern.

geto watched you with a mix of worry and resignation. he understood your soft heart, your need to help and care for others, but the recklessness of your actions was weighing on him. “we’ve always told you not to just run off without telling us,” he said finally, his hands on his hips.

you felt yourself shrink under their intense stares, their frustration washing over you in waves. still, you couldn’t let go of the raccoon in your arms, the tiny creature nestled against you as if it understood your need for comfort.

“i… i couldn’t just leave it out there,” you mumbled, voice growing quieter with each word as their gazes bore into you. “what if it got hurt?”

you looked down at the raccoon, still struggling to hold the box with its fat body, your fingers gently stroking its damp fur, remembering how helpless it looked huddled outside in the storm. “it was like… like it was asking me to take it home,” you added in a small voice, hoping they’d understand.

gojo let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms tightly. “woman, you’re not a goddamn snow white,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “you can’t just waltz around talking to animals, thinking they’ll magically be safe with you.” his words stung a little, but you knew his anger was coming from a place of deep concern.

you felt the sting of their words as you stood there, drenched and feeling smaller by the second. your excitement quickly dwindled, replaced by the heavy weight of guilt. you couldn’t bring yourself to meet their eyes, instead focusing on the raccoon in the box. it looked up at you with its big, confused eyes, almost like it was wondering why everyone was so upset.

gojo noticed your silence and the way your shoulders slumped forward, and a flicker of remorse crossed his face. geto, too, softened slightly at the sight of you looking so small and vulnerable.

but the worry and anger in their hearts only grew.

“how could you be so careless?” geto finally spoke up, his tone still frustrated, but quieter than before. “we’ve trusted you to make responsible decisions, and you go and do something like this...”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his wet hair again. “you need to understand the gravity of your actions,” he said, his voice firm. “not just for your safety, but for ours too. we care about you, goddamn it. we worry about you—”

geto chimed in, cutting gojo off mid-sentence. “you scared us,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “we thought something had happened to you. and then we found you, soaked and bleeding, with a damn raccoon in your arms.”

the room grew heavy with silence for a few moments as your boyfriends took a moment to collect themselves. the raccoon let out another squeak from the box, almost as if it sensed the tension in the room, and you reached a hand down to pet it gently. it nuzzled closer to your fingers, seeking comfort in its own way.

the weight of gojo’s words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that had settled between you all. as you reached down to soothe the frightened raccoon, gojo’s hand shot out, gently but firmly smacking yours away. “don’t pet it,” he said, his voice harsher than he likely intended, a frown deepening on his face. “it could be carrying diseases, rabies—who knows what. why are you acting so careless?”

his words stung, each one landing with a sting that made you shrink back a little. “you’re a grown woman,” he added, his tone hard. “you should act like it.” the reprimand, though unintentional, echoed in the room, making you feel smaller under his stern gaze. you could see the frustration in his eyes, the fear that had fueled his reaction, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

geto noticed the look on your face and gently placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder, urging him to take a deep breath. “satoru,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm, and gojo’s expression softened, a flicker of regret crossing his face.

gojo looked at geto, then back at you, the frustration in his face slowly melting away. he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “i’m sorry, baby,” he said, his voice less sharp now. “i didn’t mean to snap. i was just… scared. worried sick.”

their voices were starting to blur together, and you could feel a flicker of annoyance growing inside you. you knew they were worried, but the way they were going on and on, like you were some reckless child, started to rub you the wrong way.

without another word, you turned on your heel, your grip tightening on the box. you didn’t bother looking up, your eyes fixed stubbornly on the raccoon who seemed to be your only ally in that moment. you could feel both of their eyes on you as you brushed past them, your shoulder knocking against one of them—honestly, you didn’t even care which one.

they fell silent, stunned as you stormed off towards the bathroom near the living room. you slammed the door behind you, the loud bang echoing through the house. for a moment, you just stood there, your heart racing as you leaned against the door, staring down at the raccoon who was now peeking up at you from the box, almost like it was asking if you were okay.

“great,” you mumbled to the little creature, your voice shaky with frustration. “now we’re both in trouble.”

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you heard the faint murmur of geto and gojo’s voices from the other side of the door, still clearly upset. you knew they meant well, but right now, you just needed a moment to yourself, away from their scolding and the overwhelming mix of guilt and annoyance swirling inside you.

you glanced at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the scratches and dirt on your face standing out starkly under the harsh light. “looks like we’re both a mess, huh?” you said softly to the raccoon, who just blinked at you with those big, innocent eyes, as if it didn’t have a care in the world. you let out a bitter laugh, feeling a tiny bit of your frustration melt away, though the sting of their words still lingered.

the bathroom was cold and bright, and you shivered a little as the wet fabric of your clothes clung to your skin. the raccoon, seemingly more interested in exploration than the tension, poked its head over the edge of the box, its wet fur matted down and its dark, beady eyes looking up at you.

gojo and geto’s voices could be heard from the living room, their murmurs audible through the door. you could make out bits and pieces of the conversation, the words “careless” and “thoughtless” reaching your ears.

gojo and geto stood in the hallway, the sound of the bathroom door slamming echoed through the silent house. they exchanged looks, both equally frustrated. gojo ran a hand through his hair again, sighing loudly.

“great,” he muttered, his tone sarcastic. “she’s mad at us now.”

geto scowled, leaning against the wall. “can you blame her?” he snapped. “we just went on and on about her actions. she probably feels like a damn kid getting scolded.”

gojo shot him a glare. “she acted like a damn kid. what was she even thinking, going out in the storm for a raccoon?”

geto’s jaw clenched. “but she brought the damn thing back here. it’s not like she was careless with its life. just ours.” gojo cursed under his breath, looking in the direction of the bathroom where you were. the sound of your voice, talking to the raccoon, was clear even through the closed door.

gojo crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he tried to ignore the twinge of guilt building in his chest. he looked up at geto, who was still looking in the direction of the bathroom, a frown on to his face.

gojo sighed, his expression softening slightly. “i know, i just...” he ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite shake. “i can’t help but worry about her. it’s like, the second she’s out of my sight, i start imagining all the ways something could go wrong.”

gojo and geto stood there, tension thick between them as they listened to the faint sound of water running from the bathroom. through the door, they could hear your muffled voice, and it didn’t take long to realize you were talking to the raccoon.

“you know, those two idiots think they know everything,” your voice drifted out, laced with annoyance and frustration. “like, seriously? they don’t get it. it’s just a little rain, and they’re acting like i brought a lion home or something.”

gojo let out a dry scoff, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “she’s really in there talking shit about us to a raccoon,” he said, rolling his eyes. “unbelievable.”

geto couldn’t help but smirk a little, despite the lingering irritation. “yeah, well, at least she’s not yelling at us directly,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “guess the raccoon’s a better listener than we are.”

gojo huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “yeah, maybe we should start taking advice from the damn raccoon. at least it can’t talk back.”

geto laughed at that, shaking his head. “you have a point there. might be easier to deal with than a stubborn girl, huh?”

gojo looked at geto, a small smile playing at his lips despite his mood. “yeah, well, that stubborn girl is one of ours. and, as annoying as she can be...” his expression softened, his voice trailing off.

as gojo and geto leaned against the wall, their frustration slowly ebbing away. the tension in the air had noticeably lightened, the sound of your voice still drifting out from the bathroom, now with a different tone, softer and more soothing.

gojo’s shoulders relaxed, his scowl softening slightly into a half-smile as he glanced back towards the bathroom. “you know,” he said, looking over at geto, “she always tries to see the best in everything, even if she’s being an idiot about it sometimes.”

sitting on the cold of the bathtub, you hugged your knees close, letting out a sigh that rippled through the quiet bathroom. the soft warmth of the water surrounding you barely eased the sting of gojo’s words or geto’s exasperated looks, and you couldn’t help but vent a little. glancing down, you saw the raccoon sitting by the pool of warm water, eyeing you with a strange, almost sympathetic curiosity.

“can you believe them?” you muttered, resting your chin on your knees as you looked at the little creature. “they’re acting like i’m some kind of helpless kid. like i don’t know what i’m doing.” the raccoon cocked its head as if considering your words, and you couldn’t help but smile at its curious, wide-eyed gaze.

“i mean, yeah, i got caught in the rain,” you continued, your voice softer, almost pouting. “but it’s not like i was trying to make them worry. i just couldn’t leave you out there.” the raccoon gave a soft chitter, and you reached down to stroke its damp fur gently, finding a bit of comfort in its small warmth.

“they act like i’m clueless,” you went on, feeling the need to get it all out, even if your only audience was a stray animal. “i get it—they were scared, i know. but i’m not some dumb kid. i know what i was doing.”

another huff escaped you, your cheeks warming slightly as you remembered gojo’s frustrated sigh, his tone that was harsher than usual. it had hit deep, despite knowing he hadn’t really meant to be that way. maybe it was their worry, tangled up in anger, but it was hard to shake off.

you let out a long sigh and leaned back, mumbling under your breath to the raccoon. “maybe it’s their problem if they’re gonna worry so much over every little thing. it’s not like i’d do something reckless…” you trailed off, a small, rueful smile pulling at your lips as you glanced at your dripping clothes in a heap beside you.

just as you were about to continue your quiet rant, you heard a soft knock on the door, followed by gojo’s voice, a bit softer than before, “hey, you okay in there? the raccoon giving you better advice than us?”

you rolled your eyes, letting out a low sigh and glancing back down at the raccoon, who seemed perfectly content in its cozy little spot by the warm water. “can you believe these guys?“ you muttered, ignoring gojo’s voice from the other side of the door. “like i really need their advice on what to do. i’ve got this all under control.”

the raccoon looked up at you with those round, trusting eyes, as if it were your little confidante in this moment. a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. “exactly. they just don’t get it,” you whispered to the animal, reaching out to stroke its damp fur.

gojo leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, as he listened to you talking to the raccoon. A conflicted expression crossed his face as he listened to you, your words a mix of hurt, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite place.

he shifted on his feet, a frown on his face, and knocked again, a little louder this time. “are you going to come out of there? or are you going to keep talking to the raccoon? it might start charging you for therapy at this rate.”

geto let out a snort, his annoyance quickly replaced by laughter. “oh yeah, i wonder how the raccoon is reacting to that little rant.”

gojo bit back a smile. “bet it’s just sitting there nodding, pretending to be a good listener,” he responded, trying to keep his composure. “probably thinking ‘this girl is crazier than them.’”

geto couldn’t help but grin at the mental image of you talking to the raccoon like it was your therapist. “i can already see it,” he joked. “the raccoon’s probably giving her better advice than we ever will.”

you glanced down at the raccoon, who blinked back at you with wide, curious eyes, and muttered under your breath, “can you believe those two? who do they think they are, acting like my dad and trying to scold me?” your voice was soft but laced with annoyance, and you could’ve sworn the raccoon tilted its head, almost as if agreeing.

“if they didn’t get on my nerves so much…” you paused, a sly smirk creeping onto your lips as you muttered, “i’d probably kiss them. especially that albino guy.” you rolled your eyes, thinking of gojo’s pale hair and smug face. he was always half a second away from annoying you into oblivion, but somehow, that just made him all the more irresistible.

the raccoon, as if it understood your dilemma, gave a tiny squeak and nuzzled closer. “exactly,” you whispered to it. “they’re the ones who keep acting like they run my life, and then wonder why i get frustrated.”

you could hear faint laughter from the other side of the door, geto and gojo clearly amused at whatever mental image they had of you venting to a raccoon. “they’re having way too much fun out there,” you grumbled, casting a sideways look at the door. but part of you couldn’t shake the warmth in your chest. as much as they annoyed you, their concern was something you couldn’t ignore—even if they were the world’s most overprotective idiots.

gojo stood outside the door, his expression shifting between amusement and slight concern. he knew your frustration was justified, but he also couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation. you, venting to a damn raccoon, while they were stuck out here, waiting for you to come out and talk to them.

as he leaned against the door, he glanced back at geto, who was also having a hard time keeping a straight face. gojo’s voice was a low murmur as he spoke, his tone a mix of amusement and understanding. “she’s really not taking this well, is she?”

geto let out a soft chuckle, his purple eyes gleaming with warmth as he looked over at gojo, clearly amused but also filled with affection. “you know how she is,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “everything’s gotta be some grand, dramatic moment. it’s like living with a walking soap opera.” his voice held a gentle fondness that softened his words, showing he loved every bit of your theatrical tendencies.

he leaned on his side against the wall, crossing his arms with a small smile tugging at his lips. “she’s probably in there, giving the raccoon the speech of the century, like it’s her co-star in some tragic, misunderstood romance.”

gojo snorted, though a faint smile played on his lips as well. “wouldn’t put it past her to actually start acting out a scene,” he replied, his tone both teasing and fond. “and of course, we’re the villains in her story.”

geto rolled his eyes, nudging gojo with his elbow. “yeah, but we’re her villains,” he said, his voice softening as he gazed at the bathroom door. “and if she wants us to sit here and play along with her soap opera, then… well, i guess we’re in for the whole show.”

the two of them shared a quiet, knowing look. they might tease you endlessly about your dramatic antics, but they wouldn’t trade any part of you—mood swings, raccoon rescues, or frustrated rants—for the world.

the sound of water sloshing softly in the tub as you shifted in the water broke the momentary silence between you and the raccoon. another sigh escaped your lips, this one even quieter than the last.

you looked down at the raccoon, who seemed to be listening intently, its wide, beady eyes fixed on yours. “maybe they’re right, though,” you mused, your tone a mix of frustration and resignation. “maybe i really am just being reckless, not thinking things through. i can be a lot sometimes.”

the raccoon chittered quietly, almost as if in response. as they stood there, the faint sound of your frustrated groan came from inside the bathroom, followed by the soft splash of water.

“ugh, you’re useless,” they heard you mutter to the raccoon, your voice edged with irritation. “can’t even help me with this mess. just sitting there, looking cute, while i’m stuck with those two idiots.”

gojo’s lip quirked into a wry smile at the sound of your frustrated comment, though it was tinged with affection. “sounds like the raccoon didn’t give the advice she was hoping for,” he said to geto, amusement in his voice.

geto chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “maybe he’s just good at listening without offering solutions,” he replied, his tone light. “she’s probably just projecting because she didn’t get the grand epiphany she was hoping for.”

gojo chuckled, shaking his head as he called through the door. “baby, i’m coming in.” without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped inside. his gaze softened when he saw you in the bathtub. the sight made his heart ache just a bit—there you were, knees hugged to your chest, your face half-hidden, looking all small and defiant with the raccoon settled in front of you. despite the warm water around your legs, you shivered lightly, and his frown deepened, especially when he noticed you absentmindedly petting the raccoon’s back.

“hey,” he said, voice soft but firm as he stepped closer. “i told you—don’t pet that thing. who knows what it’s carrying.” he eyed the raccoon with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. But the creature simply stared back at him with round, black eyes, like little boba pearls, almost innocently.

gojo’s frown intensified as he took in the raccoon’s round shape. “why is it so… fat?” he muttered, utterly baffled. “isn’t this supposed to be a wild animal? how’s it getting so chubby?”

he glanced at you, suspicious but amused, his arms crossing over his chest. “you sure you didn’t find this thing at someone’s house instead of the wild? it looks like it’s been eating better than me.”

you shot gojo a glare, your lips drawn into a tight line. “i did not steal someone’s pet raccoon,” you retorted, your tone bristling with annoyance. “it’s a wild animal. i found it outside during the storm, cold and wet. it was shivering—it needed help.”

geto appeared in the doorway, peeking over gojo’s shoulder, and when he saw the round little raccoon, he couldn’t help but laugh. “looks like you picked the laziest scavenger out there,” he teased, nudging gojo with his elbow. “maybe it’s been making the rounds in the trash, or maybe it found someone as soft-hearted as you to sneak it snacks.”

gojo raised an eyebrow at you, his expression a blend of suspicion and affection. “you haven’t been feeding it, right?” he asked, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “i’m just saying—this guy’s looking way too well-fed to be surviving on his own.”

you shot gojo a glare, your frown deepening as you turned your attention back to the raccoon. its big, shiny eyes stared up at you, and in your heart, you felt like it understood every word of gojo’s harsh critique. gojo’s insulted it, calling it fat, and now it looked at you with what you imagined was a pleading, almost wounded expression.

“no, satoru, i didn’t feed him... yet,” you retorted with so much sassy, leaning down and gently covering the raccoon’s ears with your hands, as if to protect it from any further slander. “and he’s not fat. you’re fat,” you shot back, eyebrows knit together.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick look, both of them fighting back laughter at your defense of the raccoon. you were so fiercely protective, even of a little, pudgy animal you’d just met. it was both endearing and utterly ridiculous.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to hide his amusement behind an exaggerated scowl. “okay, alright, we didn’t mean to insult his pride. but seriously, baby. that raccoon’s been living the good life, if it’s not a pet.”

geto chuckled, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. gojo’s arms, too, crossed over his chest as he watches you with a soft smile on his face, “and for the record, my love, i’m in peak physical condition. unlike this round, fluffy little raccoon who's been living it up on your good nature.”

he leaned against the bathroom wall, watching as you continued to defend the raccoon. “and sure,” he said dryly, “tell me it’s not getting fat when it can barely fit through that window over there. look at it—it's like a furry little bowling ball.”

you gasped, eyes widening in mock offense as you turned to gojo. “satoruuu!” you whined, drawing out his name with a pout, clutching the raccoon a little closer as if to shield it from gojo’s unrelenting insults.

then, without missing a beat, you shot a look over to geto, silently begging him to step in and say something in defense of your newfound friend. your eyes held a mixture of frustration and that playful helplessness, almost like you were saying, “do something.”

geto moved in closer, his chuckle soft and warm, creating an inviting atmosphere as he crouched down beside the tub, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the pudgy raccoon nestled in your arms. his fingers gently stroked the animal’s fluffy back, a gentle caress that seemed to soothe both the raccoon and you. you watched the interaction, your heart melting slightly at the sight of your boyfriends bonding over this unexpected guest.

turning back to gojo, geto’s amused smile widened. “you do know not all raccoons are the same, don’t you?” he teased, his tone light and filled with mirth. “some just happen to be a bit more round than others.” his eyes sparkled with humor, and gojo rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

then, geto’s attention shifted back to you. he noticed the pout on your lips, the way your eyebrows knitted together in defiance, and it brought a fondness to his expression. a soft smile crept onto his face as he reached up to pat the top of your head, his hand warm and comforting against your damp hair. “hey, you know we care about you, right?” he asked, his voice dropping to a tender whisper.

his gaze lingered on your face, taking in the pink flush on your cheeks from the cold water and the storm outside. “we got mad earlier because we worry. we care so much about you that we can’t stand seeing you hurt.” his tone was serious, but the gentleness in his voice wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing some of your stubbornness.

he glanced briefly at the raccoon before turning back to you, his expression softening even further. “i know you care about this little thing,” he continued, a hint of concern entering his voice. “but it’s not a pet. it could be dangerous for you, and we don’t want that. we don’t want you catching any diseases from wild animals.” his words hung in the air, a mixture of concern and protectiveness that resonated deeply within you.

as you processed what he said, geto’s gaze remained fixed on you, watching for your reaction. he could see the reluctance in your eyes, the internal struggle between your affection for the raccoon and the logical reasoning behind his words. with a gentle firmness, he added, “we will call animal control, and that’s the end of the discussion.”

the way he said it was calm yet resolute, showing he wouldn’t waver on this point, but the kindness in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your feelings. instead, he was looking out for you, and you could feel that deep down.

you sighed, the weight of the situation pressing on you as you glanced at the raccoon, then back at geto, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting on your head, grounding you.

you opened your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you looked up at geto, grasping for one last solution. “we could take it to the vet first, y’know,” you suggested, your voice laced with a mixture of hope and determination.

but before geto could even consider your request, gojo’s voice cut in sharply. “no.” his tone was firm, all traces of his usual playfulness replaced with a serious edge that made you pause. his arms remained crossed, his posture resolute as he looked down at you, his expression softened but unyielding. “this is the end of the discussion.”

you frowned, surprised by his uncharacteristic firmness, and a small pout formed on your lips as you tried to hold your ground. but gojo didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering, showing you that he wasn’t going to compromise on this, even if he usually gave in to your whims.

you looked up at geto, your eyes filled with a silent, pleading look that you knew he couldn’t usually resist. you gave him your best hopeful expression, the one that always seemed to melt his resolve just a little. but this time, instead of caving, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze steady yet sympathetic.

“no,” he said gently, his tone unwavering. he gave your head a soft pat, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to soften the blow. “as much as i’d like to give in to that look, it’s still a no. it’s just not safe to keep him here.”

gojo, who had been watching the entire exchange with his arms still crossed, let out an approving hum, clearly glad to see geto sticking to his stance. he offered you a small, sympathetic smile, but there was no give in his expression either. “he’s right, love. we’re just looking out for you,” he said, his tone softening just a little.

you sighed, glancing back at the raccoon who looked up at you with those big, round eyes, almost as if he understood the situation. you muttered a quiet, disappointed “fine,” though it was clear the decision still stung a bit. geto gave your head another comforting pat.

the three of you settled into the cozy warmth of the bedroom, geto sat on the edge of the couch, carefully drying your hair with a hair dryer, his touch gentle yet thorough. you sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, a fresh set of warm clothes now covering you, and across from you, the raccoon was nestled in a towel, its round body snug as you softly dabbed at its fur to help keep it warm.

gojo, lying on his side in front of you, had his head propped up on one hand, his other arm stretched lazily across the carpet. his gaze was locked onto you, a trace of amusement lingering in his expression as he watched you tend to your unlikely new friend with such fierce dedication.

you let out a small huff, still pouting from earlier. looking down at the raccoon with a sympathetic frown, you muttered, “i’m sorry, little guy, you had to meet someone with a heart as black as… the blackest black.” you gave gojo a pointed look, clearly directing the comment at him.

gojo snickered in response to your comment, his eyes glinting with amusement as he arched an eyebrow. “hey, i just care about you,” he retorted, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “and you have to admit, that raccoon is a real tubby one.”

he reached out and gave the raccoon's round body a subtle poke, earning another disapproving look from you. sighing, you shook your head.

you sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to ignore the teasing glint in gojo’s eyes. “shut up,” you muttered, giving him an exasperated look. “you’re not funny.”

gojo’s grin only widened, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting under your skin. “oh, come on, admit it—just a little funny?” he poked the raccoon’s round belly again, as if proving his point, and it looked up at you with what could only be described as mild raccoon annoyance.

you placed a protective hand over the raccoon, shielding it from gojo’s prodding fingers as you glared at him. “leave him alone, satoru,” you said firmly. “you’re just jealous because he’s way cuter than you.”

at that, geto let out a chuckle from behind you, and gojo feigned a look of betrayal, his hand coming to his chest in mock offense. “jealous of a raccoon?” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “not a chance.” but the playful spark in his eyes gave him away, and you knew he was just trying to rile you up.

but you simply huffed, holding your ground. “whatever helps you sleep at night,” you replied, still shielding your furry friend from any more of gojo’s antics.

gojo chuckled, his expression amused as he observed you fussing over the raccoon. he rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcastic sympathy as he teased you further. “oh, woe is me. how will i ever match the cuteness of a fat little raccoon, eh?”

he playfully feigned distress, dramatically flinging his arm over his forehead, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “i guess i'll just have to resort to using my charming personality and undeniable wit to win your heart, then,” he said with a dramatic sigh, giving you a playful wink.

you gave gojo a look of exaggerated disgust, wrinkling your nose at him. “freak,” you muttered, shaking your head with mock disdain.

gojo's dramatic pout only deepened, clearly playing along as he clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. “oh, the cruelty,” he groaned. “my love, betrayed by her affection for a chubby raccoon!”

rolling your eyes, you turned away from him and focused on the raccoon instead. gently touching its tiny paw, you leaned in and murmured, “ignore that guy, he’s just… weird.” the raccoon looked up at you with those big, round eyes, and you could’ve sworn it seemed to understand, its tiny hand clasping around your finger as if in agreement.

behind you, geto snickered, but you kept your attention on your new furry friend, tuning out his playful antics.

as you showered the raccoon with affection, stroking his soft fur and giving him little scratches, gojo couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy—not for the attention the raccoon was getting (though that was definitely a factor), but for the way you were so effortlessly affectionate. he had a knack for being playful and teasing, and he loved bantering with you, but there was something about your soft, gentle side that he secretly adored.

he watched you with your new friend, genuinely admiring the way you interacted with the little guy. but there was no way he’d admit it. as you continued to shower the raccoon with gentle scratches and murmurs of affection, you couldn’t help but whisper, just loud enough for both geto and gojo to hear, “they’re so cruel… separating me from you.”

you sighed dramatically, running your fingers along the raccoon’s fur as it leaned into your touch, seeming perfectly content. without even looking at them, you could sense gojo and geto exchanging looks, probably fighting back smiles.

“you’re my only friend in this cold, heartless world,” you continued in a soft, woeful tone, earning a snicker from gojo as he nudged you with his foot.

gojo chuckled, teasingly scooting closer to you and poking your cheek. “oh, the drama queen strikes again,” he chimed in, his tone light and playful. he couldn’t help but relish this lighter side of your banter, appreciating the little moments of silliness you shared.

geto grinned warmly, his playful demeanor never far beneath the surface, even in these quieter moments. “i swear, one day you’ll realize that we are actually quite lovable, you know,” he mused, a hint of challenge in his voice, goading you to argue against that statement.

the three of you stood by the door, you felt a heavy wave of disappointment wash over you, watching the raccoon being carried off by animal control. your shoulders slumped, and your lips tugged downward into a deep pout as you raised a hand to give one last, pitiful wave.

“goodbye, my fluffy friend,” you called out dramatically, voice filled with exaggerated sadness. “i’ll never forget you!” gojo tightened his hold on your waist, his hand firm as he gently but decisively kept you in place, rolling his eyes. “alright, alright,” he muttered, unable to hide a faint smile. “you’re acting like you just lost a lifelong pet.”

your pout deepened as you looked up at him, sighing dramatically. “he could’ve been my lifelong pet, if it weren’t for you two.”

geto, standing on your other side with his hands in his pockets, simply shook his head, his gaze warm but resolute. “it’s for the best, you know that,” he said softly, his calm tone filled with an affection that softened the blow. “we just don’t want you getting hurt, alright?”

you let out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back slightly into gojo’s hold as you gave one last forlorn look toward the raccoon being taken away. “i hope you find a home as wonderful as the one we could’ve shared,” you whispered wistfully.

gojo chuckled, shaking his head as he gently nudged you. “come on, drama queen, let's get you inside before you make us adopt a whole zoo.”

you pouted, but didn’t protest further, leaning into gojo’s arms in defeat. “i just hope he finds someone who loves him as much as i could have,” you muttered, your voice soft and sad as you watched the raccoon disappear from view.

geto put an arm around your shoulder, gently nudging you towards the warmth of the house. “oh, you'll find another one to dote on soon enough,” he teased, his tone light but filled with affection. “but for now, let's get you back to the real world.”

you sighed, shoulders slumping as you murmured a soft, “alright,” letting go of the last thread of resistance. with a defeated pout still on your face, you allowed geto and gojo to guide you back inside, their warmth a silent comfort.

leaning into gojo’s chest, you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively on your back. the affection behind his gesture made you feel both comforted and exhausted, a soft wave of tiredness settling over you now that the raccoon had gone.

gojo’s hand rubbed slow circles on your back, sensing the way your energy had drained, and he whispered softly, “are you tired?” his voice held a tinge of guilt, as if he regretted making you let go of your little friend.

you nodded, your eyes half-lidded as you sank further into his chest. “yeah… just a little,” you admitted, voice barely above a murmur.

gojo hummed in acknowledgment, a soft smile spreading across his face as he processed your tired response. leaning down, he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “let’s get you to bed.”

with that, he effortlessly scooped you up into his arm, wrapping one strong arm around your thighs, holding you securely against him. instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, seeking comfort as you nestled your head against his warm shoulder.

the familiar scent of him—like fresh linen and something uniquely gojo—wrapped around you, making your heart flutter. as he carried you through the house, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, easing some of the lingering sadness from earlier.

“you know,” he said playfully, glancing down at you as he walked, “if that raccoon had stayed, he wouldn’t have gotten this kind of treatment. you’re too spoiled for your own good.”

you leaned against him, humming in mild protest, though your weariness quickly won out over any desire to argue. your voice came out soft and quiet, an exhaustion tinged with affection. “am not...” you murmured, your words almost lost to a delicate yawn that followed.

gojo's arms tightened around you as he settled you comfortably against his chest, his gaze warm as he glanced down at your sleepy expression, a soft smile on his lips. “oh, but you are,” he teased, his tone light and affectionate.

“you just can't resist being spoiled,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your cheek, a soft reassurance that his teasing was nothing more than lighthearted affection. as he carried you, his steps were slow and steady, a gentle dance that seemed to rock you closer and closer to the land of dreams.

the warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, it all lulled you into a state of tranquil comfort, your eyelids heavy. with a murmured hum of contentment, you let yourself sink further into him, his presence becoming a soothing anchor amidst the growing drowsiness.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #geto x y/n #geto x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #geto suguru

818 notes · View notes

duckybarnes1917 · 3 months ago

Text

Thigh Riding with Caleb

18+ only.

This whole thing is @vesearlee’s fault. Also thanks for letting me use your gif bby @snowvee

Enjoy lovelies 😘

Caleb unlocked the front door to your shared apartment. It was late, he didn’t expect you to be awake. The apartment was dark, save for the lamp you had left on for him. He shut the door quietly and stepped out of his boots. He loosened his tie a bit as he walked into the kitchen. A note with your handwriting caught his attention. He smiled at it faintly, you had left him dinner in the fridge. Why did that make the blood rush from his head? He had only been officially dating you for a few weeks, yet it felt like you had been his forever. And really…hadn’t you? In his eyes anyways.

He’d blame the fact that he hadn’t seen you in 3 days for the way his cock throbbed–it wasn’t that you were acting like his wife–fuck he was half hard now.

Caleb turned on his heel, leaving the food in the fridge for later. He needed to see you first, just a glimpse of your face would help him feel settled. He opened the bedroom door slowly, avoiding the notorious creak to keep from waking you. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, and he made out your sleeping form, which was buried under the blankets. The apple plushie he had won you last weekend was clutched in your arms as you dozed peacefully. He couldn’t help but take a few steps closer to brush your hair out of your face. A little noise left your sweet lips and your tongue darted out to wet them. Tempting him. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right? He chanced it kissing your temple softly.

You didn’t stir and he petted your hair once more before straightening himself again. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, trying not to think about how you were wearing his t-shirt and probably not much else.

Finally, he forced himself to turn away from you and focused on searching through his dresser drawer for his pajamas.

“Caleb?” Your sleepy voice made him freeze.

“It’s me, go back to sleep, it’s late.”

“Missed you,” you spoke through a yawn. “I tried to wait for you.”

Caleb turned his head to look at you. You looked too adorable, your hair a mess as you rubbed sleep out of your eyes.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

Caleb stood frozen in place, his joggers in his hand as he stared at you in the dark. The moonlight slashed across his face in a way that made you shudder.

“Why are you so far away?” You pouted.

Caleb huffed, trying not to smile. “It’s late pipsqueak–you have your exam tomorrow. Sleep.”

“I just want a kiss, Colonel. Is that too much to ask for?”

Your eyes flashed with mischief but Caleb stepped into your trap willingly. He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, making you wait for him just a little while longer. His finger traced your lips as he slowly leaned closer.

“A kiss, huh?”

You nodded and moved toward his lips. He let you meet him and pressed his lips softly against yours. His mouth opened for you and you wrapped a hand around his neck to pull him closer. The movement caught him off balance and he had to grab your waist to keep from falling on top of you. You kissed him deeper and he groaned against your mouth.

This was going too far already. Caleb knew it but he found it hard to stop. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you once more before he pulled back. But you stopped his retreat, grabbing his dog tags and pulling him closer.

“More,” you demanded, breathless against his lips.

He couldn’t have stopped the growl that left his throat if he wanted to. “You’re being very naughty. I’m trying to be a good guy here.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want it?” The sparkle in your eyes meant trouble and Caleb swallowed hard. Why was he fighting you so hard?

Because he loved you–and if you didn’t sleep you wouldn’t wake up in time for your exam tomorrow.

Caleb took a breath and shut his eyes. “Don’t want what? To press you into this mattress until you can’t walk tomorrow? Trust me baby girl, I want it.”

He stood up then, forcing space between you. “I’ll tell you what–you pass that exam tomorrow and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your mouth dropped open and Caleb smirked as he started undoing his shirt buttons. Your eyes watched the movement with interest. You were thinking–that was dangerous.

“Okay,” you drew out the word as you sat up on your knees. You took the cap off his head and put it on your own. He had to stop himself from growling again. “But I can’t sleep like this. Can I…” You trailed off and your eyes darted away from him.

“Don’t get shy on me now, pipsqueak. Tell me what you need.”

Caleb used two long fingers to turn your chin back up to him.

“I want to come, Caleb. Missed you so much.” You bit your plush bottom lip between your teeth and Caleb swore you were trying to kill him.

He hummed thoughtfully and moved across the room to sit in the chair he usually found you curled up in with a book in your hands. You watched him with curiosity and hope.

“Come ‘ere baby girl.” Caleb crooked two fingers in a come hither motion and you crawled off the bed and stood before him.

His eyes roved over you in appreciation. Your nipples were pebbled through the soft fabric of his t-shirt that swallowed your frame. The shirt ended at the tops of your thighs, barely covering your ass. He leaned back and spread his legs wider. He rubbed his jaw with his hand as his eyes slowly met yours.

“Sit.” He patted his large thigh and delighted in the way you swallowed hard at his command.

You straddled his thigh and gently lowered yourself onto him. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders and you let out a surprised squeak when he pulled you against his chest.

“Feel that, baby girl?” His voice was deep in your ear as he rocked your hips over his thigh. Your clit rubbed against his thigh holster and you gasped.

“Make a mess on my uniform.”

You whined when he let go of you and sat back again. He raised one cocky brow as if to say ‘get to it.’ You gripped the arm of the chair with one hand and began rocking against his clothed thigh.

“That’s it, pretty girl, look at you,” he cooed.

You whimpered, moving faster, making sure to hit his thigh holster each time. It was filthy, degrading, and you loved it.

Caleb watched you with rapt attention, his hat kept slipping over your eyes every time you tried to pick up your pace. He was playing it cool, leaning back in the chair, drumming his fingers slowly against the arm rest. But the desire to touch you, to claim you was burning through him like a wild fire.

“Caleb,” you whined. “I can’t.”

What had started as wicked pleasure had quickly become frustration as you couldn’t get enough pressure and speed to come undone on him. You moved one hand behind you to rest on his knee as your other hand dug into the fabric of the arm rest.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you moved your hips faster. Your head dropped back and you panted Caleb’s name.

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” he mused quietly. He flexed his thigh up and you yelped in surprise and pleasure, falling forward against him.

A loud banging on your wall made you pause for a moment. Your neighbor–not the first time they had banged on the wall to shut you and Caleb up.

You looked at each other and his sly smile made you giggle. “We need to move.”

You nodded your agreement, your voice breathy as you replied, “let’s get a house, big enough for a dog and kids.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened and his fist clenched as he fought against his desire to throw you on the bed and make all his dreams a reality. “Baby–” he scolded but you cut him off with a needy whine.

“Touch me, Caleb. Please, please, pretty please.” You planted kisses all over his face as you started rocking your hips again.

His name in your mouth undid him every time. His fingers quickly found your clit and you moaned his name so loud he had to shush you. “Gotta stay quiet baby.”

You grabbed his dog tags and bit down on them as you moaned again.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re going to ruin me. Come on, come for your Colonel.”

Caleb slid his hands up your soft thighs and paused briefly to squeeze your round ass before he gripped your waist hard enough to leave bruises. The force of his movements made you scream around the metal dog tags in your mouth as your eyes rolled back in your head.

Caleb looked down at his thigh and groaned. With your shirt lifted he could see the wet spot your sweet cunt was leaving on his pants. He wanted to taste you, wanted inside you–you had better pass that damn exam tomorrow.

Your orgasm shot through you and your scream of pleasure made his dog tags slip from your teeth. You fell against him, thighs shaking, as you buried your face in his neck.

“That’s it, good girl, did so good for me.” Caleb stroked your back and massaged your thighs until your breathing slowed.

“Thank you,” you breathed against his neck as you snuggled against him more. “Do you want me to–”

Caleb shushed you, petting your hair. “Sleep, pipsqueak.”

“Okay,” you draped your arms around him and took a deep breath, finally sated. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Caleb had heard the words from you so many times, but lately every time you said it, it struck him so hard he felt he couldn’t take a breath. “Always have.”

#lads caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads caleb smut

345 notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn. “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

#the rite 🕯️#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki imagine

824 notes · View notes

vampireghostlawyer · 3 months ago

Text

hyper analyzing the daanelise photo because i have problems

ok first of all, i'm really interested in the overall posing. the posing and arrangement here is more similar to a lot of victorian family portraits than more modern, 1940s ones, but i think that's probably a conscious choice. miro tends to show a more victorian aesthetic with daan pretty often (his clothes for example), and i'm not sure if it's because daan's character was originally victorian himself, or if there's another reason.

ALSO, daan looks uncomfortable, which is interesting. we know from his inner dialogue that he genuinely loved elise, so i wonder what's making him look so unhappy about getting a photo together. maybe this is an early photo of them and daan is more traumatized from his past than the version of him we see in game? or maybe this is shortly before he left for war? I'm also wondering about his hand being tucked away like that. My first thought was some sort of injury, but obviously Daan doesn't start the game with one and he never mentions one either. It's his dominant hand too, I wonder if that's significant. Very possible i'm just over analyzing.

DAAN'S OUTFIT! So i'm pretty sure this is daan's outfit he wears in termina, just with the jacket removed? I always found him not wearing a jacket interesting, because I feel like he would, but this makes me think his outfit did have a jacket, he just lost it or got rid of it for some reason. I wonder if he put on this outfit for a specific reason before going to prehevil? maybe this photo was taken for a special event and he's trying to commemorate it?

ok the eleephant in the room: daan's hair. it's so curly!!!! he looks so cute. obviously in game, his hair is pretty straight, with a bit of wave. so either he curled it here, or this is his natural hair texture and he straightens it usually. really interesting either way. the 1930s (when im assuming this was taken) was a big time of experimentation for men with hair, so him curling it doesn't feel too far fetched, especially since he has such a defined part, which makes me think his hair is pretty heavily styled here. ALSO, his part is on a different side! ik there's a popular theory that he uses his hair to cover the eyepatch, and it seems like that is gaining credence.

ELISEEEEEE!!! our first glimpse of human elise!!!!!!!!! she is so cute i love her. 1.) looks like her gap tooth was confirmed, which as a truther i am happy 😌, 2.) seems like she always wore the dark lipstick. this was common in the 40s, but less so in the 30s iirc. Also, I wonder if she is the reason daan wears the lipstick too? I know miro has kind of refused to confirm or deny if daan wears makeup, but he's got purple lips so.

ALSO I love that she looks kind of dorky. she's so happy to be there and beaming and her hair's kinda messy, i love her. i have always been a huge fan of elise being a bit of a nerd so this makes me happy. i like that daan is trying to mog and she just looks like ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

also, something that @omnidraconia pointed out on another post that i find really interesting is that all of the other sulfur cultists are bald, but elise still has hair in her stitches sprites, which makes it seem like she may have sewn her hair in for appearance reasons (combined with her being really easy to persuade in dialogue, and the fact that the same dialogue makes her look somewhat insecure). i think an additional piece of evidence for this is the fact that she has noticable eyebrows in this picture, but her sulfur cult version doesnt.

it makes me wonder if this version of elise is also insecure.

UAGH. ANYWAY. i have so many thoughts.

#clem.txt #faht #fear and hunger #funger #fear and hunger termina #daan von dutch

293 notes · View notes

venjras · 10 months ago

Text

CHEATING TROPE - GOJO SATORU.

not my usual cup of tea but here we are. sfw, mention of cheating,

his gaze was always on you. whenever you were in the same room, even from opposite sides, his attentive eyes did not miss even the smallest of your movements.

funny considering the fact that he had a girlfriend. you had met him when they were already a couple, you had heard from megumi that they weren’t going to last long. opposite characters, in the worst possible combination ever, the only great thing was sex and as an answer that was already enough. probably the pressure from the parents had something to do with it too, hers was a powerful family that would benefit their business immensely. since one day it would become his.

anyway, now you were at the fushiguro house, you were there for a group assignment, the house was empty except for you and that raven head immersed in books. a small snort escaped your lips, continuing to write down the results of the research you two had taken the last two hours. you were sure that your head would end up exploding keeping up like this.

“toruuuuu, i don’t want to stay here. let’s go home, my parents are waiting us for dinner.” fuck, no. that high-pitched voice was capable of piercing your eardrums like nothing. a roll of eyes and the kitchen door swinging open revealing their figures behind it. gojo and his bimbo girlfriend who was clinging to his arm, almost as if she were an extension of him and depended on it to survive. now the idea of going back to your house was even more inviting. he went to ruffle his younger cousin’s hair, who muttered something inaudible in response. “you’re such a nerd, at this rate you’ll become a book yourself.” he added with a laugh, then pointed his gaze at you from under the thick sunglasses he always wore. time to realize it and the girl was already pulling him by the arm, muttering as if she were a child extremely in need of attention.

breathe, breathe, breathe.

“do you still keep the chemistry book in your room? we might need it for a more in-depth study of the last part.” you don’t even bother waiting for an answer, leaving the room, which had become too narrow by now, and heading upstairs. running away was your only chance, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten out alive. there was something that was digging under your skin every time you met them, you still had to figure out what, but when you thought you were getting the solution it was as if your mind refused to process it. now you were safe, in megumi’s room looking for a book that you remembered perfectly well that he had forgotten at school, the perfect excuse to waste more time looking for it.

“running away won’t get you anywhere, you know that right sweetheart?” the deep voice echoed in your ears, hitting straight to your head. straightening your back and continuing to search on the desk, moving various papers. “it will definitely take me away from the beautiful voice of your girlfriend who, in my personal opinion, isn’t particularly pleasant.” the answer was immediate, spontaneous, perhaps too much so. seeing out of the corner of your eyes that a sly smile was making its way onto his lips. “actually, if you allow me, I’d go down and save gumi before his eardrums shatter in a million pieces.”

you go to the door but his figure doesn’t move, taking up the entire frame and preventing you from passing. now you were face to face, the perfect moment to realize how he had abandoned his glasses and now his crystalline eyes were fixed on you only. bad, bad idea. you try to pass through the small gap on the right but he promptly covers it with his long torso, making your eyebrows gather. “may i?” you move closer but nothing, he doesn’t show any signs of moving back, on the contrary. he crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at you amused. “and what if i don’t want to?” he tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. you could do nothing but sigh, placing a hand on his chest, trying to move him but instead feeling only the mass of muscles stiffen. marble, that's what it could be compared to. this must have been the result of who knows how much training.

hold your thoughts, hold your thoughts.

“i want a kiss.” he said it so calmly that you almost had a fit, you must have heard wrong and your expression clearly betrayed your confusion. you saw him lower himself to your height, remaining just a few centimeters from your face, you felt his breath on your cheek. “i want a really nice kiss and after that i’ll move." this time the words reached your ears clearly, there was no possible misunderstanding.

and everything happened too quickly to even realize. his breathing getting closer and closer, the bodies that seemed to attract each other like magnets, he finally detached from the doorframe and obviously you saw an opportunity and took it. you took advantage and moved him enough to have a space to pass, exiting the room and with your foot on the first step. “you can do much better than that, toru.” you said that name purposely with the cadence of his girlfriend, shooting him a wink and rejoining the two in the living room.

the cheating trope had never been your favorite anyway.

maybe i’ll do a part two, i don’t know yet.

©️ venjras.

428 notes · View notes

naebaetwsog · 3 months ago

Text

.RIIZE when some1 flirting with you°×

genre.fluff, mutual crush

warning. Wonbin crys tho

pairing. Bff!riize x fem!reader

note. The fact that probably toke Sohee out of the mc stuff was bcs he could interview Seunghan drives crazy bro

Shotaro

Shotaro, the human embodiment of sunshine, usually doesn’t let anything ruin his mood. But tonight? Nah. This ain’t it. You two are at a friend gathering, and some guy—who has been obviously crushing on you for months—is getting way too bold. The entire group knows, even you, even Shotaro, and especially the guy himself. At first, Shotaro tries to brush it off, laughing along and making jokes like usual. But when the guy starts getting touchy, placing a hand on your back and leaning in a little too close? The smile disappears.

Shotaro goes completely silent. His usual giggles? Gone. Instead, he’s just staring at his drink, rolling his eyes every two seconds, and barely responding to conversations. It doesn’t take long for you to notice.

You lean toward him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Lie.

He’s literally gripping his glass like he wants to break it. So, you stand up, grabbing your stuff. “Me and Shotaro are leaving.”

He blinks at you in surprise but wastes no time following. The car ride home is silent. You’re on your phone, and he’s gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him.

Once you arrive at your destination, you finally turn to him. “Okay, what’s wrong? Don’t say ‘nothing.’”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. Then, without warning, he leans in, cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls away, he mutters, “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I like you. A lot.”

Your heart? Gone. You’re done for.

Eunseok

Eunseok thinks he’s subtle. He is not.

You’re sitting at a café, and the barista has been hardcore flirting with you for the past hour. It started off with extra smiles, then a little too much small talk, and now? The dude is hovering like he’s a customer service employee trying to get a raise. Eunseok is watching the entire thing unfold, pretending he’s unbothered, but inside? Oh, he’s boiling.

For the longest time, he stays quiet, staring at his drink while resisting the urge to just say something. But then, when the barista leans in and asks, “So, do you come here often?” with a little too much enthusiasm, Eunseok just—

Casually places his hand on your thigh.

Your brain malfunctions. The barista immediately shuts up. Eunseok, still maintaining his usual calm expression, meets the barista’s gaze with the most uncomfortable eye contact known to mankind.

The poor guy backs off, mumbling something about “enjoy your drinks” before speed-walking away. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there, stunned.

You turn to him. “What—what was that?”

Eunseok leans in, voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, but I had to.”

No, because what does that mean??? You’re sitting there, brain buffering, while he just casually sips his coffee like nothing happened.

Sungchan

The guy who even looks at you? Dead.

You’re walking through the mall with Sungchan, just casually browsing stores, when some random dude stops to ask for directions. Simple enough. Except… he isn’t really asking for directions. He’s lingering, looking you up and down, smirking in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Sungchan notices immediately. And oh, he is not having it.

His jaw tightens. His posture straightens. His entire presence shifts into intimidation mode. He’s glaring at the guy so intensely that it’s a miracle the dude hasn’t burst into flames.

Then, without saying a single word, Sungchan casually swings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You don’t even flinch because you’re already used to this level of overprotectiveness.

The guy takes one look at Sungchan—who is 100% ready to throw hands—and immediately backs off.

Once he’s gone, you turn to Sungchan, raising an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

He scoffs. “He was looking at you weird.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile forming. “What are you, my bodyguard?”

He just shrugs, not meeting your gaze. “…If I have to be.”

Wonbin

Wonbin likes you. He really likes you. But is he obvious about it? Absolutely not.

So when you two are at a store, just casually shopping, and some random guy starts talking to you, he watches. He listens. He waits. But when the guy asks for your number, and you actually give it to him—oh, that’s it. That’s his last straw.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t make a scene. He just pays for his stuff and drags you out of the store, taking you straight to his place as originally planned.

And then? He cries.

You’re sitting on his couch, completely caught off guard as he just buries his face in his hands, mumbling about how stupid he feels, how he’s been holding back because he didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and how it hurts to see someone else trying to take his place.

And you? You’re just softly patting his back, completely melting because oh my god, he likes you.

You lift his chin so he’ll look at you. “Wonbin, I like you too. You should’ve just told me.”

He sniffles, nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I should’ve.”

Seunghan

Seunghan doesn’t even notice when other guys flirt with you—not because he’s oblivious, but because he’s too busy being all over you himself.

Like, you’re at a party, right? Some guy across the room has been staring at you for way too long, clearly trying to work up the courage to approach. But before he even gets the chance, Seunghan is already standing next to you, refilling your drink, tucking your hair behind your ear, and laughing at something you said like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

The guy finally gathers his nerve and walks up to you, flashing a confident smile. “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met—”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Seunghan—without even looking at the guy—casually pulls you closer to him, his hand resting low on your waist.

“Oh, sorry, we were in the middle of something,” he says smoothly, still only looking at you.

The guy awkwardly backs off, and you glance up at Seunghan, raising an eyebrow. “We were?”

He finally meets your eyes, completely unbothered. “Yeah.”

“…Doing what exactly?”

He shrugs. “Being together.”

The way he says it so naturally makes your brain short-circuit. You’re just standing there, trying to process what that even means, while Seunghan casually takes a sip of his drink like he didn’t just lowkey claim you in front of everyone.

Sohee

Sohee thinks he’s playing it cool. He is not.

At first, he genuinely tries to act unbothered. You’re at a bookstore together, browsing through the shelves, when some random guy starts a conversation with you. At first, it’s just small talk, but then the guy starts getting bold. Complimenting your outfit. Asking if you come here often. Throwing in little flirtatious comments.

Sohee just stands there, pretending to read the back of a book, but in reality? He hasn’t turned a single page in five minutes. He’s listening. Observing. Seething.

And then, the guy really oversteps. He subtly touches your arm while laughing at something you said, and that’s when Sohee finally reacts.

With zero hesitation, he reaches over, takes the book from your hands, and closes it with a soft thud. “We’re leaving.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He doesn’t answer—he just gently grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the store, leaving the guy standing there, confused.

The whole way home, he’s silent, and you can feel the tension radiating off of him. When you finally get back to his place, you turn to him. “Okay. Spill. What was that about?”

Sohee exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. And then, completely out of nowhere—

“I like you.”

Your brain malfunctions. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeats, as if he didn’t just drag you out of a bookstore like a jealous boyfriend. And then, without missing a beat, he casually adds, “I’m hungry… Let’s order something.”

HUH???

Anton

You and Anton are at a cute, cozy-themed café, just enjoying your drinks, when the waiter starts getting a little too friendly. At first, it seems harmless—just polite customer service. But then, the compliments start getting a little excessive. The eye contact lingers a little too long. The waiter even “accidentally” brushes his hand against yours while handing you your drink.

Anton notices everything.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just silently observes, his usual soft expression completely unreadable. But when the waiter leans in and says, “You have a really beautiful smile, by the way,” Anton finally decides he’s had enough.

Without missing a beat, he looks up at the guy, tilts his head slightly, and says in the gentlest, most polite tone:

“Thank you for your service. You can go now.”

The waiter freezes. You freeze. The entire café might as well have frozen because what the hell did Anton just say???

The guy awkwardly nods and immediately walks away, clearly too stunned to even respond.

You turn to Anton, still processing. “Did you just—”

He calmly takes a sip of his drink. “He was annoying me.”

You stare at him, completely thrown off by the contrast between his usual soft personality and whatever that was. “Anton. He was just being nice.”

Anton looks at you, his expression still unreadable. “Was he?”

Oh.

Your heartbeat picks up, and you suddenly feel like you’re seeing him in a whole new light. Anton, on the other hand, just continues sipping his drink, completely unfazed.

And that’s when you realize—he is way more possessive than he lets on.

276 notes · View notes

pandora-writes-one-piece · 1 month ago

Text

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 6

Source for pic

Imperfect 6

Word Count: 4684

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: I was going to post this yesterday, but then the blackout happened (Spain and Portugal left in the dark for over 12+ hours!) and I couldn't do it. So here it is. I had a wonderful time writing this chapter and I do hope you enjoy it. Let's see if Kid opens up a little bit or not... On another note, I thought I had the next chapter already written, but then another idea popped up, and now I'm writing another scene to pack in between these chapters! It's a nice scene, you'll all love it!

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

Killer lets a rare smile curve his lips, though his bandana keeps them hidden. He’s happy. You promised him you wouldn’t hold Kid’s actions against him and would try to prove him wrong. You were determined to show that stubborn ass he deserves some goodness in his life.

And if Killer had any doubt about you being the one for Kid, he doesn’t anymore. You’re it. Even if neither you nor Kid can quite see the big picture yet, Killer is already thinking way down the line.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to pounce some wise words into that knucklehead. Knowing Kid, he probably spent last night drinking himself into a stupor, so it’s about time to call him a dickhead and get him to clean up his act. Killer doesn’t want his best friend to look like shit when you decide to come knocking.

Killer’s eyebrow raises once he parks his bike and spies the ‘closed’ sign still hanging by the garage door. It’s after lunch, Kid should’ve opened up shop by now, since it’s Killer’s day off.

He unlocks the door, and as soon as he opens it, he’s hit with a dizzying waft of stale booze. “Jesus fuck. It smells like a fucking back alley here. Kid?” Killer calls as he opens the gate to let in some fresh air, because the stench is already churning his stomach.

He hears a grunt in the back of the garage, followed by curses directed at him and at the blinding sun and warmth that Killer let inside the space. Killer sighs and makes his way towards the back, avoiding broken glass scattered on the floor as well as empty beer cans and bottles.

“I fucking knew it,” he adds, a small migraine already creeping its way into his head and settling behind his eyes.

Killer was ready to find Kid still pissed drunk or with a dreadful hangover. He wasn’t ready for the sight that greeted him.

Slumped against the worn-out couch stands his best friend: shirtless, covered in dried blood and blackish bruises, his prosthetic arm forgotten on top of the couch. Kid’s hair is a mess and also matted with dry blood. He has a split lip and a nasty cut on the eyebrow above the left eye - one that’s hooded and closed because of swelling.

“You fucking went to Hellpit, didn’t you?” Killer’s voice is cold as fuck, his earlier smile now completely forgotten and replaced by a frosty frown. “You asshole.”

“Stop screamin’ for fuck’s sake,” Kid growls, his good eye scrunching and his jaw clenching in barely concealed pain.

“I ain’t screaming, dickhead. I’m stating facts.” Killer kicks Kid’s blood-covered boot. “You need a fucking shower.”

Just earlier, when Killer was talking to you, he was begging you not to give up on Kid. And now it’s him who has half a mind to do it. Killer’s pretty fucking tired of this self-loathing shit.

The fleeting thought quickly evaporates his mind. He would never abandon his brother.

“You promised you wouldn’t go there anymore. That place is fucking lawless. One of these days, you’re gonna end up dead. Use your fucking head to think, dumbass!” Killer kicks his boot again before turning and grabbing the first aid kit from the shelf.

“Booze wasn’t helpin’. Needed something stronger.” Kid straightens up as he presses his hand against his nose. “Fuck. Think I might’ve broken my fuckin’ nose. Again.”

“Well, thank fuck a few punches helped. You look so much better, Kid.” Killer’s sarcasm flies straight over Kid’s head when the redhead sighs.

“Aren’t ya listenin’? I just said it didn’t help.”

Killer inhales deeply as he crouches next to Kid and lowers his bandana. “Kid. You have people who care about you. Stop being reckless with your life,” Killer says softly, shaking his head. He has this speech on repeat. Kid has been going to underground fight clubs for years. He always comes back with a little bit less soul in him.

And a lot more anger.

“Aye, cut yer sanctimonious speech,” he says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I don’t need that shite today.”

“Well, tough shit. I didn’t need to see you in this sorry state either. We don’t always get what we want.”

“Preach, broth–motherfucker!” Kid hisses when Killer presses the gauze to his eyebrow, disinfecting the wound before patching it up. “Warn a man first, aye?”

“Oops,” Killer deadpans. He then works in silence, patching up Kid’s open wounds as best as he knows how, like he has done a thousand times over the years. Unsaid words linger between both of them, and the silence feels heavy and thick.

Until Killer decides he’s had enough. “So you pushed her away again?”

Kid grunts and avoids eye contact.

“Self-destructing idiot,” Killer sighs, slowly collecting the bloodied gauzes to throw them in the trash.

“She’s too–”

“Save it! She’s what you deserve! We don’t always get what we want, no. But we do get what we deserve in life, Kid, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” He gets up to put the first aid kit away. “Stop wallowing in self-pity and just accept it. You’ve done your penance. Now start living for fuck’s sake.”

He glances over his shoulder and finds Kid gazing at the spot where the picture of their army squad stands. His best friend scrubs his hand hard against his mouth, his whole body locking, repressing words of deprecation and loathing.

“She’s gonna come back to you. So get your shit together and stop being a fucking baby.”

Kid doesn’t answer him, but he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and when Killer hears the shower running, he sighs in relief. Maybe he got through to him.

Maybe he’s decided that it’s finally time to allow himself to be happy.

-*-

You’re a woman on a mission.

You spent the rest of the day and the whole night plotting instead of sleeping and decided you’re about to turn the tables on Kid. He doesn’t want to take a big step into your relationship? It’s fine. You’re both grown adults. How hard can it be to keep it in your pants?

Killer’s plea kept replaying in your head like a broken record: ‘Don’t give up on him’; ‘Prove him wrong.’

Oh, Eustass Kid is going to be proven wrong so hard, he won’t even know what hit him.

Your plan is to leave the romantic tension behind and just have fun. Try to peel the layers of the complicated, brooding onion that he is and get to the core. Make him realize he deserves goodness in his life if only he allows it.

And that’s why, as soon as the afternoon dwindles to its end, you arrive unannounced at the ‘Damned Punk Garage’.

You kick the door open, sunglasses perched on the tip of your nose, Kid’s leather jacket hooked on your index finger and draped over your shoulder. Killer takes one look at you and visibly relaxes, leaning back on the car he’s working on, ready for a show.

You can see Kid’s boots sticking out from under Victoria, so you go near him and kick him on the heel.

“The fuck?” He rolls from under the car, a scowl painting his grease-stained face. When he sees you, his eyes widen, and something shadows them. “Sparkles…”

“What the hell happened to you?” Momentarily forgetting your no-nonsense plan, you lean down, examining his wounds. There’s nasty swelling on his eye, the underside blackened and bruised. Not to mention the cut on his lip and eyebrow. He looks like shit.

Kid grins, chasing away the shadows in a heartbeat. “Worried, sweetheart?” You scoff, and he gets up, dusting his hands against his jeans. “Ran into a door.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“That’s the best lie you can come up with?”

“Fine. Ran into a fist.” You cock your head and frown, ready to pry him further, but then he sees his jacket hanging on your shoulder and his grin disappears. “Givin’ that back already?”

Does he sound slightly hurt about it? There’s clearly still tension from what happened between the two of you, but you’re about to pull a Eustass Kid on him and completely ignore and disregard the matter. While you’re at it, you decide not to pry any further about his face.

One step at a time.

“This?” You look at the jacket and shake your head. “Not a chance, handsome.” Kid raises a brow, and you tilt your head so you can stare at him over the rim of your sunglasses. You point at his Harley and grin. “I want to go for a ride.”

You hear Killer chuckle slightly, but when Kid pierces him with his gaze, he gets back to what he was doing, pretending he’s not listening in on your conversation.

“A ride?” Kid crosses his arms and assesses you, seemingly looking for something he’s missing as to why you’re acting like this. He’s probably thinking that you should still be pissed at him, since he pushed you away again.

“Why not? Are you busy?”

“He’s not,” Killer chimes in.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kid growls, and Killer snickers softly. Then he reaches into his pocket and fishes out the keys to his bike, which he tosses at you. “Warm her up. I’ll go wash up.”

You grin as he turns and disappears inside the bathroom. Killer passes by you and squeezes your shoulder gently. “Thank you,” he says, before you put on Kid’s jacket and start his bike.

You can do this!

-*-

Kid cruises the freeway like he freaking owns the road, leaning into the curves, the engine roaring beneath you as he picks up speed. The wind whooshes in your ears, tangling any hair that dared get free from the helmet, and you laugh. A loud, carefree laugh shakes your chest as you press it against Kid’s broad back and he seems to melt into the touch.

A briny waft of fresh air hits you and you smell the sea before you see it. Another laugh escapes your lips as you realize Kid brought you to the ocean.

The tires crunch over loose gravel as Kid cuts the engine and parks the bike. You both hop off, and you don’t miss how his eyes linger on the way his jacket hugs your smaller frame, something unreadable shadowing them.

“The beach?” You practically stand on the heels of your boots, itching to take them off and bury your feet into the sand.

“Aye.” Kid scratches the back of his neck as he puts the helmets away, and you both lean on the railing, watching as the waves lap gently against the soft sand. “When yer car broke down and ye called me, ye were here alone. I don’t need half a brain to know ye like it here.”

Kid avoids your gaze as he states this, and you can’t stop your silly little heart from taking a tumble and skipping an entire beat.

“You’re right. I do like it here. Thank you.” You smile at him and then turn towards the ocean, before the lingering heat between you turns this into something you want, but can’t indulge right now. That’s not the plan. “Let’s go.”

You take off his jacket and kick off your shoes, dropping them near the bike, then sprint towards the shore, letting out a shriek when your feet enter the cold water. You twirl and kick up the surf with your arms raised in the air. Behind you, the sky’s bleeding red and orange as the sun starts to dip on the horizon.

“Come on, grumpy pants!” you shout at Kid, waving your arms and beckoning him to the sea as if you were a siren and he a wandering pirate.

“Ain’t gonna happen, Sparkles.” He grins but doesn’t move from the spot he stopped at once you entered the water. He didn’t even remove his boots.

“I’ll drag your ass inside!” you threaten, but that just makes him snort.

“That would require a lot of muscle, which ye don’t have.”

“Are you challenging me?” you press your hands to your hips and glare him down.

“Is it really a challenge, though?”

You let out a barking, obnoxious laugh before pretending to crack your neck and roll your shoulders. Then you march towards him. “Challenge accepted!” Kid’s grin curves his lips upwards as he crosses his arms and spreads his legs far apart, like he’s daring you to try.

Determination empowers your gait, and you stomp your way towards his massive frame, only getting slowed down by the unevenness of the sandy terrain.

“Yer gonna hurt yerself,” he sounds perfectly amused.

“Ah! We’ll see about that.” You don’t even think, with overconfidence in your stride, you rush towards him using the momentum of your little jog to wrap your arms around his torso and, if every movie, TV show, or wrestling match taught you anything, he should fall.

He doesn’t even budge.

“Wow.” Kid’s gaze drops and he stares at you, clinging to him as if your life depended on it, huffing and puffing as your feet get buried in the sand with the effort. “Do ye have an actual plan?”

“This is it…” you mumble between gritted teeth. Then you plant the soles of your feet on the sand and try to lift him up by sheer willpower.

Kid actually lets out a barking laugh. An unfiltered, joyful laugh. You’re almost thrown out of balance by how unburdened he sounds, but quickly remind yourself that that is exactly the plan.

“Look at ye tryin’ so hard!” he pats your head condescendingly, but does. not. move.

“You’re going down, Eustass!” Hooking a leg behind his, you try to throw him off balance, but once again, nothing you ever saw on TV is real because he doesn’t fall down! He doesn’t even tilt!

He laughs again. A very raw, clear, rumbling laugh that sets all the butterflies in your stomach aflutter, and you try to drown them out by sheer will as you continue your efforts to topple him.

“Yer cute, Sparkles,” Kid deadpans. Then, without warning - and still laughing - he bends and scoops you up like you weigh nothing, hauling you as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Yer runnin’ so hot there that ye need to cool off.”

When he carries you straight to shore, his plans become clear, and you start to squirm in his hold. “No! NO! Kid! Put me down! I was kidding!” Kicking your feet and thrashing in his hold doesn’t seem to help as he only continues to laugh.

“Any last words?” Kid asks with a hint of amusement as he approaches the water.

“I’m sorry?” you try weakly, a laugh already bubbling up on the back of your throat.

“Wrong answer,” he makes a buzzing sound like you lost a contest and launches you into the water with a glorious splash.

You sit up with a shriek, your clothes soaked, hair dripping, and a shocked look upon your face. “You didn’t!”

The image of Kid actually doubled over as he laughs his ass off is going to be imprinted into your brain for eternity. It feels like this stupid, silly adventure helped ease some weight off his shoulders.

Which was exactly what you were aiming to do.

You take advantage of the fact that he’s so distracted with his own mirth to jump forward and tackle his legs. He goes down with a splash larger than the one you produced and a loud curse, and now you’re the one laughing.

“Ye menace!” Kid roars as he comes up, a piece of seaweed clinging to his face, and you nearly cry with how much you’re laughing.

Soon enough, he’s holding you underwater, and then you’re both chasing each other around the shallow surf.

Nothing else matters in this moment but having fun. There are no raised walls, no fears, no confessions… just fun.

-*-

The sky is laced with dark purple, and the sun can no longer be seen dipping on the horizon. You’re enjoying the last bit of twilight before heading back. Your arms are on the railing overlooking the beach, and you’re facing the horizon, hair blowing slightly in the wind as you close your eyes and let the remaining warmth of the day wash over you.

Kid is trying very hard to squeeze the water from his favorite boots, and he’s about to direct his mild anger at you when he sees the expression on your face.

Stopping his actions, he senses his chest constrict. His heart does a little somersault motion he doesn’t care to acknowledge and his eyes soften slightly.

He was a dick to you. Scratch that. He’s been a dick to you since you two started hanging out. He pulls and pulls and pulls until you give in, and when you’re in his arms, his insecurities pummel him and knock him around like the useless piece of shit he is. And then he pushes and pushes and pushes until he wounds you.

Yet, you’re always here.

He can’t remember a single day in his life after the army where he felt so free, so at peace… unburdened. And you gave him that without him asking for it and without asking for anything in return.

This just proves to him that he’s right in keeping his distance. You’re too good, too fucking perfect. He can’t ruin you. He won’t wreck you!

There’s no way he’s going to drag you down into the pile of shit he’s under. There’s enough misery in here to last him a lifetime, he doesn’t need you to share that with him.

But when he looks at you and his stupid heart behaves like it’s trying to claw its way out of his chest, he wants to be enough. God, he wishes he were enough. And that scares the shit out of him. Because however righteous he’s trying to be, he knows he’s a selfish prick who wants you all to himself. Even if that will destroy you.

You shiver slightly, your clothes still wet from your silly taunts in the water, so Kid grabs his jacket, the one you were wearing and left on his bike, and makes his way towards you. Absently, he inhales its scent, cracking a smile when he realizes that it does smell like you.

And a little bit like him, too.

He drapes the jacket over your shoulders and breaks the spell you were under when you open your eyes and smile softly at him, thanking him. He leans on the railing next to you, trying to prolong the moment, but it inevitably has to come to an end.

“Laughter becomes you,” you tease him, bumping his shoulder with yours and drawing a gruff chortle from his lips. “You should do it more often. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the grumpy, brooding type also works, but then again, I’d say you’re more the angry, in-your-face type.”

You’re rambling, and he finds himself laughing again. He grips the railing tightly until his knuckles turn white because he knows that if he doesn’t do that, he’s going to have to cup your face and silence you with an earth-shattering kiss.

And as much as he would like to do that, he can’t.

You turn around on the railing, pressing your elbows against the upper part and letting your back lean into it. Then you tilt your head so you can look at him, and he tries to avoid your gaze.

He can’t.

So he grips the railing tighter.

“You don’t have to carry all of that alone, Kid. Whatever it is, and you don’t have to tell me what it is. I just want you to know I’m here for you. You can stop pushing me away.”

And now he forces his gaze to the ground, stupidly realizing he’s still only wearing one boot, and the other one is lying next to his bike. His brows furrow, and he’s about to answer when you start talking again.

“Picture this,” your voice lilts again, into that bright and light, careless tone. “Zombie apocalypse. Best three spots to build a shelter and why. Go!”

The smile returns to his lips, and though he knows you’re deflecting his attention away from the serious subject you breached, it’s working. You delivered your message. He got it.

Time to have fun again.

-*-

When Kid’s bike comes to a halt in front of your porch, the sky is already black, but your clothes are still slightly damp and stiff from the saltwater. You both hop off the bike, and you hand Kid his helmet. You’re about to unzip his jacket when he stops you, his hand over yours, stilling your motions.

“Keep it for a little longer.”

Warmth spreads from his hand and tingles all over your body. Today was so simple, peaceful, and nice. And, God, you were so right. You knew that once you started to spend more time with Kid, you’d be drawn even more to him. The agonizing knot in your stomach attests to it.

The more his walls crumble and the more his layers peel back, the more you want to dig.

You don’t move to go inside, and Kid doesn’t make a move to leave. You’re not pressed together, but you’re close enough to him that you can feel his warm breath brush against your eyelids.

It feels like the perfect time to kiss.

You lock eyes with his, and what you see there makes your breath hitch. Desire and restraint. Want and caution. You know your gaze mirrors his, a craving barely held back by flimsy self-control. The only thing lending you enough discipline to withstand the will to jump him is the fear of him shutting you out again.

One step at a time.

Kid takes one step closer, and his broad frame towers over you. Yet, this time, he’s not demanding. His fire is not burning hot, it’s a low ember burning steadily but bright. He raises his hand, and you trap a breath between your teeth, not quite knowing what to expect.

Then, with much less bravado than the last time he touched you, Kid runs his thumb over your lower lip. His touch is almost reverent, barely there, and yet it scorches. His eyes don’t leave yours, as if he’s searching for something.

There are an insurmountable amount of words left unspoken between you two, and you know deep in your bones that this moment feels too precious, too fragile to shake it so harshly.

So, neither of you speaks.

And still, the unspoken words linger in the air like a soft morning haze. A promise, a vow, as if to say: ‘I won’t kiss you tonight. Not tonight. We’ll take things slow.’

The moment drags and lingers, and so does his touch. When Kid drags his thumb away from your lips, it feels like forever has passed and, at the same time, like not enough time was spent in this moment.

He gives you one last burning look before turning and climbing onto his bike. “G’night, Sparkles.”

-*-

Kid is not surprised to find the garage lights still turned on when he arrives. He had an inkling that Killer would be waiting for him to return - the nosy bastard.

He slides the gate open and rolls his bike inside. His boot still squelches obnoxiously every time he takes a step, but he doesn’t even find the strength to frown.

He’s too goddamned happy.

“Look who’s back! And just in time for curfew. I was already planning how I was going to ground you.” Killer lowers his bandana and grins at Kid. Then he has to stifle a snort when he sees the state his best friend rolled in. “What the fuck happened? Were you rolling in the sand? Lose a bet or something?”

Kid can’t help the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. At this point, it’s like an involuntary spasm every time he thinks about you. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Shit, dude, you’re actually happy, aren’t you?” Killer drops the remote control for the small TV of the back office and strides closer to Kid, tilting his head so he can have a better look at his face. “She shoved you into the water?”

Kid grins, scratching the back of his head and trying to avoid eye contact. “Aye. But she cheated,” he grunts half-heartedly.

“Cheated? What do you mean? She batted her eyelashes, and you melted and forfeited?” Kid doesn’t say anything, and Killer whistles. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

For the first time in what feels like an entire lifetime, Kid doesn’t feel the urge to drown his thoughts in alcohol after a workday. Instead, he sits on the couch, places his arms behind his head, and grins.

An absent thought reminds him that he should clean his prosthetic because of the saltwater, but that practicality is easily replaced by your smiling face.

So he smiles too.

“Fuck. You’re smiling.” Killer is baffled, and Kid doesn’t even have the strength to tell him to shut the fuck up.

His best friend slumps into the seat next to him and stares into nothingness. They both do, letting the weight of everything settle between them.

After a while, Killer speaks, breaking the silence. “She’s good for you, man. I know I said it before, and I’ll say it again.”

Don’t fuck it up. Killer’s unsaid words ring in his ears, despite not having uttered them. He knows Kill like the back of his hand, knows what he’s thinking but is too polite to say.

“Don’t mean I’m good for her, though.” Kid didn’t want to go there. Not today, not like this. But he can’t escape the truth. It’s better to just deal with it.

“Don’t do that, brother.” Killer shifts so he’s facing Kid. “Don’t act like you’re a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up in her face.”

Kid closes his eyes, and some of the lightness you brought him today dissipates, taking away all sense of warmth.

“That’s what I am, Kill. That’s what I do.”

“We’ve talked about this before. You’re not a fucking monster, Kid. She sees that, she sees you. Sees past your bullshit and the crappy walls you hide behind. She wants that, she’s here.” Kid clenches his jaw and swallows past the lump in his throat. “You pushed her away, but she’s still here.”

Kid’s lip twitches up into a small smile again.

“You really fucking like her, don’t you?”

Kid punches Killer’s shoulder with a growl. “Stop makin’ it weird, asshole.”

“I ain’t making it weird, man! It’s already weird enough to see you smiling like a teenager in love, smelling like a wet dog, and having hearts for eyes.” Killer grins and gets up with a jump, escaping Kid’s reach just as he’s about to pounce again. “Fucking lover boy!”

“Oi!” Kid barks, enraged but not truly angry. “Do ye want a new set of teeth?”

“You’re offering dental now? The perks of the job have just been raised!”

Kid guffaws loudly and settles back on the couch, draping one arm over his eyes, the stupid grin never leaving his face. He can still smell the salt and the sand on his skin. He can even smell you. That characteristic scent of your perfume that now haunts his dreams.

He was so close to claiming your lips again, hell, he wanted to. But this time he didn’t. He wants to do things properly now. He doesn’t want to kiss you just out of desire, only to regret it the next minute.

Maybe Killer is right. Maybe he does deserve happiness now. Yet he knows he can’t fuck it up. So one step at a time it is.

Killer keeps taunting him good-naturedly, and Kid lets him, only telling him to fuck off once or twice.

Sleep comes easier today. And that’s a fucking first.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen

Check out @igiulss sketch of roughed up Kid! and this one of the beach scene! They're absolutely lovely!

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

|Chapter 7|

#eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #eustass captain kidd #eustass x reader #eustass kid #the meet cute #one piece #modern day world au #kid x reader #reader x kid #kid x you #you x kid #reader insert

106 notes · View notes

deedeeznoofs · 1 year ago

Text

The Deep Woods

➺ Update: If you enjoy this story, please feel free to also read some extra headcanons that delve into your life with Sukuna in the woods during the story as well as after the story takes place!

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Fem!Reader

➺ Word Count: 8.2k

➺ Genre: Slow Burn, Fluff

➺ Content: Fairy Tale!AU, True Form!Sukuna, Princess!Reader, Arranged Marriage (not to Sukuna), Abusive Family (not super heavy though just average royal family bullshit), Swearing, Reader Stabs Someone

➺ A/N: This is the perfect time to confess that the reason I started watching JJK was because of all the Disney Princess ships that were going around and I'm not ashamed at all, those ships were unironically cute.

➺ Synopsis: Far beyond the kingdom walls in the darkest parts of the forest, there’s said to be a monstrous beast with two faces and four arms. As the only princess in the kingdom, you ignore these rumors and explore among the trees anyways. Unfortunately, it seems curiosity got the best of you, and you come face to face with this exact beast. Though… after meeting him, you begin to question who the true monsters of the kingdom actually are.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Your footsteps can be heard echoing throughout the castle walls as you walk on the decorated marble floor. You take a moment to take in your surroundings. Beautiful pieces of art and architecture surround you as you walk through the place you call home. Despite living in the castle your whole life, you always found something new when you walked around. This time, you notice the tiny angels at the top of the pillars, seemingly staring down at you. Were those always there? You thought. It didn’t matter, but it was interesting to take note of. You had to take note of these things if you didn’t want to go insane. It was a good thing the castle was so large and had all of these tiny details, otherwise you would have put up more of a fight to leave than you already do. Sometimes though, you just wished your company wasn’t so terrible.

Taking a deep breath, you open the heavy doors leading to the dinner room. There, you’re met with two awfully familiar faces.

“Father… Mother…” you say softly, bowing as you enter the room.

“You’re late” your mother curtly states. You look down half-apologetically, “I’m sorry” you mumble.

She isn’t finished. “Your hair is disheveled as well, did you think this was the proper way to greet us?”. Of course, you haven’t seen either of your parents for the entire day, and during the small window of time when you did see each other, it’s surrounded with criticism. If it wasn’t your hair, it was your clothing, and if not that, it was the way you walked or talked. You’d be more angry about it if you weren’t so used to it. Nowadays, you simply pull up a chair at the comically large dining table where your family sat and quietly eat your food. Your father–the King– would follow suit. Either looking down at his food, or around the castle, or speaking with your mother. He did everything but look you in the eyes. In some ways he was worse than your mother. At least your mother criticized things in your control. Yet, your father’s distaste of you seemed to stem from nothing more than the cardinal sin you committed of being a woman. Your parents have no other children, so it seemed that your very existence continued to be a reminder of their failures– no, your failure to bring an heir to the throne.

You finish eating your food, but it’s not over yet, because unlike previous dinners, you were on a mission this evening. Setting down your fork to grab their attention, you look at them both and ask “I’d like permission to go to the village”.

Both of your parents simply stood in silence before laughing. In fact, this was probably the happiest you’ve seen them. “Oh please, what could you possibly get from the village?” your mother questions you, still with a stupid smile on her face. Trying to hide your offense, you straighten your back “I’d just like to see what’s outside of this castle”.

Realizing you’re serious, your parents stop their laughs, and their faces contort into one of anger. “Don’t put such things in your head,” your mother says “There’s nothing outside of this castle that is of interest to you, a different Princess would already know that”. What she really means is a better Princess would know that. You already knew that they probably wouldn’t agree, but you were unable to stop yourself from wanting to put up a fight anyways. Irritated, you stood up from your chair “Please just– let me see what’s out there, one hour tops, and I’ll never ask again”.

In anger, your mother abruptly stood up as well and said “Absolutely not. Who knows what the people may do if they find a Princess near their filthy surroundings. Especially those peasant men who could–”

“You know what. Never mind” you begin to walk away, turning your back on your mother. She didn’t like this very much, “How dare you turn your back on the Queen! Come back here you damn woman” she yells out, but you’re already at the door. You push the door open and slam it closed behind you as you make it outside the dining room. There, you find your Lady in Waiting next to the door, listening into the conversation. Realizing that you caught her, she stood in stock. You simply looked at her before scoffing and turning away to go back to your room, and she scurried trying to follow behind you.

As you two are walking, she begins to speak up. “You know Princess, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t go outside” she takes a short breath, tired from having to chase after you. “There really isn’t anything in the village that would be of interest to a noblewoman such as yourself” she laughs, but you simply ignore her and keep moving, walking even faster this time, to her dismay. She wasn’t getting to you, but she kept trying anyway, “Also…I’ve heard about a beast roaming the forest near the village. The people say he’s almost 9 feet tall, and has four arms! Isn’t that terrifying?” Now that made you stop, and you turned around to look at her. Yes! She thought, had she gotten through to you?

“Don’t be stupid” is all you say before you make it to your room and abruptly close the door, leaving her outside.

In your room, you peek through the large window showing the outside world. There, you’re also able to see the forest that covers the perimeter of the Kingdom. A 9 foot tall beast huh? You thought, oh to be able to see that. Maybe it was stupid to wish for such a thing, but you would be willing to see anything so long as it was outside the castle. You weren’t blind to your privilege, of course it probably wasn’t going to be the stellar experience you expected, but at least you would know, that would be more than enough for you.

Still, it didn’t matter what you thought because you probably would be staying in this same castle every day for your entire life regardless of your thoughts about it. Turning back to look outside one last time, you walk to your bed and flop down, dozing off to sleep.

The morning rays of sun stir you awake and nearly blind you as you open your eyes. Somewhat groggy, you slowly get washed and dressed as you make your way to the garden for breakfast. The gardens were the closest to the outside world you could ever get, and as such they quickly became your favorite place to spend your day. You say hello to some of the gardeners as you make your way to the gazebo where your breakfast is already prepared. Your mouth waters as you see the combination of scones and fruit laid out for your breakfast. You get lost in thought as you eat, thinking about how you’ll spend your time for the day.

Your thoughts get disturbed when your Lady in Waiting comes to greet you. You look at her, about to apologize for your behavior last night when she begins to speak “Your Highness,” she lightly bows, “The King and Queen have asked to meet you after breakfast, they say it’s important”. As she raises her head, you ask her what it might be about. Your parents didn’t usually ask to meet with you outside of dinner. You thought for a moment, hopefully this wasn’t about what happened last night. When she tells you that she isn’t sure what the meeting is for, you simply nod and tell her you’ll be there soon.

Once she leaves, you finish up breakfast and make your way to the throne room. This was the place your parents spent most of their time, and where they held their endless gatherings and meetings. As such, you made it a point to avoid the place outside of times where they specifically ask for you such as this one.

When you make it inside the throne room, you walk to your parents and give them a bow “Your Majesties” you say, greeting them. Your parents don’t waste any time, and get right to the chase. “We have good news” your father starts. “You’re to be married” he says, gleeful, you on the other hand were anything but. Slowly standing up from your kneeling position, you utter a small “What?”, not fully comprehending what’s coming out of his mouth. “It really should have happened before” your mother begins, “You have been more than old enough for a long time” she scoffs. “Wait!” you yell out suddenly, “I’m not getting married” you say, mostly out of shock at the revelation.

Your mother sighs, not hiding her disappointment. “How many times do we have to say that it’s your royal duty to provide this family with an heir” she lectures. You simply look down. Damn it, you think, you really didn’t want to do this, but you suppose you had no choice, so you ask, “Who is it?”. This confuses your parents and they look to each other in confusion, so you clarify, “Who am I getting married to”. The fact that you have shown the signs of being willing (or at the very least, compliant), nearly makes your mother jump up with glee. Your father says “This young Prince in the neighboring Kingdom, his father has lots of good things to say–”

“What about you guys?” you ask. It wasn’t that you particularly trusted their judgment, but you trusted them more than some other King who most definitely had a conflict of interest, “What do you guys think of him?”. This makes your parents pause for a moment before your mother goes, “Well… we haven’t quite met him yet”.

Now, you weren’t very particular about who you were going to marry. You knew it was going to come eventually due to the nature of your family, but this made you angry. To not even know who they were marrying you off to? Have they truly stooped to this kind of stupidity? “So you don’t even know who he is and you want me to marry him?” you question, now somewhat aggressively.

“We can take care of all that later my dear–” your mother starts again, but you aren’t having any of it “No! Getting married to someone I don’t know is bad enough but someone you guys don’t even know? That’s just absurd!” you yell out, which makes your father angry. “What’s absurd is not having an heir to the throne!” he yells out, his voice booming throughout the throne room. “You are to be married to this man regardless of your personal feelings on the matter” he yells out again. You can’t look at him. You can’t look at either of them. Your brain is starting to hurt and you can’t do anything. So you take one last look at them before silently leaving the throne room.

Making it back to your bedroom, you spend the rest of the day looking out your window, watching as the sun sets and the moon shows its full glory. Thankfully, no one bothers you for the rest of the day, but you still have a pounding headache from the conversation. Various thoughts fill your head, from I can’t believe they would do this to I don’t think marriage would be that bad, right? All the way back to I shouldn’t even have to question whether it would be bad or not. You eventually decide that you need to clear your head and get some fresh air. Fresh air outside of this damn castle.

Looking out the window, your eyes focus on the forest ahead. The luscious green leaves sway from side to side as you look out at them, as if to call you towards them. Surely, it would be nice to walk through those woods.

What? No! That’s a stupid decision, you could get lost. Or worse, killed.

…

Well… dead people can’t get married off to strangers.

That thought in mind, you grab a cloak from your closet and open up your window. The cold breeze of the night hits your face as you look out toward the forest, toward freedom… at least for a little while, that is. The only issue that stands in your way is how to get down. Looking down at the ground from your window, you definitely wouldn’t be able to jump without dying or getting injured. Not liking either of those options, you look around your room for anything that might help when you eye a pile of blankets in the corner of your room. Perfect.

Man, these blankets are long as hell you think as you tie the pieces of fabric together. Once you finish, you securely tie one end to your bed frame and bring the other end out the window. The end of the makeshift rope hits the floor, and you have a mini celebration of your success.

Feet hitting the ground, you’re able to slip past the guards and make your way out of the castle walls. You aren’t scared, far from it. For the first time in your life, you’re free. You’re giddy for a while and that joy only grows as you get further and further away from the castle. You’re finally able to take a breath, even if only for a mere few hours in the night.

There are no lights in the forest, and you didn’t bring a candle with you, so you only had the full moon to guide you. This was alright though, and you bathed in the moonlight for a while, being at peace.

Your head is finally clear, and you’re able to stay in meditative thought as you walk through the woods.

Then, you hear a growl.

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to the direction where the growl was heard.

You hear another growl behind you.

Then another.

It’s a pack of wolves.

And they’re surrounding you.

You’re able to see their faces as they step into the moonlight out of the shadows. Their hungry eyes showing you that they do not intend to free you. The beasts give you no path of escape as they inch closer and closer to you. You had no other choice, you were going to be their dinner. Knowing your situation, you simply crouch down and close your eyes. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick death you think as you hear their excited growls and howls around you.

One of the wolves prepares to lunge at you, but just as it’s about to, another force tackles the animal.

“Huh?” you audibly say as you slowly open your eyes. When you look around yourself again, there are no more wolves to be seen, all of them taken away by a mysterious force. You are frozen in place. What in the world just happened?

You can’t think for long though, as you realize…You sense someone else’s presence.

You slowly turn around to find a large beast in the distance. No, that’s no beast, that’s a man. Except… Why does he have four arms?

You think back to your conversation with your Lady in Waiting the other day.

Shit.

He’s slowly inching toward you.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The better part of your brain knows to run, but you remain crouched and unmoving, frozen in fear. Eventually, he stands in front of you, looking down at your small form.

They say he’s 9 feet, huh? You weren’t fully sure if that was correct, but he definitely looked like it from the way he was hovering above you.

This feeling. It’s pure fear. You weren’t even this afraid when surrounded by the wolves, whom you were fully expecting to eat you. But this, you aren’t even able to breathe. Hell, you can’t breathe, you don’t know what’s come over you. He did save you, right? Maybe he isn’t so dangerous. Though, maybe he’s simply saving you for himself.

The clouds in the sky that were previously covering the moon now moved past, allowing the moonlight to shine on the man’s face, and you’re able to see four bright red eyes looking down at you.

Not knowing what else to say, you just scream out “P-Please! Please don’t hurt me!”. It was different with the wolves, they wouldn’t have stopped no matter what you said. With this though… Was he more man than beast? Maybe he understood language? You were going to take all your chances, so you continued begging for your life.

He seemed to have no reaction to your qualms, and simply slowly raised up his hand, getting ready to strike you. He took his time, as if you were so small that he didn’t even need to fully put in any effort to try to catch you. You didn’t give up, you continued to beg for your life until the last moment, hoping to get through to him. You kept on screaming. Kept on begging for your life until the very last moment when he swiftly brought his hand down to your face and–

You knocked out.

“Princess! Oh Dear– Princess!”

The voice of your Lady in Waiting wakes you up. Your head is throbbing with pain, and her frantic tone certainly wasn’t helping.

“Huh?” you groan, you feel the grass from under you, you’re in front of the castle. You begin to slowly remember the events of the night before. Right… you left the castle, but how’d you get back here?

You suddenly remember the wolves and that man that saved you. You begin to frantically look around. Did he bring you back?

Your Lady in Waiting makes it to you and begins to help you up. She decides to ask “Why are you on the floor?”. She’s picking the stray pieces of grass off of your hair and as you’re about to explain what happened, you realize how incriminating against you the story was. So, you simply tell her, “I’m not sure…”.

Thankfully, she doesn’t question you any further, and simply goes “Let’s go give you a bath” as she takes your hand and leads you inside the castle. You turn around for a moment and look toward the forest. What the hell happened?

The hot bath was more than needed to help clean off the dirt on your skin. The steam also helped to relax you as you organized your thoughts. You remember the four-armed man, and his bright red eyes. You think about how he saved you from death. You sounded ridiculous. Was that… a dream? You thought. No… it couldn’t be, it felt too real to merely be a dream. Though, if that was true, why did he save you from the wolves, and why did he bring you back to the castle? Ignoring all that, a man of that kind of build is something out of children’s books.

It was going to bug you for the rest of your days, you had to go back to find out what on Earth happened last night. It would just be a short trip to confirm, you remembered most of your steps from that night. Plus, it was broad daylight now, surely there would be no predators roaming around.

If anyone heard you, it would sound like you had a death wish. Hell, you probably did… but there was something calling you to go back to investigate that man, and you’d be damned if you didn’t listen.

Letting the water drip down your body as you leave the tub, you dry yourself off with a towel and pick out a dress. You went for something simple, as you needed to be able to move in case the worse happens and you get attacked by another animal. Or worse, if your new “friend” turned out to not be so friendly after all.

You’re able to sneak your way through the guards again, and it was actually much easier this time. Turns out, your parents were away from the castle, meaning not as many guards stuck around to keep watch.

“If I knew it was going to be this easy to leave, I would have snuck out before” You thought out loud in a quiet whisper.

You find your way back to the forest and try your best to follow the path you remember going on the night before. You walk for a while before you see something of interest.

Red blood stains paint the dirt coupled with scratch marks, no doubt from wolves. You look around your surroundings. While brighter now, they definitely looked familiar. There was no doubt, this was the place where your life nearly ended.

So it wasn’t a dream. In your heart you already knew that, of course, the extra confirmation definitely helped.

You think about your savior. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to look for him, right? You look around once again, as if he would be standing in the same spot. You start to walk down the path further into the forest. You should be able to run into him eventually, right? Wait, why were you even looking for him?

Against your better judgment, you call out to the stranger, “Um… excuse me sir but I just wanted to thank you for saving me last night”. Nothing. “If you can hear me please come out, I promise I mean peace”. Still nothing.

After what felt like walking for hours, you nearly give up and decide to cut your losses and go home. That is, until you see a stone figure in the distance. Looking closer, you realize it’s a well. Curious, you walk towards it. Your fingers touch the rough stone of the abandoned well, and you wonder about the last time it was used. You decide to sit for a while and ponder near the spot. You think again about your marriage, and slowly begin to accept the reality of the situation. Hopefully, in the best case scenario, the Prince isn’t so bad. Hell, you’d accept halfway bearable. At least now, you know that when times get rough you’re able to go to the forest to think.

You ponder a bit more and as you look down at the well, various things cross your mind. Whether they were good or bad, it didn’t matter to you. You were simply allowing your mind to roam wherever it saw fit. You were officially lost in thought. In fact, you were so lost in thought, that you didn’t even notice the giant form standing just behind you…

“Are you stupid?” You hear a gruff voice coming from behind you.

Shocked, you forget that you’re near a well and jump up, screaming whilst you flail your arms out. This causes you to lose your balance and you fall into the well, causing you to scream even louder. You brace for your fall but it never comes. Instead, you find yourself caught between four large arms.

“‘Tch, idiot” you hear, though you’re just glad that you’re alive. You’re brought back down to the glorious land, and you’re able to look up at the man in front of you. Looking at him, you see the obvious signs of your previous savior. The iconic four arms and four bright red eyes. Though, now that he’s in broad daylight, you notice some more things. Like the markings on his arms, his slicked back pink hair and a large mouth directly where his stomach is. Forget about children’s books, this man was unequivocally a monster. Though, you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he looked despite this. A stoic expression painted his face, despite showing clear annoyance toward your antics. Yes, handsome was the word to describe him.

“Don’t stare. It’s weird” he says.

Then again, maybe you simply haven’t met many men.

You’re about to respond with a comment of your own, when you feel a sharp sting on your leg. Wincing, you look down and you see blood trickling down your thigh. You must have gotten scratched while falling down the well.

“Ow…” you say quietly, lifting up your dress. The man heard your pains, but didn’t pay it much mind. Rolling his eyes, he simply turned around to another side of the woods and said “You’ll live”.

“Wait!” you reach out, grabbing at his clothes. This annoyed the man and he attempted to pull your hand away, you don’t budge though. “It hurts!” you yell out at him. He continues to try to get your hand off of him, and he yells out, “Not my problem!”. Finally, he’s free from your hand and pushes you away, causing you to fall backwards. “Owww…” you say, again. Today was certainly not your lucky day.

He’s about to walk away from you when he turns around for a second. Looking at you, he saw your pathetic display, covered in dirt, crouching down afraid to touch your minor cut. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Groaning, he walks toward you and picks you up, easily carrying you over his shoulder. “Hey what are you–”

“Quiet.” he says, “Don’t make me regret this, brat”. You do as he says. You weren’t afraid of him anymore. How could you be? If he wanted to kill you, he had several chances to do so. Hell, there were multiple instances when nature nearly did the job for him. So you decide to trust him as he carries you through an unknown part of the forest.

He places you down inside an open cave. Based on the various items around, you assume it’s where he lives. You look around and see makeshift weapons and pieces of cloth sprawled about in the area. It definitely could be better, but it was pretty good for someone who lived in the wild.

You see him as he takes one of the clean pieces of cloth and pats it on your leg. It stung like hell every time he padded the white cloth onto your skin, but he didn’t seem to care much about your tiny reactions. After a bit you both settle into a quiet, almost intimate feeling as he caresses your thigh, trying to clean the blood off your leg. You were used to getting taken care of, but this, this felt different.

You take your chance to speak. “Thank you, again…” you say.

He doesn’t say anything back, only muttering a soft “Whatever” to himself as he continues patting the area.

You continue to try to initiate small talk, saying things like “So… this is your house, how nice” and “The woods are lovely aren’t they?”. This doesn’t earn much of a reaction from him, and it seems that the small smidge of a reaction that you do see, is one of annoyance. You decide to give up, but not before asking him one more question.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

He stops for a bit, hesitating, and you assume that he won’t answer, when he says “Ryomen”.

Pleasantly surprised that he actually answered you, you excitedly ask “Ryomen what?” with a smile.

He gives a short groan in annoyance and mumbles “Ryomen Sukuna” as he rolls his eyes, still trying to focus on padding down your wound. You no longer mind the pain, instead you’re happy that you’re able to get him to open up.

“That’s a nice name” you compliment him, and he just gives a low hum in response.

He finishes patching you up and begins to walk away as he stands, “You’re a big girl, now scram” he tries to be intimidating, though it no longer works on you. You thank him profusely and it seems to do nothing but make him more annoyed as he focuses on anything else but you.

“Oh I have one more question!” you say as you stand up from your spot.

“‘Course you do…” he says, you take this as an invitation to keep talking, and you ask him the one question that’s been bugging your mind, “How did you know I lived in the castle?”

He simply looked at you and gave you a blank stare and said, “You’re asking me that when you go out dressed like… that? It’s obvious”. He looks you up and down as he says the words, causing you to look down at your choice of wear. Oh yeah… of course, you couldn’t hide it if you tried. Though, it at least helped bring you home. Getting your answer, you simply walk away, not wanting to press him further.

His peace doesn’t last long, however, as you come back. Then, you come back again, and again, and again.

It started with you bringing a basket of food to him. Something simple, such as some fruits. “I wanted to give you this to thank you for all you’ve done” you said. When you offered him the basket he took the food and left, planning to leave you alone. He didn’t even say a word to you, let alone a thank you. Somewhat offended, you yelled out a “Wait!”, which caused him to turn around. “I thought… we would be eating together” you said, looking down at the floor.

He stopped for a moment before sitting down, grumbling as he took an apple and bit on it. Well… bit is an understatement, he absolutely ravaged the apple, leaving not even the core.

“You… you eat the core?” you ask him, genuinely concerned for what it might do to his health.

He just looked at you, chewing on a seed, and said “I don’t waste food” before going back to abusing the rest of the fruits on the basket, all while you stay content with your single bunch of grapes.

Outside of that short conversation, you two don’t speak to each other. When he finished eating, Sukuna got up and left, not even uttering a single goodbye. However, this was far from the last time you two spoke.

Every day, you brought him food from the castle. Every day, you insisted that he sit with you to eat it. You weren’t exactly sure why you did all this, maybe it was an excuse to get away from the castle, or maybe you were simply intrigued by the man you visited. You two hardly ever spoke at first, how could you? Sukuna hated your presence, not for any particular reason, he just wasn’t very fond of humans. However, he loved food more than he hated you, so he never complained and was never outright malicious.

One time though, after a few weeks of you two meeting, he snapped and said, “Stop coming here, brat”. You looked up at him, the bread you brought in hand, and gave him a simple “No”. This response caused him to growl under his teeth, but he didn’t push it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he started to enjoy being around you. It sucked being alone, and most people didn’t want to go near him. Plus, the small number of people who were brave enough to face him were in it to kill him, so he was willing to accept having you around, as simple minded as you were. Finishing the food, he got up as usual, except this time he said “You’re lucky this food is good”, before walking away.

That small interaction seemed to open the doors for you two to get closer. Eventually, you two began speaking as you ate. Mostly small talk, sometimes you’d touch on your arranged marriage, but it was a topic you wanted to avoid as much as possible. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind brushing over it.

Even after you two ate, you continued to speak to each other. Mostly walking around the forest, you would ask him about the various plants and wildlife. Something that he seemed highly knowledgeable about, always diligently explaining everything around the forest to you.

You two sometimes met at night as well. You would steal some food from dinner (something that allowed you to actually look forward to the occasion) and bring it for the two of you to have. While eating, you would look up at the stars together, basking in the light they give off.

“I can feel you staring at me” you say, looking at him through the side of your eye. He doesn’t let up, in fact, he grows more confident, turning his entire body around to face you. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice something about your face”. You turn around to face him, curious about what he might say. “I swear to God if you say something stupid I will personally poke one of your eyes out–”

“Your eyes shine more than the stars do,” he cuts you off. You look at him, his face is as calm as it usually is, he’s serious. You aren’t sure what to say, and you stutter around your words, until you hear a hearty laugh and Sukuna’s face scrunched up in a chuckle “Oh man– I can’t believe that corny ass line got you… you really do need to go outside more” he says as he laughs some more, crossing his four arms over his head. Your face is flushed and red from embarrassment and you tackle the man “Ryomen Sukuna!” you yell out, “That’s it, I’m poking your eyes out!”. Sukuna is able to fight you off with his superior strength, and when your embarrassment cools down, you’re able to have a bit of a laugh as well.

“Well lookie here…” Sukuna says, looking down at you as you struggle being tangled up between some long plants. “Ain’t this a sight to see… so early in the morning too” he chuckles. The food you brought him for the day now on the floor, you continue struggling before you yell out “Ryomen stop staring like a weirdo and come help me!”. He laughs again and goes “I don’t know… there’s no more food so I can just leave you here” he pretends to turn around to leave you. You know he isn’t being fully serious, but in frustration you swing around and begin yelling his name some more. “Okay fine, fine…” he says, as he cuts the plants with his nails “Waitwaitwaitwait—” is all you say before you fall to the floor. It wasn’t a huge fall, but it was enough to hurt. “Ow…” you say, your arms absorbing most of the fall, and thus, most of the pain. Sukuna keeps laughing, “Oops…Hahahaha” he smiles as you stare daggers at him.

You’re able to get up on your own and pat most of the dirt away. “You know man I’m not really in the mood today” you say as you try your best to look a little more proper. “Oh? What’s wrong?” he asks, still half-joking based on his tone. Still, you answer seriously “I’m meeting my husband today… my family’s holding some stupid party”. You say it like it isn’t a big deal, but Sukuna can read in your face that the thought seriously upsets you, so he lightens up a bit.

He pats you on the head with one of his hands and goes “Come on… it’s about time I give you some food, yeah? Let’s go hunting”. He begins running, slow enough for you to follow, but fast enough for you to have to catch up with him. You mindlessly follow him before going “Wait… hunting? Wait, I don't wanna– RYOMEN!”.

Ballroom music plays as you stand amongst the crowd of people, trying your best to keep up appearances. This was technically your engagement party, but with how far you and your future husband seem to be from each other, no one would be able to guess. That, and your “fiancé” flirting with every woman he could lay his eyes upon. Every woman but you, of course. You didn’t miss the way his face dropped the moment he laid his eyes on you. You didn’t mind this, as you weren’t too pleased with his appearance either. Still, the least he could do is suck it up and take it for the day the way you were expected to. Alas, it seems his favorite course of action for the night was to humiliate you by having a public display of his flirtation before you two are even married.

You try to use this to your advantage, “Look at him, mother…” you say to the woman standing next to you, she’s giving out her brightest and fakest smiles to all the guests “You can’t possibly expect me to marry him” you tell her. “You can and will…” your mother says through smiling teeth, she isn’t done though, she never is “If you took better care of yourself, maybe his behavior would be different” she drops her act for a moment, before going back to greeting guests.

You let out a sigh of sadness and anger, everything felt horrible. Suddenly, the dress you’re wearing is a tad too tight, the music feels a bit too loud, and there’s too many people. Your mother’s comments as she watches your future husband embarrass you doesn’t help either. You need to leave, and you need to leave fast. You somehow find a way to slip out of the party without many people noticing and try to make your way to the only place you felt safe– the forest.

You somehow make it to Sukuna’s resting spot despite the way you’re dressed. Your feet have blisters all over from your shoes but that doesn’t matter. You’re finally safe here…

Sukuna immediately notices you and is prepared with a joke, “Woah who let the–”

“Shut up” you cut him off. You knew his comments were mostly in pure fun, and you enjoyed them for the most part, but today was not one of those times.

Sukuna understood this, and simmered down. “Bad day?” he asks, though he already knew the answer.

Tears stinging your eyes, you simply look down at the floor and nod. Sukuna pats down a spot next to him and goes “Tell me about it”.

You take the invitation, and tell him all about your woes. The full story of your forced marriage, the pressure to have an heir, the humiliation you felt as you saw the man you were publicly marrying flirt with as many women as he could right in front of everyone. You were like a river on a broken dam.

Sukuna didn’t say anything until you were finished, and even once you were, all he said was “Man, what assholes”. It seemed like a mindless comment, but to hear someone else finally say it was enough for you. You two sat in silence for a while before Sukuna looked at you and went “You don’t deserve any of that, I’m sorry”. He was actually fully serious for once. You two locked eyes for a while, not saying a word. You took a while to study his face. You realized this while first meeting him, but it really hit you now. His ever calming facial expressions, the way his eyes looked at you, the way his hair was perfectly slicked back, it was without a doubt, he was devilishly handsome.

You kissed him. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was frustration from this terrible day and you weren’t thinking straight, or maybe, just maybe, it was something more. Sukuna seemed shocked from the sudden kiss, but he held no complaints as he kissed you back.

You fell asleep in his arms, and when you came to, you found yourself back in your room wearing a nightgown. You don’t recall ever coming back, so he must have brought you back on his own and changed you. You would have thought it was all a hazy wet dream, but looking at your night stand, you saw the little bit of ripped fabric from last night’s dress. Definitely not a dream.

“You’ve embarrassed us!” your mother’s yells boom throughout the throne room. Turns out, going missing at your own engagement party is a big no-no to a lot of people. Your mother goes on and on about how no one was able to find you, and how you seemed to vanish out of thin air. How guards looked everywhere throughout the castle to no avail until someone found you sleeping in your room.

“Thankfully…” your mother sighs, “The Prince is willing to give you another chance, and is still going to marry you”.

Your stomach boils with rage at this, they weren’t worried at all! They just cared about the marriage, once again. With all the might in your soul, you yell out a big “No!” toward your parents. This shocks the King and Queen, and the latter slowly walks toward you, going “No? What do you mean…no?”.

You stutter for a bit, before you go, in the bravest voice you could, “I…I’m not going to marry him”.

SLAP.

Your mother strikes you across your face before she turns around, almost as if she’s too disgusted to even look at you. As if you said something so treacherous. She doesn’t say anything, but calls for the guards. As they grab at your arms she goes, “Make sure she doesn’t leave the room, use any force necessary”. This makes your eyes go wide. The marriage was one thing, but not being able to leave was another. “Wait–Wait no…” you yell out, struggling against the guards “Stop! Mom! Stop them! Wai–”.

The doors slowly close in your face as you see your mother walk back to her throne. You continue to try to struggle against the guards to no avail, they throw you into your room and slam the door shut. You attempt to climb down the window but you see the guards posted out there as well. They must have realized what was going on you thought.

You begin to sob. Your first thoughts are of Sukuna. What’s going to happen now? You think back to all your memories of the past few months together, how you felt happy. It wasn’t the fake, saturated, happiness you were used to in the castle, it was real, and you might never get the chance to feel it again.

Weeks pass…though they feel more like years. You spend your days looking out the window toward the forest, you think of Ryomen and wonder how he must be. You think of your last day together, how you never even said goodbye. Every so often you see him in the distance, and you wave to each other, but even he notices the guards by your window, you see a faint sadness in his face. It was alright, these brief few seconds waving to each other was enough to keep you sane at least, and you needed it as your wedding day inched closer and closer.

On your wedding day, you saw yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful, wearing a gorgeous white dress and a tiara filled with what seems to be a thousand jewels. Though, it’s hard to truly look at yourself and not feel the least bit upset. The jewels… They looked like the stars. You remember the time you and Sukuna laid under those very same stars, and sadness once again paints your face.

You dreaded this day, but now that it actually came, you don’t feel many feelings toward it. You only feel numb as you try to dissociate as much as possible. You simply try your best to get the day over with, holding out hope that after the day is over, your restrictions are lowered and you’re able to sneak out into the forest again.

Making your way to the altar, you face your husband. He looks bored as ever, clearly wanting to do this as much as you did. You were okay with this, this means that he wouldn’t bother trying to find out your whereabouts if you suddenly disappeared in random spurts. As the marriage ceremony began, you zoned out. As they go through the traditions, you’re simply thinking about all the things you’d do if you’re finally freed. That is, until you hear the head guard interrupt the ceremony.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but my men and I have a special gift for the newly-wed royals…” as he says this, the gates open showing a group of guards, and they’re dragging… no.

“Behold! The four-armed beast! Can you all believe he was sitting right by the castle… how stupid of him to believe he wouldn’t be caught by our men”.

The audience gasps as Sukuna struggles against his chains, the two of you lock eyes. If he weren’t in such danger right now, you would run to him in an instant to hold him close, making sure to never let go.

Looking at the Prince, the guard asks “How does the future King feel about slaying this monstrous beast?”

Shit. Fuck.

You needed to think fast, you had to somehow stop this from happening. The Prince accepts the offer with a sinister smile, and he reaches for his sword as Sukuna continues to struggle. In your panic, you grab the sword of one of the guards and stab the Prince directly in the chest.

Blood trickling down his chest… he looks at you, no… he glares at you. Everyone stops for a moment in shock, as if this was the last thing any of them ever expected to happen. Suddenly, someone yells “TREASON!” pointing at you, and guards begin to surround you. Taking advantage of the messy situation, Sukuna is able to break free from his chains and run to grab you. Fighting off guards, you and Sukuna run as fast as possible to get away from the crowd.

You’re both somehow able to outrun the people, mostly thanks to Sukuna’s speed, but this doesn’t stop people from trying to chase you both. Looking behind you for a quick second, you see nothing but a crowd of people yelling with weapons. Wanting to get away at any cost, you followed Sukuna into the shadows of the forest.

Despite making it to the forest, you two continued running as fast as you could to the opposite direction from the kingdom. Thankfully, Sukuna’s stamina seemingly never runs out, and he’s able to run far. You two only stop after what feels like hundreds of miles, and you aren’t able to hear any people nor see any outline of the kingdom.

When you finally stopped to catch your breaths, he said it, the words that you both already had at the tips of your tongues…

“I love you” Sukuna whispered into your ear. He whispered it so softly, in fact, that you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention. You grab his face and cup his cheeks, looking at the gorgeous man in front of you, and with all the love in your heart, you say it back “I love you too”.

He let out a sigh of relief at your words, as if he almost didn’t expect you to say them, and touched your lips with his own once again. “You’re mine” he repeats, and you had no intention of proving him wrong.

The next few hours are spent with the two of you cuddling on the forest floor together and giving each other kisses. You knew in your heart at that moment, holding Sukuna’s large body against your own, that you had no intention of ever going back to that cold and lonely castle, and Sukuna wasn’t going to let you go either, with his four muscular arms holding you against him as you both laid on the floor.

“Well… what do we do now?” Sukuna asks you, he was willing to do anything that you wanted. Hell, he’d run thousands more miles to the edge of the Earth for you if you really asked him to. You think for a moment, before going “Well I can’t go back now… I’m probably charged with treason.. Haha”, you say half-jokingly, though you most definitely would be dead if you went back.

So… the two just kept walking, camping out in different spots of the forest. Thankfully, Sukuna had great survival skills when it came to this, and you turned out to be a quick learner when it came to having to live in the wild.

Eventually, you two stumbled upon an old abandoned cottage, and were able to live there permanently after fixing it up a bit. At first, you two were worried at the prospect of people possibly coming around, but that fear disappeared as the days went on. You only had each other in these deep woods. Though, that was all either of you truly needed in this world.

He was a monster. Though, at this point… you were probably one too.

You never did find out what happened to your kingdom after you ran away. It no longer mattered though, as you were now finally free to live life on your own terms.

There were no more duties to attend to, no Kings and Queens to please, no marriage to be forced into, all that was left to do was live Happily Ever After.

–

A/N: I poured out my soul to this story so thank you so much for reading :,)

648 notes · View notes

cheezritsu · 6 months ago

Text

Reo Mikage is looking down at you. He has a smile meant to be charming, a smile that belongs to a prince, and it’s aimed at you. You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Yes?” You say, presumptuously. The charming smile doesn’t falter.

“I didn’t know I needed something just to talk to you. Is there a line? Do I need a number?” He looks around facetiously but still good natured. Like you’re in on the joke. Like you’re friends.

Reo Mikage is in your class. He’s rich—stupid, filthy rich, so he can afford to be smart. You cannot afford to be dumb. Funny how that works. You doubt this has ever occurred to him.

What has probably also not occurred to Reo Mikage is that he is the last person who should approaching you. There’s eyes peering around every corner at the once secluded interaction. Girls whispering in gaggles, boys who climbed over each other on the picnic benches, even the people that Reo left behind at his lunch table have now circled behind him, watching as he shone his benevolent smile down upon you, a lowly commoner of Hakuho high.

They’re not entranced because it’s Reo, they’re entranced because it’s you. There are two universally known facts about you: one, you hate rich people and two, you hate boys.

And now, in the goddamn quad in broad daylight the living, breathing center of that cursed venn diagram decided to speak to you like you were friends.

“Bro, what?”

Oh, did you say that out loud? Laughter echoes through the quad. His smile does slip now, wavering as it pulls down into uncertainty. His brow furrows.

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you need?”

“Like I said,” his tone isn’t as sweet now. It’s kinda nice that he’s dropping the prince act a little. “Does someone need a reason to just talk to you?”

“I think everyone does? People don’t really just talk to hear themselves talk. Well,” you give him a judgemental once over. “You actually might.”

A ripple of shock takes the makeshift audience. Reo’s face creases even further, annoyance settling in the cracks of his once perfect visage.

You have no trouble admitting that; Reo has hair and eyes like the pansies the school still has planted in the front gates. His tresses look petal soft, too, and his hands are probably the same way. Smooth from knowing nothing of hard work. Long lashes like boys are blessed to have, lips people want smiling in their direction or saying their name. That’s the problem with Reo Mikage; he’s like the boys in the books you read cover to cover. Perfect and pretty, with no use in the outside world. No use in your world, where you live. You could confidently and stupidly use frilly language to describe him because he was as good as fiction to you.

But, you could admit this frustrated flesh and blood expression did wonders on your brain.

“You’re awfully judgmental.”

Your eyes fall the to words below you. “That tends to happen when you’re judged in the first place.”

This is the moment it happens. Something flickers across your face and Reo, who is making your space his business, sees it. A deep, deep anxiety. Sadness he can’t measure.

You snap your book closed, and it releases you both from that moment. You look up again with ferocity. “What do you want, Reo Mikage?”

He doesn’t even know. His friends behind him are snickering at his failure, a failure you’re aware of but shouldn’t be. Can’t be. You’re weren’t even close to ear shot. He was supposed to come over here and charm you, to pacify you as a way to pacify his own boredom, and that just didn’t happen.

Your defiant eyes travel around the quad at the onlookers who know that Reo Mikage was struck speechless by some no name girl in their class and something stutters in his chest.

He’s proud? Yeah, he’s proud of you. He knew you were quiet and generally avoidant, so to hear you spit back words at him made him giddy.

Finally, someone has guts.

The bell chimes and there’s a palpable disappointment. You keep staring him down, waiting for him to move. Reo straightens up, scratching the back of his head.

“Guess we better head in, huh?”

“I guess you should.”

The way you get up is strangely animated to him. You jump up into a crouch, then straighten your legs until you reach your full height. He’s still taller, but you feel bigger. Like you take up more space than him.

You walk right by him. You tense when you’re shoulder to shoulder, and stay that way as you disappear into the building.

“What a bitch,” one of his buddies mumbles, the snickers bouncing around his little group like an echo. Reo turns his head sharply.

Takahashi’s eyes are wide like saucers as an actual glare is pointed at him. “And why would you say that?”

“Uh,” he stutters. “B-because she was rude?”

“So that makes her a bitch?”

“Yes?”

Reo scoffs. “And men who call women bitches for no reason, what do you call them?”

There’s a terse silence that befalls the group as Reo marches back into class. They don’t follow. Instead of an army of footsteps, all Reo can hear is his solitary shoes clicking further away from the scene.

Only stragglers are left in the hallways. Sometimes when he’s walking to the football club after class duties, it’s this quiet around the school, but he’s never really noticed. He’s always too busy talking to someone, or on the phone, or humming contentedly with daydreams in his head.

The black and white color scheme is so sterile. Trophies line this hallway, along with staff photos and class reps for this school year. Class 1-4’s reps were a pair of honor students, a boy and a girl who nearly had the same bangs. They smiled prettily back at Reo as he stepped closer to inspect the bulletin board.

He barely knew their names. He had been chosen as class rep, but declined because of football. Not enough time, couldn’t rise to the occasion like he should have. “Mikages don’t half ass anything. They excel at everything.”

Reo hadn’t even run as rep. Didn’t even raise his hand before everyone decided it should be him. He remembered the count being near unanimous on the boys side. Save for two votes.

One was the guy who ended up being rep. Reo cocks his head at the photo: Tadashi Morimoto. He has a flipoy middle part like Reo, but with more texture. Brown hair and eyes. Handsome, but typically so. A good rep.

You were the other vote against him.

Reo puffs out his chest. Perhaps you are judgemental, but the good kind. Maybe he should trust you, because your judgments prove right. Maybe Reo could learn from you.

He thinks he already has.

#I wrote this last night like a fever dream #if you can believe it it’s not even from a Reo fic #my first Blue Lock post and it’s literally Reo. please #blue lock #bllk #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk reo #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo x reader #reo mikage x you #bllk anime #blue lock anime #bllk manga #blue lock manga

195 notes · View notes

botchedsundoll · 7 months ago

Text

G. WONGSAWAT, O. TOKITA, R. KURE, SP. YOROIZUKA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; general relationship hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; none!

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; STOP ik this isnt re, im just deprived and decided to write this myself ummmmmmm, established relationships looolollol, random short hcs i have

G. WONGSAWAT

is always checking up on you, making sure you’re taking care of yourself

always asking whether you’ve ate today or not. he just wants to see you happy and healthy ok!! if you say no or suspects you’re lying to him, he’s immediately sitting you down wherever closest and shoving forkfuls of food into your mouth

with that in mind, whenever he’s cooking anything he’s always calling you over to the kitchen to be his little taste tester. spoon in his hand, other hand cupped under your chin as he just feeds you and patiently waits for your feedback

which is literally always positive

refrains from publicising your relationship too much, everyone KNOWS you two are together but know nothing about what goes on behind closed doors

his favourite sight? when he wakes up in the morning and you’re still asleep in his arms. will genuinely just lay there for a minute or two simply staring at you, brushing stray pieces of hair out your face

if you have long hair, he definitely asks whether he can help you with it. whether that’s braiding it, curling it, straightening it, brushing it, whatever!!! he just finds it really intimate and loves helping you in any way he can

definitely buys you some expensive ass hair oils and insists on putting it on your hair himself

and so, he lets you do his hair! although he mostly limits it to brushing it and tying it into his usual ponytail, or a braid if the two of you are at home. can’t have everything you want sadly

on one hand, he’d absolutely love for you to be there in the crowd of his boxing matches and cheer him on. yet on the other hand, he doesn’t want to mix work life into his life with you - as a result, quite conflicted on the topic

rama knew about you as one of the first people for a fact. probably sensed something was up, and decided to pry it out of gaolang. insisted on meeting you the next day

if you do happen to wake up whilst he’s getting ready for work, you’re always helping him. buttoning his shirt for him, tying his tie for him and smoothing out his blazer before sending him off with a kiss. such simple things are enough to make his heart flutter with love

arguements are practically non existent. and if they do happen, he takes a very mature approach to them and sorts it out as soon as possible - he doesn’t want to argue with you!!

O. TOKITA

ALWAYS picks food off the pan whenever you’re cooking something, which always ends up with a scolding from you and a utensil smacking his fingers

since ohma has a massive appetite, he’s always eating. which results in him also always trying to shove food down your throat - saying things like you need to grow big and strong or whatever

he’s SO distracting and annoying whenever he knows you’re trying to do something and focus. all of a sudden he’s all over you, constantly nipping at your skin and wrapping his arms around you, leaving kisses on your collarbone

literally only to get a reaction out of you. once he does he just smirks to himself and leaves you alone

pretends to fight you. you’ll be stood in the kitchen doing something with your back towards him, he’ll come up behind you and start throwing punches and kicks at you (which don’t land, obviously he doesn’t actually want to hurt you)

he’s always touching you in some sort of way. fingers gently wrapped around your wrist to stop you from walking off, arms wrapped around you in bed, knee touching yours when you’re sat besides eachother. he can’t help it

using big words with him is beautiful. he’ll simply stare at you, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted as he has absolutely no fucking clue what you just said to him. or he goes along with it and just guesses whether it’s something positive or negative

arguements are quite… common. most likely something to do with him and his fighting - which results in the two of you in screaming matches and ohma leaving for a couple hours or even the night, most likely to get in a fight to let off some steam. comes back all apologetic, tugging you into his arms, back against his chest, and peppering kisses all over your face + neck. ends up with you patching whatever injuries he’d sustained on his little escapade

ohma has a talent. and that is napping anywhere in your apartment possible - as long as you’re besides him. he can’t explain it - something about being in an environment he deems safe and you huddled up against his side just causes him to knock out. the amount of times he’s fallen asleep whilst you two were watching a movie is simply laughable

he can definitely outsass you at times without even realising. have you seen how damn sassy his stance is with his hand on his hip??

kazuo is DEFINITELY very fond of you and the fact you can put up with ohma, despite how rough around the edges he is

R. KURE

he can be SO petty and annoying

constantly riling you up on purpose just to get a reaction out of you, pissing you off just because he feels like it - he genuinely finds it funny and entertaining

you have to drag this guy to sleep. he simply won’t do it himself - says he’s not tired and needs to train some more or whatever. tug on his arm, keep on whining to him about it, give him a pout or something, he’ll cave eventually

with that in mind, as much as he hates to admit it he is a complete sucker for your touch. would rather die than admit it, though. you are definitely not finding out that you interlocking your arm with his, or holding onto his bicep, when the two of you are walking makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

takes GREAT pride in the fact you feel as though he can protect you from anything. and don’t get me wrong, he won’t even hesitate to kill for you

the phrase ‘do you want me to kill them’ is used so often. but it’s gotten to the point you don’t even know if it’s a joke or not because of how serious his expression is and the complete lack of humour in his voice (it’s not, he’s deadly serious)

much to your surprise, he has quite a hard time saying no to you. and trust me he HATES it, finds it so weak and pathetic that a pretty little thing like you can genuinely make it hard for him to make decisions. usually ends up in him doing some stupid bullshit you asked him to do with you and him grumbling under his breath about it

SP. YOROIZUKA

human heater. he runs so warm

as a result, sleeping with him in summer is a genuine nightmare. his grip on you is TIGHT, and you best believe me you aren’t going anywhere at night - he’s a heavy sleeper despite never actually wanting to go to sleep

saw can be such a kid at times. especially when it comes to sleeping - for him, most ideally he’d be waking up at sunrise and going to bed at midnight. and so you basically have to coax him into bed every night otherwise only god knows when he’d finally get some shut eye

he WILL do basically anything for you, no matter how stupid it may be. as long as it puts a smile on your face, he couldn’t care less truthfully.

have you seen those photos of big muscular guys sleeping under like hello kitty blankets or smthing with a really feminine pattern on?? yeah thats him

if he could have it his way, he’d carry you on his shoulders everywhere. a; he enjoys having you close to him. b; it makes him feel good that he’s helping you out. c; he’s touching you. get the gist? he absolutely loves being around you

he actually tries to be quieter around you!! actually speaking in a normal ‘inside’ voice around you so he doesn’t burst your eardrums and cause you unnecessary medical bills - see, he loves you!

the children in his village absolutely adore you two, always running up to the pair of you practically the moment you leave the house and badgering you with endless questions

absolutely loves cooking with you, he likes it in general but with you? he could yell in excitement - but of course he won’t, he has to focus after all!

play fights with him are a definite. fake punches and kicks thrown before he grabs you in his arms and just peppers kisses all over your face

he’s not too good with anything needing common sense or genuine thought, that much is obvious. but he’s surprisingly a very hands-on guy, and really good with fixing things

taps broken? he’s on it. a pipe burst? he’s already there fixing it! definitely talks your ear off whilst fixing it though

has absolutely no problem falling asleep anywhere and everywhere. once it’s nap time, he’s dragging you down with him and you’re going to sleep too - you don’t get a say in it once he has an iron grip around you

#ೃ⁀➷. olka’s bs #wtf is this idk #why is it so hard to tag this bs #kengan ashura #gaolang wongsawat #ohma tokita #raian kure #tokita ohma x reader #kaolan wongsawat #saw paing yoroizuka #raian x reader #kengan x reader #kengan ashura x reader #kenganverse

219 notes · View notes

chigsprincess · 22 days ago

Note

Hiiii! I'm the anon from "Effortlessly Beautiful" (I LOVED ITTTT)

May I please request Another one for Chigiri but with a Nagi-liked reader? (But reader doesn't sleep 24/7) If u get what I mean 🫶

Please and thank you author!! 💕💕

- 🌚

Speed Kills, but So Does Getting Off the Couch

a/n: hii! welcome back! i’m really glad you enjoyed the other one and thank you again for requesting! I hope you’ll like this one as well!

Hyoma was always in a rush, whether because he forgot about the time while he was straightening his hair, making him already twenty minutes late to his meeting, or because he had a match to win; he was running. You, on the other hand were as lazy as it gets.

You had your gaming setup in the corner of your apartment (natural habitat), with a nest of beanbags, snacks, and fuzzy blankets. Your perfect day? Leveling up in cozy farming sims, napping mid-quest, and maybe ordering takeout if you got ‘too exhausted’ from deciding what to cook.

Hyoma swears you remind him of someone he knows, but he just can’t quite put a finger on who exactly it is. Not that it matters, he is actually very much a fan of your laidback character. It’s a breath of fresh air to get tangled in your arms after a long day of practice, just napping away all the exhaustion. The best part is? You never complain. In fact, you probably enjoy it more than he does. You just read, or play your switch while playing with his hair, doing your own thing, but still letting him relax.

“You’ve been in the exact same position since I left this morning.” Hyoma pointed out, stepping into your shared bedroom. You turned around with your spiny chair, like some kids movie super villain, and yawned. “Incorrect. I got up to microwave pizza rolls, then returned to the exact same position.”

He smiled, rolling his eyes at your adorable expression, but much less adorable explanation. “I just ran 20 kilometres, both ways.” He complained, definitely jealous of your morning, but you just hummed in acknowledgment, getting up to wrap him in an embrace. “Cool. I leveled up my fishing skill and caught The Legend.” Hyoma relaxed into your hug instantly, his sore muscles suddenly didn’t bother him anymore. He squeezed his arms around you, determined to squish you against him as much as possible. “You should come on a run with me sometimes.” He mumbled sleepily, making you pull back from him almost immediately. “Only if I can use the electric roller while you wheeze your lungs out.” You answered with a deadpan expression, but he just hugged you again, tugging you towards the bed.

“You are no fun. I promise I’ll adjust to your pace.” He chuckled, pushing you down into the mountain of plushies you apparently needed for a good night's sleep, and cuddled up against you. “That means we are going on a walk. I don’t run, too much effort.” You waved him off, but he was already fast asleep in your arms. You just sighed, petting his head gently, to not wake him. Maybe you should accompany him just once.

word count: 412

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #chigsprincess #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x reader #blue lock chigiri #chigiri fluff #bllk chigiri #chigiri x you

82 notes · View notes

piastriprincess · 1 month ago

Text

the day that i met you (i started dreaming) ⸻ george russell x reader .

featuring george russell , american!reader , meet cute , fluff . word count 1.6k author’s note requested by anon , i hope i did it justice ! this is my first time writing for george but i actually love the way it turned out ! i know he lives in monaco now but he’s a proper english gent to me forever . i used some details from my own study abroad so don’t tell me it’s not accurate … it is TO ME ! argue with the wall . come tell me what you thought of the fic or send me a req <3 title from kingston by faye webster .

21: library books and pouring rain .

Your first day in London wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, you think bitterly.

It had started off perfect, really. You woke up to the sun streaming into the windows of your brand-new apartment flat, a tiny, cozy little place to call home while you did your PhD year abroad. With the heat of late summer still hanging in the air, you ventured out to the university library. Walking down the cobblestone streets of Covent Garden towards the imposing neo-Gothic building, admiring the charming little brick buildings with their flower box windows, you were feeling more inspired than you’d ever been back home. You could picture yourself in a movie, the charming young American heroine taking on a big city for the first time. The library was beautiful too, an airy circular room with books stacked all the way up to a massive domed skylight. Although your dissertation was still a somewhat blurry concept, the stack of borrowed books you’d collected and printouts you’d carefully annotated felt like progress, and you hugged them to your chest like a shield as you walked out through the stately oak double doors. Yes, things were going well in London.

Everything was going so well, in fact, that you didn’t think to check the weather before you left the library. Rookie mistake.

The first drop fell with a fat, ominous splat on your cheek; it was enough to make you pause in the middle of the sidewalk and look up quizzically at the hazy grey sky. You swear you only stopped for a second, but it was enough. The skies cracked open suddenly, and before you knew it the rain was coming down like sheets and soaking through your shirt.

You didn’t think. You just broke into a run, sneakers splashing through puddles and arms clutching your precious papers to your chest. By the time you managed to duck underneath the eaves of the nearest building — a cozy, golden-lit little café you hadn’t noticed on your earlier walk — you were completely drenched.

And now here you are, hair plastered to your forehead, jeans suctioned to your legs. And your research. Oh, your research. The ink on your printouts is as hopelessly smeared and runny as your mascara, and the spines on some of your books are so warped they look like they’re cringing right along with you. Forget the charming heroine, you think — you’re a bumbling fool, completely undone by basic British weather. The pouring rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon, and you don’t even have an umbrella. Carefully placing your books on the ground, you slump against the wall, watching the rain blur the sharp edges of the buildings as hot tears prick at the back of your eyes.

A little bell chimes from somewhere over your head, the café door opens, and then a voice: “Blimey. Are you alright?”

You look up sharply at the man standing above you and nearly gasp. Dashing, that’s the only word to describe him — tall and lean in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, chestnut hair falling effortlessly across his forehead, and big, brilliant blue eyes trained directly on your face. You’re suddenly very aware of how you probably look, makeup smudged under your eyes and your clothes clinging to your body. You wipe quickly at your eyes, straightening up. “Oh. I’m fine, thanks,” you say as you tuck a soggy strand of hair behind your ear, and you hate how hollow it sounds.

“American,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice. You nod in response. “Well, welcome to London,” he says, smiling, and your stomach flips.

You try to smile back, but it’s forced. “Thanks. Bit of a rough first day.”

He frowns. “Well. That won’t do. London’s brilliant, you can’t have a bad impression of it right off. Here, take this.”

He holds out an umbrella to you, handle first. It’s sleek, black, expensive — the type of thing carried by a man who plans ahead, who’s never, ever surprised. There’s a little circular logo carved into the handle, three lines converging in the center. Mercedes, you think distantly, although you’re not sure you’re right; you don’t know a thing about cars. You stare at the umbrella, at everything it represents, for an instant longer, then back up at him. “I can’t,” you say reluctantly. “How would I get it back to you?”

That stops him short, and he stands there considering for a moment. You take the opportunity to drink him in again, eyes trailing up the oxford shirt with the rolled up shirtsleeves exposing tanned, muscular forearms, the strong jawline, the full lips.

“Well, I’m heading home too,” he says finally, with a soft smile. “I don’t mind walking you.”

You hesitate again. You don’t know him, and normally you would be more suspicious of a strange man knowing where you live. But — and it sounds crazy, but you know it — he’s a gentleman. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, like the romantic lead of a period drama, telling you it would really be his honor to escort you home. Against all odds, you find yourself wanting to say yes.

“Okay. But you have to tell me your name first,” you say, raising your eyebrows. You tell yourself you’re being safe, making sure he’s not a serial killer. But really, you just want to know it.

He laughs a little at that, though you’re not sure why it’s funny, and extends his hand to you. “George. George Russell.”

You shake his hand, and tell him your name in return. He repeats it, and it sounds like honey dripping off his tongue, sweeter than you’ve ever heard it before. You let him step closer to you and open the umbrella above your heads, and he scoops your books under his arm without even asking you. It’s so ridiculously kind, reminds you so much of home, that your heart does a little stutter in your chest.

“Right, shall we?” he says, his shoulder brushing against yours as you maneuver slowly down the sidewalk. The contact feels electric, heat pooling under your skin. “So tell me, how’d you end up in London?”

You’re not normally so open with someone you barely know. Maybe it’s the way that he’s the first person on this continent who feels like he’s actually listening to you, maybe you just want him to know you, but you open your mouth and the words start spilling out. You tell him about your dissertation, your family back home, how scary it is to be in a completely unfamiliar world, but exciting too. He’s quiet as he listens, thoughtful in his responses: he’s close to his family, tells you all about his travels all over the globe for work. The walk is all too short. You find yourself wanting to know everything about him now that you’ve had a little taste.

“Thank you,” you say as you gather your papers in your hands, reluctant to leave now that you’ve reached your destination. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Couldn’t very well leave a damsel in distress, could I?” he smiles at you, those big blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly of me.”

You smile up at him, and it isn’t forced at all. “Well. Thank you anyway, George.” He’s looking down at you through his lashes, eyes soft. The air between you feels charged, weighty. If this were a movie, he’d kiss you right now, and there’d be nothing gentlemanly about it. You think, for a moment, that you see him leaning in; your eyes flutter shut, and—

George clears his throat, blinking hard. “No problem.”

Your eyes snap open, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You let go of the umbrella, and it feels like you’re letting go of something important, something you should be holding onto with both hands. But there was a moment, you know there was. And he didn’t take it. You turn, walking slowly up your steps, shoulders set just a little lower than they were before.

You’re fumbling for your keys, about to go inside, when he calls your name. You turn around. “Yeah?”

He shuffles his feet slightly, like he can’t decide whether to walk away or come closer. He’s nervous, you realize, and your heart swoops in your chest watching the soft line of his mouth as he worries his lip in between his teeth. “C-could I get your number? You know, in case you need another escort out of the rain.”

You just smile at him, pulling your phone out of your pocket and tossing it to him with rain-slick hands. He catches it — reflexes surprisingly quick — and starts tapping in a new contact. You watch his brows knit together slightly as he types before handing it back to you, his fingers brushing over yours. You don’t even pretend to ignore the sparks that simmer under your skin this time, and at the last moment you press up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you head back up the stairs. George goes pink up to the ears and stands there for a moment, fingers pressed against the spot your lips touched, smiling at you like he can't believe you're real.

Maybe you were the heroine all along, you think dreamily to yourself, standing on your stoop as you watch his back retreat into the rain. You just got the genre wrong. He's the one who turns around this time, like he can’t help but take one last look at you before he rounds the corner, and you smile so wide your cheeks hurt.

Funny that. You were in a romance the whole time.

#f1 #f1 x reader #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #f1 imagine #george russell #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #george russell x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #mywork.

135 notes · View notes