#the One day it decides to be COLD IN HERE!!
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"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy
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for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.
what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.
and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.
even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.
your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.
you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.
how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!
you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.
the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.
you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.
but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.
you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.
but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?
you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.
you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.
huh?
you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.
you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.
you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.
your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.
"morning, sleepyhead."
you tilted your head.
"caleb?" you whispered.
"surprised?"
you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.
"what are you-"
"hey."
his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.
"pipsqueak, are you sick?"
you jolt, looking off to the side.
"not really, its just—"
you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.
"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"
"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.
"that's—"
"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.
"just the past two days.."
"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"
"it was just a sore throat at first!"
"and you're telling me this is still just that?"
before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.
you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.
"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.
"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."
"that's okay, i wanted to—"
"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."
he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.
you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.
he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.
luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.
which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.
just like he used to.
-
"that's way too many, caleb!"
"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."
"is this really necessary??"
"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"
"no.."
"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"
"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"
"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"
"caleb!"
you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.
"fine, fine, here."
one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.
"how about now?"
you deadpan.
"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.
"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."
you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.
"do i really—"
"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."
you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.
caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.
"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.
you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.
"bless you."
you pout at him.
he points to your plate with his chopsticks.
"eat."
"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.
the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.
in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.
you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.
once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.
"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"
you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.
he grins.
always so cute...
"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"
you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.
"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"
"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.
"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.
you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.
no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.
his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.
"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"
"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.
"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"
you sniffle. he did have a point...
"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"
"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."
you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.
you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.
"caleb! i could've—"
"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."
you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.
"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."
"maybe cause you missed me so much?
"yeah, maybe."
his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.
"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"
"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."
he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.
"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"
"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."
you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.
"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.
"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.
"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"
"c-caleb!"
he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.
"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.
"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.
"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.
he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.
he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.
"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"
"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.
"and comfy. smells like you..."
even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.
"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.
in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.
he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.
"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."
even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.
-
extra:
half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.
it was a message from a friend of his.
wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.
grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.
can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~
aw, next time, then!
he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.
"can't i rest near you?"
you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.
his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.
silly girl...
there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—
whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.
always.
and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.
-
a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace caleb#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x you#love and deepspace fanfic#lnds caleb#lads caleb#l&ds caleb#caleb x reader#caleb x you#xia yizhou#love and deepspace caleb x reader#lnds caleb x reader#lads caleb x reader#love and deepspace fluff#lads x reader#love and deepspace fic#lads fanfic
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CROSSING PATHS
— right place, right time AU
summary: quinn meets an unlikely friend, and its owner.
warnings: none! wc: 1.6k
note: hope you guys enjoy this and the concept of this au :)
The captain was feeling incredibly overwhelmed- trying to find out why his team just couldn’t pull through in the end, no matter the amount of work and effort they put in at practice. It took a toll on him the hardest, his confidence going down the drain with every sound of the buzzer that announced their loss to the whole arena.
While others would congratulate him regardless, giving him the whole, “You’re doing great.” spiel, he- for one- didn’t believe it, and two, he didn’t care for great. He wanted perfection.
“Hun, get out of your apartment, forget about hockey for a minute.” His mother said over the phone after he had called her after a particularly tough OT loss, “It might clear your head a bit.”
Quinn groaned, his mother saying the impossible, “I don’t need a walk, Ma. We just need to win.”
Ellen’s laughter echoed throughout the apartment, “Q, you’ve got to unwind. I’m scared you’re going to blow up that head of yours.”
On some level, Quinn knew she was right. I mean, it was visibly obvious when his mind was running a million miles per hour. He hesitated before saying, “Fine. But if all I get from this is frostbite, you’re taking care of me.”
“When am I not?”
Quinn let out a lighthearted laugh, saying his goodbyes before going to put his sneakers on and grab a warmer hoodie than the one he had on. He looked at himself in the mirror when he passed it in his hall, his hair disheveled and the exhaustion becoming more and more prominent every day.
As he grabbed his door keys to walk out of the apartment, he briefly debated grabbing his hockey bag that sat next to his doorway and going to the rink instead. He quickly talked himself out of that idea, ultimately deciding that it would be counterintuitive to forget about hockey for a bit, whilst playing hockey.
~~~
Quinn made his way to the park nearby, settling on just walking wherever his feet took him instead of following an instructed trail. It was chilly, the Vancouver air surprisingly warmer than it had been in previous winters, but still cold enough to send a sharp shiver through his body.
His eyes wandered as he let his senses become filled with the sounds of nature and the conversations of people passing by. Everyone looked so relaxed and carefree, giving Quinn a sliver of hope that he, too, would feel that way after a few hours here.
He had become so entranced by his surroundings that his brain barely registered a voice quickly approaching that yelled, “Watch out!”
Quinn turned around, a sudden pressure coming down onto his lower stomach as a medium-sized golden retriever jumped on him with enough force to have him stumbling a bit, but not enough to knock him down completely. The animal’s tail wagged rapidly, its panting breaths reaching Quinn’s nose as it looked up at him.
“Hey, bud.” Quinn cooed, petting its head, making the dog even more excited.
You came up to him, leash around your waist as you panted, catching your breath before speaking up, “I am so sorry, she doesn’t normally do this.” He looked up, his jaw dropping slightly as he took you in. He noticed your hair had fallen out of your updo, now messily draped across your shoulders and back, your mascara running the slightest bit under your eyes due to sweat, but still keeping your lashes up and curled. But most of all, he noticed that gleam in your eyes that was a mix of joy and relaxation.
The dog had now put her paws down fully on the concrete, beginning to circle around Quinn’s legs and even trying to go in between them before a snap of your fingers brought her back to those simple circles.
“It’s okay,” Quinn muttered, trying to keep his composure as his heart thrummed rapidly in his chest. “Cute dog.”
“Thank you.” You smiled, noticing her tail not slowing down in the slightest in his presence. “She seems to really like you, she’s not normally like this with strangers.”
Your words seemed to relax him a little bit, a grin appearing on his face as he squatted down, putting himself on level with the pup and rubbing her head, “What’s her name?”
“Chilli.” You answered.
Quinn gave you a look of confusion, “I was actually talking to her."
It took you a minute to realize what he had meant, but when it clicked, you let out a bubbly laugh that had Quinn’s head reeling, “Smooth. I’m Y/N.”
He gave Chilli one last pat before standing up, sticking his hand out like you were some lady in the office, “Quinn.”
You shook his hand, laughing quietly at the formality before meeting his gaze fully this time, your brain registering his admirable features, which were all of them.
The curve of his nose, his long lashes, and those eyes that reflected a look of relief. You caught yourself staring a little longer than you intended to, clearing your throat with a smile before looking down at Chilli. You hooked the link of the leash to her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t try this stunt again with another person.
“Well, Quinn, if you’re not too busy, would you like to join us on the rest of our walk?” You proposed, growing enough courage to ask.
Quinn was sure his heart exploded.
“Yeah. I’d like that.” He said as smoothly as possible.
The toothy smile that appeared on your face after he agreed had a matching one on his face immediately after. The two of you started walking, letting Chilli lead the way as she walked ahead of you, sniffing the ground as she went.
It was a comfortable silence that fell between you and Quinn, but he wanted to know more about the mystery girl and her dog that walked beside him.
“So,” He began, “Why the harness instead of a collar?”
You turned your head to face him, “I’m not a fan of collars. I know I wouldn’t like it if someone was tugging at my neck. Plus, this gives me a little more control of her without having to pull at her.” Quinn hummed, “Do you work with animals?”
“When I have time, I volunteer with this local animal shelter a few minutes from here.” Your words registered in his mind, the conversation flowing smoothly. Before he could ask you something else, you chimed in first. “What about you? What do you do?”
He hesitated. He knew he couldn’t just say, “I’m actually a professional hockey player.” Unfortunately for him, he did say it out loud instead of keeping it in his head like he had intended.
When he caught the words spewing out of him before he could stop them, he braced himself, ready for you to grill him about his career, and income, or even pull out your phone to google him to find out yourself. So what you said next shocked him a little bit.
“Oh, that’s fun. Do you like it?” You asked calmly, keeping your gaze straight ahead.
He let out a breath of relief, “Uh, yeah. I mean, not a whole lot right now.” You tilted your head, facing him again, “What’s that mean?”
“My team’s in a bit of a slump right now and we can’t seem to win anything.” He explained vaguely, not wanting to let himself fall into a deep conversation about hockey with someone he just met.
Luckily for him, you didn’t press. You simply hummed and switched topics that had more to do with him rather than his job.
The two of you walked and talked about anything and everything, and by the time you returned back to where you had started, Quinn felt as if he’d known you for ten years instead of just two hours.
And by the end of it, he wasn’t thinking about hockey at all.
“Thanks for joining us, Quinn.” You announced.
Quinn smiled, “Thanks for asking. I really needed that.”
You stood there a bit awkwardly as Chilli licked at his shoes, her way of saying goodbye before you verbalized it and said, “I’ll see you around.” turning to walk away from him and back to your apartment.
Before you could, Quinn stopped you, walking to your side again so you would stop and face him. He stared at you for a minute before snapping himself out of his daze, pulling out his phone, and asking, “Do you think I could get your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime.”
His pupils nearly shaped hearts when you flashed him another smile, a small giggle coming from your throat as you took his unlocked phone from his hands and typed in your number and name into it.
“Thanks.” He cheesed, “I’ll text you.”
You bit your lip innocently, “Can’t wait.’”
He bid you goodbye, relishing in the way you turned around to look at him when you were a good distance away. He smiled to himself before making his way back to the apartment. On his way, he went to his call logs and facetimed his mom yet again.
“You okay?” She picked up with a look of confusion on her face.
Quinn nodded, the smile on his face indescribably giddy, “Thank you for making me come out here.”
“You look a lot better now, what happened?” She teased, but there was a hint of relief in her voice as he looked… lighter.
“I met someone.”
#jo speaks#right place right time au#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x reader#qh43#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic
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( crow choir. entry one ) ── dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )
author's note at the end
you have three older brothers- no, two older brothers. you’ve only heard of the third. you can hardly think of them as such, feeling traitorous to your old family… families. but you are also a lonely child, so you give them permission to be props of your plain life.
the eldest, with stark blue eyes and dimples at his near-permanent smiles is named richard grayson. he’d given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you don’t talk to him, but sometimes you wish you did.
you know nothing of the second, apart from his first name; jason. the usual answers to unasked questions, that piece together via general conversations, don’t form here, and you can’t be bothered to ask. you wonder where he is, does he not come to visit?
the youngest of the three is older than you, tim drake the butler says, by maybe one or two years, you never tried to figure it out. he came to the house about a few months after you arrived, but seems far more involved with bruce’s business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). there’s a familiar twitch to his brows, and you relate it to old inquisitive roommates, the ones that tried to figure you out without asking questions and always gave up eventually.
it's a relief he doesn't even try at all.
it does feel a little odd, to not have to talk to anyone just to shoo them away. you strangely miss it, the feeling of being irritated at bothersome small talk. in the silence of the manor, which had not much for a child to do, you start to feel lonely
you've never felt lonely before. alone, yes, isolated, absolutely, but lonely? you've never wanted company. not from anyone who wasn't... forget it.
and thus, you're in an odd situation. you want to be a part of the family, but you have no interest in talking to them. why, the mere idea makes you sweat all over, and you prefer your few meals in your room.
you don't like it. wanting so badly to converse with your brothers, get to know them the way you knew your old previous foster-care siblings, but not being able to.
in your old houses, the children would be somewhat put into forced proximity, there was no choice other than to call out for company. you'd gotten absurdly used to being reached out to without having to do it yourself. your brothers must be busy, or you must be too quiet for them to notice you around.
so with all the courage you could muster, you crept up to an idle older brother, visiting after so long from bludhaven. you might implode from the short moment where he looked at you with confusion, not knowing who you are, before giving you a awkward smile of acknowledgement. no matter, it's not his fault.
he nods off your subtle attempt at asking for his time, maybe you're not being clear enough? it's enough to put you off, so you leave quickly after he gives you a small promise to talk later, maybe get out of the house for a while.
it's such a small thing, but it makes you embarrassed. you try to build up a little stubbornness, and look to find tim. but when you find him immersed deeply in a book, a journal of some sort, you decide otherwise and leave.
it's okay. you'll try again! when you're feeling better. better and livelier.
livelier.
your patterned quilt does little to keep away the monstrous cold of gotham's winter nights, and does it wreck though your nerves and leave you shivering.
the butler; alfred, had given you a good understanding of the room's systems, yet another thing that'd take time to get used to, and you knew the switches that would connect your vents to the central heating system.
but it feels so surreal, and the familiarity of huddling into your own ice cold limbs for warmth is a comfort you can't let go off just yet. you mustn't allow these new privileges to make you forget who you are. what you are, and what you deserve.
you recall a young boy in one of your old homes, discussing earnestly with your 'sisters' about what he'd do if he had all of gotham's money. the prospect of being filthy rich had always irked you to a small degree, to be well-off when others struggle. was it guilt?
he'd gone on and on about the different things he'd get. a curly-haired poodle, a shining red bicycle, clothes that made him look like a proper gentleman, from a gentler city. you wonder solemnly where he is now, wishing you could share the fortunes you've been shoved into with him. someone who wanted it, deserved it.
deserving... deserving something is odd. whatever makes an individual deserving of something? the hardships they recieve, and the hardships they pass out?
you don’t remember your mother, having gained metaphorical consciousness at the age of six, when your sister started taking care of you instead. you made out from her teary, drunk mumblings that she was an awfully sophisticated woman. she’d colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her ‘business’ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixen’s.
what your sister muttered most about was her many nights away from home. one-sided conversations that plunged a small anchor to your heart, because you knew you were a product of one of them.
when she was in a bitter mood, your sister never shied away from berating you for your existence. she, unlike you, was born in wedlock. yes, to an unhappy couple, who threw picture frames and cheap souvenirs at each other before splitting up, but she knew her father.
a ridiculously strange thing to hold above one’s head. “i knew my absent father. no one knows yours.” but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply.
were those hardships? did you deserve them? others have it worse, right? so do you deserve this? this wealth?
now that you do know your father, you can’t help but resent the idea of knowing. did he know? that he left his child to an unbecoming family and an irresponsible sister? did he know that the guilt of starving your sister to eat yourself made you so incredibly weak-minded at the idea of being full? did he know that you refuse to switch the heater on in the cold, because you don’t know if your old foster siblings got the same luxury? all while the elites of gotham stay in their glasshouses with their rose gardens and wine cupboards.
you can’t put your finger to it. it’s not jealousy, it’s not resentment, it’s not hatred for his absence so far��� is it guilt?
you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. you’ve lived a lifetime of pet mice from old caretakers, mice that died from the dust that creeped out of cracked floor boards and owls that haunted your window sills. a lifetime of reminiscing about a sobbing woman in your apartment, thinking about all your promises of providing a better life for her, only for her to die in front your eyes. a lifetime of wondering why mommy didn’t come back. why daddy's never there. who daddy even is.
someone else should have it. someone else should have the option to ask the butler for a piece of chocolate pastry at an odd time. to know about their father after countless days of not knowing him. to feel pretty in new dress suits after years of wearing the same two sets of clothes every week.
someone who deserves it more.
your sister.
you miss her.
small events make you change too fast for even your own liking. small things made you so desperately attached to your big sister, small things made you so frightened, so ill, to try to talk to brothers who barely knew you only by your shadow. small things made you tolerate your father more, and mourn the fact you couldn't ever connect to him the way the others did.
small, small things. that troubeled you too much, made you decide it was time to leave. running away from reality in the comfort of your mind when you zone out, is not much different from physically running away, right? troublesome things are not worth the trouble. so you'll run away, and you'll be free. of duties you were never given.
yet another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes. who leaves a home of riches with a light mind, with the desires of soaring through lost years in gotham like the daftest of pigeons, with no worries or vows. they leave a home of blood and bonds with a heavy heart, lamenting that this time, the choice to leave a permanent, forever family lay on them. they left unspoken conversations unsaid, and imaginary memories within their imagination.
...but, these conversations, these fake memories, become the objects of obsession, for those left behind.
where's the little crow who stalked the corridors, whose naive, cloudy eyes watched from behind walls?
alfred, where's (name)?
INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! incase it was unclear, the sections jump around in the timeline. i did want to leave it to reader interpretation, but since this is the footer, there's no harm in explaining. "you have three brothers..." and "your patterned quilt does little..." are interchangeable within the plot. both are placed after tim's given the mantle of robin, but before jason's re-entry as the red hood. the last part however, is well after both, and damian's entry. anyway you can consider this entry as like, a vague plot summary? there's a lot that happens in between and after, most of the story is about after, but i like setting the ground for this stuff.
once again, if you are interested in the series, do interact! comments, reblogs, etc are so appriciated, to anyone who posts on tumblr! i'll try to get the next entry in soon, but i can't confirm anything!
thank you for reading!!
#saria's 💤 writing#saria 💤 says#'25 run: crow choir#batfam x reader#angst#batfamily#batsis reader#batman fanfiction#batboys x batsis#batsis!reader#damian wayne x batsis#batfam x batsis#bruce wayne x batsis#jason todd x batsis#batfam#dick grayson x batsis#tim drake x batsis#cassandra cain x sister reader#stephanie brown#dc x reader#barbara gordon#barbara gordon x batsis#stephanie brown x batsis#neglected reader#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd
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ᑎᑌᗰᗷ 𓌉◯𓇋
A/N: First fic on this acc!! Enjoy this little angsty fic :) Neglected bat!reader breaks their sobriety after their family makes a grave mistake. Sure Reader should be used to it by now, but offering them a drink? At a Gala they forced you to attend? On your birthday? What a load of bull. You pray that Damian doesn't find out...but sadly they don't get accepted. No beta reader, we die like Jason Todd TW: Substance abuse, alcoholism, brief mention of underage drinking, self harm etc .
𐙚"Don't let them see you like this" -Alex G 𐙚
ᑎᑌᗰᗷ
That's what it felt like, not a single though in your mind. It was consumed by the taste on your lips, the bottle in your hand. Limp, you sat in your bathtub, surrounded by broken glass and empty beer cans. The loud city of Gotham seemed to finally be silence, it seemed distant. It was the only thing keeping you from fully drifting away, the faint sound of cars, the only time you thanked this godforsaken city for being loud.
Guilt hadn't reached your mind yet, you only wanted to drink. Focusing on how the burn in your throat made you feel, oh how it made you feel so alive. Each breath felt sharp against your throat, it made you want more. The alcohol coursed through your veins, providing an escape, providing a warmth no person ever gave to you.
Leaning more into the cold porcelain you stared at the shattered glass by your feet. You could feel its sharp edges against your feet, it was a constant reminder of your mistakes.
Unfixable, the glass and your life. But right now that didn't matter, only the bottle existed, the burn and the urge to finish it. You managed the strength to pull your arm up, tilting your head back to feel it. The taste you missed so much, a taste you wanted to forget had no idea why you would neglect. What a day to celebrate your twenty second birthday! Relapsing after two years wasn't your plan today but it sure was better than anything else that happened today.
The night, displayed by your bathroom window, taunted you. It made your mind float through an intoxicated haze. Pieces of the day coming back to you, as well as the -now broken- promises you made. A sigh left your lungs and it was evident that she had drank, so much. All of this, just because of one question. A question that shouldn't have broken your heart as much as it did, really it was pathetic.
"Why aren't you drinking tonight?"
The sound of your 'brothers' voice was distant, and so was the guilt that was soon to consume you. But as the line between fiction and reality blurred more with another sip, there was not a worry in your head. The guilt will come later, but here it was no where to be seen. The only thing you could grasp was the bottle you used to keep on the highest shelf.
A shelf that was now empty, thanks to your so-called family's echoes. Echoes that were forever etched into your brain. Not only had they forgotten about your birthday, forcing you into a social event that you already dreaded, but they had also forgotten about your sobriety. Was not drinking on your twenty-first not an obvious sign? The question had filled you with anger at first. Your fists were clenched to your side when Dick had asked that. Hopefully you would forget this day ever happended.
"Why aren't you drinking tonight?" Dick said with slurred speech, making your family turn their heads to you. At first you took it as a joke, that he was trying to make you less tense. When your chuckle left all of them confused that's why you could feel your heart shattered. It felt like time had stopped, like god was playing a joke on you. You just stared at them, not giving him an answer. "You're kidding." There was no point in hiding the sadness in your voice, there was no way anyone was going to care anyway. After a strangled 'yes' left his lips you decided there was no point in talking them. You took one last glance back at your dad Bruce, he looked like he was going to offer you a drink, that was the last straw, so you decided there was no point in staying. Sadly, you did. Just enough to take a sip of champagne, just enough to set you back. God did you wish Damian was with you, he would've remembered.
Remember. That's the only thing you wanted to do. Today was supposed to be simple, go with Damian to a petting zoo, visit you favourite café with a few friends and be done with your day.
Damian...would he have stopped you from doing this? He was too young to attend whatever you were at this morning and sadly he wanted to meet up with his friend. You weren't going to stop him, he was the only one that listened to you and vise versa.
It made you chuckle, every time you told him about how much you used to drink, and every time he would give a small lecture on how much it impacts your liver and brain. Being a doctor would really suit him.
Just as you close your eyes you see a small light peeking outside the door. Light footsteps followed soon after, and suddenly everything is crashing down. You shake your head, hoping, praying that it isn't Damian. You'd rather it be a murderer coming to finally end you then your little brother. No, he had so much faith in you, please. Sadly, if you speak of the devil, he appears.
The light spilling in from the living room stung your eyes, luckily they were already tearing up.
"Sorry I didn't knock, but can you pick up the phone-"
You saw it, the way his eyes widen an he drops your phone. The way the his green eyes suddenly become more reflective, is hands twitched and he took a step back. Your baby brother, staring at you with such a distaste and confusion and...there was nothing you can do. There was no way you could've gotten up to hug hum, even reassuring him seemed impossible in your state. Glass etched into your foot, a pool of blood by feet as your eyes fluttered.
"Wha...y-you promised!" His voice wobbled with an anger that you understood all too well. The way his eyes switched between shock and sadness and the way he seemed to be frozen on the spot. It was like looking into a mirror ten years ago. He stared at you the same way you stared at your mother, it was driving you crazy with guilt.
"Dami..." you croaked out, feeling nothing but selfish.
"No. Keep your eyes open I-I'll call an ambulance. I...I" watching him stutter didn't do anything good for your heart, you just wanted to hold him and tell him that this was just some sick prank.
"I'm sorry...just don't tell Dad." The way you uttered those words seemed to catch him off goard.
"This...feels like a matter that should be reported to hi-"
"Dami. Just don't...please." To be honest, you were baffled he was even understanding you. It didn't even feel like english you were speaking. "I love you, buddy..."
If those were your last words, you were glad. Soon the coldness of the porcelain was no longer there, and there was only a faint ringing you could here. Maybe you were dying? It was a lot less scary then what you thought it would be, it was just...numb. No taste of alcohol, no warmth, no burn. Only numbness.
Just numb.
Numb.
๋࣭ ⭑Laying there lifeless...๋࣭ ⭑
#batfam#batman x reader#batman & reader#bruce wayne x reader#damian al ghul x reader#batfam x batsis#batsis!reader#batboys x batsis#batfamily x reader#batfam x reader#platonic batfam#angst#dc fanfiction#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#fizzah's ff
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RAINY DAYS — (nrk x reader)
summary : you spend a rainy day with your boyfriend.
cw : bf!riki x fem!reader, fluff, kissing
wc : 0.7k
nene’s note : ik it sucks but this is a little tiny work while i try to finish the longer ones……. pls bear w me
you loved rainy days.
the cozy atmosphere that it created while staying inside, maybe under a warm blanket, truly gave you solace. your boyfriend’s presence right next to you, providing extra warmth, was the cherry on top.
you and riki were supposed to have a fun outdoor date, but the plan eventually fell apart when dark clouds invaded the sky, bringing with them loud thunders and heavy rain. since the weather decided for the two of you to stay in, you decided to catch up with a TV show you two wanted to watch together but always put off because of other priorities.
riki’s arm was lazily resting over your shoulder, his warmth embracing you completely. your head leaned against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, a quiet rhythm that brought you an unspoken sense of comfort. occasionally, you would feel his soft, full lips on your temple, making you smile and snuggle closer to him.
you glanced up to look at him for a moment, seeing his concentrated expression. you observed him carefully, how his long lashes adorned his pretty shaped eyes, how his small yet sharp nose complimented his face, how plump his lower lip was trapped in between his teeth because of an intense scene in the show. you had long forgotten about it, completely focusing on the boy by your side, who didn’t take long to notice he was the center of your attention.
“hm?” he hummed, tilting his head to look down at you, a small and subconscious pout forming on his lips. you couldn’t help but smile and bring one of your hands on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb. riki didn’t think too much of it, used to you being touchy, and immediately leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a quick — yet soft — peck. “do you not like the show?” he asked, pressing a button on the remote to pause it. you shook your head, still admiring your boyfriend’s handsome face as if it was one of the most precious works of art in the world.
“you’re just pretty” you mumbled, thumb now delicately grazing his lower lip. a lovesick smile spread across your face as you took in his features, the soft glow of affection in your eyes. riki’s eyes widened at the sudden compliment, scoffing softly, as if trying to brush it off, but the warmth spreading through his face betrayed him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he tugged you closer by the waist. his large, cold hands slipped beneath your t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your warm skin. you could feel him drawing lazy, abstract patterns on your back, the gentle motion sending a mix of chills and comfort through you.
“you can’t say shit like that so suddenly” he whispered against your neck, his lips barely touching the skin. you let out a giggle, shaking your head at his antics as you brought a hand to his nape to play with his hair. “i just said you’re pretty, you big baby,” you replied, leaning back a little to get him to look at you. “are you blushing right now?” your eyes widened slightly as soon as you noticed how his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, the sight making you giggle once more.
he groaned and hid his face against your neck once again, leaving kisses here and there to distract you from his flustered state. “not. fair.” he muttered, his lips tracing from your neck to your jaw, finally looking into your eyes once again. “you’re killing me here, i hate you.” he kissed your lips one more time, his words saying one thing, while his eyes revealed something completely different. you shook your head and wrapped your hands around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “i love you too, idiot” you playfully whispered, your voice muffled as you buried your face in his chest.
his arms tightened around you, holding you as though you were the only thing that mattered. despite his words, the way he clung to you said anything you needed to hear.
#enhypen fic#riki x reader#enha ff#ni ki x reader#enha fics#enha x reader#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen ff#riki fluff#ni ki fluff
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Playing Dangerous
Pairings: Hwang In Ho x Wife!reader
Summary: Mr. Hwang does not like it when his wife ignores him. He decides to show what happens when you upset him.
Warnings: Smut (18+) mdni, Yandere behavior, In ho is obsessive and controlling, dub con, public sex, breast play, mentions of captivity and stalking, a bunch of rich assholes.
Take the driver with you.
Did you reach yet?
I'm waiting for your answer.
Swirling the glistening champagne in your claw you leaned into the conversation, feigning interest into whatever story was being told. Mr. Richie, the President of a luxury brand of perfumes was bragging about his most recent visit to Luxembourg; how he surprised his wife by renting one of the castles for the week and how much money he burned through to make her happy.
He stood surrounded by some of the most powerful and elite people in the country as he drawled on and on about his stay. Bit overkill with how much money he spent for your taste but you were used to it by now.
From rare antiques to color vomits on canvases, these were awfully boring people who always talked about the same few conceited experiences. But you indulged in their conversations. You had to appease to them after all.
You had to play the perfect wife.
Nodding your head you smiled, as if you hadn’t zoned his story out completely. It was easier attending events alone. No one paid much attention to you without the loaded man beside you. You prayed that no one asked about why your husband was missing because frankly you didn’t have an answer.
As if sensing your thoughts Mrs. Richie asked, “Will Mr. Hwang not be joining us tonight?” interrupting her husband’s museum story.
“Oh yeah, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it. He has so busy these days with meetings and that big launch coming up.” You replied.
They raised their heads oh in understanding. In truth, there was no launch. You just lied so they wouldn’t pry too much.
Mrs. Richie clutched her pearls, “That makes me so upset! He has such a strong aura around him, always brightens up the room with his presence.” She talked as if his absence was her personal loss. As if another moment without him would cause her to wither in physical pain.
In hindsight it should have really bothered you. Hearing another woman yearn for your husband should have had you pulling her hair and throwing her to the ground. But your relationship with Mr. Hwang wasn’t like that. It was all only for show; a signed inconvenient obligation. You two didn’t even looked at each other unless there was someone watching.
“Yes, it is quite upsetting.” You said with the most heartbroken smile you could muster. ”But sometimes you have to sacrifice time-”
As you spoke a shiver ran down your spine. Your heart started beating faster as a knot formed in your stomach. It was as if your body was warning you.
You could feel his presence even before you could see him.
Every single person in the room had turned their heads towards the entrance. His black polished shoes clicked as silence fell around.
Mr. Hwang was the kind of man who commanded unwavering attention. It was impossible to ignore him. Not when he walked with a sense of ownership. As if every living and breathing thing belonged to him.
He was the kind of man who could will mountains to move on their own; the kind of man who could make a ballroom like this feel like a cramped elevator. Dressed in his signature black look he walked in with a sense of control. Every stride oozed power.
Alarm bells started ringing in your head as he walked towards you.
“Oh look he is here!” Mrs. Richie exclaimed. She looked seconds away from rolling her tongue out for him to walk on.
Color threatened to drain from your face as he slipped his long cold fingers around your waist and placed himself beside you. His touches always made you nervous, no matter the months you’ve spent with him. The haunting scent of his strong cologne filled your senses as his towering body pressed into your side like this was the most natural thing in the world.
You dragged out a surprised smile as he bent down to place a lingering kiss your cheek.
“You’re here.” You said finally, a ghost of a whisper.
He tilted his head to look into your eyes and smiled back at you. “When your wife doesn’t respond to your texts, you just have to come find her, am I right folks?” He turned to the group as they all threw their heads back in roaring laughter. It was kind of pathetic how much they seemed to want his approval.
Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. You acted to feel around for your phone and said, “Really? I don’t remember checking my phone. I must have missed them.”
He just continued to stare down at you with a frown, “You know how worried I get. Should have just gotten you the phone with an inbuilt tracker” he said with a chuckle and people laughed again. But you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Anything this man couldn’t control drove him crazy.
You playfully patted his cheek and laughed. “He is so silly sometimes.”
He simply pulled you closer and squeezed you in his embrace, “I just want my wife to be protected that is all”. People took that as a hint to slowly start dispersing. When the last person left you tried to move away from him but he held still. “Don’t. They’re still watching.”
“Why are you here?” You asked with an accusatory tone.
He didn’t bother answering that. Instead he asked, “Why did you ignore my messages?”
So that’s why he came. The minute you refused to play along like his little doll he had to show up.
Fidgeting with the strap of your watch you replied, “I was preoccupied.”
“Were you avoiding me Mrs. Hwang?” His voice dangerously calm as he drawled on the possibility. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that. It felt derogatory. It was a reminder that you were just another one of his little slaves who had given into his power.
When you stayed silent, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, I will hunt you down and drag you out by your hair if I have to.”
“Just be very careful with your actions love.” he kissed your shoulder and left towards to bar.
To everybody else he was the perfect husband; the one who showered you with jewels and admiration. Who blindly bought you everything you touched. Your brain itched every time they would congratulate you and tell you how much you lucked out.
How you wished it was true.
The tap water trickled as you stood counting the droplets one by one. You had excused yourself to the restroom, thinking a few silent moments would help you find the energy to go back and attend the event with your husband. But the more time you spent here, the more this little bathroom started to feel like your refuge.
Just five more minutes and then we go, you thought for the 8th time.
The door slowly swung open.
“Occupied!” you called out. But the intruder continued in. You turned around to tell off whoever entered but stopped when you saw those black polished shoe.
Your heart started hammering as his shadow came into full view. He invited himself inside and locked the door in one quick click.
With each step he took forward, you took one back; moving back till you felt the cold ceramic sink hit your back. The look in his eyes was animalistic. You felt caught. Like one wrong move and you’d be engulfed in a huge trapping net.
“So you are ignoring me I see.” Mr. Hwang concluded.
“I just feel a little tired from all this.”
He scoffed, “Do you find pleasure in defying me?”
You looked around at everything but his face. You were afraid of what you might find if you looked at him right now. Placing his palms behind you, he gripped the sink, locking you in front of him. His breath fanned your face as he said, “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“I am an honorable man. I have been as patient as I can be but you just make it so difficult” he rasped.
“Do you remember what you said before you signed our papers?”
His jaw clenched as he ordered, “Answer me.”
“I said I would do anything if you saved my brother.” Your body had started shaking.
His eyes sparkled as he grinned deviously; finally getting the answer he was desperately waiting for. “Anything? Are you sure? A lot can happen with anything.”
He dropped his head into your neck and traced a slow line with his tongue, painting your bare skin with his saliva till he reached the top of your neckline. You clenched your eyes shut, your hands closed in a tight fist as his mouth roamed your chest.
“The question is how far are you willing to be pushed my love?” He sucked on your sweet spots as you turned into an unstable block of mass in his arms. He knew you wouldn’t fight him.
He had pulled that one string to puppet you, that one weakness you would lose to every single time. He had you right where he wanted you. Digging his fingers into your hair, he pulled your mouth near his and started devouring you with his soft mouth.
“I hate this dress." He said between kisses. "I hate that everyone saw you looking this fuckable.” His hand glided up your thigh, slowly massaging the smooth skin up and down with his palm.
His teeth hooked around the strap of your dress and pulled them down. When the sleeves fell down, his mouth attacked your already sensitive nipples. He sloppily circled around them through the fabric of your bra. Your hand tugged his hair as he continued to suck. It became impossible to stop the moans escaping you.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back. I have been nothing but a respectable man to you. But I’m beginning to think that perhaps you do not like it.” His words scared you. He seemed to have taken this as some sort of challenge. The look of terror between your eyes made him rock hard. He forced your legs open with his knee. You could feel his cotton trouser pressing into you through your underwear.
“Perhaps you don’t deserve my restraints anymore.”
Your head fell back as his knees started rocking. He almost came right there when he felt your juices starting to drench his pants.
“You have no idea how far I’m willing to go. Trackers? Trackers are nothing. I will tie you and gag you till no one can hear your screams. You will be at my complete mercy and no one will come save you.” He moaned as tears started falling uncontrollably from your eyes. He continued rocking till you were a complete sobbing mess.
You should’ve known better than to displeasure him.
He pulled back right before anything progressed further. Straightening his coat he kissed the side of your head. “See you at home Mrs. Hwang.” And with those six words he left, leaving you half naked and dazed. In that moment you realized you had started a very dangerous game in just one evening and you weren’t sure if you could handle playing against Mr. Hwang.
A/N: I wanna play his wife so bad
#in ho x reader#in ho x fem!reader#in ho x wife!reader#hwang in ho x reader#hwang in ho#hwang inho#hwang inho x reader insert#squid game s2#squid game#squid game reader insert#squid game fanfic#the frontman x reader#the frontman#fanfic#smut#smut warning#fanfiction#wife!reader#the frontman smut#hwang in ho smut#yandere#obsession#yandere behavior#squid game yandere
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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ
✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 6.2k
✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!gojo, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names (mama, baby), oral (f!receiving), talks of having kids and starting a family, ooc!gojo
✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ The sequel is here! I felt like I couldn’t continue the storyline without at least mentioning the complications of someone like Gojo having a kid. It’s inevitable that they’re going to have a high level of cursed energy, so I wanted to explore the idea of sorcerers trying to live outside of jujutsu society constraints while also still having to adhere to them.
✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮
The heat is on because it’s mid-winter and it’s finally gotten cold enough to snow, but somewhere in Gojo’s sprawling apartment a window is open. Not wide enough to cause a terrible draft–not that Gojo cares because he can afford to open all the windows while the heat is blasting at full tilt–but just enough to let in the smell of the crisp air outside. Gojo admittedly isn’t overly in tune with his sense of smell, all things considered. His strength is in his eyes so he’s never bothered to mull over the things that aren’t associated with his sight. He can’t exactly see the scent of frost and he can only smell it as well as any other person, but the window is open because he knows you like the smell of light snowfall.
His staring problem comes with the territory, but, in the comfort of his own home, Gojo can’t really be faulted for looking too hard at any one thing. Especially not when his eyes are locked on his pretty girlfriend laid up on his couch. You’re curled up like a kitten in a nest, tucked into another one of his shirts and bundled beneath the giant fleece he bought because you’re always catching a random chill. It probably has something to do with low iron levels and leaving the window open in the winter. He briefly considers buying supplements but the thought is lost as soon as it forms when his eyes catch on the distracting length of your leg peeking out of the fuzzy blanket. It’s a wide expanse of bare skin that belies a lack of pants or at least anything beyond another pair of those damningly short shorts you love to wear around the house. There’s the fleeting thought that your aversion to longer pants might also be a contributing factor to your constant chill but he isn’t about to mention it. You’ve never had any qualms about going against things he says, but it’ll be just his luck that you actually decide to start wearing pants around the house and then where would he be?
Infinity makes his footsteps imperceptible, especially with the adage of the downy carpet. There isn’t even a twitch of your lashes as he crouches in front of you, staring at your face half buried in the blanket before he reaches out to touch your leg. There’s no need for him to have his Infinity up in the house, but it’s habitual at this point, as easy as breathing. It’s the dropping it that always gives him pause. After going so many hours, day after day, never truly touching anything, it always feels like he’s relaxing a tense muscle when his barrier comes down. Not necessarily painful but palpable. The same way you can always smell when a storm is coming, Gojo can feel when his Infinity dissipates even though it’s intangible by nature. And once it’s gone he can feel everything. Hot or cold, the temperature never really matters because he’s always in his little bubble of body heat, but now he can feel the artificial rush of the vents pumping out waves of warm air and the slightest chill from the open window.
Goosebumps rise over your skin as he traces his finger up the length of your leg. The jut of your ankle, the slope of your calf and the curve of your knee to settle over the softness of your thigh. You’re warm in a way that’s different from the blasting heat. Soft and comforting and Gojo tries not to dwell on what that might mean for his constant lack of physical contact. He drops his Infinity on occasion. Especially to interact with you or his students that are doing nothing but feeding into his desire for fatherhood, but it’s still few and far between. More often than not, Gojo is locked inside the untouchable barrier of his cursed technique. It’s not exactly loneliness that he’s feeling but some type of longing that makes him settle next to the couch so he can lay his cheek against your leg and just feel. His Six Eyes still tries to tell him things, outlining the shape of your body buried elusively beneath the blankets in a silhouette of cursed energy, but he closes his mind to it as best he can.
It’s always been something unspoken between you; your level of cursed energy. You ended up a bit like Nanami, a bit like Suguru, turning your back on jujutsu for your own reasons. He’s never forced you to come back, never really even asked why you left because he doesn’t exactly care. All Gojo needs to know is that you’re happier with your life as it is, living as a non-sorcerer. He can’t really wrap his head around your love of working retail when it’s such a mixed bag of benign and volatile customers, annoying bosses, and ridiculous hours from what you tell him. But it’s leagues safer than fieldwork and Gojo isn’t about to be the one to coax you back into active duty. He barely tolerates when the higher ups call you in to do menial managerial tasks when the school is shorthanded.
Their excuse for still keeping you on the payroll even after all these years always boils down to something about death being the only way a sorcerer ever really leaves the business. As if jujutsu society is some kind of yakuza holding members hostage. The people in charge act like sorcery is an inescapable cult and Gojo will be glad when he’s done tearing them down from the inside out. And as if you can sense him working himself up even in your sleep, Gojo watches your lashes pinch and flutter before a hand comes slinking out of your fuzzy cocoon to settle on his head. Your eyes are still closed but the momentary tension leaves your brow as soon as your fingers skim over his hair. No Infinity, only comfort.
“What’s wrong, baby?” It’s always so instinctual the way you reach out to him. You always have an innate ability to tell when he’s falling and needs catching. Even just the sound of your voice, low and thickened with sleep, is enough to banish any worries from his mind. At least for the moment.
“Nothing,” he says just to hear you mumble back “it’s something,” like you always do when he lies about what’s on his mind. It isn’t a matter of trust because Gojo trusts you with his life. He just doesn’t want to plague you with all the things he’s mulling over. It’s really only important to him. You’ve already declared your disinterest in sorcery, he’s not about to force you to listen to him formulating a plan to reform jujutsu society. And besides, he can’t have you worrying because it isn’t good to worry when you’re pregnant. Something about stress not being good for the baby. Sure, you aren’t pregnant yet, but he can see it coming in the near future.
It’s not like he’s worn you down, you’ve always been way too steadfast to be bending to anyone’s whims. It’s more so just that it’s time. That ever constant “soon” looming closer and closer on the horizon.
“Quit your job,” Gojo says, sounding every bit like a petulant child. Finally, your eyes open. Just barely, only enough to give him a hazily unimpressed look.
“I know that’s not what you were thinking about.” He knows you know, but he also knows you won’t press him on it. Even when you were an active sorcerer, there were just some things you didn’t want to know about for plausible deniability’s sake. No need to get your hands dirty, especially now that you’re not even active anymore. Gojo’s strong enough to take on the consequences of his actions, strong enough to keep you safe from the fallout of his decisions. And anyway, he’s far more concerned with his personal life at the moment. What he does at work becomes virtually irrelevant the second he’s alone with you.
“It’s what I’m thinking about now!” He’s whining because it’s really all he has on his mind now. The idea of coming home from a long day of work and being greeted by the pattering of little feet as your babies rush to meet him at the door. He imagines them all chubby cheeked and starry eyed, pushing to be the first one he hugs when he gets home. He’s annoyingly fixated on the thought and thumps his forehead against your thigh, knocking against you over and over until you’re fisting your fingers in his hair to keep him still.
“You’re annoying.” You mean it but he can hear the endearment in your voice. And just to really get on your nerves, Gojo starts pouting.
“I’m lonely.” It’s true in a way he doesn’t want to admit. Never mind the fact that he has his cheek pressed against your leg, arms wrapped tight around your thigh. There’s always been that nagging sense of loneliness. The looming feeling that something is missing. Children or something else, Gojo doesn’t know. But he does know that he wants babies. Your babies. Preferably sometime in the very near future if you’ll let him.
“Lonely? Then what am I?” He feels you flex your leg as if to remind him that there’s no space for loneliness between his skin and yours. But there’s a hint of something in your voice, that heaviness of unspoken acknowledgment. You’ve known him for so long, been together for so many years. Some things don’t need to be said for you to know. It’s innate, intrinsic. And he loves you for it. You’re everything to him, but what he decides to say is,
“The mother of my children.” There’s desperation in his voice but Gojo doesn’t care to be embarrassed. He’s been stuck on this for most of your relationship and he isn’t about to get flustered asking for what he wants for the umpteenth time. You haven’t shamed him the first thousand times he’s asked so he isn’t expecting to get teased on attempted one thousand and one.
“I’m not pregnant yet.” Gojo perks up. That’s new. The two of you have had this conversation in some variation at least once a week for months now and Gojo has grown used to all the answers you usually give him. It’s always something like “not yet,” or “let’s wait a little while longer.” And he does wait, but he’s also woefully impatient. Gojo knows you’re not pregnant and that’s the torture of it all. You’ve already said you’ll have his children. Kissed his forehead and reminded him that not now doesn’t mean not even whenever he gets particularly sulky after being told to be patient. It’s always just a matter of when but he’s eager for when to be now. And something about your answer makes him look at you with wide eyes.
I’m not pregnant yet. It’s teasingly open-ended, like you’re taunting him with the knowledge that you’re not pregnant but you could be. But Gojo knows you wouldn’t tease him like that. Not about this. He’s always been a tad bit overzealous in his pursuit of babies but that’s because he wants it so bad, and he knows you wouldn’t be cruel enough to taunt him with it. He trails a hand up your thigh, dipping beneath the blanket as he maps out the curve of your hip. A shiver runs through your body as his fingers dip under the hem of your shorts.
“Not pregnant… yet?” It’s hopeful. A question lingering in his tone. Is it time? Will today be the day? You smile, going back to petting his head, and that’s all the answer he needs. “You looking to change that, mama?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask again,” you tease. “Thought you kept track of my ovulation window.” You’ve been waiting? Gojo’s heart stutters in his chest. All he had to do was ask. It’s always been that way really. He’s been begging you for so long because he knew it was just a matter of asking when, but after so long of being told to wait a while it seems almost too good to be true hearing you say you’re ready now.
“You better be serious.” He knows you are because you know how desperate he’s been for it, but he can’t help but want to hear you say it again. Hear you ask in so many words. He’s always begging and pleading and Gojo wants to hear you want it just as plainly as he does.
“Don’t make me beg, Satoru.” It isn’t what he wants to hear but he scoops you and your blanket into his arms even still. He’s got all the time in the world to hear you ask for it and he’s not about to delay it any longer just because you want to play coy. He can see it in the way you’re biting at your lips trying to hide a smile, feel it in the way your arms wind around his neck. There’s a slight tremor to your hand as you run your fingertips up the column of his neck. He can almost hear the way your heartbeat has spiked, blood swelling with desire as he lays you down in his bed. It’ll be your bed soon because there’s no way he’s about to spend even a second more than necessary away from you. He’s been begging to get rid of your apartment for almost as long as he’s been wanting a baby, and Gojo is looking to have it all in one fell swoop.
“Gonna have to move in with me, mama,” he reminds you. Marriage is a more amorphous thought. Really it’s just a piece of paper that will serve to complicate your lives. He’s the head of a clan and his wife will have certain expectations imposed upon her that he doesn’t want to wrestle with right now. Maybe later, when he’s made things better. But for now he’s happy just having you. You don’t have to be a Gojo just yet because you’re his regardless. You’re in his bed, wearing his clothes, wanting to have his baby. Gojo can’t put a bigger mark on you than that but he’ll sure as hell try as his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin of your neck. You make that same gasping sound you always do, a little shiver running through your body as your hands find his hair again. Your grip is tighter than before, pulling at the roots as he digs his teeth into your delicate skin. Usually he’d be more careful about where he’s putting his little love bites but he can’t bring himself to care right now, and you don’t seem to mind.
“You gonna ask for it, mama? I’m not gonna give it to you if you don’t ask for it properly.” As much as he’s been begging for it, Gojo won’t settle for anything less than hearing you tell him exactly what you want from him. All he’s been hearing is you telling him to wait, so he’s not giving you anything without explicit permission. Of course you take your time with that, too, and Gojo is more than happy to indulge you. It’s like running a marathon and finally seeing the finish line so close within reach. He can count the steps, the breaths, the heartbeats it will take until he crosses the line and finally, finally gets what he wants. It’s what you want too, or else you wouldn’t have said anything. It’s easy to provoke him when it comes to this and he hasn’t heard exactly what he wants yet, but he’s still keen to get you out of your clothes. And for all your smirking silence, you let him. Lifting your hips and arching your back as he strips you out of your clothes.
For a moment, all he can do is savor the sight. His girl laid out on his bed, so close to asking for his child. You squeak when his nose presses into the space between your breasts, skin cold without his Infinity to regulate his temperature but he’ll be warm soon enough. Already he’s soaking in the heat pouring off your skin. You’re that fuzzy sort of warm that comes with the first waves of wakefulness, eyes still half-lidded and skin nearly feverish as he rubs his cheek against your bare chest. You smell nice. A perfect balance between his scent and your own, mingled together in a heady fragrance that has his tongue drawing wet streaks across your skin. He shivers as you thumb at the nape of his neck, brushing over the cropped hair at the back of his head because you can’t get enough of the feeling. Gojo is almost certain he’ll be just as insistent with touching your stomach when you start to show.
He can already imagine how you’ll look. Only a few months pregnant, belly just starting to show. In his shirts you’d look the same as you always do. They hang so big off your frame that no one would be able to tell what was growing beneath it. But he’d know. And when you got bigger the whole world would know. Belly round and breasts heavy, whole body changing to accommodate the little life you made together. Gojo already can’t stay off you and he imagines your first pregnancy will shatter what little is left of his restraint.
“You’ll tell me what I wanna hear, right, mama?” He murmurs against your stomach. He kisses around your naval, moving lower to dig his fingers into the thickness of your hips. You return the favor, running a hand through his hair until your grip tightens, pulling his eyes towards you. It sends a stinging twinge of pleasure down his spine, scalp prickling beneath your rough treatment as he stares up at you. He realizes you’re holding so tight because you need something to ground you. He can feel the way you’re squirming beneath his weight, hips shifting awkwardly as he pins you down with his bright blue gaze. Gojo has always been so open about wanting to start a family yet you can hardly articulate the words to ask him. It’s what you both want, but after so long saying no he can imagine how hard it is to fix your lips to say yes. It’ll be hard to collar him again once you let him off the leash.
“Satoru,” he nearly melts at the sound of his name on your tongue. The way you say it with such sweet reverence. He can hear the affection in every syllable. “I want it.” It isn’t some heartfelt confession but it’s just as sincere, and Gojo hasn’t exactly been asking for it in the most romantic terms. You aren’t begging yet but it’s a start. A slow one compared to how feverish he’s been in his desire to get you pregnant but it’s enough for the moment. He can hear threads popping with how quickly he works to get your clothes off. It’s his shirt anyway and he has the money to buy you as many new sets of underwear that you want for nearly ripping your panties in half as he yanks them down your thighs. The poor lace is mangled as you kick it off your ankle but he doesn’t hear you complaining. In fact, you’re giggling. Laughing and smiling so pretty as he kisses your knee.
“What’s so funny, baby?” He asks. You poke him square in the forehead as he looks up at you.
“You are.” You’re still laughing. “You’re like a damn puppy.” It’s not the first time you’ve called him that but it makes him smile every time. He presses his grinning lips against your skin and smiles wider when you call him a weirdo as he licks the inside of your thigh.
“Don’t complain now. In a few minutes you’re gonna want my tongue all over you.” His tone is joking but he watches the word land. The way you go quiet, nipping at your lip to hide your smile behind a shy pout. He can feel your thigh flexing as he rests his head against your leg, squirming at just the thought of him touching you. Gojo has regained some of his control, reigning in his eagerness so he doesn’t get overzealous. The last thing he’d want is to hurt you. He wants the conception of his first baby–all his babies–to be perfect. Even if it’s him that’s asking for it, it’s not really about him. It’s about you. Your body. You’re the one that’s going to be going through the woes of pregnancy, so the least Gojo can do is make the prelude feel good. He kisses your leg again, sinking his face into the soft skin, absolutely melting as he frames himself between your thighs.
There’s an ease to the way his arms hook behind your knees, pulling you down the bed until you’re flush against his face. The sound you make when his nose nudges at your clit has his head going hazy, empty to anything that isn’t you. Sleep still clings around the edges as you moan his name, a low hum that’s steeped in fading fatigue. He can feel your body rising to full consciousness, finally catching up with your mind as your legs shift along the curve of his shoulders.
You’re still so warm, that sleepy heat lingering as your thighs close around his head the moment he wraps his lips around your clit. He’s only got his lips on you for a second and you’re already squirming, half trying to run away from his mouth. Gojo laughs, the sound rolling off his tongue to tease at your clit. You whine, pushing at his head even as your thighs pull him closer. He whines when you scramble far enough to get away from his mouth, glassy eyes staring up at you like you just slapped him across the face. There’s tears sparkling in your eyes as you look down at him, brows furrowed and lips caught between your teeth. Gojo leans in again, real slow like you won’t notice if he moves at a steady pace. You whimper and start squirming again the second his lips brush against your skin. He tries to be gentle, kissing over the swollen hood of your clit as his tongue parts your sticky lips. A faint, whimpered “wait!” falls from your lips and Gojo pulls away, forcing back a groan, trying not to look at the way your pussy is drooling on his sheets.
He presses a kiss over the curve of your mound, doing anything to distract himself from thinking about where he really wants his mouth to be. The mess of your arousal is drying sticky on his lips, leaving glossy little prints as he kisses across your stomach.
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” His voice is breathless, muffled against your chest as he crawls up your body. You’re still trying to pull him closer and push him away, thighs locked around his waist even as you knot a fist in his hair to pull him away from your pert little nipples.
“Fucking tease,” he mumbles against your collarbone, void of any true malice. It would almost be amusing if he wasn’t nearly vibrating out of his skin with the strength it’s taking to restrain himself.
He can’t help but grind against you when you pull him into a kiss. It’s a heated mess of tongue and teeth, barely passing for affection. It’s desperation on the cusp of frenzied aggression as he grinds against you, cursing at the barrier of fabric between you. You’re already clawing at his shirt and there’s no mistaking the sound as Gojo shreds the fabric to be closer to you. His pants are a bit harder to contend with, made infinitely more difficult with the way you’re all but fucking him through the fabric, legs locked so tight that he can barely inch his hand between you to shove the last piece of distance between you out of the way. He knows the moment you register his skin against yours. You’re babbling, close to tears as you whimper his name. It’s a broken mantra that sounds so sweet on your lips. He only gets his pants down to his knees before you’re shoving his hand out of the way. He nearly misses the determined mumble of “make it fit,” too focused on the way your hand feels wrapped around his dick.
It snaps him back to focus for a second. Long enough to worry about you hurting yourself without his fingers to stretch you open first. But all thoughts melt from his mind the moment you guide his dick between your thighs. He can feel the last threads of his self control unwinding bit by bit as you clumsily guide him where you want him. It’s a messy drag up and down your slit before he catches against your entrance. He can feel how eager you are, clenching at his head as he grips at your hips to keep you still.
“Just the tip,” he stutters even as you groan out your despair. “Be patient, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He still has the taste of you on the back of his tongue, that orgasm that you ruined for yourself. He can feel the way you’re still trying to pull him in closer, heels digging into the small of his back to no avail. Gojo is stronger than you. The strongest ever. And even when he’s on the cusp of coming–pitiful when he’s barely inside you–he can keep himself from giving into temptation if it means keeping you from harm. Even if you want it now, you’ll be cursing and whining about how sore you are later and he wants this to be a good memory. It’s messy and fast but he can still practically see the hearts in your eyes when he looks down at you. Then you smile and he knows he’s a goner.
“I’m gonna come,” Gojo says without a shred of embarrassment. He’s long past that as he feels your pussy suck at the tip of his cock. He doesn’t go any deeper, still feeding you shallow thrusts as he goes over the edge. It’s a disappointment to watch the steaks of white spilling out of you when he pulls back, sticky threads still clinging between you.
“Gotta keep it inside, mama,” he murmurs, already cleaning up the mess with his fingers. Your hand is on his shoulder the second he curls his fingers inside you. Pushing and pulling as your nails scratch across his skin. Only you can ever leave marks on him, only you can ever touch him like this. He gets drunk off the thought, balancing himself on his forearm as he presses his forehead against yours. Your face is wet, smeared with tears and spit and sweat. You look dewy in the lowlight, eyes glittering up at him. It’s muscle memory getting you to the edge. He knows just where to press, just how deep you need it. It’s so second nature that Gojo nearly forgets he’s got his fingers inside you until you shove your hand between your bodies, rubbing desperately at your neglected clit until your back is arching, pressing your chest against his. He can feel your heart fluttering behind your breasts as your nipples skim over his bare skin.
When you finally sag against the sheets, coming down from the high, your hand slinks over his shoulder until you’re cupping his cheek. Gojo leans into the touch like it’s the last thing he’ll ever feel.
“It’s time, Satoru,” you say, voice soft and breathless. “Let’s have a baby.”
The sound he makes sounds pitifully desperate even to his own ears but Gojo can’t bring himself to stifle his voice. He only gets louder when he’s inside you again. An orgasm has you loosened enough to take him now, pulling him in with three deep strokes.
“Just like that, mama,” he murmurs. You’re less erratic now, far calmer after coming once already. “Not running now, are you?” You have the nerve to look bashful, looking away as he rubs his hands down your sides. It’s easy to guide you now, to get you to follow his rhythm as he bottoms out inside you with each thrust. There’s something so enamored about your eyes as you stare up at him. Dazed and half-lidded, full of adoration as you catch his arm where he’s holding your hips. The adoration that floods through him the moment he feels your thumb brushing against his wrist is enough to nearly choke him. Fuck, he wants to marry you. Wants you to be his in every way possible. But there’s still a thousand things he needs to do first. Things to make the world better for you and your baby. His eyes fall to your stomach, vision almost doubling from how hard he’s staring at your tummy. There’ll be a baby in there soon. His baby. Gojo feels himself getting close at the thought.
“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s a sound like music as you call his attention back to your face. Something you only say when his eyes are closed. He was lost in his dreams of the future. Of babies with his name and your face.
“I’m here,” he assures you, panting the words against your parted lips in a messy imitation of a kiss. Words are spilled in a slurred litany between soaked mouths with no clear distinction between either whining voice. The sentiment is the same no matter which one of you is saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.
“What do you want?” Gojo feels himself murmuring. It’s a hushed mumbling that comes as the end of a long drawl of your name, so low that the syllables come out as graveled sounds against the edge of your ear. Still, you answer to the barest hint of his voice, back bowing off the bed like you’re drawn towards him like a flower to the sun. His arm fills the space, wrapping around your waist. He can feel the way you shiver on the cusp of falling over the edge, can hear it in your voice as you babble your answer of, “you, you, you, just you!”
“My babies?” He can’t help but goad and tease even though he’s so deep inside you that there’s no question of what you want from him. Still, you answer. Clawing at his shoulders as you do.
“Yes, Satoru! Your babies, only yours!” It lights something deep and possessive in his chest as he reaches a hand down to rub the shape of his name on your clit. It’s the best he can offer with no ring, no wedding. Writing his name on your skin, pressing his mark into every corner of your body until he can do it the right way.
“My babies. My girl.” He sets his teeth against the skin of your throat, tasting the sweat as the sound of your voice vibrates across his tongue. There’s no mistake of what you want when you come. Your legs lock tight around him like he’d try to run from the way you’re milking his cock. Squeeze tight like you never want him to leave. He squeezes you tighter in turn, fingers pressed tight against the shivering column of your spine. He spells his name there too, tracing each muscle as they move under his fingertips. He feels your hands in his hair again, scratching at the back of his head. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with comfort–with you–and it’s enough to throw him headlong over the edge.
When he tosses his head back, cursing towards the ceiling, your hand is still there to catch him. Brushing against the nape of his neck as your nose tucks up under his chin. He feels your lips wet and hot against the place his pulse is racing in his throat, and knows you can feel each whining pant of your name as it falls from his lips. It’s the only word he knows as his stomach flexes, ropes of come spilling inside you. So much that it starts to leak out in a dribbling mess. Gojo is quick to pull you up, struggling to his knees so he can keep his come where it needs to be. He’s still pulsing inside you, achy from the sensitivity as your walls squeeze around him. You start squirming as the high fades, wiggling in his hold and mumbling about “put me down.”
Gojo hikes one of your legs higher, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Can’t, mama. Gotta keep it in or it won’t stick.”
He placates you with another orgasm, thumbing at your clit until you’re whining and shivering. He can feel the dull pulses as it washes over you, clenching his dick as he softens inside you. You’re so warm that it feels like he’s melting but Gojo can’t suffer the thought of pulling out just yet. But he does finally let you down. He follows you as you sprawl across the rumpled bedding, resting his head against your chest. He nuzzles against your breast until you snap at him to quit it when he sneaks a nipple into his mouth. He pulls away with a pout, kissing across your chest because he can still feel the way your heart is hammering behind your ribs. Your skin is hot beneath his lips and tacky with sweat but he can feel the goosebumps starting to rise with each kiss.
A car honks outside. The sound carries from down the hall where, somewhere in the apartment, a window is still open. A draft blows in through the half-open bedroom door. He’s not cold yet, but he can feel the shivers starting as you cling to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. He lets you pull him in, reveling in the closeness.
“Puppy,” you mumble affectionately as he nuzzles closer. You press kisses to his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth. Places only you can touch. Even without his Infinity, people act like Gojo’s face–his eyes–are something beyond human. Sometimes he feels like something divine and untouchable but then your lips press softly against his eyelids and he’s suddenly just a man. A desperate, possessive man. He catches your mouth against his, licking at the seam of your lips until they part to let him taste your tongue against his. When he’s done he takes the liberty of licking a bead of sweat from your temple and you push him away, whining about him being gross.
“S’not gross,” he pouts. “I love you.” He says it like an explanation. Like everything he does can trace back to the fact that he can’t breathe if he goes without touching you for too long. Tasting your sweat is one of the tamer things he’s done to prove his love. Sometimes Gojo wonders if you forget that he’d burn the world down for you. Then he remembers that he’s already doing it. For you, for your baby. For himself. His hand squeezes between your bodies to press against your stomach. Soon, he smiles at the thought. Now.
“You should eat something, baby.” He hears you talking, hears the concern in that soft, satisfied tone, but you’re stroking his hair like you’d rather he fall asleep against your chest.
“C’mon,” you say when he doesn’t move, patting where your nails left scratches across his shoulders. “I’ll make you food and then we can go again later.” Gojo chokes on his breath with how fast he’s trying to get his words out. “Calm down, baby, I know it takes more than once to make a baby.”
Gojo watches you grab his shirt off the floor–the one he just took off, not the one you’d been wearing all day–tucking your nose into the collar as you waddle to the bathroom with your knees hugged tight to keep the mess he made from dripping on the carpet. Fuck, he wants to marry you. The look you give him when you come out of the en-suite, eyeing the way he’s tenting the sheets just thinking about his come spilling out of you does little to make him feel ashamed. He waits long enough for his body to calm down before he’s pulling on a pair of shorts and joining you in the kitchen. You’re bouncing around in front of the stove, making eggs even though it’s late in the evening. Gojo crosses his legs and tries not to imagine that you’re making breakfast before school, waiting for your oldest to finish getting dressed as you bounce your youngest on your hip.
“You want pancakes?” He must nod because you start making batter.
“You gotta move in with me,” Gojo reminds you, eyes watching the way your–his!–shirt hikes up every time you lift your arms too high, conspicuously checking for a peek of what’s hidden just beneath the black fabric.
“My lease is up in like two weeks.” And just like with your teasing not pregnant yet, Gojo knows he has you. For good. Happiness suddenly smells like freshly fallen snow and maple syrup.
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑
✶ kaiser micheal soldier official art x fem reader
✶ word count: 1.1k (1152)
The smell of disinfectant mixed with blood is something you've become accustomed to since you've been here. The months spent at the shelter have passed quickly, yet the letters you sent so long ago don't seem to have been received, as you haven't had any response from your family
Or maybe they received the letters, but they chose not to respond. Maybe they are still angry with you for what happened, since it is not usual for a woman to run away from her family. But you didn't run away... or rather, you did, but only temporarily. At the end of the war you will return home as a married woman, perhaps even with a child in your womb. But maybe that's exactly why your family didn't respond to the letters
"Y/n, he's here" your companion says, as she rubs some liquid medicine on the soldier's knee; the man groans in pain, but you pay no attention as you step out of the tent, pushing aside the fabrics that protect it from the cold. Adjusting the miserable uniform you are wearing, you head towards the end of the shelter, passing through the bodies of the dead and living soldiers, plus those of the nurses and your companions
You step outside, placing a hand against your face to shield yourself from the sun. The light wind gently blows your clothes away, as you hear someone coming in front of you, stopping a few inches away. Smile spontaneously, lowering your arm to see who is in front of you, even if you already know it thanks to the similar smell
"Kaiser!" you say happily, as the pale face of the man you love comes into your view. Michael takes off his soldier's hat, squeezing it between his fingers as he raises his hand to place it on your rosy cheek. You tilt your face, burying your cheek in his warm palm, as if that hand hadn't taken the lives of a lot of people. But you're at war, you can't say anything against him, he's the best of his squadron and he has to do what he has to do
“Liebe” the man says, running his fingers over your cheek. Kaiser takes a few steps forward, awkwardly placing his hat on your head. You giggle, as his free hand lands on your other cheek, cupping your face in his hands “My savior”
"I'm glad to see you here. You worried me when you didn't come to my dorm last night" you say worriedly, remembering the anxiety you had felt. Kaiser is fighting a few miles away from the soldiers' shelter, and every day he tries to come to you in the morning or at night. But yesterday he didn't show up and knowing that at the front there is hard fighting, you got scared
"I know. The commander asked me to watch over some cadets" he says, taking a long breath. You nod, focusing more on the fact that your man is finally here. The sun shines on the gold trim of his uniform, the soft grey fabric accentuating his slender form. You smile, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing him alive, which is not a given "Will you stay with me tonight?" you ask hopefully, looking forward to finally feeling his tired, scarred body collapse into you, hugging you tightly. Kaiser nods "I'll be with you late at night. Wait for me, Liebe"
"Of course I will!" you say smiling even happier, happy to know that you can be with him again tonight. Micheal stares at you for a few seconds, thoughtful, then pulls your face against his, lifting your chin to better position your lips on his. You are surprised, then standing on tiptoe to reach a more comfortable height, while you enjoy the affection of your soon-to-be husband. His free hand makes room for your lower back, pushing you against him so you don't escape, as if you even remotely intend to. His lips press needily against yours, the same way he does every time because he knows he isn't absolutely sure he'll see you one last time. He's strong, you know that too, but war kills even the most hopeful
It is precisely for these kisses that you decided to follow him, when he made the decision to go and fight at the front. You have known each other since you were children, and there has always been a deep love between you, even if you have to hide it: it is not common for women to have a boyfriend before the man her family will choose as her future husband. And yet, you know for absolute certainty that you would never love someone like you love this blond boy. Your family hates him, and his father hates you, but you still decided to go with him because of how strong your feelings are, because of how much you need to hear him on your lips. You took the vows of a nurse in a soldiers' shelter near him, and as soon as the war ends he promised to marry you and make you happy, more than he already does. If you get married again, your family won't be able to separate you, especially if there could be a possible child in your womb involved once married. But the war won't end soon, or at least that's what he tells you in the evenings when he sinks into your arms. So there's still a wait
"It could all be over in less than a year, if our squadron continues to annihilate. The enemy is weak, but we must continue to advance to end all this" he says, briefly breaking away from your lips, only to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose "But, if all this is true, it means that in less than a year you will be my wife. And that is what drives me to go on, knowing that I will finally have you beside me constantly, in a house of our own and with children born of our love. I fight to have you mine as soon as possible" he says, removing his hat from your head, moving some hair from your forehead to leave a kiss "And I will make you happy, and I will be if I know that you will love me every day like the first"he says, in an affectionate tone, the one that convinces you more and more that you have made the right choice
"I can't wait, Kaiser," you say, holding onto him, the fabric of his uniform smeared against your body. "I can't wait for all of this to happen. Our children will be so happy," you say, lovingly, and he nods, hugging you close to him
"They will be, just like us. At the end of the war, we will be happy, very happy, Liebe"
✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!
#blue lock#bllk x reader#bllk x female reader#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#bllk#blue lock x female reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock x y/n#bluelock x you#bluelock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock kaiser#bllk kaiser#micheal kaiser#kaiser michael#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser#kaiser x you#kaiser x y/n#micheal kaiser x reader#kaiser blue lock#kaiser bllk#bllk michael kaiser#blue lock michael kaiser#blue lock season 2#blue lock manga#blue lock anime#bluelock manga#blue lock oneshots
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me and the devil
Pairing: frontman x f!reader Summary: when you decided to join the games, you had been so removed from the life you once knew, but when an old face turns out to be another player, it changes everything for you. Note: after getting out that little tidbit I posted prior, I finally have the guts to get this out there. Thought this would be a cute way to tie in how they may have known each other before the games :) hope you all enjoy!! wc: 4.1k
~~~
Some time ago
The sound of an ambulance and police car entering the hospital driveway could be heard beyond the sliding doors, causing your heard to perk up behind the computer you sat at. It had been a long day already so you couldn’t even hide the disappointment in your sagged shoulders when a patient had come in with two paramedics.
“Evening!” said the paramedic at the front of the stretcher.
Your tired eyes were already on the elderly man in the stretcher. His frail frame, oxygen mask, and the nasty cough rattling underneath it painted a picture all too familiar.
“Feels like this is the dozenth time I’ve seen you guys today.” you said jokingly, but also with some truth underneath of it.
As you took the report and triaged the patient, it gave you a small sense of relief knowing he could be admitted quickly due to condition. Amid the overwhelming crowds and lingering illness, you found solace in these fleeting victories—a squeeze of a hand, a reassurance that someone would be cared for. But deep down, you knew the cycle would start anew when you clocked in tomorrow.
The paramedics took him to the room and you leaned against the counter, writing down the patients vitals so you could put them into the computer once you sat down but then, the door opened again.
“Please, not another one.” you mumbled, tiredly turning to the sliding doors that let in a gust of cold air from the outside.
But for the first time that day, a smile found your lips when a familiar police officer entered the premises.
“I promise I’m not dragging in another patient,” said Officer In Ho, his wide grin softening the fatigue etched on your face.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping the streets safe, In Ho?” you teased, shuffling toward him in your light-blue scrubs. Gratefully, you took the coffee like a kid handed a toy.
The shine of his badge didn’t escape your notice, nor did how well he looked in his black uniform. Newly promoted, his pride was evident in the way he carried himself—a gleam in his eyes, a certain confidence in his stride.
“Ah, I already did that a couple of times today,” he replied with a playful scoff. “Now my job is to make sure the hospital is safe—and ensure there are no tired nurses lingering about.”
As you sipped the coffee, sweetened with an absurd amount of cream and sugar just the way you liked it, you glanced around the ambulance bay. Feigning innocence, you shrugged.
“I’d say you’d have to arrest me then, but since I’m the only one working right now, you’d have to answer to my boss.”
In Ho laughed but tilted his head with concern. “Again? I feel like you’re here every day.”
Rolling your eyes, you retreated behind the desk to finish charting before he could distract you any further.
“Well, you wouldn’t know if you didn’t stop by every day. Don’t they track your patrol car?” you asked, shifting the conversation.
He followed, leaning his arms on the counter above your computer. His grin remained, impossible to ignore.
“Yes, but after that incident a couple of weeks ago when your patient started a fight in the parking lot, I generously offered to swing by.”
Yawning, you leaned back in your chair, coffee in hand. “I’m going to start a fight in the parking lot soon. But there’s only an hour left. I’ll survive.”
In Ho raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll clear out of your warpath.”
Laughing, you waved a fist at him. “You brought me coffee. You’re spared for now, Officer In Ho.”
A laugh bubbled in your throat, causing you to sit up and wave your fist at him.
“You brought me coffee, you are spared from my warpath for now, Officer In Ho.”
Most shifts went like this—fifteen or twenty blissful minutes of his company while his partner kept an ear on the radio. For a brief moment, you forgot you were at work. It wasn’t always this easy, though. You were good at your job, often placed in challenging situations. It was, after all, how you had met him.
Your reminiscing was interrupted by the urgent wail of another ambulance siren. Downing the rest of your coffee, you moved around In Ho as if he weren’t there, throwing on latex gloves and a fresh mask. The paramedic’s voice rang out as the ambulance doors opened.
“CPR in progress!”
You sprang into action, guiding the stretcher to the nearest room. In Ho stood outside, watching as the hive of medical staff buzzed around you. His eyes lingered on you, a memory surfacing—the day you first met.
Back then, he was a rookie cop, shadowing his unit. They brought in a gunshot victim, In Ho’s hands pressing desperately on the wound. As the stretcher came through, your eyes met across the chaos. You had taken over, applying pressure while barking orders to the team.
Now, as you jumped off the chest compressions to don a gown, you glanced over your shoulder. In Ho’s gaze was locked on you. With a quick, discreet salute, you turned back to work, your smile hidden behind the mask.
You two had met when In Ho was a brand new cop and you, a brand new nurse, when his unit he was shadowing with brought in a gun shot victim. In Ho had his hand over the bleeding wound and as the patient was brought onto the stretcher, you two met each other eye to eye as you stood on the other side of the bed and started to hold pressure for him.
~
To no surprise, your shift ended later than expected. Fatigue weighed heavy on your limbs as you stepped out under the night sky. Dragging yourself toward the bus stop, a familiar voice called out.
“Y/N!”
You blinked, surprised to see In Ho standing by the sidewalk, dressed in casual clothes. His shift had clearly ended hours ago.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” you asked, brows furrowing.
In Ho smiled, a touch of nervousness in his posture as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wasn’t sure if you got to finish your coffee earlier, so I thought I’d see if you’d like another drink.”
Despite your exhaustion, his offer made you smile. The thought of his presence had quickly become a comfort you didn’t want to imagine life without.
“Of course,” you said, watching his shoulders relax with relief.
Without a second thought, you took his hand, letting him lead you to a nearby bar. Together, you laughed and shared stories, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten.
But that’s all it ever was—and all it ever would be.
The coffee dates grew scarce, the nights picking you up from the hospital turned into you taking the bus, and both of you played a role in such sadness that filled its place. Your jobs were taxing but that was almost just an excuse to place on top of why he visited less and why you had taken up other assignments in the ER.
One night, you and a few of your coworkers, one of whom was a resident who was infatuated with you, went over to a local bar for soju and whatever apps you could order. It was a particularly difficult shift that warranted a drink, but when you walked in you were surprised to see In Ho with another woman.
The years of unspoken friendship, and maybe something more, shattered like glass within you. Little did you know, In Ho had felt the same when he watched the resident take your coat off for you.
In that moment though where you two made eye contact even across a crowded bar, you couldn’t help but smile a delicate and polite one. The color that had drained from his face faintly returned as he smiled back, nodding your way.
But it was the end of something you had both never had the guts to speak of out loud and that was torture in and of itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Present Day
“The first light is Red Light, Green Light.”
In a swarm of green tracksuits, you stood among the four hundred or so players that surrounded you, tucking your white shirt underneath as the heat started to beat down your neck and tied the jacket around your waist.
“It’s just a child’s game,” you told yourself, trying to push aside the unease curling in your stomach.
The unnerving atmosphere constructed around you was all tied in at the larger than life doll at the other end of the room, facing you with the eyes of something much more than it let on.
In front of you, a mother and her son bickered softly. Their interaction brought a fleeting smile to your face, but the weight of how they ended up here pressed heavy on your mind. Before you could dwell, a frantic voice broke through the murmurs.
“This is not just a game! If you lose, you die!”
The crowd rippled with uneasy laughter, shocked at the sudden turn of events. A man near the front waved his arms, shouting to be heard and you stood on your toes to get a better look.
“If they catch you moving, they’ll kill you! They shoot you from somewhere above!”
“We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” a woman asked mockingly.
You chuckled softly with her, but the player up ahead was unrelenting and you couldn’t fend off the way your nerves started to react to it.
“If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They shoot you from somewhere up above!”
While the crowd had laughed off his attempts, brushing it off and eager for the game to start, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and tried to ignore him. But the pressure to keep your movements as strict as possible nipped at your mind.
“No matter what happens, don’t panic!”
But your heart started to race just a little faster when the time clock blinked on and your five minutes began. Just don’t get caught moving and you will be fine, you told yourself.
“Green light!” the childlike voice called.
Your legs moved before your mind did, ushering yourself forward and when the massive doll had said “Red Light!”, Player 456 had commanded the group to freeze.
You’d be hard pressed not to listen as the tension started creeping up your legs.
His commands were like clockwork and despite the path you wanted to forge for yourself, you found yourself following along. The stopping and going according to the doll who’s painted eyes stared through you was already nerve wracking as is and suddenly, you didn’t mind the directions by player 456.
“Freeze!”
“Cut it out, man. You’re freaking me out.” said player 390 who stood just a few feet ahead of you now.
The rounds were intermittently paced and you were becoming jumpy with every switch between red light and greed light. No one had been caught moving yet and your eyes moved as much as they could without your face moving a muscle to scan who surrounded you now.
But then, at the sound of a shrill scream of a woman up ahead, your eyes widened at the sight of a younger girl flailing her arms around to swat something away.
You held your breath as you waited to see what would happen to her, gasping when the gunshot rang through the arena and went right through her head.
Your soul had jumped out from your skin and you worried that such a slight jolt would put you in the same fate as the girl.
But even when you thought it would keep everyone still the way it did to you, one woman screamed only to be shot as well, and that’s when everyone started to run for their lives.
It took every fiber of your being to not move with every gunshot that rang out, rapidly firing so close to you that you could hear its trajectory in the air. It made your ears ring and you couldn’t quite here player 456 anymore but the echoes of his yelling were clear.
But your legs had begun to shake, and you hesitated before moving forward again.
When Player 456 ran to the front of the group though, his shoulder just passing yours, you didn’t dare waste another second and your legs sprung back into action. The player had been right all along and you wouldn’t dare question it now.
“Everyone get into a line! Get behind someone bigger than you. We have to move before time runs out!”
There was no time to be strategic about this, merging together with the nearest line and finding yourself behind a girl about your height. It didn’t seem like a bad decision until you watched her nearly double over in pain. She was clutching her stomach, and her other hand had desperately clung to the mother you saw earlier. Your blood ran cold, hesitant to keep your hold on this girl for fear she would ruin it all, but as the next green light had been called, you noticed why exactly she carried her belly.
“I got you!” you said to her with a firm reassurance, steadying your hands on her hips as you all skidded to a halt again.
A cry came from her and your heart sunk as the mother in front of her tried to calm her too.
Your eyes were burning onto the larger than life doll up ahead as the clock winded down, hoping you three hadn’t given yourselves away.
“Green light.”
“Let’s go!” player 456, waving everyone across.
With a surge of determination, you grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her forward. The red line loomed closer with each stride. Together, you crossed it, your arm wrapped around her to keep her upright. Relief flooded through you as the mother stumbled forward to meet her, checking her frantically.
You stepped back, your chest heaving as you untied the jacket from your waist and let it fall, the heat radiating off you in waves. The moment was short-lived.
A commotion behind the finish line made you turn. Player 456 was running back onto the field. Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you watched him race toward Player 444, who was still alive but bleeding heavily from his leg.
“What is he doing?” you muttered, clutching the jacket in your hands.
The doll called out, “Red light!” You flinched, certain he wouldn’t make it. But then Player 120 appeared at the other side of Player 444, helping him stand.
“Green light!”
Cheers erupted as the three crossed the line just before the timer hit zero. You moved toward them, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.
“Let me help!” you urged, dropping to your knees beside them.
You tied your jacket tightly around Player 444’s leg as a makeshift tourniquet, your hands trembling. But before you could take a breath, another shot rang out.
Something warm splattered across your face. Your body went cold, and your hands stilled as the weight of what had just happened sank in. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, your gaze locked on the blood-soaked fabric beneath your fingers.
“We did what we could,” Player 456 said shakily, lowering the man to the ground.
Player 120 helped you to your feet, her grip steady despite the devastation etched into her face. You slung your jacket over your arm, unable to bear the thought of leaving it behind. The horrors of what had just happened clawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved them down, forcing yourself to move back toward the others.
Player 456 caught your gaze, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. His eyes, filled with a sorrow you now understood, met yours.
“Nothing we did would have stopped them from killing him anyway.”
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the irony of his words striking too close to home. Player 456 didn’t know what your profession was, but you were bitterly reminded of having to tell similar words to patient families in what felt like a lifetime ago. He tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face, but you shook your head, unwilling to explain.
In that moment, you decided: whatever heart you had left wasn’t meant for this place. Whatever tether you had to the world outside had already been severed.
~
When everyone returned to the sleeping quarters, it came time to vote under the watchful eyes of the pink guards. But first, they revealed the staggering amount of money accumulated so far. The sight of it gripped your heart, the endless possibilities flashing through your mind. What could you do with that prize? Pay off your debts, maybe start over. But the thought soured quickly—even with that money, would it be enough?
As Player 149 and her son, 007, begged among others to be released, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze. A guilty knot tightened in your stomach. Their desperation mirrored the fear you tried to bury deep inside yourself.
The lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow over the room. The blue O and red X on opposite walls illuminated the fine line players were forced to cross after their vote. The tension was suffocating as you turned the question over in your mind: Did you want to go home? Could you even go home?
The emptiness that brought you here clawed at you, a cold, relentless reminder of what awaited you beyond these walls. The fear of returning with nothing—of your share not being enough—fueled your indecision. But was it worth dying for?
Numbers swirled in your mind, an ache reverberating through your chest. And then it hit you: the crushing weight of your debts had left you feeling dead already.
“Player 175,” the guard called.
Your heart sank as the reality of your turn struck.
Walking up the aisle, every pair of eyes burned into your back. Your chest rose and fell unevenly with each step, eager to end the torment. But even when faced with the podium, your hand hesitated over the buttons.
The image of the pregnant girl, the mother, and Player 444’s blood on your jacket haunted you. It went against everything you believed in. And yet, survival instinct whispered a selfish truth you couldn’t ignore: this wasn’t about them. It was about you.
Your clammy hand jerked forward to press the O button.
The buzz of confirmation rang out, and you grabbed the blue patch without looking back. Cries of joy and sorrow mixed in the air as the O’s pulled ahead. Returning to your place, you clenched your jaw, ignoring the murmurs of gratitude from those who’d chosen to stay.
You didn’t do it for them.
“You can’t do this! Come to your senses!” Player 456’s voice rang out, breaking through the noise.
You lifted your head to see him running to the center of the room, desperation etched into his features.
“We have to get out of here! We need the majority vote so we can go home!”
The weight of his plea pressed on you, but the arguments that followed were deafening. Player 100 shot back, “Did they put you down here to act like a player and rile us all up?”
Accusations flew, tensions rising as players shouted over each other. The pink guards stood stoically, like silent sentinels overseeing the chaos. Just when it seemed the room would boil over, Player 149 ran forward, her voice cutting through the noise.
“If it were not for this gentleman, we would not be alive! Stop with the greed and put your lives first!”
Her words brought a brief silence, but it didn’t last. The room erupted once more, voices trying to challenge each other. You had hoped 456 would give up at this rate, seeing as he stood in the center of it all with a loss of words.
But then he shouted over everyone, “I only know about the games because I already played it! Three years ago! Everyone who was with me died!”
A heavy silence fell over the room. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but disbelief still rippled among you and the players. If there was any hope of getting out of here, you knew he would be the right person to stay near if these dreadful games continued. But nonetheless, player 100 threw out another accusation, a conspiracy that he had been planted here and finally, the pink guards quelled the bickering and had to continue the voting.
You watched as the line of undecided players dwindled. Each vote felt like a nail in the coffin of your resolve. Deep in thought, your vision blurred as you stared at the scoreboard. A movement beside you broke your focus. Player 120 stood there, her presence steady and unassuming. She had chosen to stay.
You offered a polite smile, which she returned. The two of you stood in a shared, uneasy silence as the vote drew closer to its conclusion.
“You, uh, you were quick to try and help that player earlier. It was impressive,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the room.
You blinked, caught off guard. “I… thank you,” you stammered. “Trying to tourniquet his leg wouldn’t have done much overall, I guess.”
The dryness of your tone surprised even you. Her wide-eyed reaction made you chuckle nervously. To your relief, she mirrored your grim humor with a quiet snicker.
“I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I work at a hospital with a big trauma center. It… it wears you down.”
“I served for some time, so I understand,” Player 120 replied.
Despite your earlier resolve to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that she might be an ally. Among the ruthless others who had voted to stay, she seemed different—steadfast, but not cold.
Finally, the last ten players cast their votes. The air was thick with anticipation as the numbers on the scoreboard crept closer to a tie. Your heart pounded, a maddening loop of questions echoing in your mind. Then, Player 001 stepped forward.
You hadn’t thought of it til now how strange being player 001 must feel, the entire weight of the games future at his hand. He walked with a quiet confidence, his every movement deliberate. You and Player 120 leaned forward, watching intently as he reached the podium.
The soft buzz of confirmation filled the room as he pressed the O button. The scoreboard shifted, casting the room in a faint blue glow. The decision was final: the games would continue.
The cheers from some players were a stark contrast to the defeated cries of others. You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting to the crowd that had wanted to go home. Their anguish was a sharp reminder of what you had chosen to forsake. It was your job to heal people, to care for them in their darkest moments.
But as you turned your head back toward the front, your gaze landed on the newest arrival to your side of the games. The reveal of Player 001s face hit you like a jolt of whiplash and your breath got caught in your throat.
It had been so long since you’d seen him that, for a moment, you wondered if it was a trick of the dim light. His face was older now, shadows playing across his features in the red and blue glow. But it was him. There was no mistaking it.
He hadn’t noticed you yet. The crowd around him welcomed him as though he were any other player. You stood frozen on the ground that was pulled out from beneath you, unsure whether to hide or step forward. But when he began retreating to the O side, his eyes finally found yours.
It felt like fire across your chest when you noticed that he recognized you.
He stopped mid-step, only a few yards away now. Something invisible seemed to tether him to the spot as his gaze burned into you.
“In Ho?” you whispered, the name barely audible over the noise.
You weren’t even sure he could hear it, but it slipped out anyway.
His face tensed, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. But the name had reached him.
“Y/N,” he said finally, the words heavy, almost forced.
Whatever you had thought you were fighting for before—money, survival—was irrelevant now. In Ho’s presence brought back a piece of your life you had long buried. Now, it stood before you, trapped in this brutal game of life and death.
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Danny needs help.
Jason kicks hard, ignoring how his injured leg screams at him. Ignores how his side throbs with the motion of his arms. Focuses only on swimming up and getting to air. He’ll take a breath and then he’ll find a ladder and climb out. He’ll save Danny and make these thugs regret the day they ever dared to cross the Red Hood.
Light glimmers above him and Jason’s head breaks the water. He’s coughing and gasping for air but he’s up and he’s out. There’s something dark looming over him and he glances, blinking away water from his eyes only to do a double take.
It’s the boat–he’s lucky he didn’t brain himself on the hull coming up. He needs to get to the pier. There’s noise–shouts and more gunfire and screaming and Jason can’t pick out if any of it belongs to Danny.
A ripping sound breaks through the cacophony and drowns out everything else. There’s more shouting.
Jason looks up.
The net holding the crates is frayed and ripping. The crates, once neatly stacked, are falling on the deck of the boat. And him.
He dives, kicking for deeper water as boxes come crashing down around him. They sink, quickly lost in the gloom and polluted water. As long as he’s not hit with one coming down he’ll be okay. He’ll surface and get to Danny.
More boxes sink and one nearly clips his side, but he’s okay. He’s fine, he can tread water for a few more seconds. Even if his leg is screaming and his side is screaming and everything is going to shit.
The net, wrapped around one of the crates, lands on top of him. He’s pushed, rapidly, toward the bottom.
Jason needs to do something. He needs to pull out a knife and start cutting the net to get himself free. He needs to save Danny. He needs–
The water is dark around him. Is that from the dirt and chemicals, or the blood from his bullet wound? The throbbing in the injured leg is lessening, which is bad. The cold is getting to him. He’s…he’s going into shock, isn’t he? Too much at once and the depth is crushing his lungs, demanding he draw air.
Grab the knife, cut the net, swim to the surface, save Danny.
Grab the knife, cut the net, swim…the net…
Everything hurts. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did Jason decide he could do this all without Batman and his resources? He’s got no comms, no panic button. No backup.
His lungs spasm, trying to draw air where there is none. Grab the knife. It’s in his boot. Huh, it’s hard to feel it, his fingers are going numb. Grab…the knife…save Danny…
The net presses him to the sea floor. Above him, something glows in the water. It’s white and green and the Pit, slumbering quietly, purrs in recognition. Then the net is gone but the light stays.
Jason blinks, barely registering the sting of salt water in his eyes. The light stays. The light…stays…
Read the rest here!
#What Binds Us#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#red hood#jason todd#danny fenton#batman#dcu#breannasfluff#my writing
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So this is a special request sent in by @reader210 , thank you for the request! I loved your idea and want to turn it into a multi-chapter story so this is chapter one!
A/N: I actually had so much fun creating this story because the characterization was a blast
Characters: Mel Medarda x Fem!Doctor!Reader
Warnings: nothing explicit, brief swearing, general confusion
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An Apple a Day
Chapter 1
Synopsis:
Everything was normal- everything was starting to become better, pieces falling into place. You got your new position within the hospital secured, you were thinking about getting a dog, maybe even a cat. Life was beginning to make sense.
Until you end up in an entirely new world, apparently.
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Footsteps echo through the halls, a soft sound in these vacant cells as you munch on the fruit given to you a Iittle while ago.
You huff, annoyed and tired with this insane situation.
You didn't expect this- to be somehow spawned into another world. One minute, you're in your office finishing some paperwork for a patient, the next, you're collapsing in the middle of a huge room, seemingly a meeting of elites to some sort.
You remember the shrieks of surprise, the throbbing in your skull as you weakly pushed yourself up with your palms. Your glasses had flung off in the events, nowhere to be found so now you're stuck with fuzzy vision and locked away while whoever figures out who and what you were.
You lean against the cold wall, huffing softly as you rub your fingers into your temple, feeling another headache brewing.
Footsteps get closer, entering the cell hallway and you sigh, rolling your eyes as they get nearer.
You see the fuzzy outline of someone, squinting to try and make them out but no such luck.
You groan as they stop at your cell and you decide to get up, pacing closer to the bars.
“Well? Figure me out yet?” You sass sarcastically.
“I don't think you're in a position to be sarcastic,” the woman murmurs, and you're almost convinced you hear a smirk in her tone.
“I don't think I'm in a position to do anything, I'm afraid, but here we are,” you smirk, leaning against the bars.
She's silent for a moment, gaze seemingly boring into you and you feel heat creeping up your neck in embarrassment. You avert your gaze, huffing softly.
“The Counsel hasn't figured out the cause of your appearance.. Where are you from? Noxus?”
You raise a brow in confusion and question, turning your gaze back to her,”Where the hell is Noxus? I'm from Chicago-”
“Chicago?” She echoes, bewildered,”I don't recognize your accent-”
“Typical brit, huh?” You try to joke but it falls flat. You swallow, looking away again.
“What is your position? Status?”
“Uh- what?”
“Your title,” she speaks firmly.
You look back at her despite her still blurry form,”Uh.. Doctor?”
“You're a Doctor?” She echoes, seemingly surprised,”In that uniform?”
“What's wrong with my uniform?” You look down at the white doctors coat with your soft navy cardigan underneath.
“I've never seen that kind of uniform on a doctor- seems unfitting-”
“Okay-”
“That- is not the main focus of my visit,” she sighs, before lifting her hand and handing you something.
“What's that-”
“Your glasses.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” you grab them from her hand and quickly put them on, wincing at the slight blur before your vision comes back into focus and redirecting your gaze back to the woman before you.
Jesus- this woman is gorgeous. Unlike anyone you've ever seen- what?
“Uh- wow,” you murmur, eyes wide as you take her in.
“What?” She tilts her head in confusion.
You figure you must be dreaming. Some drug induced coma, for sure.
“You're stunning,” you say smoothly, uncaring for any embarrassment you'd surely feel if this was real life.
Her gaze widens in surprise, before she quickly masks over it.
“The counsel wishes to conduct an interview, an investigation of sorts to understand your appearance,” she speaks smoothly, bringing keys forward before hesitating,”I trust you'll behave?”
You snort, giving her a nod,”Yes, I'll behave. I'm just as curious as you all are.”
She eyes you for a moment before unlocking the cell, sliding the bars open and beckoning you forward.
You step out, stretching your arms above your head before inhaling sharply in surprise when a guard approaches quickly, cuffs on display.
“Those won't be necessary,” the woman speaks firmly, brushing her hand to signal the guard.
You eye her carefully,”Thank you.”
She nods in silence.
“What's your name?”
She rolls her eyes, ushering you to walk out and you huff a soft laugh.
She walks beside you, leading you through halls with the guard following behind. You can't take your eyes off of your surroundings, enthralled with the architecture and some paintings on the walls.
“This is one insane dream,” you murmur to yourself.
“A dream?” The woman echoes, shaking her head,”How interesting.”
You remember these doors, suddenly nervous at the sight of the giant, overly designed wood as you recall being dragged out of the room behind them.
They open, revealing that those same people from before are seated in their same chairs.
You're pushed forward by the guard and you out of reflex turn to smack at his hand but the woman waves the guard off as she beckons you to follow.
“In the center, if you will,” she murmurs, walking away for circle the table back to her own seat.
You listen as requested, hands clasped together at your front as you stand in the center, feeling as if you were under a microscope.
“Uh.. hi,” you wave awkwardly with a sheepish smile.
The doors open again, a higher pitched voice gaining everyone's attention and you turn to look, only for you to find nothing. They're still talking, though, and you follow the sound to the head of the table when a small person? Seats themselves down.
“It's about time we figured out this anomaly!” He grins through quirked ears and a bushy mustache.
Your head tilts, confusion etched into your face.
“Counselor Medarda, have you found out any new information about our guest?”
The woman, you learn now is something Medarda, turns to nod in his direction.
“Our guest is from what you called Chicago? I am unfamiliar with it-” she turns to look at you.
“Yes- Uh, Chicago, Illinois, to be exact.”
“Illinois-?” A man echoes, and you turn before stifling a smirk.
The blonde man was the definition of a twink back home.
You shake your head, refocusing as you face the head counselor,”Yes, in America?”
His ears perk, eyes narrowed as he peers back at you,”We don't know what you're talking about, this America- there's no lands here by that name.”
“What now?”
Counselor Medarda sighs in defeat,”I truly don't believe we'll find anything of ill intent here,” she speaks smoothly,”Counselor Heimerdinger?”
Your head turns to the head counselor- Heimerdinger, as he furrows his thick brows.
“You don't look of Noxus style,” he huffs,”Nor any other land I've ventured through. I'm curious, what was your occupation?”
“Oh- I'm a Doctor, sir,” you respond sheepishly.
“A Doctor! Impressive,” he smiles genuinely and you're surprised to find delight in that,”I think we could find use of you while keeping an eye on your movements.”
“Use of me-?” You echo in confusion.
“Oh, yes! I believe we could very well use your talents,” he looks to the other counselors.
Some honestly look as if they care less, that one twink in particular, but as your gaze flicks back toward him, you catch onto Ms. Medarda.
She's looking at you with a certain look, a glint to her eye, like she found something worth investing in.
Heat creeps up your cheeks and you don't hear anything else, too occupied with the golden freckles dusting her cheeks and her near hypnotizing eyes.
“Then it's settled!”
You whip your head back to Heimerdinger, expecting the worst but he's got a genuine, friendly smile on his face.
“You'll be under surveillance, of course, but we want to understand your form of healing- perhaps it is different in this.. Chicago?”
You nod in understanding, smiling shakily,”Of- of course, uh-”
“Counselor Medarda and Shoola will lead you around, you will have a stationed enforcer keeping an eye on you until we can determine that you are not a threat.”
You nod again, hands tightening at your front out of nerves.
“I expect weekly reports, have them set up the east wing for board and the first floor for an office for her,” he grins back at you,”I do hope to see good things from you.”
He calls the meeting to an end, hopping down from his chair and exiting the room with a few of the counselors following behind you.
Counselor Medardo waves off Shoola, approaching you from behind before stopping.
“Doctor?”
You snap back into focus, turning to look at her.
“Ready to go?” She beckons toward the door.
You take a moment to reply, nodding in confusion.
“What the hell was that?” You manage to say, following her out of the room.
“That was your interview, investigation, call it what you wish,” she waves it off.
You look at her in bewilderment,”Was that counselor made of metal?”
“Counselor Bolbok?” She side eyes you in confusion.
“Sure, whatever-”
“Hold on.. you've been looking confused,” she turns to you, stopping in the hallway.
“No shit, Sherlock, I’m confused-”
“Sherlock?” She questions, face scrunched in confusion.
Your eyes go wide, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, stressed,“Ok- what is happening.”
She just raises a brow, that confused look still on her face.
“What was that!” You huff,”Counselor Heim..”
“Counselor Heimerdinger,” she finishes.
“Yes- what?” You laugh in surprise,”What.. is he? In the least disrespectful way possible.”
She's quiet for a moment before sighing in defeat,”You really aren't from here.. are you?”
“That's what I've been telling you-” a headache begins to form,”Did I somehow end up in an entirely new universe? Huh?”
She covers her mouth, hiding the small laugh at your expense.
“Heimerdinger is a Yordle,” she murmurs with a grin,”Bolbok is a gaseous being- he controls his metal exterior.”
You look at her as if she'd grown a second head,“What the hell is a yordle?”
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—
A/N: I just needed an excuse to describe Salo as a twink sorry not sorry
#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane league of legends#fanfic#arcane fic#mel x reader#mel medarda#mel arcane#mel medarda arcane#mel fic#mel fanfic#mel medarda x reader#mel medarda x you
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♡⸝⸝ definitely not a high school boy in love!
highschool!rin has something to tell you…
warnings: none // wc: 1.3k
note: not really proofread and kinda crack, bit of ooc rin, au w no blue lock and sae doesn't go to spain, reader is a girl
you can’t seem to find your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, for the life of you. some may question how a bubbly and outgoing person such as you came about to being so close with the likes of him- who was cold, rude, and generally terrifying.
you guess it was just because you had known each other for so long, since you were childhood friends. so why was it that rin seemed to be dodging you lately?
“i can’t believe this guy…” you mutter under your breath as class ends. he was skipping your one shared class, chemistry, too? the audacity is crazy.
“hey y/n, is rin sick or something?” isagi asks you, walking towards your desk as the bell rings, signaling the end of another day.
“i don’t know, he’s never done anything like this before,” you sigh. you think back to when you first met the itoshi brothers. you had taken a liking to the younger one almost immediately (albeit you were scared of sae). isagi’s brow is furrowed. “well, if you do manage to find him, tell him we need him at his best for nationals on friday,” he says, exiting the classroom.
nationals? it was so unlike itoshi rin to be missing soccer practices. you begin to wonder if he had been kidnapped, murdered, run over, or worse. you decide that there was only one way to solve the mystery. you had to break into the itoshi household.
okay, so maybe it wasn’t really breaking into the his home if you had knocked on the door and been let in by sae, but at least you could catch rin off guard.
“could you please not tell your brother that i’m here?” you beg sae. sae looks at you, humored. he cocks a brow, fighting a laugh, as if there was some inside joke you weren’t aware of.
“sure?” he offers, snickering. “i mean he’s been locked inside his room the whole day anyway, doubt he’s aware of anything happening right now.”
the itoshi rin confining himself in his room? so he was alive and well, yet why the hell was he not at school? it doesn't ease your nerves that sae was behaving strangely either. yet you try your best to tiptoe up the stairs, as to not alert rin’s sharp senses. sae snorts at this but remains silent.
as you traverse through the itoshi’s hallway, you pass by bronze framed photos from the past. you and rin, age 6, playing with bubbles while sae sat perched on a slide slightly above you in the playground. rin as a newborn (adorable and peacefully asleep). sae and rin holding up a gleaming golden trophy together, their elementary school soccer team flanking each side with an awe-struck look on their faces. you pause in front of rin’s door. not a sound nor a soul could be heard from the other side, as far as you could tell.
except- was that the scratch of a pencil and the crumpling of a paper? just what witchcraft was rin doing in there?
you unceremoniously creak rin’s bedroom door open, just a crack. it’s enough for you to notice the piles and piles of rejected scraps of notebook paper littering the space, each in his slightly messy scrawl, which was indecipherable at the moment given most had been crossed out. papers lined his floor, bed, and even surrounded the desk he was currently hunched over, where he was squinting at yet another piece of paper. you’d never seen rin or his room in such a state before. what evil spirit had possesed him? rin was never one to take his homework this seriously, so it must be something else entirely, you conclude.
rin glowers at his door, not bothering to look up from his work. “sae i said i don’t need your lukewarm little writing advice!” he groaned.
“didn’t know i was your brother now,” you joked, inviting yourself into his quarters. it had been a few months since you’d been inside his room, but it appeared the same. it was still decorated with a heap of medals for rin’s soccer endeavors, the occasional school assignment, the white sheets of his bed made pristinely, and soccer cleats lying in a corner by his backpack. surprisingly, a grainy polaroid you two had taken together at a friend’s party (which he had only attended because you begged him) was plastered to his wall as well. the only major change were the discarded piles of crumpled paper.
“i- wh- y/n?” rin stutters; clearly, you were the last person he expected or wanted to see in his house at the moment. “get out, please,” he huffs. “i can’t believe sae let you in, i had extremely specific instructions!”
“you instructed sae to not let me into your house?” you ask, bewilderment in your tone. “and you’re avoiding me at school? why? i haven’t done anythi-"
you're suddenly unable to form words as you finally read the contents of one extremely wrinkled paper. it was…a letter?
dear y/n,
i know i act like i hate everyone and call them all “tepid npcs,” and while that might be true, i don’t think you’re one…
the rest was angrily scratched out. another letter read:
y/n,
you make me feel really weird. like i want to throw up around you, but somehow i like it. i want to be near you at all times.
i really like y-
the remainder of the note appeared to be torn off. a loud sigh brings your attention back to rin, who currently refuses to look at you.
“rin, what’s the meaning of this?” you’re practically begging for an explanation.
“are you illiterate?” rin grumbles. “do i really need to spell it out for you? i thought you were smart!”
“hey! it’s not my fault that what i’m reading doesn’t exactly match your character,” you shoot back. but you can’t control the blush that’s managed to creep onto your cheeks, or how your heart was pounding inside your ribcage right now.
“y/n, you actually drive me crazy. do you know how nervous you make me? not even an ounce of awareness of how distracting you are to me? hell, i can’t stop staring at you in class! i woke up today and i couldn’t take it anymore, seeing you would be too much and i..." he sighs for the umpteenth time. “i had to tell you how i felt, so i guess this is it,” he admits quietly. “take it how you want.”
“rin.” you start. he won’t meet your eyes, evidently bracing himself for the worst. “itoshi rin, look at me,” you plead. pained azure eyes meet yours. “i’ve liked you since we were four.”
“huh? why didn’t you ever tell me? i went through all this pain for what!” he seethes, evidently distraught.
“because i didn’t think you’d ever like me back! you reject all the girls every valentines day, and at one point i wasn't sure if you even liked girls!”
the dark haired boy stares at you, eyes boring into your soul.
“oh i’ll prove to you that i do like girls,” he declares as he stands up, pulling you to him by the waist.
you two are too close now, you can hear his slightly erratic breathing and your own. you're suddenly hyperware of the boundary he was crossing, the invisible line drawn between friend and something more. his spidery lashes flutter shut as he closes the distance between your lips, and you feel your own close as well.
the kiss is long and full of everything. all of the unsaid words, the tension between years, you felt it all in that one moment with itoshi rin. you savor every detail, vowing to commit each inch of his mouth to memory.
when rin finally pulls away from you, you’re both breathless and grateful for the air.
“itoshi rin, never ever pull a stunt like this again,” you start, wagging a finger at him. “i seriously thought you had died or something!”
“i’ll make it up to you pretty,” rin whispers, never taking his eyes off you. “can i take you out?”
you’re aware of the stupid, lovesick grin stuck to your face at the moment as you nod. “yeah.”
somewhere on the first floor, itoshi sae chuckles, having heard it all- his high school brother’s confession to his first and only love.
a/n: rin tries to beat sae up after this for sure (he doesn't win). if u made it this far i want to kiss u, hope u enjoyed <3
#rinsgfREAL#im sorry dis lowkey ass#rin x reader#blue lock fluff#rin fluff#itoshi rin#rin blue lock#rin x you#bllk x you#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#blue lock x you#blue lock rin#blue lock x reader#blue lock
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love your writing, so scrumptious and poetic🥰 i love a fellow saebyeok fangirl😩🩷
what do you think about a short fic about the reader slowly becoming friends with saebyeok who works at the local convenience store. like this bubbly kinda awkward girl just doesn’t get the hint the saebyeok doesn’t wanna talk and ends up wearing her down over time til they become friends and start to develop feelings😌
i’d love to see it, keep up the amazing work!
love koogiie 🍓
𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ
pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader
fluff
warnings : mentions of smoking, mentions of small injuries
a/n : thank u so much !! your comments are the sweetest <3
if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3
𝐓he bell above the door jingles, a familiar sound that barely registers anymore. it’s late, past midnight, and the fluorescent lights of the convienne store hum a lonely tune. you’re restocking the ramen shelves, humming along to the song playing from the tiny speaker behind the counter, when you see her.
she’s tall and thin, with a haunted look in her eyes that seem to absorb the harsh glow. she moves with a strange grace, like a stray cat who knows every alleyway in the city. it’s Saebyeok, and she’s a regular, though “regular” feels too casual for someone who exudes such a guarded energy. she always comes in late, grabs a pack of cigarettes, and maybe a drink, usually without a word.
your heart does a little flip, a nervous flutter you’ve come to recognize. she’s intriguing, in a way that makes your palms sweat a little. you push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and, despite all your better judgment, you decide to be friendly.
“late night, huh?” you chirp, your voice a little too high-pitched. you flash her a wide, hopefully not creepy smile.
she doesn’t smile back. or even look at you, really. she grabs a pack of cigarettes, pays, and walks towards the door.
“have a good night!” you call after her, your voice tinged with a bit of embarrassment.
you tell yourself she didn’t hear you, but the truth is, she heard. she’s just not interested.
the next night, she’s back. same time, same kind of cigarettes. you tell yourself you’ll play it cool, be nonchalant, but the moment you see her you’re back to your usual, bubbly self.
“hey! how’s it going?” you ask, leaning on the counter as you try to look cool. you are desperately failing. “anything interesting happen today?”
she doesn’t answer. she doesn’t even make eye contact. she just grabs her things, pays, and leaves.
okay, you think. maybe she’s just not a talker. but you’re stubborn. and maybe, just a little, you’re drawn to her quiet mystery.
you make a point of learning her usual order. you start stocking her favorite brand of cigarettes by the register so they’re easier for her to grab. you’ve even started leaving out a small bag of her favorite chips, just in case she wants them. you leave it on the counter, a silent offering.
she ignores it at first. then, one night, as she’s leaving, you see her glance at the bag. for the briefest moment, you think you see a flicker of something in her eyes that isn’t cold indifference.
it’s a small victory, but it fuels you. you keep talking to her, babbling about your day, your annoying coworkers, the latest tv show you’re obsessed with. she doesn’t respond for the most part, but sometimes, just sometimes, you notice a subtle shift in her posture, a tiny twitch of her lips. she’s listening. you know it.
one rainy night, you’re both the only ones in the store as you mop the floors. Saebyeok comes in, her usually stoic face looking even more pale in the dim lighting. she’s soaking wet, her hair plastered to her forehead. you see a small scrape on her hand that you know she’s probably too proud to care for.
“oh my god, you’re drenched!” you blurt out. you quickly grab a clean towel from behind the counter. “here, you gotta dry off.” you offer it to her.
she hesitates, then slowly takes the towel. you watch her awkwardly pat her hair, her movements surprisingly delicate. for a moment, the walls you always see her putting up seem to waver.
“you should probably clean that,” you say, pointing to the graze on her hand. you reach for the first aid kit.
she raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t refuse as you dab antiseptic on the scratch, bandaging it gently. you feel your face flush as you work.
“thank you.” she murmurs, her voice barely audible, but it’s the first time you’d ever heard it.
it’s quiet, but that small thank you is enough. you beam at her. this is a progress, a breakthrough.
over time, the silence that once surrounded Saebyeok starts to feel less like a wall and more like a quiet understanding. she doesn’t talk much, but she’ll occasionally meet your gaze, a slight curve to her lips as you tell another story. you catch her watching you as you dance along to the music while restocking shelves. she starts grabbing a soda along with her cigarettes, and she sometimes even accepts the bag of chips you leave out. you start to feel a warmth settle in your chest whenever she comes in.
one night, she stays a little longer. you’re closing up, counting the till, and she leans against the counter, watching you.
“why?” she asks, her voice low.
“why what?” you ask, confused.
“why are you so…” she trails off, searching for the right word. “nice?”
your heart clenches at the question. “i don’t know,” you admit with a nervous laugh, “you just seem like you need a friend.”
a small, almost imperceptible smile appears on her face.
“maybe.” she whispers, her eyes meeting yours.
that night, you realize something has shifted. it’s not just a friendship that you’re forging with this quiet, guarded woman. there’s something else, a pull, a connection that leaves you breathless and a little scared. your heart skips a beat, the same little nervous flip, but this time, it’s joined by a slow, burning warmth. it’s something you can’t deny, something you desperately hope she feels too. and she does, but she won’t tell you that. you catch her gaze, and the look in her dark eyes sends a shiver down your spine. you’re not just friends anymore. and maybe, that’s exactly what you’ve both been hoping for.
#i actually love this#kang sae byeok#kang saebyeok#sae byeok#saebyeok#kang sae byeok x reader#kang saebyeok x reader#sae byeok x reader#saebyeok x reader#squid game x reader#squid game
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saw this post assigning devastating quotes to each life series members, got incredibly inspired, and decided to try my own hand at it but specifically with snippets of the poetry ive personally written throughout the years :] thoughts and musings on several of my choices will be under the cut if you're interested in that sorta thing!! Enjoy<3
Bdubs: "it's all so blue. so blue, so wet, so cold, but you've got a fire in your heart like a hundred rockets. you aren't hungry, but you could eat the dead, / cut your teeth on a rotting corpse."
BigB: "SOMETHING HAS FRACTURED HERE AND IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. EACH DAY YOU WILL CHASE THE FAULT LINES LOOKING FOR A BRIDGE ONLY TO FIND IT ALREADY BURNT."
Etho: "I am above myself, hovering, pressing pale fingers into the dull bruise of yesterday to test its lingering ache. Is this all that's left?"
Gem: "what are gods if not the mothers of our own inventions. we are the avatars of violence and love and hope and fear in equal measure."
Scar: "I think I want to live. I know one day, I must die. In the cosmic wheel of fortune, I am a gamble in the making, gentle breath washing a little luck over the dice."
Grian: "Within the shape of my clawed fingers are knives: scrabbled dirt; scarlet lines; the escape route / Between a fence and / Tall grasses."
Impulse: "Life's bitter, stilted offering / Is that every person we meet / Will one day become a perfect stranger."
Martyn: "Dangerous beasts must earn / Their survival. / You are no different than a knife / In the hands of murderers."
Lizzie: "When I think of the egg-tooth, / I revel in purple glass; the lightning; the shatter; the knife-slip between / Death, and a wake."
Mumbo: "This is your life now, / Found in the cracks and crevices, scraps pried between laughter and reckless abandon."
Pearl: "I am begging, raw in the face of absolution— do not hate me. Please, keep watering me in your garden, / Despite how closely my heart resembles a weed."
Ren: "— and sometimes hearts are forged in violence /— and sometimes blood cannot form scabs / — and sometimes wounds carry half-hearted sutures / — and we are all but living fragments / —"
Skizz: "Just a little longer. Please. / There is light pooling at the bottom of the flower vase."
Scott: "I can only hope that with the rising of the dawn / I will pass through darkness and return to day, / Where I am a solar ray blinding— teeth and claws sharpened, the stretch of my skin carrying gold / Above the dull, dug out earth"
Joel: "Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; / Yes, there is a loss."
Jimmy: "for year after bloody year, i clung to life with aching fingernails, grasped at every straw, took every scrap of double-barrelled hope and shot myself in the chest with it."
Tango: "every time you claw yourself from the ashes you insist it will never happen again. every time you reach the breaking point, it happens a little bit faster."
Cleo: "It's about catharsis, not letting go. / Because a part of me wants to hold this, / A swelling hurt deeper than tides, / Hotter than stars. The kind of rage / A mother might raise against her own child."
I dont share my poetry on here very often, partially because it tends to end up coming from a very personal part of me, but since this was actually a lot of fun maybe i'll start posting my poems more often here :]] i think what i found most interesting about this exercise was that as i scrolled my notes app and cherry-picked quotes for each character, it felt like the ones i chose naturally became part of a larger conversation-- as if the characters were speaking to me through my own words about their lowest points, about their ultimate views on the games filtered through the lens of a red life.
It felt enlightening; i dont often feel like im speaking to characters or being informed about their plots/preferences, etc. the way many other writers discuss in workshops or casually online, but by the end of this exercise i felt like i just... understood them, better than i had before. There's something inexplicable about reading your own words and consciously finding ways to apply them in a way that encapsulates them down to a character's core that just... truly highlights the specific qualities that resonate most with you. And i think stumbling upon that organically was a very vivid and incredible experience for me
Admittedly, i did struggle on Scott, Ren, and Etho a lot-- im not as familiar with them as characters, and for a while i couldn't quite pinpoint what exact themes they tend to carry with them throughout all their life seasons. But when i started to really look at everyone's quotes as a whole, i realized they felt like a story, like the response to a question-- as if i was being TOLD what they felt and how, and that that was how i needed to frame the rest of my selections. So Scott's ended up being about control, and the desperate hanging onto of it; Ren's is about the acceptance and bitterness of what he cannot change; Etho's is a quiet resignation rounded out with softer disbelief. The more i looked at these choices, the more they felt correct to me-- and while i still think i have a ways to go before i fully understand these characters, i feel like this has helped me a lot with that ultimate goal :]
Of all these poetry snippets, though, i think Scar, Skizz, and Joel's are my absolute favorites. Skizz's poem is actually the whole poem in its entirety (as is Cleo's, funnily enough)-- it's a short, very simple poem that is incredibly close to my heart for many reasons, but the main one being because it was written at one of my lowest points a few years back. Its about clawing for hope when there isnt any, and finding even the smallest of beautiful things to hold onto, and begging yourself to keep holding onto that at any cost. The pure, clean beauty of watching light refract through a vase of flowers, and knowing that sometimes, that's all there is to live for-- I felt like that really spoke to Skizz's life series character as a whole: finding the beauty in every tiny thing, no matter how small, and scrabbling for more time to appreciate it.
Scar's snippet comes from a much longer poem of mine about the difficulty of reconciling the idea of a future when you havent had to think of one before (incidentally, Etho's snippet comes from this poem as well). I think out of everyone, this quote encapsulates him the best; i like how it subtly references that inner well of vivacity he draws from that many other characters struggle to find, and how that in turn ties in with the lore that he never died a final death during Secret Life. And i love how it simultaneously manages to encompass the way he utilizes the social game in each season as well-- Scar's an incredibly intelligent social player, and i think the imagery of a gambler breathing their luck over the dice as they cast it, and as he casts himself at others for alliances and enemies, truly does fit him.
As for Joel, the full poem his quote comes from is one im particularly proud of, especially for its final lines. I think, quite honestly, i can let this poem stand for itself in its entirety:
They say transformation is letting the light in, But in my mind it's a violence. A coarseness, a fracturing, the bloody vowels between a scream And a howl. How do you transform without killing yourself? When I am a lion, my hands and feet Grow claws; my teeth sharpen. No longer do I spark— I ignite. Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; Yes, there is a loss. To transform is to leave behind a body And eat its still-breathing corpse.
I find myself referencing this poem a lot even in my daily life-- as longterm readers of mine already know, one of my favorite themes is that of replacing yourself and permanent transformation. This poem really is just about how changing, in any shape or form, alters you forever; how you can look back on yourself from even just a few months ago and feel like a completely different person despite remaining the same. Connecting it with Joel's character, and how he acts during his red lives in each season, was a natural and intuitive progression once i really sat and thought about it.
Alright thats enough yapping from me 😂😂😂 im not used to writing meta nor delving into my poetry on here, so this was a bit of an experimental post for me. If youve read up until this point, i both applaud your patience and really hope you enjoyed this window into my personal works and thoughts on them :]] cheers, and thanks to @/chipperchemical the op of the original post for inspiring me!!!❤️❤️❤️
#life series#traffic series#trafficblr#poetry#original poetry#mcyt#shouting speaks#i had a lot of fun with this honestly#i really enjoy challenges where i have to use specific tools in assigning things to characters-- its like organizing pens to me SDHSJJDDJDJ#some of the pieces these poems are from arent really polished or developed enough to show entirely#but if anyone is curious about them theyre free to ask!!#my writing#my poetry#long post#txt
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spidey boy ♡
PAIRING : spidermark! x fem!reader
SUMMARY : you noticed marks been hiding things from you and after one fateful interaction with spiderman saving you.. you piece the dots together.
WARNINGS : creepy guy in the beginning, not proof read..
A/N : this is a little long.. >.< my love for spiderman and mark came out all together in this.. PLSS cast him !! (or dont.. i dont wanna share my man looking good in a spidey mask...) | also for me hitting over 200 followers, hope you enjoy ☺️
perm tag 🤍 : @injvns @polarisjisung
mark lee.. your best friend, roommate. he was hiding something from you. you noticed he came through the door, big backpack on his back with a few cuts scattered across his face. he just brushed it off as nothing but you could tell it wasn’t just nothing.
the next day while walking home, you were walking down the secluded alleyway that lead to your dorms. it soon started to pour down, you curse under your breath. you tried to shield your head before bumping into a strange man, he snickered as he looked down at you, “what's a pretty thing like you walking down here in the dark?”
you gulp as you look up.. of course this only has to happen to you. you try walking past but he reaches out and has a tight grip on your wrist, "aw baby, where you goin?" he smirked.
he pinned you against a nearby wall, the coldness of it making you shiver more. "l-let go!" you shout out before he covered your mouth with a scoff. "as if anyone is gonna hear you, huh?"
you both heard webs slinging around you, your eyes widening. the man’s face went from a smirk to a look of terror when he heard the familiar slinging of a web. he let go of your wrist and turned around, face to face with spider-man.
“well, well, well.” spider-man's voice rang out through the alley as he took a step closer. “looks like I caught myself a nasty little bug.”
before the man could run, the masked superhero quickly slung a web at him, pinning him down against to the wall. he turned to you, "you alright?" his voice sounded.. concerned.. almost as if he knew you? you just brushed it off and nodded, "um- yeah, i think so.."
“you think it’s a good idea to mess with random girls in an alleyway?” spider-man asked, his tone almost mocking, turning his attention to the male who is still struggling against his web. the man opened his mouth to speak but spider-man shot out a web, silencing him. “that was a rhetorical question. obviously, it wasn’t a good idea.”
the man eventually breaks free, running away screaming. the masked figure was about to go after him but he couldn't leave you alone especially with what just happened.. but he does decide to tease you, slinging a web up and pretending to leave. you look around, "spider-man?"
he ends up upside down behind you, tapping your shoulder, "forgot something i left here." you could see him grinning behind his mask. you smile, "how will i ever thank you, spidey?" you teased.
"well- i uh.." spider-man rubbed his nape sheepishly before you offered a kiss. "how about a kiss, hm?"
spider-man's eyes widened in feigned surprise, “a kiss? well..” he mused, his tone almost playful. “I suppose that would be a pretty good way to show your appreciation.”
you move your hands to the bottom of his mask, lifting it just above his lips. you widen your eyes, you know marks facial features from anywhere...
spider-man - mark - just looked back at you, his breathing hitching ever so slightly. you placed a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away after some time as you notice the rain getting heavier. "thank you again, spidey." he nodded towards the rain, “you should head back. don't want you getting wet out here, now, do we?”
he then shot out another web, about to swing away but stopped before he did. “and don’t go down this alleyway after dark again, alright? I might not be there next time.” you smile and nod, "fine.. i'll ask my roommate mark for a safer way."
his masked eyes widened slightly before he composed himself, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “your roommate mark, huh? lucky guy, having a pretty girl like you live with him.”
he then slung away as you walked back to your dorms, you smiled to yourself. you knew spider-man was mark, but you couldn't help yourself waiting to see what he would do when you get back.
you got back, entering through the door, running a hand through your soaked through hair. "mark?" you call out. there was a moment of silence before mark's voice answered from the living room, “yeah?” you walked over to where he was, seeing him in a white tshirt and grey sweatpants. he changed.. quickly? “you’re back,” he said, his eyes immediately landing on your soaked through hair.
"yeah- i uh, got home a bit later than usual because i had a problem in the alleyway and guess who saved me? spider-man.." you ramble a little, looking out the corner of your eye to see marks reaction.
you noticed his body tensing before he coughed, "oh- spidey huh? i'm glad he was there to save you." you continued, "he seemed really concerned.. as if he knew me?" mark's heart was thudding in his chest, but he tried to maintain a calm demeanour. “concerned, huh? well, that’s kind of his job, isn’t it? saving people and all.”
you nodded, "well- yeah, obviously mark, he's got to save people but it felt weird.. even when i kissed him, i recognised his lips.. you're not spiderman, right?"
mark's eyes widened, "huh- what? why would you ask me if i'm spidey?" "because your lips looked alike."
mark was caught completely off guard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a believable response. he swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “that.. that’s just a coincidence, y/n. a crazy coincidence.”
you raised a brow, "uh huh.. and what about you coming back here to the dorms with various cuts and bruises - especially on your back."
mark cursed silently at himself. he had hoped you hadn’t noticed all the random cuts and bruises he’s been getting from his late night patrols. he quickly tried to come up with a plausible excuse.
“oh, uh, those? nothing to worry about, just some scrapes and bumps I’ve been getting. yknow, clumsy me.." he chuckled nervously. he didn’t want you to worry about his secret identity or the dangerous adventures he went through every night as spider-man.. you already were stressed from the amount of college work you had. he tried to change the subject, hoping to divert your attention away from everything. “so, uh, you had a good day apart from the alleyway incident, right?”
"it was okay, the usual.. but don't try and divert the conversation we were having, mark lee, you're making this more suspicious." you raise a brow, "let me have a look at your back."
"fine.." mark groaned as he lifted his tshirt up, showing you his muscular yet bruise and cut adorned back. you couldn't help your eyes drifting.. he had a really nice back. you shake your head. the male tried to steel himself for your reaction, mentally rehearsing a thousand different excuses if you were to find similarities between the injuries and what spider-man often sustained on patrol.
"you aren't just clumsy, apparently spider-man had an outing with black cat the other day.. you have a claw mark, right.. here." you whisper, placing a finger on it. mark swore under his breath as you pointed out the unmistakable claw mark on his shoulder. it was undeniable now that you’ve put the pieces together. he still tried to play dumb, however, and turned back to face you, feigning confusion. “claw mark? what claw mark?”
"don't play dumb with me, mark.." you huffed out as you sat down on the couch opposite him. mark knew he couldn’t keep up the act any longer. he let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the couch. “alright, fine.” he muttered. “you win. I’m not just ‘clumsy’, I’m also.. spider-man.”
"shouldn't have come save me and i wouldn't of known it was you, hm? especially when we kissed, i recognised your facial features from anywhere." you smile. mark couldn’t help but scoff as you jokingly teased him. he rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “oh yeah, because just letting you get mugged in an alleyway is such a great alternative, y/n.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “and as for the kiss.. i couldn't say no to a pretty girl, i'm not an idiot.. but also - it was probably the best kiss i've ever had - i mean, upside down?"
you smile, "well.. since i know you're spidey, can i at least clean you up after you're in a bad fight?" mark's heart softened at your offer. the idea of you tending to his injuries and caring for him after a tough fight as spider-man was undeniably pleasing. he nodded, a small smile on his lips. “yeah.. I’d like that. but you’ve gotta promise to keep this between us, alright? no one else can know.”
"secrets safe with me, spidey boy."
#mark ₊˚⊹♡₊#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagines#mark lee x reader#mark lee fluff#mark lee x reader fluff#spidermark#spidermark x reader#nct dream x reader fluff#nct dream fic#nct dream fics#mark x reader fluff#mark x reader#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fluff#nct dream imagine#nct dream mark x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 x reader fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct fluff#nct x reader#nct x reader fluff
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it’s so impressive how you put stuff out so fast. i aspire to be like you 😔
i’ve been thinking a lot about shower sex with beomgyu. like he would just love to come back home each day and spend time with you in the shower. it doesn’t always end in sex (but it usually does 🤭). i just feel like he’d love messing around and teasing you in the shower only to get you riled up over his dick
Soaked in Lust
Summary : Beomgyu loves spending time with you in the shower, teasing and messing around until it usually leads to something more.
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A/N : Aww, thank you so much,@pombeom ! That means a lot to me 💕 Honestly, the only reason I’m able to post so much right now is because I’m on vacation. But since I have a big exam coming up this summer, I probably won’t be as active closer to that time. After it’s over, though, I’ll definitely be back to posting more regularly! For now, I’m just trying to make the most of the free time I have and keep sharing with you all! 🩷
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Pairing : Beomgyu × reader
Warnings : teasing, making out, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), choking
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Beomgyu walks through the front door, a tired but content smile on his face as he sets his bag down. "Hey love, I'm home." He calls out, his voice warm and affectionate.
Beomgyu hangs up his coat and kicks off his shoes, making his way towards the bathroom. He can hear the sound of running water and the soft hum of your voice as you sing off-key in the shower.
A small smile plays on his lips as he enters the bathroom, the steam from the shower filling the room. He strips off his clothes slowly, savoring the anticipation of joining you. As he pulls back the curtain, he's greeted by the sight of your curves, all wet and soapy.
Beomgyu steps into the shower behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent mixed with the sweet smell of body wash. "Mmm, I missed you today, love."
You sigh contentedly as Beomgyu holds you close, his warm breath against your skin. "I missed you too, Gyu. It was so quiet without you here." You reach back to play with his hair, tangling your fingers in the wet strands.
Beomgyu nuzzles against your neck, his hands slowly roaming over your stomach possessively. He feels content just holding you like this, but his body begins to react to your closeness, growing hard against your back. He starts to nudge his nose against your neck, teasing.
You feel Beomgyu's nose nudging against your neck, and you giggle, tilting your head to give him better access. He takes advantage, nuzzling and kissing your neck softly, his hands slowly sliding lower towards your hips.
Beomgyu's hands finally settle on your hips as he pulls you more snugly against him. He can feel his length growing harder and thicker against your back, and he starts to wiggle his hips slightly, teasingly rubbing himself against you. "You always smell so good..."
You let out a soft moan as you feel Beomgyu's hardness pressing insistently against you. Arousal courses through your body, but you decide to tease him a bit. "Is that all you've got for me after one day apart? I thought you'd be happier to see me."
Beomgyu chuckles, his breath warm against your neck as he feels you teasing him. He wraps his arms around you tighter and nuzzles you again possessively. "You always know how to make it worse, don't you?"
In retaliation, Beomgyu suddenly spins you around to face him, pressing you back against the cool shower tiles. His eyes darken with lust as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your parted lips to claim your mouth.
You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping Beomgyu's shoulders tightly as he pins you to the wall, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his hot skin and the cold tile sends shivers down your spine. You wrap a leg around his hip, grinding against him eagerly.
Beomgyu's hands slide down to squeeze your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if to emphasize his strength. He presses you harder against the wall, his erection now nestled firmly against your core.
You gasp at the sudden pressure and wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You look into his eyes, seeing the desire and love burning there. You lean in to whisper in his ear, your voice low and seductive.
Beomgyu shivers as your warm breath tickles his ear, his arms tightening around you possessively. He nuzzles your neck and growls softly, "You always make it difficult to be gentle..." His hands roam over your back and sides, kneading the flesh.
You smile against his ear, your own hands tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen. "That's the point, isn't it?" you whisper, your voice husky with desire.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against your lips. "Always," he agrees, his fingers digging into your hips as he lifts you up, settling you onto his lap with your legs draped over his. "Now, where were we?"
You bite your lip, wriggling in his lap until you feel his hardness pressing exactly where you need it.
Beomgyu groans as you grind against him, his fingers flexing on your hips. He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply as he repositions you, the tip of his cock now teasing your entrance. He pauses, looking into your eyes with a mischievous grin.
He slowly lowers you onto him, his hands spreading your thighs wider as he slowly fills you. He pauses halfway, making you whine and arch your back, trying to pull him deeper. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
You pout, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to force him deeper. "Beomgyu..." you whine, your voice filled with need and frustration. He smirks, loving the effect he has on you.
He slowly pushes all the way in with one deep thrust, making you gasp and moan loudly. His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts to move slowly, his pace deliberate and teasing "Is this what you wanted, love?" He whispers against your ear, his breath hot.
He continues to pound into you, his thick cock stretching your tight pussy to its limits. With each thrust, he hits that sweet spot inside you, making you scream in ecstasy. Your walls clamp down around him, trying to keep him inside as he fucks you hard and fast.
His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. You can feel his thick cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit in circles, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.
Feeling overwhelmed by sensation, you throw your head back and moan loudly, your nails raking down Beomgyu's chest. "Yes, right there!" you cry out, your hips bucking wildly to meet his thrusts.
He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. He's hitting angles inside you that you never knew existed, making you see stars with each thrust. "You like that, baby?"
You can only scream in response as he hits that spot inside you that makes you feel like you're going to pass out. His thick length fills you completely, stretching you wider than anyone else ever has.
Beomgyu's eyes darken with lust as he watches your reactions, feeling your tight walls flutter around his cock. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues his relentless pace, swallowing your moans.
His movements become more urgent, every stroke deliberate and deep. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, mixing with your moans and his heavy breathing. One hand moves from your hip to your throat, gently squeezing as he fucks you harder. "Come for me, baby."
You feel like you're going to pass out from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. His thick length stretches you to your limits, filling you completely. His hand around your throat makes it hard to breathe, heightening the sensation.
He looks into your eyes, his own filled with dark lust as he chokes you gently around his thick length. "Look at me." he growls, his hips slamming into you over and over.
His eyes bore into yours, filled with unspoken words and intense emotion as he continues to choke and pound into you. You can feel his thick length throbbing inside you, ready to burst. He tightens his hand around your throat slightly, cutting off your breath completely.
Your mind starts to fog as the lack of oxygen mingles beautifully with the intense pleasure. Your body convulses uncontrollably, your orgasm ripping through you with shocking force. Beomgyu groans loudly as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, milking his cock desperately.
With a final, powerful thrust, he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you completely. He releases your throat, watching as you gasp for air, your chest heaving. Panting, he pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss despite the rough sex.
He nuzzles his face against yours, his heart racing against your chest. "Baby," he murmurs softly, his voice hoarse. He wraps his arms around you possessively, not wanting to let you go.
You nuzzle back, a contented smile on your face. Your body is still trembling with aftershocks, his seed slowly leaking out of you. You're wrapped up in his strong arms, feeling completely safe and loved.
He runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, his mind replaying the intense encounter. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching your face. "Marry me." he blurts out, catching you off guard.
Your eyes widen in shock at his sudden proposal. You stare at him, speechless. After a moment, a soft giggle escapes your lips, turning into full-blown laughter. "You're asking me to marry you... right now?" you ask, still chuckling.
He grins, unapologetic. "Why not? I just fucked you so hard you saw stars. I think that's as good a moment as any to ask the woman I love to be my wife." he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Oh, is that all it takes to win a girl's hand? You'll need to keep those impressive skills up, mister." You smirk, teasing him gently.
He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. "Don't worry, love. I'll make sure to give you the best fuck of your life every single day if you marry me." He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing the unspoken promise between you.
After the intense lovemaking session, Beomgyu carefully lifts you into his strong arms, carrying you gently into a warm, bubbly bath, the soothing water enveloping your tired body.
He kneels beside the tub, washing your hair tenderly, his fingers massaging your scalp. As he rinses away the suds, his hands linger on your shoulders, kneading away the tension. "Feel good?" he asks softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
You lean into his touch, letting out a contented sigh. "It does." you admit, feeling completely relaxed and loved. As he finishes cleaning you up, he helps you out of the tub and dries you off gently with a plush towel.
He carries you to the bedroom, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead before turning off the lights and settling in beside you. As you drift off to sleep, you feel his arms wrap around you, holding you close and safe.
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taglist : @soobunni
#hueningstar#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt smut#txt#txt fanfic#beomgyu smut#beomgyu × reader#kpop oneshots#kpop smut#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu#beomgyu fanfic#hueningstar's ask box
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