#tw: angst incoming

[occasionallyprosie]

The Look of the Hero

Chapter 1: "Bending the Knee"

After a string of particularly nasty battles, resulting in a deficit of healing items, the heroes end up in Legend's era just outside Kakariko. Only… the supposed relationship Legend has with the town turns out to be just a bit different than what they thought. Warriors especially isn't happy with what he discovers, and he knows Sky and Twilight won't be either.

Next>>

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Legend had Hyrule slumped against him, his arm looped over his shoulder. The others were staggering behind as he led the way to the closest town and safe settlement despite how much panic it sourced in his head.

His hair was still pink, it hadn't faded since Twilight begged him to change into a bunny while the rancher was sick. He was in his red mail—it was stronger and better protection than his hero's tunic—his hair had grown out significantly—Ravio and Wind like to braid it so he grew it out for them— and he didn't have his contacts in—he lost them in his fight with Yuga.

The panic about his appearance thrummed in his mind as they arrived at Kakariko Village and where it was nestled in the mountainside.

"Is that... Link?"

Legend looked up and spotted the woman who stood at the path, holding a crate of books.

“M—Miss Purah!" He called. "I have wounded, is there—"

"Come!" She said quickly, already rushing further into town. "I'll have the infirmary ready for a dozen."

"There's nine—" he sighed as she disappeared from view. He shook his head.

"Purah?" Wild asked. “I have a Purah too.” His voice was pained, most likely due to the rather deep gash in his side which he couldn’t even rest a bit as he helped Four, who had a broken leg.

"My... An old friend," Legend said. "I grew up in—near Kakariko. Come on. They'll help us."

Please don't let them call the elder.

They filed into the infirmary. Legend made sure everyone got to a bed as the medics quickly began to fuss over them. Just as he got Time into one of the beds, Purah dragged him to the last one and sat him down herself.

She wrapped his bleeding arm in a bandage as they spoke in quiet whispers. She didn't give him a potion—they both knew the elder disapproved of that—but she ran a hand through his hair.

"Link..." she breathed, worry filling her eyes.

"I-I haven't been able to fix it," he whispered. "I became a bunny again and last time it faded to blond but my roots are coming in and—"

"I'll fix it. I'll fix it, Kit," she promised. "Your clothes too, I’m sure I have some spare somewhere. Sahasrahla may be on his way if anyone mentioned your return—"

The door swung open.

Legend knew who it was before he even looked, it was the way the door was opened, the way they stepped into the room with a step, step-thud. Purah shifted to block him, but they both knew it was no use.

"Ah. Link."

Legend forced himself off the medical bed—ignoring both Twilight and Warriors telling him to not to—and dropped down on one knee, propping an arm on it and bowing his head.

"Elder Sahasrahla," he greeted blankly.

He didn't hear a response, but he also wasn't given permission to stand. Pain burned through him, his rib was still injured and his knee in bad condition too, his—Purah hadn't had time to help him bind it, but that wasn't something Sahasrahla would care about.

"So who are our guests?" Sahasrahla asked, moving further into the infirmary. Legend didn't dare move his ears to listen easier, keeping them straight back and hearing the medics continue to work with the other heroes. He begged one of them to speak up, knowing he wasn't granted permission to say a word.

"Kit, please," Purah whispered to him as Warriors spoke up and introduced them. "You’re badly hurt."

He barely glanced at her, meeting her worried eyes and saw her reluctantly give in.

The others spoke up, thank the goddesses, and explained the situation to Sahasrahla. They explained the time travel and the portals they all followed, Legend had hoped they'd mention how sometimes they had no choice but to enter a portal, but nobody did and he knew that dug his grave deeper.

Purah slipped a new bracelet over his wrist, almost silently pleading with him not to lose it in their tongue.

Once Sahasrahla was satisfied by the information he was given, he made that clear.

"I see. I will not bother you all any longer, though I must speak with Link."

"No—"

Purah went silent when Legend hit her leg.

"Was there something else you wished to mention, young Purah?"

Legend needed her to stay quiet, but of course she didn’t. "Elder, Link is still injured. He requires healing—"

"Purah," Legend spoke, daring to break his silence. He didn't raise his head. "I'm fine."

"Link—"

"See, he's fine. Let's go, young one."

Legend rose. He nearly fell back again but managed to play it off as bowing again as Sahasrahla left. He forced himself back to his feet and followed without looking any of his companions in the eye.

The villagers looked sad when they saw him, blood soaking the side of his tunic, the slight limp in his step from rolling his ankle on a rock while fending off a monster.

Sahasrahla led him to the elder's home and Legend promptly dropped to a kneel as soon as they entered, hoping his blood didn't drip to the carpet floor.

Sahasrahla moved around him and he held his breath, preparing for the oncoming scolding and pain.

And like clockwork it came. A hand grabbing his hair and forcing him to raise his head.

"What is this?" Sahasrahla hissed. "And amongst heroes too? I do not know why some wore blue, or red and purple in addition to it, or why one wore full armor, but this is not the look of a hero."

He pulled his hair painfully and suddenly he was ten again, fresh after his first adventure.

"This hair must be fixed," the elder said lowly. "Burn this wretched pink out, and cut it too. This is far too long for a hero. And your eyes—"

Link only barely kept his face impassive and kept the tears from forming as Sahasrahla grabbed his chin now, grip punishing, and further forced his face up so he could see his eyes.

"Red is not the color of the hero. Green or blue are his colors, we were kind enough to allow you to choose blue for your eyes. And that goes for your clothing too."

He practically threw Link's face aside, the kid teenager barely managed not to fall over with the force.

"What was that the woman said? You required medical attention? And that cut in your arm... do not think I didn't see your limp either, Link. Tell me."

"My injuries are shallow and unimportant, they will heal by dawn," he forced out.

"Bah!" The elder's cane smacked his face, breaking open his lip. He barely kept himself from making a sound, or reacting to the hit. "You should not have been injured in the first place! You were trained better than that, boy."

"Yes, Elder."

"You will fix your hair, and your eyes, and your clothes. I best see a real hero next time you enter my village."

"Yes, Elder."

"And remind that woman, Purah, that you are nobody to her. Remember, Link. You are a Hylian, an average nobody, you have no ties to this village other than visiting to sell produce."

"Yes, Elder."

He managed to get back to the infirmary without collapsing, but that meant nothing for the moment he reached the bed.

Legend woke up pained, but to his shock, he didn't see the ceiling of the Kakariko inn. 

He saw the ceiling of a room he hadn't slept in since he was eight. 

It took him a second to realize it, and the moment he did, he shot up.

Any pain that flared through him was promptly ignored as he pushed himself onto his feet and leaned against the tabletop that was once covered in papers and pencils and paints and oils, it still was but far neater and organized.

He knocked over a chair and he knew it, he leaned back against the table, breathing heavily and blinking spots from his eyes.

The door opened and he froze up.

"Schol—Link? Are you alright?" Warriors. The blur of color brought the familiar voice toward him. He shook his head to try and clear the daze of injury and overnight healing.

"Captain?" He had to make sure.

"Yeah—You gave us a bit of a scare there, Scholar," he said and gloved hands guided him to sit on the bed he had near leapt from. "Miss Purah let us stay in her house, she said the old man—the elder, I mean, isn't allowed to enter a home unwelcome no matter his status."

Legend nodded. "It's against tradition, the home is to be protected against all evils, even emotional ones. If someone wished to enter, they can't cause any distress or lead others in the home to feel in danger, and as hosts we had to make sure any guests felt protected."

"The Sheikah are secretive in my time, I didn't know that," Warriors said and finally his vision was fully cleared and he could meet Warriors' eyes. "We need to talk, Link."

Legend grimaced. "Do we?"

"You walked away from the medics while extremely injured. We've had this talk before—"

"I didn't have a choice," Legend snapped, dropping his gaze and avoiding eye contact. "It won't happen again."

"Link," he flinched back from that damned name, Warriors reached out to grasp his arm, "what did that man do to you? You came back with a fresh bruise on your face and a cut on your lip that I know for a fact wasn't there before."

  Because Warriors had been the one to check Legend after the fight, because Warriors was their field medic and knew every single injury shown or mentioned.

Legend refused to look at him but Warriors was moving so he'd meet his eyes. What was worse was he met those bright blue—a soft cobalt color, almost metallic or maybe aquatic in shade—eyes, he felt a surge of fear at the reminder of the absence of contacts in his own.

He brought a hand up to cover them, forcing out a breath and ignoring the small flare of pain when he brushed a sensitive bruise.

"Look, the Elder has certain expectations and I—"

"So he did that to you."

"Captain—"

"No. Did he or did he not hit you?"

Legend didn't respond but Warriors pulled his hand down from blocking his eyes. Piercing metallic blue eyes cut through Legend as Warriors forced him to meet his eyes.

"Link—"

"Stop it," he tried. "It's not—It's not a big deal, I know better—"

"Vet, you’re a kid."

"I'm not!"

"You're underaged in every era that has an age of majority!"

Warriors squeezed Legend's shoulders, trying to get the younger hero to just see what he was talking about. He was one of the few people who Legend actually told his age, which was surprising seeing as they were the least close for a while there.

Warriors had seen how dynamics played out from the beginning. Wind and Legend were a pair from the start, likewise Sky and Wild seemed to get along well while Twilight and Four were near inseparable. Warriors had been happy to have his baby brother—even if he wasn't a baby anymore—at his side again, and Time didn't seem to mind sticking closer, besides, his Sprite seemed to have gotten a Sprite of his own as Hyrule always seemed to follow after Time.

As time went on, Warriors had noticed the dynamics shift. Wild gravitated more towards Legend, who also attracted Hyrule into their little trio. Wind latched onto Time. Warriors found himself finding a strong feeling of camaraderie in Twilight and Sky. Four flitted around each group with ease.

And things kept shifting, generally reverting back to their very first pairings, but they came to a balanced mix where everyone was mostly comfortable with everyone.

 Yet, it took a long time before Warriors could actually connect with Legend. After he did, it was a night they needed to gather information and they were paired off, that Legend confided his age to Warriors.

The captain never expected their veteran to be seventeen, much less sixteen when they first met and turning seventeen within a couple months of gathering together, but that was the case. It became more obvious with time, but nonetheless, the teenager sitting in front of him was mature beyond his years...

That didn't mean he wasn't still a kid, and people who'd known him since he was little would know that.

Even if he didn't, the elder had no right to strike Legend.

Warriors squeezed Legend's shoulders gently and spoke fast enough that Legend didn't get a chance to argue without interrupting. "I'm not calling you a child, but you’re still a kid and even if you weren't, he has no right to raise a hand to you."

Legend scowled. "It was a cane, first of all—"

Warriors gaped. "A cane?!"

Legend seemed to realized that was not the right thing to say if he wanted Warriors to stop worrying or pushing. "It doesn't matter! It's not a big deal and it was perfectly avoidable if I was just—"

To the captain's surprise, Legend floundered for a moment, scrambling to find words, which was extremely uncharacteristic of their scholar.

"—if I just—I know better than to come to Kakariko like this." He gestured vaguely.

Warriors frowned. "Like what, Link."

He didn't like how Legend recoiled at his own name.

"Like... red and-and... not... not green," he said weakly, trying to hide his head in his hands again but Warriors quickly caught his face in his own hands. He was careful not to touch his injuries, but gently made him look up.

Red. Red like his eyes, dark and deep like rubies, in certain light they looked like fire, lava at the depths of volcanoes, and in other light they glinted like pools of blood.

He brushed his thumb under Legend's eye, gentle and careful. "Red like these?"

Legend grimaced and nodded. "I... I have contacts—I had contacts, blue ones, I lost them when I fought Yuga and Ganon last time but... I-I thought... I hoped I didn't need to replace them."

And if he wasn’t supposed to come here without them, he didn't intend to come back to Kakariko at all.

"Red like your tunic too?" Warriors added, raising an eyebrow and Legend nodded. "Why can't you wear red or let your natural eye color be there?"

He winced. "Because heroes don't look like the shadows they defeat."

"Who told you that?" Warriors asked.

Legend gave him an incredulous look. Warriors sighed.

"Did others than the elder tell you that?"

"Most of the old folk," Legend huffed. "Only Momma and Aunty said I shouldn't need to change to be a hero."

Warriors studied his face, the way his shoulders were drawn in and how he avoided eye contact. The way he spoke, quiet and almost hushed rather than just soft.

"Okay—Listen, your appearance doesn't define how much of a hero you are," Warriors told him firmly, well aware he was being hypocritical. "We can get Sky and everyone else who came before you, whoever they're making you emulate, talk to him and handle this."

"You can't—"

"You've never mentioned a mother before, Link."

Legend flinched again and Warriors wondered if he just shouldn't call him by his name.

"I... I don't have a mother," he corrected himself firmly.

“Then who told you that you didn’t need to change to be a hero?” Warriors needed him to stop holding onto this now-obvious lie he was expected to tell. Someone, the elder, had done something to make Legend deny his own mother. “Kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t exactly the most homogenous group, goddesses, the only ones with blue eyes are the Rancher, Champion, and Sprite. The Sailor has green, Traveler’s and Smithy’s are brown, mine are gray, and the Sky Knight’s, I swear, jump between blue and white.”

Legend snorted. “White? He isn’t the Old Man.”

“There’s a difference there and I stand by my words.” Warriors grinned a bit, he got him to laugh. “My point is, would you expect any of us to change our appearance for the sake of… what? Tradition?”

“No…” He almost smirked at how petulant Legend looked for a moment there. “But that’s—That’s different! You’re all—You…”

“We’re what?”

“You’re hylian,” he near whispered. “I…”

“I’m part Gerudo,” Warriors admitted. “My great grandmother was a Gerudo. Not to mention that the Skyloftian is human, and the Traveler’s half fairy. Kid—“

“But you’re part hylian, both you and the Traveler. Sky founded Hyrule, he’s the Chosen Hero, you think anyone debates whether or not he’s a hero?”

“Why does our blood matter? Why does our heritage matter?” Warriors pressed. “Come on, we both know that you don’t care that much, you’re just trying to justify it. Why are you actually worried about this?”

The long beat of silence that followed proved Warriors was right, the way Legend hunched in on himself.

He whispered something, far too quietly for Warriors to hear much less understand.

“I can’t hear you, kid.”

He glanced at him, then—still quiet, still barely a whisper, but just loud enough that Warriors could hear—repeated himself.

“He said he’d exile them… my mother and my aunt… Aunty could survive, she’s a warrior, we—they’re trained for survival. But Momma…” Legend trailed off. “She’s a scholar, not a warrior, she knows the theory but… Not to mention, Sahasrahla has all of the warriors under his thumb, Sheikah assassins, and if I… if I go too far, he’d send them after them.”

He was being threatened. His kid brother was being threatened, forced into this role by an old guy in power.

Warriors held back his fury to push pink locks back, and guide Legend to stop looking down at his lap to look him in the eyes.

“We won’t let him, you hear me? I’ll take Sky and the Rancher, and we’ll have a talk with him. We won’t hurt him, but we’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Legend looked almost scared, eyes going wide and staring at him. "You can't hurt him. He's not--He isn't a bad person, Captain, he's just... set in his ways."

Ignoring that Legend was literally defending his abuser. “We’ll handle it, and I swear, he won't be... physically harmed, I can't vouch he won't take a hit to his ego though." He knew the other two would be absolutely ecstatic to… talk to the elder. “Do you trust me?”

“I do! I do, you’re—Of course, I trust you, all three of you, you’re my—But—you can’t just… Can you?”

He gently squeezed the back of his neck, pulling the younger hero closer and pressing his lips against his forehead. Legend went slack, inhaling sharply.

“We’ll take care of it," he said softly against his forehead, pulling away to look him in the eyes, "just trust me.”

“I… Okay,” Legend nodded slightly, something sad and resigned in his eyes. “Okay. I trust you.”

Next>>

[backstabber128]

Here's some fluff sketches to further prepare us all for the angst that awaits in season 2 🙏❤️‍🩹

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: implied and/or present elements of dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, quirkless reader, mentioned death of important character, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, mentions of hypochondriasis, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ gn reader

Sharp crimson eyes assess the fresh scrapes and swelling ruining your soft skin. A deep scowl on his face.

“Tch—look at all this…” he grumbles disapprovingly to no one but himself—too upset with you to acknowledge you, yet treating you no different than if you were glass. “These are gonna last weeks.”

You’d tried running away again—tripped and slipped up all on your own, stumbling through hallways and tumbling down stairs in your panic, only to stop short at the locked door—bolted and padlocked beyond all sane reason.

He was disappointed with you, sure. But that’s not the reason for his current anger.

“Sit there while I get bandages,” he orders, getting up from his crouch, pointing a strict finger at you in threat. “Dare move, and it’ll be bed rest for a whole ‘nother week.”

Bakugou’s obsession with your quirkless nature started a couple of months ago…

It was okay at first—he was hardly the first person you’d met who addressed you with patronizing resolve—but he got weird about it quickly.

You worked at another hero agency he was going to be collaborating with for a big upcoming mission. You weren’t a sidekick or anything grand like that, but a simple pencil-pusher—because they need those too, you know? And you liked your job. You got to work along with some of the greatest heroes in the world, see them up close, and help them out with those things they didn’t have time for—paperwork like budget justifications and incidence reports. Yeah, you might have been somewhat of a pushover, but hey, the salary was good, the environment was lively, and even though you don’t have one yourself, you got to see some really amazing quirks in action. It was, out of what you could hope for, your dream job.

The place was in a real buzz when they heard the number one hero would be joining them for a couple of months. You were excited, too—it wasn’t often your smaller agency would undertake big missions—especially not ones that required such big hero names.

DynaMight wasn’t one to share much of anyone’s enthusiasm. He was strict and down to business and otherwise had a major pet peeve for unnecessary rabble loitering around. He’d stopped mid-meeting at the sight of you, seeing as you were obviously no fieldworker, and had gone as far as to demand you tell him your value as if your presence had been some big distracting nuisance.

Luckily, your Pro-Hero coworkers had stepped in on your behalf and told him you were a transcriber keeping track for later reference. It was probably only a slip-up that they’d added the fact that you were quirkless.

You don’t hold it against them, or well… you did a little, but you couldn’t really blame them either. Evoking the explosion hero’s rage must have made them flustered and desperate to play any sympathy card available to them in the spur of the moment.

Of course, it wasn’t their card to play, nor would you ever have played it yourself, but if the humility was worth anything, it successfully managed to calm the top hero down. Actually, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. And if you hadn’t been so busy taking notes, you would have noticed his lingering stare.

A couple more incidents had occurred in the office after that. Among others, he’d caught an incoming paper airplane your coworker had thrown your way—stepped right in out of nowhere and cremated it with a controlled explosion before it could hit you.

You’d been speechless for a moment—the entire desk area along with you—confused by his strangeness and, at least in your case, even somewhat appalled by his utter lack of consideration—in your office space, no less. Seriously, top hero or not, you can’t just barge in and incinerate stuff?

“That was an important document,” you'd informed—brow quirked—no regard to how offending him could probably make grounds to have you fired. You'd only slightly regretted it after having said it. But geez, you thought—shouldn’t the top hero have some semblance worth of self-control?

“You shouldn’t be playing around,” he'd stated—tone just as sour as the stink of burned paper tainting the air. “Someone might get hurt.”

You’d almost scoffed at him but had held your tongue until he walked away.

Back then, you’d thought it was an offhand insult directed at you and your respected coworker—that the explosion hero had just called you both unprofessional to your faces, like the biggest scumbag to ever walk in through your humble doors. But looking back at it now, you realize he probably might have meant it in its most sincere regard.

His over-protectiveness knows no limit, you’ve learned—calling it patronizing would be a joke in comparison. He treats you as if anything in proximity might make you shatter by association—like a bubble made from the most thinned-out solution of water and soap.

You’d woken up in your well-prepared pillow room shortly after your agency’s collaboration with DynaMight had ended. It didn’t take long for you to piece together his sickness after that.

At first, you’d thought it was a more severe case of benevolent discrimination. After all, most people treat you with some amount of pity after being privy to your being quirkless—treating it no less than a disability of sorts.

But Bakugou’s view of you was increasingly more unsettling than that—suffering from some type of delusion that has him fully convinced you’re utterly inept without him.

In some odd ways, it would have been better if he was just faking—if he was doing it all, treating you as an inferior for some sick sense of deriving his own sadistic pleasure. But no, you think he actually fully and whole-heartedly believes you’re a danger to yourself and that anything, if not monitored in the perfect conditions of the controlled environment he’s established for you, will result in your fatal illness or harm.

He’s a full-sworn hypochondriac concerning you—even as he himself dregs home some of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen as if it were nothing but a splinter in the rough of his worn soles. Meanwhile, he’s scared that if you leave the bed without socks on, it will give you pneumonia.

You were sure you had a couple of control freaks at the agency, but nothing measures up to Bakugou’s mania. How he dresses you is one thing—how he feeds you is another. An assortment of pills first, all vitamins and supplements, a spoon of cod liver oil, then a balanced meal reminding you of those tragic trays you’re served at the hospital—four times a day without fail—breakfast, lunch, dinner, then supper—he also keeps track of all the water he’s decided you need to drink—all things perfectly regulated according to your size and age.

Then there’s the sleep schedule with a set number of eight hours—no more and no less. Exercise is also necessary—workout plans designed and dictated by him. Nothing too severe, though—he’s afraid your quirkless constitution won’t be able to handle anything beyond thirty minutes max.

And then, of course, there’s hygiene.

You sobbed and fought hysterically the first time he’d washed you—in the tub with him after he’d stripped you naked. In fact, you’d made such a fuss he’d had to fetch a sedative.

Even in your drowsed state of complete numb delirium, you’d still heard how he’d fretted over it—the tiny needle hole he’d torn in your arm—as if that was the real violation, even as he’d thoroughly molested the entirety of your body with different cloths and sponges for no shorter than a full hour.

You’d been terrified, of course—horrified by his meticulous routines and odd nature. Yet strangely, despite his rigid rules, he won't ever get violent to enforce them.

You had expected it of him—being known for his brutality—the hero without mercy—the symbol of retribution. You know he's no stranger to leaving the battlefield bloody. But with you, he won't so much as harm a single strand of hair from your head.

He will instead bargain with you, sometimes for hours. Eat what he tells you, and you’ll watch a movie afterward. Go to sleep, and he'll escort you out to see the sun for a few hours in the morning. Let him ensure you wash correctly, and he’ll allow you to dry and dress yourself.  

And in those moments when you leave him no other option, he subdues you through the help of a needle again and never ever by manhandling you—it was as if that weren’t even a viable option. It was obvious he regarded the sedative as the uttermost last resort, always muttering on about chemicals and whatnot under his breath. It seemed he would rather avoid it at all costs—but also, that if it stood between allowing the disturbance of the schedule he felt was needed to keep you healthy and forcibly putting you to sleep, he knew without a doubt which option he considered the lesser evil.

He was certain of it all. And at some point or another… you had even begun sharing his fear of attracting some sort of illness yourself—even something so small as a common cold. But no, it wasn’t the same. Yours was not a fear of the actual disease itself but of what he might do if he caught you sneezing and coughing. You could only imagine the upgraded pill table he’d have in store for you then and what other measures he’d instill due to his excessive ideas of necessity.

And that’s why you’d tried running again even after what must have been a couple of months since the last time. The thought of his inane insanity having affected you so badly you’d started playing along was all too much a painful realization—you’d felt compelled to reject it—run away even when you knew you’d never be able to make the door open if you could even reach it.

You knew it would be in vain, and even though running headfirst into something you know isn’t going to work might be the first signs of madness—you’re still relieved to have found some remaining worth of fight still in you, even if it couldn’t amount to anything.

He comes back as quickly as he’d left, still muttering to himself, cross about the damage you’ve sustained—like you’re one of the collector’s items he keeps up on the mantle in his office—green costume and a big bright smile. You remember the exposés—they’d been rather gruesome, about the hero who’d died in battle not so long ago—a couple of years back now, give or take. He had the number-one spot before DynaMight.

The current top hero retakes his spot at your feet, sighing deeply once he starts dabbing your minor bruises with disinfectant, followed by unnecessary bandages. You’re silent as you watch him work—all so diligently as he does everything, cutting no corners and running zero lights.

His efforts, done with the very epitome of care, all disgust you.

Your lip curls. “I’m not what you think I am…”

His keen glare stops obsessing over your wounds to look up at your face—he’d already tended to the ones he could see, but he’s sure more would blossom and swell in a couple of hours. It’s beyond worrisome—but it’s his fault in any case. He should move you to a place without stairs—it’s way too dangerous for someone as accident-prone as you.

You make eye contact, and his anger fades at the sight of tears welling in your corners—softening as if he’s convinced even a harsh look will have you shatter in his hands.

“I’m quirkless. But ’m not weak.” You’re sure you preached much of the same back at the beginning of your stay, though then you’d hurdled it at him—screamed it from the top of your lungs until you’d lost your voice, unknowing that it’s a statement he’s heard a hundred times over spoken by different lips from yours.

It’s a funny thing almost… how your eyes remind him of his—so soft and yet brimming with determination—a determination that will only get you killed.

He’d put faith in those words before, believed them beyond himself, and it had cost him everything.

But even so, he can’t fault you for believing in them yourself… they’re what makes him love you, after all.

He smiles gently—a most gut-churning sight from the all-scowling man.

“I’m sure you think so.”

He doesn’t relay it with any type of harshness but pity—gross concern and better judgment—overwhelming oodles of it in his garnet eyes, weighing them down with something so awful as compassion and… you don’t exactly know… but it looks like grief.

♡ part two ♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

SYNOPSIS

You and Mark go all the way back to your childhood years, getting to know each other through your older brother. When you were both just 15 years old, you made a choice that broke your brother's heart, and you were dead to Mark Lee ever since. You never got to reconcile with him as you moved away.

Now, you meet again in your college years, and Mark is noticing there's some weird things about you. First of all, are you a sugar baby?

TWs : gore, violence, y/n hides a lot of things and it's driving people crazy (slight purposeful miscommunication)

GENRE : crack, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff

STATUS : COMPLETED

A/N : inspired by the k-drama BLOODHOUNDS on netflix and featuring its main characters too !

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P1 should've worn butt plug then

P2 NOW CHOP CHOP LITTLE GERMAN BOY

P3 catch me outside, how bout that!?

P4 you can't just say perchance

P5 jokes on you i have a vasectomy kink

P6 you cheeky little shit

P7 hungry hungry hippo calling the pigs fat

P8 i don't trust that hehe

P9 mark better keep an eye out for selenerrr

P10 you have negative pull anyways

P11 damn do i miss my man

P12 THAT'S NOT LEGAL???

P13 WE JUMPING MARK LEE LMAO 😂

P14 act like it

P15 hungry hungry hippo over here

P16 lEts g3t shït f ace d!!!!!!!!!!

P17 rip mark lee aka lee minhyung

P18 not tonight please 🩷

P19 🧚🏻‍♀️ GET 🧚🏻‍♀️ YOUR 🧚🏻‍♀️ ASS 🧚🏻‍♀️ INTO 🧚🏻‍♀️ THE 🧚🏻‍♀️ GC 🧚🏻‍♀️

P20 mark lee alcoholic era incoming 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

P21 no need to get all biblical babe

P22 you shut up

P23 i realised that day that she in fact had two

P24 be honest have you slept today

P25 fuck you and fuck no

P26 straight people i tell you

P27 that's common sense i fear...

P28 lmao was i wrong tho

P29 i cant ty9e clearly wheñ ím çrying

P30 jesus please take the wheel rn

P31 the first steps ahead

P32 i am now a proud uchinaga 🫶🏻

P33 you just gotta dissociate at one point

P34 that is my full blooded older brother

P35 i knew it. i knew it!

P36 hm that's what i thought

P37 this is the push back, not the step back

P38 work wifey where are yewwwwwww

P39 ooooouu too bad idgaf

P40 i see the end

P41 i just miss my daily bedrotting

P42 nobody wants to see that hyuck

P43 listen, don't wanna be that bitch, but...

P44 how romantic

P45 me and my bro (we're targaryens)

P46 he's going to pay

P47 this is me holding on, okay?

P48 damn 😭 still not over her huh

P49 then don't fucking go

P50 screw the rebellious teenage phase

P51 jeong y/n

P52 not alone

P53 im here now

P54 men gotta ruin everything 😒

P55 valid crash out

[st4r-th0ughts]

Happy birthday, Kakavasha.

masterlist

Aventurine x gn bodyguard reader

ʚɞ series masterlist

ʚɞ recommend to read this

tw/cw: ‘they were roommates that want to make out but are too idiotic to make a move’ ahh, Aventurine has shitty lifestyle habits, this is in the same au as this, the cat cakes are in here and keep jumping both of you, not proofread!

note(s): I should be studying but I love aventurine so it’s ok, tags: @walpurg @rxzennia @sh1-n0bu @honkai-star-thirst (if you want I can add you to a taglist), @briefblazefox (an apology for the angst)

summary: birthdays are a occasion you have never celebrated. But for him, you’ll do anything.

(word count: 1.3k)

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The alarm blared you awake as you sit up, your hand fumbling by your bedside for the earring Aventurine had gifted you months ago, before it hits the button on your phone to mute the annoying noise making your hed pound.

Turning the screen to you, the numbers read 7:30 am, a rare timing for you to wake as your usually up and about at 4:00- 4:30am, ready to wake Aventurine at precisely at 6 to start the day.

But, the date reads 5 May. The day of the Kakava, and Sir’s birthday. You know this because he’d mentioned it in passing before, when you were accomapnying him through a mall for his usual shopping sprees, and in a arcade, a birthday party was being held for a young boy.

A girl, perhaps a few years older than him, was standing beside him, cheering him with the boy’s friends while he blew out the candles. You caught a glimpse of Aventurine’s face, how he stares a bit too long at the sibling duo, and how his eyes look fondly at them, and how his smile falters before it cheers up and he looks away again.

You dont know much about Aventurine, in all honesty. You only knew he came from Sigonia, and was possibly one of the last Avgins from his homeplanet, and that was only because late one night, you’d gone back to the IPC’s library to consult the records.

Birthdays were a occasion that was not so revered in Everflame mansion. When you came of age, they were barely acknowleged at all, because such occasions never served your job a purpose.

But when Aventurine first managed to pry that information out of you, your last birthday was him spoiling you 24/7 with lavish gifts and decadent food. Sure, he does it often, but you notice that he’d made the effort to buy you things you want, food you had been dying to taste, unlike the inital gifts where it was more of trying to buy your loyalty.

However, Aventurine is rich. He’s a trillionare, maybe even richer than one, consideirng you watched him spend 3 trillion dollars betting on something against the grey haired trailblazer, while you had a decent income just by being his bodyguard.

Therefore, he is able to buy eveyrthing to your heart’s desire, and by entent, his own. How are you supposed to appease his tatses? All the things you think of buying for him, one, he’d either refund the purchase, or it’s something he has already has or tried before.

The only thing that you can think of, is cooking for him. Aventurine, as extravagent and as expensive his tastebuds are, he has shit eating habits. If he isnt eating out with you or during meetings and events, he practically lives off coffee from the hours he spends in his office, you have to be the one to remind him to eat because at best, he’ll microwave instant noodles or a snadwich. It’s infuriating, because he’s always teasing you for eating badly yourself, yet he doesnt take his own advice.

You wouldnt say you’re great at cooking. Your hands were precise and still, making it easy for things like cracking eggs, and knife skills come in handy when cutting and carving fruits. But other things like perfecting the heat of a pan are not your strong suits. Staring at the recipe page detailing a step by step instruction on how to make pancakes, you stare at the part where they said to seperate the yolks and whites before glancing back at the bowl where you had whisked them both together.

You hope the smell of the failed pancakes that sit on a plate either raw or burnt dont wake up Aventurine. Coupled with his terrible eating habits, he sleeps rather late and gets up early. You’ve never seen him when he just wakes up, but you’ve seen him with dark rims round his eyes, and you’d rather he wake up on his own time. The cats are meowing incessantly at your feet, maybe they’ll serve as his mini alarm clocks with how loud they’re complaining about being hungry.

When 8:15 rolls around, you hear footsteps pattering slugishly down the steps, and a there’s a small smile you quikcly suppress out of instinct. You’re proud of what you have accomplished, a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that you had pulled out from the forgotten asscrack of the freezer. The unsuccessful pancakes are on your own plate, and the coffee is steaming in his mug.

“[𓏵]? What is…?”

Ah. Groggy and disoriented, it’s rare for you to ever see Aventurine not looking like his usual smug self and ready with his witty quips. The cat cakes meow loudly as they leap to his feet, one of them pawing and prancing at his feet while the other two leap on the kitchen counter to try and cling onto the gambler.

You let yourself smile lightly, grabbing the plate and setting it gently in front of Aventurine, pursing your lips as one of the cat cakes decide to paw at your slippers, the other two still seeking attention while Aventurine pets them. His pyjamas are loose, and his neck and part of his chest are exposed. You watch as he snags a strawberry slice into his mouth, watching his eyes open from the sweetness.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

You mutter awkwardly, cringing internally at the shit conversation starter, sighing as you scratch the back of your neck, your eyes softening as you gaze at Aventurine, who is looking at the food with a suprised look, which doesnt surprise you entirely, you know part of his past, he’d probably never had much of a decent breakfast, much less have anyone make some for him.

“It’s your birthday, you told me back in December when we were shopping.”

Aventurine’s gaze tilts to face you, his stunned expression sticking as his mouth opens in silence. No one has truly knows his birthday, save for a few like Topaz and Ratio, who send him birthday texts and leave gifts on his office desk. But he’s used to having a silent birthday, just buying a small cake and with only the cats to keep him company on the very day where his life went downhill.

“I dont celebrate birthdays often, I… actually dont think I’ve had one myself until you bothered to smother me with gifts and extravagence.”

You sigh, standing awkwardly agsint the counter as you stare at the floor, blinking as one of the cat cakes stare back with big, googly eyes that make it seem like they have absolutely no thoughts in thier eyes, unlike you, because there are thousands of thoughts racing through your mind.

The man cuts off your thoughts as he stands up, walking towards you and wrapping hesitant arms around you, and the warmth of his body, the proximity makes your face heat up, stiffening as your right arm gently wraps around Aventurine, your palm finding his waist as you lock eyes.

“Aventurine-”

“Kakavasha.”

He interupts you, pulling away from the hug while you’re internally dissapointed at the lack of warmth, your eyes making contact as the blond gazes at you with a soft, grateful look as he smiles, a genuine one.

“My name is Kakavasha, [𓏵].”

After a few moments of silence, you nod. The morning light bounces off Kakavasha’s face, making him impossibly handsome in the bright light, his hair is accentuated by the warm shine, your heart races faster as your hand finds his.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

You murmur softly, the cats yowling wildly in thier protest of not being fed, and Kakavasha laughs as one of them pounced on the counter and smushes thier way between you, the other two trying to accompany it.

“Happy birthday, Kakavasha.”

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

[amethystarachnid]

Hey!

Could you maybe do Loki dating a surgeon or sorts (Like general surgeon maybe and the reader is from Earth obv) and he visits to find her very busy with patients constantly piling up?

BURNOUT AND STARLIGHT

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: You’re a trauma surgeon devoted to saving lives...until the cost nearly becomes your own. Loki, your lover from Asgard, watches your struggle from afar, stepping in to comfort you when the weight becomes unbearable. Between Earth and stars, you begin to realize you can’t heal others if you forget to heal yourself.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nedical trauma and death (including loss of a young patient), Burnout, emotional exhaustion, and grief, Mentions of dissociation and crying

ᯓ★ I really hope I understood your request and I hope that you like it <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The hospital never sleeps.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you move quickly through the corridors, clipboard in hand, sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. It's late—maybe three, maybe four in the morning—and the Emergency Department is thrumming with a low, relentless energy that feels more like a battlefront than a place of healing. You’ve been here for what, sixteen hours now? Eighteen? It hardly matters. Time blurs when you’re this deep into the work, when every second feels like it belongs to someone else's life and not your own.

Your pager buzzes at your hip, sharp and insistent. Another incoming trauma. You sigh under your breath, shifting the clipboard to your other arm and pushing through the heavy doors back into the main ED. You barely feel the exhaustion anymore. It's been beaten into you, carved into your bones like the steady ache you carry in your back and shoulders.

You love this work. You do. It's what you were meant to do.

But lately, it feels like something's missing.

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. You’re too good at compartmentalizing. It’s a skill you’ve honed out of necessity—the same skill that keeps you from breaking when you're elbow-deep in a gunshot wound or barking orders over the roar of a code blue. You don't let yourself feel too much. Not while you're here.

Still, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that no amount of caffeine or adrenaline can seem to fill.

You shove open the bay doors and step into the chaos.

Paramedics are wheeling in a man, his shirt soaked with blood, his face pale and drawn. You snap into action immediately, rattling off instructions, feeling the familiar click of your mind slipping into gear. It's automatic, clinical. Hands steady, voice firm.

This is who you are. This is what you do.

But somewhere, buried under the sterile smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of monitors, you feel the frayed edges of something tender and aching inside you.

You think of him.

You think of Loki.

You don’t even realize you’ve whispered his name under your breath until a nurse glances at you, puzzled. You clear your throat and refocus, pushing the thought aside. He’s not here. He’s never here when you need him most.

Because he lives in another world. Literally.

You knew it when you started dating him—that loving him meant accepting that he didn’t belong to this one. He had a throne, a destiny, a home that wasn’t Earth. And you had yours: a hospital badge clipped to your scrub pocket and a life that demanded every scrap of your energy.

Still, you can't help but wonder sometimes what it would be like if things were different.

If he could stay.

If you could leave.

The patient crashes briefly on the table, and you don’t have time to wonder anymore. You lose yourself in the desperate, beautiful work of keeping him alive.

Hours pass. Maybe a day. It's hard to tell.

Eventually, you're leaning against the nurses' station, scribbling notes on a chart, when a strange shimmer in the air makes you pause. You blink, thinking maybe it's just the exhaustion playing tricks on you.

But then the shimmer coalesces into something solid, something real.

Someone.

Your breath catches.

He stands there, just beyond the edge of the nurses' station, clad in dark leathers and emerald-green, his black hair falling messily across his forehead. His presence feels like a crack in the fabric of reality, like the world has bent around him just to make space.

Loki.

Your heart stutters, a painful, startled thing against your ribs. For a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. You just stare at him, taking in the impossible sight of him here, now, in your world.

He smiles, slow and devastating.

"Hello, darling," he says, his voice a low purr that sends shivers down your spine.

You realize suddenly that you're still holding the chart, your pen frozen in midair. You slam it down on the counter and rush around to him, nearly colliding with a passing orderly.

"Loki," you hiss under your breath, grabbing his arm and tugging him into a nearby empty room. You shut the door behind you and spin to face him, heart hammering.

"You can't just—" you start, but the words die in your throat as he steps closer.

"I had to see you," he murmurs, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he looks away too long.

Your anger fizzles out before it even properly ignites. All you can feel is the aching swell of longing that rises up to drown you.

"You shouldn't be here," you say, voice shaking. "I’m working."

"I know." His thumb grazes your cheekbone. "I can see that. You look... exhausted."

You laugh, a short, brittle sound. "Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you don't sleep for two days."

His brow furrows in concern, and for a moment, you think he might actually whisk you away somewhere—somewhere safe, somewhere quiet, where the world can’t touch you. You can almost feel the magic curling around him, an instinctive, protective thing.

You step back, putting distance between you before you can do something stupid, like ask him to take you with him.

"You can't stay," you say, forcing the words out.

He nods, but there’s something stubborn in the set of his jaw. "Then come with me."

You blink at him. "Loki—"

"Just for a little while," he says, stepping closer again. "An hour. A day. Whatever you can spare."

You hesitate. God, you want to. You want to throw your pager in a drawer and vanish into the void with him, if only for a little while. But reality claws at you, sharp and unrelenting.

"I can't," you whisper. "I have patients. I have responsibilities."

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if pained by the words. When he opens them again, they're filled with something raw and desperate.

"I miss you," he says simply.

You swallow hard, fighting back the sudden rush of tears. "I miss you too."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you can't say.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a small, gleaming object. It looks almost like a pocket watch, but the surface shimmers with magic. He presses it into your hand.

"If you ever need me," he says, his voice low and serious, "use this. No matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing—I’ll come."

You stare down at it, your fingers closing around the cool, intricate metal.

"Loki..." you breathe, overwhelmed.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he steps back, the air around him shimmering again, the edges of his form already starting to blur.

"I'll see you soon, my love," he promises.

And then he's gone.

You stand there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he was, the magical device still clutched tightly in your hand.

Outside the door, the hospital marches on—urgent, noisy, unrelenting.

You take a deep breath, pocket the device, and step back into the chaos.

Because this is your life.

For now.

---

You make it through the next few hours on autopilot.

Consults, stitches, assessments. Paperwork that never ends. Your mind drifts constantly to the weight in your pocket, the small device pressing against the fabric of your scrubs like a secret. You could call him. You could have him here, just for a moment, just long enough to breathe.

But you don't. You wait. You endure.

You tell yourself it’s what you’re supposed to do. You tell yourself you're stronger than this gnawing ache inside you.

And then the trauma pager goes off again.

Code crimson. Incoming pediatric trauma.

Your stomach twists even before you hear the rest.

You’re already waiting at the trauma bay when they wheel her in—tiny, fragile, broken. A car accident, they say. She wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt. A mess of blood and broken bones and too many injuries for one small body to bear.

You move on instinct. Gloves snapped on, orders flying from your mouth before you’ve even thought them through. You hear yourself speaking, hear the team moving around you, but it all feels distant. Like you’re underwater.

They rush her to the OR. You’re right there, scrubbed in, heart pounding.

You fight.

God, you fight.

For hours, you battle for her life, hands slick with blood, eyes burning with the intensity of it. You’re careful, methodical, brilliant. You give everything you have.

And it’s not enough.

The monitors flatline.

You bark orders to start compressions, your voice hoarse with desperation. You shock her. You pump her heart manually with your hands. You do everything you know how to do, and when the attending finally calls it—time of death, 4:12 AM—you stand frozen over her tiny, broken body.

The room is silent except for the whir of machines still running out of habit.

You strip off your gloves and gown mechanically, tossing them into the bin. You wash your hands because you have to, but they don’t feel clean. You stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sink—pale, hollow-eyed, blood smeared along your jawline where you must have wiped your face without thinking.

You don't feel like yourself anymore.

You barely make it out of the hospital. You clock out, numbly. You fumble with your car keys. You drive home with your hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white.

The second the front door clicks shut behind you, the weight of it all crashes down.

You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor, burying your face in your hands. The sobs tear out of you without warning, violent and raw. You can't stop them. You can't breathe around them.

You tried. You tried so fucking hard.

And it wasn't enough.

You fumble in your scrub pocket and pull out the device Loki gave you, your fingers trembling. You don’t even think—you just press it, hard, as if willing him to appear.

For a second, nothing happens.

And then the air shimmers.

Loki materializes in the middle of your living room, his cloak swirling around him, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. One look at you, crumpled and broken on the floor, and all the mischief, all the arrogance drains from his face.

"Darling," he breathes, rushing to you.

You don't have the strength to move. You just look up at him, tears streaming down your face, and he drops to his knees beside you without hesitation. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest with a tenderness that shatters whatever's left of your composure.

You clutch at him desperately, fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic, as if you can anchor yourself to him and stop the world from spinning.

"I lost her," you whisper brokenly into his shoulder. "I tried—I did everything—I couldn’t save her—"

Loki rocks you gently, his hand stroking up and down your back, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "I'm here. I'm here, my love. You are not alone."

You don't know how long you stay like that, wrapped in his arms, crying until there’s nothing left but a hollow ache where your heart used to be.

Eventually, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, cradling you as if you weigh nothing at all. His magic flares softly, flicking the bathroom lights on ahead of him as he carries you through the apartment.

"You need to rest," he says quietly. "You need care."

You don’t argue. You can’t.

You let him strip the bloodstained scrubs from your body, his movements gentle and reverent, never crossing any boundary you don't offer him. You stand there, shivering, dazed, as he runs a bath, the water steaming and fragrant with something calming—something Asgardian, probably.

When he leads you into the water, you sink down gratefully, the heat seeping into your aching muscles, the scent filling your lungs with something other than grief.

Loki kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves. He dips a cloth into the water and begins to wash you with slow, careful strokes, as if you’re made of glass and he’s terrified of breaking you further.

He doesn't speak. He just stays with you, grounding you with the steady rhythm of his hands, the silent comfort of his presence.

When your skin is clean and your tears have dried, he wraps you in a thick, warm towel and lifts you again, carrying you to the bedroom.

He dresses you in one of his soft shirts—it falls to your mid-thigh and smells like him—and then tucks you gently into bed. He slides in beside you, gathering you against him, his body a protective wall of warmth and strength.

You press your face into his chest, breathing in the scent of him—leather, magic, something uniquely Loki—and feel some small, broken part of yourself start to stitch back together.

His hand strokes through your hair in slow, hypnotic patterns.

"You are not a god," he murmurs against your temple. "You are mortal, and you are magnificent. You gave her a fighting chance, and that is more than most could ever hope to do."

You close your eyes, letting the words sink into the hollow spaces inside you.

You don't feel better.

Not yet.

But wrapped in Loki's arms, you feel something else.

Safe.

Loved.

Slowly, finally, exhaustion pulls you under. Your breathing evens out, your body growing heavy and warm.

Loki stays awake long after you've fallen asleep, watching over you with a fierce, unyielding devotion.

Because if he could, he would tear the stars down from the sky to ease your pain.

Because he is yours.

And you are his.

Always.

---

The morning comes slow and golden.

You drift up from sleep wrapped in warmth, cocooned by soft sheets and the steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest against your cheek. His arms are still around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go. You breathe him in—the faintest scent of him lingering on your skin—and for a long, precious moment, you don't move.

You let yourself pretend.

Pretend this is normal. That he’s here, that you belong like this.

Eventually, you stir, your body aching but lighter somehow. Loki’s arms tighten instinctively around you, his nose nuzzling into your hair, a low, contented sound humming in his chest.

"Good morning, darling," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

You tilt your head back to look at him. His hair is tousled, his features soft in the morning light, without any of the usual sharp edges he wears like armor. He's beautiful like this—unguarded, yours.

You reach up and touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the curve of his jaw. He turns his head and presses a kiss into your palm, slow and deliberate, and something inside you melts.

"Good morning," you whisper back, your throat raw but a little less broken.

He smiles—a real one, rare and radiant—and leans down to kiss you properly. His lips are warm and soft against yours, gentle at first, then deepening as his hand slides into your hair. He kisses you like he’s savoring you, like he has all the time in the world to learn every shape and sigh of your mouth.

When he finally pulls back, you're breathless and dizzy and a little drunk on him.

"Stay here," he says, a mischievous glint sparking to life in his eyes. "Rest. I’ll make you breakfast."

You blink at him. "You know how to cook?"

He sits up, looking insulted. "I am a prince of Asgard. I can perform complex illusions, wield ancient magics, and command armies. I think I can manage scrambled eggs."

You laugh, a soft, cracked sound that still feels foreign after everything, but it’s real. He smiles like he’s won some secret prize and presses one last kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed.

You watch him go, shamelessly admiring the way his bare back flexes under the soft light, before you burrow deeper into the covers.

You hear cabinets opening, something clattering, a muffled curse in what you assume is Old Norse. You can't help but smile.

You drift in and out of sleep for a little while longer, lulled by the comforting noises of him moving around your kitchen.

Eventually, the scent of something vaguely resembling food wafts into the bedroom. Loki appears in the doorway, looking absurdly proud of himself, holding a plate piled with slightly uneven, slightly burnt eggs and toast.

He sets the plate down on the nightstand and climbs back into bed, positioning himself so he can feed you a bite with a flourish, clearly very pleased with his efforts.

You chew dutifully, trying not to laugh.

"It's... edible," you tease.

He scowls dramatically. "Such ingratitude. I risked life and limb for this culinary masterpiece."

You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, lingering there. "Thank you," you murmur against his skin.

He softens immediately, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss—deeper, sweeter, lingering. His tongue brushes teasingly against yours, coaxing another small laugh from your throat.

You could stay like this forever.

But reality is a cruel thing.

You pull back slowly, resting your forehead against his. "I have to go back to work this afternoon."

You feel him stiffen slightly, his arms tightening around you.

"No," he says, almost petulantly. "You need rest."

"I know," you whisper, your chest aching. "But they’re short-staffed, and I... I can’t just not show up."

He pulls back enough to look at you, his expression torn between anger and helplessness. "You give them everything you have," he says bitterly. "And they would take more if they could."

You don't deny it.

Because he's right.

But it’s the life you chose, the oath you took.

"Loki," you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. "This is who I am."

He closes his eyes, breathing out slowly through his nose, trying to master the storm inside him.

When he opens them again, they’re luminous with something fragile and aching.

"You are stronger than any warrior I have ever known," he says, his voice low and reverent. "But even the strongest need tending, my love."

You kiss him again, slow and lingering, pouring everything you can’t say into the touch of your lips against his. He kisses you back like he’s trying to memorize you, hands framing your face with a tenderness that breaks you all over again.

When you finally pull away, you brush your thumb over his lower lip, feeling the faint tremor in his breath.

"I'll be okay," you promise.

He doesn't believe you.

But he nods anyway.

Because he knows he can't hold you back, no matter how much he wants to.

He will be waiting.

Always.

---

The hospital is a different world during the day—louder, busier, more frantic.

You step through the sliding glass doors with your ID badge clipped to your scrub top, your hair hastily pulled back, your mind already trying to summon the strength you aren't sure you have.

You left Loki curled in your bed, tangled in the sheets that still smell like you, his eyes heavy with something too complicated to name. It had nearly broken you to slip away from him. But you couldn’t stay, no matter how much you wanted to.

Duty calls. It always does.

You push through the hours mechanically, moving from room to room, chart to chart, trying to summon the same clinical focus that usually shields you. But you're tired—bone-deep and soul-deep—and today, it shows.

You don't notice the subtle flicker of magic that trails you like a shadow.

You don't notice the way the air shimmers faintly at the edge of your vision, or the way the lights above your head seem just a little softer, kinder.

You don’t see Loki, concealed from mortal eyes, moving unseen through the crowded corridors.

He stays close—always close—his magic a silent, invisible shield between you and the world. He can't heal your grief, can't take away the ache that gnaws at you, but he can do small things. Things that might lighten your burden, even if just a little.

When your coffee nearly slips from your trembling fingers, an unseen hand steadies it.

When your chart goes missing, it appears again, neatly stacked on your station.

When the overhead lights flicker and threaten to plunge your OR into darkness mid-procedure, the generators kick in faster than they should have—Loki’s magic smoothing the systems before disaster can strike.

He watches you work, the ferocious grace of you, the way you hold yourself together with sheer willpower. Every exhausted smile you offer a patient, every steady, capable order you give a nurse, every little act of stubborn, impossible hope—he sees it all.

And it makes him ache.

He could spirit you away from this place. He could wrap you in magic and silk and shield you from every pain and sorrow.

But he won’t.

Because he knows you would never forgive him.

Because you are stronger than that.

Because this is who you are.

He leans against the far wall of the trauma bay, cloaked in illusion, watching as you tend to a boy with a broken arm, your voice gentle and patient as you explain the cast he'll need. Your hands are sure and steady, even as the exhaustion shadows your face.

He wants to gather you into his arms and never let go.

Instead, he settles for what he can do: weaving tiny spells into your path, softening the air around you, ensuring that everything that might trip you, hurt you, tire you further—fails.

You move through the day unaware of the way you’re being cared for, protected.

You think it’s luck when the supplies you need are always stocked. You think it’s coincidence when your least favorite attending gets called away to another floor right before your evaluation. You think it’s a miracle when the day seems, somehow, a little less heavy than you expected.

You don't know that it's him.

You don’t know that every step you take is watched with a devotion so fierce it could level mountains.

It’s nearly evening when you finally get a moment to breathe.

You sink into the worn leather couch in the on-call room, letting your head fall back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut.

You don't notice the faint shimmer beside you.

Loki sits at the edge of the room, invisible and silent, watching you with something almost like reverence. You are so strong, so brave, and yet he sees the cracks now, hairline fractures running just beneath the surface.

He wants to heal them all.

He stays until your pager buzzes again, dragging you back to your feet with a weary groan. You don’t see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the instinct to snatch you away, to steal you back to safety.

He follows you into the next room, and the next.

And when your hands falter just slightly as you stitch a laceration closed, when your vision blurs for half a second too long, he is there. His magic steadies your fingers, clears your head, lends you strength you don't even realize you're drawing from.

He would burn the world for you.

Instead, he gives you this: small, unseen mercies.

By the time your shift ends, you are staggering with exhaustion, your legs barely carrying you back to the locker room.

You slump against the cool metal of your locker, forehead resting against the door, too tired even to cry.

"Just one more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just get through one more."

A ghost of a touch brushes your hair back from your face—no stronger than a whisper of wind—and you straighten up without even knowing why, a tiny bit lighter, a tiny bit less alone.

You pull your jacket on, grab your bag, and head out into the night.

Loki watches you go, his heart twisting.

He knows he cannot stay much longer. He knows he has duties of his own to return to, an entire realm waiting for him.

But tonight, he will follow you home.

Tonight, he will stand unseen by your window while you sleep, guarding you from every nightmare that dares to touch you.

Because he loves you.

And for you, he would be invisible. He would be silent. He would be anything.

As long as you are safe.

As long as you are loved.

---

By the time you make it home, your body feels like it's running on fumes.

You fumble with your keys at the door, your hands clumsy, your mind slow. You expect to find the apartment dark, empty, silent—but the second you step inside, you feel it.

Warmth.

Magic.

Loki.

He’s already there, lounging across your worn sofa, one leg draped casually over the armrest, a book open on his lap. His eyes lift the moment he senses you, and the soft, slow smile that spreads across his face makes your chest ache.

You drop your bag onto the floor with a graceless thud and shut the door behind you. The tension bleeds out of you at the mere sight of him.

"You’re here," you whisper, your voice hoarse from fatigue.

"Of course," he says simply, closing the book and setting it aside. "Where else would I be?"

You don’t ask how he got here before you.

You don’t ask why today, when everything felt just a little less unbearable, you caught glimpses of impossibilities out of the corner of your eye—papers stacked neatly when they shouldn't have been, doors held open by invisible hands, weariness lifting just long enough to get through a critical moment.

You don't ask.

Because some things, you know, are not meant to be spoken aloud.

You cross the room without a second thought and sink into him, into the sanctuary of his arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

He holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

For a long time, there’s only the hush of your breathing, the soft kiss he presses to your temple, the way his fingers card lazily through your hair.

"You’re exhausted," he murmurs.

You hum in agreement, too drained even for words.

"And you have no obligations tomorrow," he continues, a gleam of mischief curling in his voice. "Correct?"

You nod slowly against him.

"Good." He draws back just enough to see your face, a flicker of excitement sparking in his eyes. "Because we’re leaving."

You blink at him, too tired to process. "Leaving?"

"For Asgard," he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You need rest. You need to be... spoiled."

You shake your head, laughing weakly. "Loki, I can't—"

But you don't even finish the protest. Because he’s already gathering you in his arms, standing smoothly as if you weigh nothing at all.

He whispers a word in a language older than Earth itself, and the room spins.

When the world rights itself again, you’re no longer in your apartment.

You’re standing in a grand, golden hallway, the ceilings soaring high above you, the floors polished to a mirror shine. The air smells different—cleaner, richer somehow—and the low hum of magic buzzes pleasantly under your skin.

You blink in stunned silence.

Loki grins down at you, all roguish pride and boyish delight. "Welcome back to Asgard, my love."

Before you can think of anything to say, a pair of attendants appear, bowing low with practiced grace. One of them holds out a bundle of soft, luxurious clothes in shimmering shades of silver and deep green.

"For you, Lady Y/N," the attendant says reverently.

You look at Loki, wide-eyed.

He shrugs, utterly unrepentant. "You deserve to be treated as you should be. As royalty."

He sets you down gently and nods toward a set of ornately carved doors. "Go, change. Refresh yourself. Then dinner."

You are too stunned to argue.

You disappear into the chamber beyond, where a marble bath steams invitingly, petals floating on the water's surface. You sink into it gratefully, letting the heat and the soft scents of strange flowers unknot the last of the tension in your muscles.

When you emerge, the clothes fit perfectly—soft against your skin, tailored to your shape, the fabrics lighter than anything you’ve ever worn.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the gilded mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back: not the exhausted surgeon, not the broken girl, but someone softer, more luminous.

Someone loved.

You step back into the hallway, and Loki is waiting for you.

His eyes darken the moment he sees you, something fierce and possessive flashing across his face before he tucks it away behind a smirk.

"Exquisite," he says, offering his arm.

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, and he leads you through the palace, past towering columns and glowing crystal sconces, until you reach a grand dining hall.

It’s not a feast for a hundred—it’s a feast for you.

A private table set for two, laden with dishes you don’t recognize but that smell impossibly good. The air is filled with soft music, the melodies strange and hauntingly beautiful.

He pulls out your chair with a flourish and waits until you’re seated before taking his place across from you.

The meal passes in a haze of laughter and stolen glances, Loki’s wit light and effortless, his attention never straying from you for a second. He fills your plate with whatever you want, pours you a goblet of some sweet, golden drink, and teases you gently whenever you try to protest that he’s fussing too much.

But you let him.

Because deep down, you know he needs this too.

He needs to give you what he can, in a world where so often you give everything away.

Afterward, he leads you through a winding garden, the stars above shining larger and closer than they ever do on Earth. The air is cool, the paths lined with soft glowing stones.

You stop at the edge of a fountain, the water sparkling under the moons.

He pulls you into his arms, swaying with you to the music only he can hear.

"You saved lives today," he says quietly, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. "Even when no one saved you."

You swallow hard, your throat tightening.

"You are a wonder," he continues, lowering his forehead to yours. "And I will spend every day I am allowed showing you that."

You tilt your head up, capturing his mouth with yours before the tears can fall. He kisses you back fiercely, hands curling into your hair, his body warm and solid against yours.

You lose yourself in him—in the safety, the devotion, the love that wraps around you more surely than any magic ever could.

When you finally pull away, he cups your face, his thumb brushing the dampness from your cheeks.

"Come," he says, voice thick. "Sleep in a real bed tonight, my queen."

You let him lead you back through the palace, back to a suite larger than your entire apartment, the bed piled with velvet and silk.

He undresses you carefully, reverently, until you are bare before him, and then he slips into the bed beside you, gathering you against him.

You fall asleep with his heart beating steady under your ear, the stars of another world shining outside your window.

And for the first time in a long, long while, you dream of peace.

---

Morning in Asgard doesn’t creep in.

It floods.

Soft gold spills through the sheer curtains, lighting the room in a warm, otherworldly glow. The silk sheets are tangled around your legs, the air still scented faintly with jasmine and something sharper—something distinctly Loki.

You stir slowly, one arm reaching out instinctively—and finding him already watching you.

Loki lies propped on one elbow beside you, bare-chested, the sheet slung low over his hips. His hair is mussed from sleep, his eyes lit with a quiet, adoring hunger.

"Good morning," he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep.

You stretch, sighing softly as you roll toward him, your fingers tracing idle lines across his chest. "You’re staring."

He arches an eyebrow. "How could I not? You're beautiful in all lights, but in this one..." His gaze drops lower, slow and deliberate. "You're divine."

You blush, laughing under your breath, and lean in to kiss him. He meets you halfway, his mouth soft but deepening quickly, his hand sliding down to your waist. He pulls you closer until your leg is hooked over his hip, your bodies flush, heat rising between you like a slow tide.

"You deserve mornings like this," he says against your lips. "No alarms. No rushing off. Just me. Just you."

"I could get used to this," you whisper, breath hitching as his fingers slide up under the thin sheet draped over your back.

"Then do," he murmurs, voice a low promise. "Stay here. With me. For one more day."

You don’t answer—can’t answer—not when his mouth finds the curve of your throat, not when his hand slips lower, coaxing a gasp from your lips. His name escapes you in a broken whisper as his touch turns firmer, more deliberate.

The moment stretches, deep and golden, poised on the edge of something more.

And then—

Ding.

You both freeze.

Your brows knit, confused for half a second—until the sound comes again, distinct and familiar and horribly real.

Your phone.

Loki groans quietly, his forehead dropping to your collarbone.

"I warded your device to connect to Midgard's networks," he mutters, clearly regretting it now. "In case you needed it while here. I did not expect it to turn against me so soon."

You reach blindly for your phone on the nightstand, heart already dropping.

It’s a message from the hospital. Urgent call. Emergency case. Available personnel needed ASAP.

You stare at it for a moment, your body still thrumming with warmth, tangled in satin sheets and Loki’s arms.

Then reality slices through you like ice.

You sit up, dragging the sheet with you, thumb already flying across the screen to respond. Your heartbeat pounds against your ribs—habit, duty, instinct.

Loki watches silently, the lines of his jaw tightening, something dark and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

You look at him.

"I have to go," you say softly, already slipping out of bed.

He doesn’t answer right away.

He just sits there, watching you gather your clothes, his gaze heavy with something between heartbreak and resignation.

"You just got here," he finally says, quiet.

You nod, throat tight. "I know."

His fingers flex slightly against the sheets. He doesn’t stop you. Of course he doesn’t. He never would.

But you can feel the ache in his silence as clearly as if he shouted it.

You dress quickly, moving through the motions on autopilot, and when you reach for your phone again, you pause.

You turn back to him.

"I wanted to stay," you whisper.

His eyes find yours. "I know."

And then he rises, steps toward you, and pulls you into his arms one last time.

He kisses you like he’s memorizing the taste of you, his hands cradling your face with a reverence that makes your chest burn.

When you finally pull away, breathless and aching, he rests his forehead against yours.

"I’ll bring you back," he says softly. "As soon as I can."

And then, with a twist of his fingers and a shimmer of green light, the golden palace disappears, and you’re standing once more at your apartment door.

Back on Earth.

Back in scrubs.

Back in the storm.

---

You make it through the shift.

Barely.

The emergency turns out to be a multi-car pile-up—three ambulances arriving back-to-back, a dozen patients flooding the trauma unit. It’s chaos. Controlled chaos, but chaos all the same.

You don’t have time to think. Not about Asgard. Not about Loki. Not even about the way your legs feel like they might give out beneath you.

You’re soaked in sweat before the first hour is over, your gloves red and sticky, your voice hoarse from barking out orders. One of the patients codes right there in front of you—a teenager with too much blood in his chest, not enough in his brain—and you don’t even flinch. You crack his ribs open and dig your hands into his chest like it’s just another procedure.

Because it is just another procedure.

Until it’s not.

Until he dies.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You scrub out in silence, your hands trembling slightly under the hot stream of water. You stare at the blood circling the drain, the pink foam clinging to your skin, and you feel... nothing.

Not horror. Not sadness.

Just empty.

You barely make it to the locker room before you sit down and don’t get up for twenty minutes. You ignore the concerned glance from one of the residents, the gentle pat on the back. You say you're fine.

You’re always fine.

But inside, something has shifted.

And when your shift finally ends and you walk out into the cold night air, something in you breaks open, quiet and irrevocable.

You love your job. You know you do. The helping, the healing, the second chances. It’s all worth it. It has to be.

But you can’t keep living like this.

You’re going to die from it. Not all at once—but by inches.

Every night without sleep. Every trauma you carry home. Every time you walk into your apartment too exhausted to eat, to breathe, to be alive.

This isn’t sustainable.

And maybe for the first time... you admit it.

By the time you reach your door, you’re blinking back tears, your limbs too heavy, your chest too tight.

You unlock it with shaking hands.

And he’s there.

Of course he’s there.

Loki stands in the middle of your living room, dressed in black, his hair pulled back, eyes already on you. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t need to.

Because the moment you look at him, really look, the dam breaks.

You don’t even drop your bag. You just cross the space between you and fall into his arms like a collapsing star.

He catches you instantly.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask.

He just holds you.

And gods, it undoes you.

You cry into his chest, silent and shaking, your fists curled into the fabric of his shirt. He rests his chin atop your head and rocks you gently, his arms strong and sure around you.

"I can’t do it anymore," you whisper, barely audible.

He doesn’t stiffen.

He just kisses the top of your head.

"I know."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could save everyone. But it’s killing me, Loki. Slowly. Quietly. And no one even sees it."

He pulls back just enough to take your face in his hands, his expression aching with tenderness.

"I see it," he says. "I’ve always seen it."

You close your eyes.

"I don’t want to stop being a doctor," you murmur. "But I don’t want to lose myself doing it."

"You won't," he says, firm. "We’ll find a way. I will find a way."

You look at him, eyes glassy. "You can’t fix this with magic."

"No," he agrees. "But I can carry it with you. As long as you let me."

You exhale shakily, nodding before you even fully process it.

"Okay," you say. "Okay."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he’s trying to draw every ounce of pain out of you and replace it with something softer. Something safe.

He helps you out of your coat, your shoes, the bag still slung over your shoulder. He leads you to the couch, wraps you in a blanket, and curls around you like a shield.

You’re asleep before you even realize your eyes are closing.

And in that moment, even with everything still uncertain, you know one thing for sure:

You’re not alone in this anymore.

You never will be.

part 2 where reader leaves the hospital and lives on Asgard? maybe being a doctor there? do asgardians even need one? idk

[calicoheartz]

Write one where Paige & reader get into a heated argument lots of angst happy ending

From Ashes to Affection ; Paige Bueckers ﹒⟢

꣑୧ — summary | you and paige were known for your self-deprecating jokes towards one another, but after tension builds and threatens to boil over, will your relationship spoil or will you manage to save it?

wc ; 662

— warnings | swearing , arguments , lots of angst but w a happy ending (yay) massive tw : self deprecating joke about anxiety

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ooof I feel like I haven’t been writing as much angst lately so it was very fun to write ! enjoy ◡̈

After a long week of final exams and nights filled with books sprawled across your desk, you took the opportunity to spend the eve of the incoming weekend with your girlfriend Paige.

Your differing schedules and commitments had left tension to build for weeks, simmering beneath the surface until it finally boiled over. It started with a harmless comment, a joke that was meant to be lighthearted, but it was taken the wrong way, triggering a chain reaction of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations. 

Paige knew how much you struggled with your anxiety, it was something that had plagued you for a majority of your life. You two had always made self-deprecating jokes at one another, the atmosphere was light and loving, giving you hope that maybe you were moving past the rough patch of your relationship. All until…

“Well thank god having bad anxiety isn't an olympic sport because you'd definitely have a gold medal.”

You felt your heart sink, you felt tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, due to the shock at the words the blonde had just said.

"I can't believe you would say that, Paige," you said, your voice filled with hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Paige's expression hardened, her own hurt turning into anger. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought," she retorted, her words cutting like a knife.

The argument escalated quickly, both of you saying things you didn't mean, words fueled by hurt and anger. Before you knew it, Paige was storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered remains of your relationship.

You packed a bag, leaving your promise ring on the bedside of the blondes bedside table, and headed towards your best friends house in order to calm down. 

Days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Paige only seemed to grow wider. You missed her more than words could say, missed the way she would smile at you, the way she would hold you close when you needed comfort. But you couldn't bring yourself to reach out to her, to try and mend what was broken.

And then, one day, you received a letter from Paige. In it, she poured her heart out, apologizing for her part in the argument, for the hurtful things she had said. She admitted that she missed you, missed the way things used to be between you.

Torn between anger and longing, you found yourself faced with a choice. Could you find it in your heart to forgive Paige, to try and rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was it too late for the two of you, the damage done irreparable?

With a heavy heart, you penned a response to Paige, laying bare your own feelings and fears. You admitted that you missed her too, missed the way things used to be. But you also expressed your doubts, your fear that history would only repeat itself if you were to reconcile.

Weeks passed, and as the days turned into months, you found yourself thinking more and more about Paige, about the possibility of a future together. And then, one day, you received another letter from Paige, this time with a different tone, a tone of hope and determination.

"I understand if you can't forgive me, can't trust me again," Paige wrote. "But I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to prove to you that I've changed. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read Paige's words, words filled with sincerity and love. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still loved her too. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and began to write, ready to take the first step towards healing and forgiveness.

sorry for the short post my loves !! ive been super burnt out from writing and have been suffering from writers block so I hope y'all enjoyed this one <3 as always, thank u sm for reading !

[misahyochaeng]

"À Contretemps"

Jihyo x Fem!Reader

Chapter 6-(?)

tw: angst, ceo!jihyo x model!reader, slight momo x reader/ a bit of fluff with momo, violence, blood, arguments.

Other chapters:

—

The vibration of your phone woke you, the buzzing so incessant that, for a moment, you thought it was an alarm. Groaning, you fumbled blindly on the nightstand until your fingers found the device. Blinking against the brightness of the screen, you saw a string of missed calls and unread messages

Jihyo.

Her name filled nearly every notification. You sighed heavily, declining the incoming call, but the buzzing continued. With no reprieve, you answered, your voice groggy and laced with irritation. “What?”

Her voice cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and loud. “Where the hell are you?”

You rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t give me that!” Jihyo’s tone was clipped, words laced with frustration. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you? How worried I’ve been? Just—just tell me where you are!”

You scoffed, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m fine. Go back to bed, Jihyo. It’s none of your business.”

The silence on her end was deafening for a second before it erupted into more yelling. “It is my business, Y/N! Stop acting like a child and tell me where you are—right now!”

Your grip tightened on the phone, her words gnawing at your patience. “Why do you even care?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You don’t—” Her shout interrupted you, loud and sudden enough to make you flinch. “Because I do! I—”

Click. You hung up, letting the phone fall onto the bed as you buried your face in Momo’s pillow. Her scent lingered faintly—something sweet and floral, comforting even in the storm raging within you. You inhaled deeply, trying to quiet your thoughts, but the tension in your chest refused to fade.

Some time later, the soft creak of the bedroom door pulled you from your restless state. You didn’t lift your head, only listening as light footsteps approached. The mattress shifted as Momo slid in beside you, her arms slipping around your waist. Her face pressed against your back, and her warmth seeped into you like sunlight on a cold day.

“Just sleep,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible. You didn’t reply, letting the comfort of her presence lull you into a fragile calm.

---

A loud, aggressive knock shattered the quiet.

You bolted upright, heart racing. Momo groaned, half-asleep, as she dragged herself out of bed. “Stay here,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled toward the door.

You stayed frozen in place, straining to hear the exchange. The door creaked open, followed by hushed voices—and then, suddenly, the sharp sound of a slap. Your stomach twisted as Momo’s pained cry echoed through the apartment.

You jumped out of bed, rushing toward the commotion. Rounding the corner, you saw Momo on the floor, clutching her face, her white shirt stained with blood. Tears streaked her cheeks, her nose dripping red. And there was Jihyo, standing over her, chest heaving with rage.

“Where the fuck is she?” Jihyo yelled, grabbing Momo’s collar. “Stop!” you screamed, shoving Jihyo away. You dropped to your knees beside Momo, your hands trembling as you cupped her bruised face. “Oh my god, Momo, are you okay?”

Her tear-filled eyes met yours, but she said nothing, her lips quivering. “Y/N, don’t—” Jihyo’s voice broke behind you, but you shot her a glare over your shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. Jihyo’s expression hardened. “What’s wrong with me? What about you? Running off like this and not answering my calls?”

Your laugh came bitter and shaky. “So that gives you the right to storm in here and hurt my best friend, my manager? Are you insane?”

She crossed her arms. “I tracked your phone because I was worried! Do you even understand the position you’re putting us in?” You stared at her in disbelief. “You tracked me? Do you hear yourself right now? This is psycho!”

Jihyo took a step closer. “You’ve been acting so out of control! And now I find you here, with her of all people?” She gestured toward Momo. “What is that supposed to mean?” you snapped, standing to face her.

“Don’t play dumb!” Jihyo’s voice rose. “The way she looks at you, the necklace—it’s obvious!”

Your anger boiled over. “You seriously think I gave her that necklace? God, Jihyo, I’m so tired of this! Why can’t you just trust me? She’s my manager, that’s her job!” you mocked the same words she told you. Her jaw tightened, but her expression wavered.

“I thought things were getting better between us,” you said, your voice trembling. “But it’s just more of the same. I’m done.” You turned your back on her, closing the door with a quiet finality.

Kneeling beside Momo again, you gently dabbed at the blood on her face with a tissue. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. Momo, despite the pain, managed a weak smile. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured, her hand brushing against yours.

Her fingers, shaky and cold, reached up to wipe away your tears. “Don’t cry,” she said softly, her voice breaking.

You leaned into her touch, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Whatever came next, you knew one thing—you couldn’t face Jihyo again. Not tonight. Not like this.

Weeks passed, and the media frenzy around you and Jihyo only intensified. Rumors swirled after a fan had stumbled upon the aftermath of your fight, and the headlines were relentless. Every photo of Jihyo and Sana together—laughing, standing too close, looking comfortable—added fuel to the fire.

You tried to avoid it all, retreating to Momo’s apartment like it was the only safe place in the world. Your presence outside was rare, limited to the occasional meeting or photoshoot, and even then, you were careful not to linger. Every camera click felt like a trap, and every whisper from onlookers only deepened the ache in your chest.

It was one of those quiet days when the knock came. You were sprawled out on Momo’s couch, half-asleep and staring blankly at the TV. The sound startled you, and for a moment, you assumed it was Momo, back from a meeting. She probably forgot her keys again.

Dragging yourself to the door, you pulled it open without a second thought, already halfway through grumbling, “You really need to—”

You froze.

It wasn’t Momo.

Jihyo stood there, dressed casually but looking anything but. Her posture was stiff, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her hands was a bouquet of roses, their vibrant red stark against the awkward look on her face. Your initial surprise wore off quickly, and you let out a sigh, already moving to close the door. “Not today, Jihyo.”

“Wait!” she said, her voice sharp with urgency. She wedged her foot between the door and the frame, the action so uncharacteristically desperate it made you stop. “Please, let me explain.”

You stared at her, trying to read her expression. There was something in her eyes—something softer, almost pleading. Against your better judgment, you let the door swing open wider and stepped aside.

She didn’t wait for an invitation, stepping inside and setting the flowers on the table before turning to face you.

—

The two of you sat on the couch, a tense silence hanging in the air. You crossed your arms, your posture defensive, while Jihyo sat upright, her back impossibly straight. “You don’t just get to show up like this,” you said finally, your tone sharper than you intended.

Jihyo flinched but masked it quickly, her expression hardening. “I know,” she admitted quietly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “But I needed to see you. To say... I’m sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Jihyo didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in her nature. When she saw your skepticism, she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was out of line,” she said, her words measured, almost mechanical. “That night, I... I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Clearly,” you muttered under your breath, earning a sharp glance from her. “I’m serious,” she snapped, but the frustration in her voice quickly gave way to something more vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have... hurt you like that.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. She looked uncomfortable, like admitting fault was physically painful for her.“Well,” you said finally, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a start, I guess.”

Before either of you could say more, the sound of keys jingling broke through the tension. Momo stepped inside, glancing between you and Jihyo with a curious, slightly wary expression.“Uh... am I interrupting something?” she asked, her tone light but cautious.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Nothing you’d want to be a part of.” Jihyo stood abruptly, her eyes darting to Momo’s face. The faint bruise on her nose was still visible, though it had faded. Jihyo’s jaw tightened.“I owe you an apology,” she said, her voice clipped. Momo blinked, surprised. “Oh... uh, okay?”

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Jihyo continued, her words stiff and robotic. “It was wrong.” Momo offered a small, awkward smile, nodding. “It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine,” Jihyo said bluntly. “I’ll cover your medical bills.”Momo waved her off, her smile tightening. “That’s not necessary. I’m okay.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “God, Jihyo, do you even know how to apologize without sounding like a CEO closing a deal?” Jihyo shot you a glare but said nothing, her frustration evident. The tension between the three of you was thick, and you could feel Momo’s discomfort.

“I’ll, uh, let you two finish,” Momo said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ve got work to do anyway.”Once she was gone, Jihyo turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. “Are you coming home?” she asked, her voice quieter.

You hesitated, glancing toward the door Momo had just walked through. “Not yet,” you said finally. “I need more time.”Jihyo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to argue. But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly.

She left the bouquet of roses on the table as she walked out, and you stared at them for a long time after she was gone. Something about the gesture felt off—forced, maybe. But there was a part of you, buried deep beneath the layers of frustration and anger, that wanted to believe she was trying.

Momo returned not long after, and the awkwardness from earlier had faded. She sat beside you, handing you a cup of tea and offering a reassuring smile. “She’ll figure it out,” Momo said softly, her tone full of quiet certainty.

You weren’t so sure. But for now, you were content to stay right where you were.

—

The hours dragged, and your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing on the table, each vibration like a tap on your already frayed nerves. You glanced at it reluctantly, seeing Jihyo’s name pop up again and again with new messages.

—“I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

—“I was out of line, but so were you.”

—“Are you okay? You could at least tell me that.”

Her words were clipped, awkward, and frustratingly indirect. For someone who always seemed to have everything together, she struggled to express anything real, anything soft.

You read them, one after another, feeling a mix of irritation and something else you didn’t want to name. Then, her name appeared on the screen again, this time with an incoming call.

You let it ring, your finger hovering over the decline button before giving in and answering. “What now, Jihyo?” you said, your voice heavy with exhaustion. A moment of silence on the other end, and then she sighed. “I just… I wanted to check if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you replied flatly, sitting back against the couch. “Good,” she said quickly, almost too quickly. Then, quieter, “That’s good.”

But she didn’t hang up. You could hear her breathing faintly through the line, as if she was wrestling with something else to say. For a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, she’d finally open up.Instead, she settled for: “Get some rest.”

“Yeah. You too,” you muttered, ending the call before she could say anything else.

—

The messages didn’t stop, though. Each one came through like clockwork, a strange mix of concern and that same distant, blunt tone she always carried.

—“You’re not answering anymore. Is something wrong?”

—“I said I was sorry, okay?”

—“Goodnight, then.”

You stared at the last message for a long time before typing out a simple reply:

“Goodnight, Jihyo.”

Turning your phone face down, you let out a long sigh, slumping deeper into the couch cushions. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of Momo’s soft breathing from the bedroom. For a moment, you considered slipping into bed beside her. The idea of her warmth and easy comfort was tempting, but something kept you rooted to the couch.

That feeling in your chest—tight, uneasy, and frustratingly persistent—wouldn’t go away. Jihyo’s words had been kind on the surface, but they didn’t feel right. There was a distance in them, a hollowness that made it hard to trust what she said.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts of her away. But even as you drifted off, the weight of her voice lingered in your mind, pulling at something you didn’t want to examine.

[songmingisthighs]

[15.41] bf!wooyoung × reader

⇀ your boyfriend means business and no amount of illogical ideas, and no matter how crazy those ideas were, was going to get in the way of him spending time with you

⇁ wooyoung taking charge as he should

tw : wooyoung getting mad? kinda slightly suggestive maybe (mentions of wooyoung being sexy, wooyoung slipping something into mc's bra, mention of making out

genre : slight angst, lovers, fluff-adjacent at the end ?

wc : 1.3 k

It's not often for Wooyoung to come barrelling into your place hot on his trail. Usually, when it happened, it was because you two had been separated for too long or if he wanted a little bit more TLC that may or may not include some sort of helpful equipment.

So it scared and annoyed you when Wooyoung roughly opened and closed your front door, causing you to jump slightly on the couch.

"Get up," he demanded, standing before you with his hands on his waist, "Get up now." You glared at him with determination and huffed, "I told you I'm not going anywhere, I already explained why I can't." Wooyoung scoffed and rolled his eyes, "And I told you I don't care and you've drained all of the patience I had in me while I was waiting in my car for the past 30 minutes so you are going to get off this couch, wear something cute, and go out on a date with me." The mention of the date made your face red not in anger but embarrassment because, at that point, he was forcing you to repeat something that to you was rather embarrassing. "I can't, okay? I told you I don't have money to go out!" you exclaimed, throwing the pillow that was on your lap down and it landed by Wooyoung's feet. "When do you ever have money?" Wooyoung scoffed but you knew it wasn't him making fun of you, it was just him repeating what you usually told him.

At that point, you just wanted to evade him and hole yourself up because you had been stressed over feeling like a mooch in the relationship what with having a boyfriend with a big career and big income while you were still working a regular job trying to make ends meet. So you told him that you were going to treat him on a date that exact night, planning and saving up for a month and you were about to do it when your stupid laptop decided to break down and you were forced to spend the money you had saved up to treat your boyfriend so you could work and it broke your heart and it made you feel more than guilty.

"Not funny, Wooyoung, I'm serious," you were trying to hold back your anger because all the tears had been shed the day before when you finally took the courage to look at your bank statement. Wooyoung slumped on the single-seater next to you and sighed loudly, shaking his head in frustration because he couldn't comprehend your point. "I really don't get this, I don't get you at this moment because I usually pay anyways and I never made you pay for anything so why are you suddenly acting like this?" "Because I told you I was going to pay for our date today! I already made such a big deal out of this and I really do want to pay after having you pay for everything since the beginning of our relationship and even before that. So I just can't go out because I can't pay!" though you tried, your voice still raised even if it was slightly and it made you feel even worse.

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, "So that's the whole issue? You wanting to pay for our date?" and you meekly nodded, avoiding eye contact though you predicted that Wooyoung was going to throw his hand in the air and stood up, towering over you, "Well you can just use my card and pay! When the bill comes, or when we see something either one of us wants to buy, YOU will pay for them with MY card!" he said,. This time, you scoffed and shook your head, "That's not the point, Wooyoung. If I do that then it wouldn't be my money we're using!" you argued back but you kind of understood the logic of his solution.

You were about to explain the whole shpiel behind your logic when Wooyoung crouched down in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you really think that I'm the kind of man who would let his girl pay for me on our date? Do you really think I'd let you spend even 500 won on me even on milk? I work hard because you are my motivation, I make my money for my future and you better get into that thick, beautiful head of yours that it includes you in it." Though he was being serious and firm with you (which was a whole type of sexy on its own), you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach and feel your cheeks warming up. Wooyoung then reached into his back pocket, pulled out his credit card and put it out for you to take, "We will go out tonight because I miss my beautiful, wonderful, albeit slightly crazy girlfriend and you will pay for it using this card and you will not worry about anything."

As much as it was a solution to the issue you were facing, you were still hesitant because not only did the issue happen but you felt like you had ruined the mood. However, deep down you knew that once you and Wooyoung had dinner, all animosity would be lost and you both would laugh at this the next day. Your hesitance didn't go unnoticed by Wooyoung so in a last desperate attempt, he reached into your shirt and slipped the card under your bra strap despite you yelping in surprise (not because Wooyoung never suddenly felt the need to peek at your boobs but because it was more because he slipped his card there). "What the hell?" you squeaked as you pulled out the card and tried to put it in Wooyoung's hand but he just parried your hand away with one hand as the other tapped away at his phone. "Wooyoung, take this back, I sw-" Before you could finish your words, Wooyoung showed you the screen of his phone, showing you what he had just done while you were distracted, "Now you have my credit card AND money in your bank account in case you don't want to use my card so you don't have an excuse to not go out with me because damn it, I look good and I made myself look good for you. I even put on the cologne you said you liked on me so we are not being wasteful because then the environment suffer." Eyes widened, you slapped him on the shoulder, "Wooyoung, that is far too much! That's more than what I had saved up! Are you crazy?" but he simply rolled his eyes at you, "You really think there is a numerical limit to my provision? And you call me crazy," he scoffed incredulously.

The next thing you know, you were being pulled up to your feet by Wooyoung and he gently, but firmly directed you to your room. "Now, you're going to put on something other than the hoodie you stole from me and those raggedy sleeping shorts you claimed you have an emotional connection to, forego makeup if you must because I can't deal with another man glancing at you every 3 seconds tonight, and we'll go out, have some fun, and later make out in the car. Does that sound good to you?" You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly nervous under Wooyoung's stare, but you managed to frantically nod anyway. "Good," he then turned your body around and sent you off inside to change with a firm smack on your right buttcheek, "I'll be out here calming down, okay? I'll be waiting." Then he shut the door behind you, leaving you rather confused yet flattered at what he did.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[coolprettyleo]

be in my heart? - will smith

wc: 1.2k

tw: depression, anxiety, family angst? therapy, episodes, mental health, etc?

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

this is me trying au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

lola's summer had been going fine. she would never admit it out loud, but she was finally seeing a therapist who was actually helping her work through her dark thoughts.

she was prescribed anti-depressants, and they had definitely helped with her mood, but she had reason to think a certain curly-haired blonde was also contributing to her overall newfound happiness.

the two had been texting, calling, and facetiming any time either of them had the chance, and the girl wasn't in any way complaining. he had been making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time, making her realize she had been longing for that feeling.

she was currently sitting at dinner with her parents and brothers as she texted will with pink cheeks and a cheesy smile, occasionally letting out little giggles at the stupid videos he would send the girl. her brothers looked at each other with knowing eyes before smirking.

"lola," aiden said in a sing-song tone as she let out a 'hmm', eyes still glued to her phone.

"who are you texting" their little sister, charlie, smirked, joining in on the teasing.

"no one. stop looking at my phone," she said moodily, pushing her sister's head away. and finally putting her phone down.

"a little birdy told me something a few days ago." macklin smiled. her father looked between the siblings hoping to gosh they wouldn't set his daughter off.

"shut up," she said with a glare, picking up on the fact he had somehow heard of her and will.

had he been telling people?

maybe it was all some kind of joke.

her insecurities began to creep up and claw at her skin, quickly.

"c'mon, it's not bad, but imagine my surprise when I had to hear it from a stranger at the combine" he kept teasing while her sibling snickered, while lola glared.

"boys, stop bothering your sister" her father let out. knowing it wasn't long till they set her off.

"lola, how's it going with you and will?" her mother asked cluelessly asked when she came back from the bathroom. the siblings letting out laughs and 'there it is' while the girl turned pink.

"good" she mumbled playing with the bread

"that's wonderful; I have a feeling about that boy; I like him," her mother said as she took a bite out of the bread.

"me too. lola's not as mean anymore," her little brother joked as her family nodded and laughed, not knowing the spiral that little comment was about to send his oldest sister to.

lola looked at her brother with furrowed eyebrows as she excused herself and basically sprinted to the nearest bathroom. she locked the door before taking a good, long, and hard look in the mirror. seeing nothing but a shell of the person she used to be. the person her siblings used to know. the girl who would hang out with them, drive them places, and play video games, was no longer there; instead, it was a heartless bitch, and they knew and saw that.

in no way did she ever think about how they must have felt. she thought back to every time she unknowingly probably hurt their feelings. when she told charlie 'hell no' to the idea of a sleepover at her new apartment. or that time she couldn't get herself out of bed and missed RJ's sixth-grade promotion that he begged her to go to, or when she refused to fly to boston to see her brothers when they moved away. all those things added up, and it was no wonder they had deemed her mean. she deserved it.

she sniffled as she saw a call from will incoming. she cleared up her voice before answering.

"hello?" she tried her best to sound fine.

"lo? are you okay?" will say right away, hearing the shakiness in her voice.

"not really," she answered with a sniffle as she saw that will was trying to facetime her.

"what happened?" he asked worriedly. the two had been texting for weeks now, and he had finally got the girl to open up to him, so he knew she went through episodes; he just didn't think he could ever get used to seeing them.

"it's literally stupid-"

"it's not stupid if it's making you cry," he told her as she sighed.

"i'm at dinner with my family, and you know how family is. they're nosy. they started asking about you and they said something that really hurt my feelings, and now I'm crying in the bathroom"

"about me? do they not like me?" he said feeling a bit insecure.

"no, it's not you. they love you-- it's just RJ made a joke and said that ever since we've been like a thing, I haven't been as mean. and I know he only meant it as a joke, but it really hurt my feelings but I mean, I deserve it-" she sniffled, looking away from the camera.

"don't say that. you're not mean-" he stopped the girl

"compared to the old me, i am," she said

"there's no 'old me,' lola; people grow up and evolve. and if anything they know you better than anyone, they understand you're not okay all the time-"

"I don't think RJ and charlie do. they're younger they wouldn't understand it-"

"you're not giving them enough credit. from the stories you've told me they sound pretty smart," he said as she sighed.

"i feel like you always know what to say," she said

"i try," he said with a cheeky smile that made the girl giggle.

"this is embarrassing. I look like shit," she said, realizing her eyes were puffy and red.

"you're beautiful, and if I have to spend every hour in the world telling you that till it's engraved in your mind, I will," he said as lola turned a light shade of pink.

"stop," she said, covering her face as she heard will chuckle.

"i'm really excited for next week," she said dreamily as she stared into the phone. will and his family were planning to visit san jose, to scout apartments and that meant a reunion for the two growing lovebirds.

"me too. you have to take me to all your favorite spots" he said as she nodded.

she was cut off when she heard her mother's voice come from the other side of the door.

"lola honey, are you in there?"

"i'll call you later. bye beautiful," will said as she waved goodbye to him before hanging up.

she stood up and opened the door to see her mother's worried face.

"i'm sorry if we bothered you, i can have the car take you home, or even back to your apartment if you want to be alone-" her mother was cut off as lola threw her arms around her.

"I love you, mom. I'm sorry," she said softly as her mother hugged her back.

"sorry for what?" she asked concernedly

"just, for everything. i know i'm not the easiest to deal with, and for that I'm just sorry" she said as her mother shook her head

"you were never something i had to 'deal' with. I love you, and I just want you to be okay," she told her daughter before squeezing her again.

"me too," she said into her mother's neck. promising herself to change her ways. hoping to god he'd help her accomplish that promise.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

Series

Simping for Schemmenti Masterlist- ongoing (🥵🥺🤬) (Melissa x Reader)

Choosing Captain Robinson Masterlist- completed(🤬🥵) (Melissa x Reader)

Getting Control Back- ongoing (🤬🥺) (Barlissa, Melissa x Reader)

Monsters in My Head- ongoing? (🤬🥺) (Melissa x Reader)

One-Shots

Daddy? Daughter Dance- Completed (2 Parts) (Melissa x Reader)

Choosing the Dark- Completed (Melissa x Reader)

Kissing In The Rain- Completed (Melissa x Reader)

So Lost- Completed 🥺 (Melissa x Reader)

You Belong With Me- Incoming (Mom!Melissa/Daughter!Reader)

The Protectors (Avmel x Reader)

Smut- 🥵 , Angst/Hurt- 🤬, TW- 🥺

[majinael]

Shattered stars.

★michael kaiser (ANGST) x GN reader x isagi yoichi (FLUFF)

★1,4k words

★TW: rejection, selfharm

He scoffed, his voice laced with disdain.

"You and me? Don’t make me laugh."

I froze, the words cutting deeper than I anticipated. His cold stare bore into me, and yet, I couldn’t meet his eyes. The confession that had taken all my courage to utter now felt like a foolish gamble—a losing bet. Above us, the stars seemed to mock me, their distant light an indifferent witness to my humiliation. Even the city, aglow with its sprawling brilliance, appeared to sneer at my naivety.

The wind bit at my cheeks, harsh and unrelenting, as if punishing me for daring to hope. I thought it might quell the fire burning in my chest—the aching vulnerability that only grew with every passing second. Instead, it fed the flames, the heat spreading through my veins, consuming me whole. I felt paralyzed, trapped in this moment of rejection.

The lump in my throat swelled, suffocating any words that might have formed. All I could do was stand there, mute and broken, as he delivered the final blow.

"Leave me alone."

And then he turned, his silhouette retreating into the night without a second glance.

I collapsed onto the sand as my legs gave out beneath me. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks, a futile attempt to extinguish the agony writhing in my chest. My trembling hands buried my face, shielding me from the indifferent world around me.

How could I have been so naive? So utterly stupid? What had possessed me to think that Michael Kaiser, of all people, would ever return my feelings?

The pain clawed at me relentlessly, leaving me adrift in a sea of self-loathing and regret. Minutes felt like hours as I sat there, my heart aching with every passing moment. Then, my phone buzzed, the sudden noise startling me out of my thoughts.

Incoming Call – Isagi Yoichi.

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to ignore it, to wallow in solitude and lick my wounds in silence. But another part—a smaller, more vulnerable part—craved comfort, even if I didn’t feel I deserved it. With shaking hands, I answered.

“Hi…” My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, as I fumbled for a tissue to wipe my nose.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? Did you leave the party yet ?!” Isagi’s concerned tone instantly softened the edges of my pain, like a balm to my raw heart.

A weak smile tugged at my lips, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I just needed some air, that’s all. I’ll be back soon.”

My voice cracked on the last word, betraying me. I cursed myself silently, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But Isagi wasn’t one to miss things like that.

“Where are you?” His voice was steady but firm, leaving no room for deflection.

“The beach,” I admitted, fresh tears slipping down my cheeks. My earlier resolve crumbled, and I felt the weight of it all pressing down on me again.

“Stay there. Don’t move,” he instructed, his voice gentle but commanding.

Before I could protest, the line went dead. I stared at my phone, my mind swirling with exhaustion and confusion. Then, almost as if summoned by sheer will, he was there. His chest heaved with exertion, sweat trickling down his brow as he reached me.

Isagi’s eyes softened as they took in my tear-streaked face, my ruined makeup a stark testament to my unraveling. He crouched in front of me, his expression a mixture of worry and quiet understanding. Slowly, he reached out, his hand resting gently on my head.

That simple gesture shattered what little composure I had left. Without thinking, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around him as a fresh wave of sobs overtook me. He didn’t hesitate, his arms enveloping me in a warm, steady embrace.

For what felt like an eternity, I cried, every word of my story spilling out between broken breaths. I told him everything—every detail, every regret—until there was nothing left but the raw ache in my chest. And through it all, he listened, his quiet presence anchoring me.

When the storm finally passed, and my sobs turned to quiet sniffles, Isagi pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. His smile was small but unwavering, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume me.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said softly. “I’m here for you. Always.”

For the first time that night, I felt a glimmer of hope pierce through the haze of despair. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

But Yoichi was nothing like Kaiser. Where Michael was arrogant, calculating, and distant, Yoichi was warm, selfless, and constant. He had always loved you, even when you were too busy chasing stars that didn’t shine for you to notice the one standing beside you.

It wasn’t until you let go of Kaiser's shadow that you saw the light Yoichi carried. His arms, strong and steady, held you as though they’d always been meant for you. His face was so close, his deep eyes pulling you in, and you couldn’t help but notice how breathtaking he was. When his hands cupped your face, it felt like the world had paused, waiting for the moment your lips met.

And when they did, the stars above seemed to burn brighter, as if they celebrated your union. What you thought had been the end was merely the beginning—of something greater than you could have ever dreamed.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of affection. Yoichi covered you with kisses, showered you with flowers, and made sure you never felt the void you once carried. Every smile of his was a quiet promise; every goal he scored came with a sprint into your arms. His love mended your broken heart, filling it with a tenderness and devotion you hadn’t thought possible. Slowly but surely, the memory of Michael Kaiser faded into irrelevance.

But not for Michael.

Behind the beachside cabinets, he had watched it all unfold. The German prodigy, always so composed on the pitch, now stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides. The sight of Yoichi’s lips on yours, the warmth of your embrace—it ignited something in him he couldn’t name but felt burning in every nerve. Rage? Regret? Envy?

You had just confessed to him not long ago. You were supposed to love him.

Not Yoichi.

Every time he saw you with Yoichi—your hand in his, your laughter bubbling in the air, your lips pressing softly against his—Michael felt the same bitter cocktail of emotions. It twisted his stomach, churned his thoughts, and left him hollow yet seething.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He didn’t believe in love, not really. And yet here he was, aching in a way he had never imagined possible. He wanted to turn back time, to undo his cold words, to hold your hand on that fateful night instead of pushing you away. He wanted your eyes to be on him, your hands to brush against his skin, your voice to call his name, your warmth to be his.

He wanted you.

One day, the chance came. You were alone, waiting for Yoichi, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun. Michael’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached you, the lump in his throat making every step feel heavier. The closer he got, the more the bitterness swelled, mingling with something dangerously close to desperation.

"Hello there," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside him.

You turned, your face lighting up with a smile so bright it caught him off guard. “Hi, Michael!”

His breath hitched. How could you greet him with such warmth, as though he had never crushed your heart?

“How’s it going with that other idiot?” he asked, forcing a smirk, though his voice betrayed a faint tremor.

You laughed softly, a sound that twisted the knife in his chest. Then, you held up your hand, and his world stopped.

On your finger was a ring.

His gaze fixed on it, the implications crashing down like a tidal wave. Before he could process the pain slicing through him, Yoichi appeared, his smile radiant as he reached for your hand.

You gave Michael one last warm glance, waving goodbye as Yoichi led you away.

Michael didn’t move. His legs gave out, and he dropped onto the nearest bench, his head hanging low. His fingers tangled in his hair before trailing down to his neck, as if trying to squeeze out the knot of emotions choking him. He bit his lip, hard, in a futile attempt to suppress the tears welling in his eyes.

But as the memories of your smile with Yoichi replayed in his mind, the tears fell anyway.

Later, in the solitude of his apartment, Michael Kaiser—the man who thought himself untouchable—allowed himself to break, the walls he’d built around his heart crumbling as the ache of his jealousy consumed him.

[panda-writes-kpop]

your home is the sea, my home is you ~ pirate! giselle

a/n: after almost seven months (good LORD), we have a third pirate aespa fic!!! and everyone cheered!!! this may be one of my favorite works of the year, there's something so tender and sincere in this fic that I can't quite put my finger on. anyways, gonna go watch Hugh Jackman edits on repeat until I get more fic ideas! 🫶

tw: mentions of robbery, violence, and other crimes associated with being a pirate, a LOT of swearing, the faintest hint of winselle, it's not angst but it gets sad at times???

summary: Your idea for your latest novel has you ruminating on your previous relationship with the woman who haunts your dreams, Giselle. Giselle's longing for a missing piece of her heart leads her to your front doorstep. She just has to hope that you won't close your heart to her, just as she did to you years ago.

♡ Masterlist ♡

A cool ocean breeze wraps around her neck as the chill of the night starts to seep into her bones. Every part of her is screaming to run, to go far away from the things that scare her.

But what is life without a little bit of adventure?

You watch the pendulum in your grandfather clock swing forward as the next words flow easily onto the paper.

She wanted to experience the adventure of the ocean, to let her heart travel with the ocean waves that beckoned her forward. But what was she to do? Abandon her family? Leave the familiarity of her hometown behind?

Leave them behind? The one person who supported them through thick and thin?

The pendulum swings back as you stare at the candlelight in your bedroom.

Rosella had a choice to make, one that would decide her entire destiny. A friend, or a lifetime of fulfillment?

Their call was strong, but the ocean’s was stronger. 

~

With one hand on your naval revolver and the other on your bag, your feet hit the ground with increasing frequency as you run towards the docks. You had a deadline to meet with your time and your writing. The traveling night market was in town tonight, and within their merry caravan of travelers was your editor. A shrewd old woman with a sharp tongue who had been your mentor since you had abandoned your studies to pursue writing as a career.

I would’ve stayed if Giselle stayed.

You shake your head at the thought of your childhood best friend - you were nothing but a fleeting nostalgic memory to her, so she should be the same to you.

The book, the market - I have to hurry.

Unfortunately, the night market only accepted incoming foot traffic until midnight, and according to your grandfather clock, it was a centimeter past eleven-fifty. Your home was ten minutes away from the docks - you’d be cutting it close if you were simply walking.

~

“You’re early.” The guard jokes as you pull out the business card that Merrin, your editor, gave to you. “She still edits your books?”

“As long as I keep writing them.” You fold your arms as the guard stares at the card. “Can I go in?”

“Try to make it quick - she’s in one of those moods again.” 

You pluck the card from their hand before waving at them.

“She’s always in a mood, but I have to hope that it’s a good one.”

You greet the various merchants and regulars that pass by you - most of them are familiar with your work, even if you use a moniker instead of your real name. It isn’t hard to deduce who the newest novelist on the block is when you know their publisher by name.

“When’s the new novel coming?” One shouts at you as you chuckle to yourself. “The last one really pulled on my heartstrings, and I need a bit of a pick-me-up before I go for a second read.”

“You’ll get your hands on it as soon as everyone else does.” You reassure them as they jokingly scoff and walk away.

Oh, the bliss of only being recognized by a small crowd of people.

You stop in front of the last tent on the docks - a large purple cloth hangs over the rods and poles that make up the foundation of the tent. Angry red vines dart over various parts of the tent, but none dare to cross each other.

You take a deep breath before entering the tent.

Hopefully her mood won’t sour mine.

“You’re earlier than usual. Did you get sick and tired of begging the guard to let you in until I would show up and save your ass?” Merrin, dressed in a conservative, frilly white dress, lights a candle with one hand as she balances on her cane with the other.

“Does your bad mood have to do with whoever’s wedding you interrupted?” You bite your lip as she slowly turns toward you.

“If my glasses were on me, I’d knock you to the floor with my cane.” She hobbles over to another table to light another candle as you approach the middle of the room. “And I thought this dress looks nice on me.”

“Yeah, if you were a fourteen-year-old noble who was forced to marry a man decades older than her.” Another sharp look from Merrin causes you to shut your mouth before she fulfills her early promise. “Are you in the mood to read something I’ve written?”

“Depends on if it’s better than the utter shit I’ve been reading all day.” Merrin sets her cane aside as she sits on one of the two chairs near the middle of the room. “Hand me my glasses, will you?”

“Don’t hit me with your cane, you old witch.” You pick her glasses up off of the floor before handing them to her.

“Why, I ought to-” She quickly grabs her cane, which causes you to immediately sit in the chair on her left.

You’re both playing with each other - she won’t hit you that hard, and you won’t completely piss her off. It’s just the way that Merrin is, and if you’re careful, you can break down her walls and see the woman behind the anger and sass.

As you look over to her, Merrin lightly taps your ankle with her cane as a rare smile appears on her face.

“How’s the novel coming? More progress than scribbles and midnight thoughts, I hope?” She looks surprised as you pull a bundle of parchment from your bag.

“I managed to get a chapter out, but it’s a rough draft, Merrin.” You remind her as you hand her the papers. “It isn’t very good-”

“-that’s for me to decide.” She says as she grabs the papers and adjusts the glasses on her face.

“I-” You interject before she gives you a pointed glare.

“Shut your damn mouth so I can read in peace.”

~

Sometimes you wonder why you chose Merrin as your editor - a form of punishment, perhaps?

That’s what you feel like you’re doing to yourself as she carefully scans every single word on the pages that you scribbled on. A spotlight has closed in on you, and you’re sweating under the pressure. What will you do if she rejects you again after this draft? Will you finally part ways with the woman who helped you find a path when you were nothing but an empty wanderer?

Merrin clears her throat as your attention snaps back to her.

She thinks it’s terrible - I’m never going to live this latest failure down.

“This is quite good.” She softly says as she reorganizes the papers for you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“And I thought I was the one with bad hearing, being old and all.” She snorts as you reach for the papers from her extended hand.

As soon as your hand touches them, Merrin snatches them out of your reach with a knowing smile.

“I have one question about the main character.” 

“Alright, lay it on me.” You sigh in relief as you can mentally prepare yourself for her critiques.

Rosella was hardly fleshed out, and she had little-to-no dialogue to give perspective into her motivations, ideals, and personality. Perhaps Merrin could help you with that?

“What woman inspired you to write Rosella?” She asks as you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Answer the damn question.”

“I, uh…” You nervously look around, trying to think of an escape route. “She’s based on a friend, from long, long ago.”

You stress that this woman was long behind you, and there was absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s not like she would show back up in your life after years and years of silence.

“Well, if you see this friend from a long, long time ago,” She stresses the words the same way you did, “tell her that she’s one hell of a protagonist.”

“I will.” You grit your teeth as your mind wanders to the woman in question.

I hope I never see her again.

~

Giselle scribbles various notes onto the map within the captain’s quarters. She used to be the primary navigator when the Red-Hair Pirates were nothing but an idea in Winter’s head.

“One day, this boat will be filled with pirates and friends we’ve collected in our travels,” Winter looked over to Giselle before placing a hand on her back, “and I’m going to need you to be by my side, every second of every day.”

Winter paused for a moment, before walking towards the ship and extending her hand to her.

“You have everything you ever need here - a good education, family, friends, and stability. I’m offering adventure until your heart's content, enough money to set your family up for life, and every kind of booze imaginable.”

“Even rum?” Giselle tilted her head at Winter, who gave her a toothy grin.

“Especially rum. So, are you in or what?”

“I’m in, I just… have to say some goodbyes first.”

Now, her role within the crew was more muddled, somewhat lying between weaponsmaster and navigator. Usually, she would sort out her navigating affairs in the morning, and then keep up with the weapons in the afternoon. The nighttime was reserved for merrymaking and hell-raising - just as Giselle liked it.

But there was a part of her missing, something she had been chasing with booze and adventure that couldn’t be replaced.

What was she missing?

“Giselle!” Karina barrels into the captain’s quarters as she nearly collides into the table.

“You’re still drunk.” She chuckles. “You can’t handle your liquor for shit.”

“And you prefer in that way, so you can scam me out of my money.” Karina scoffs before loudly hiccuping.

“Alright,” Giselle stops working and puts her hands up in the air, “I am a bit of a trickster, but we’re pirates, remember? It’s kind of our thing.”

“Eh.” Karina shrugs before throwing a book onto the desk where Giselle was working.

“What’s this?” 

She studies the book for a moment before looking at Karina

“A gift from the Captain. Winter says to come see her after giving it a read.” Karina stumbles out of the door before loudly shutting it.

“Riveting conversation with a drunk Karina, like usual.” Giselle mumbles to herself. “I wonder why Winter would want me to read this?”

Her hands gently trace the spine as she studies the author’s name in bold ink.

It’s not one she recognizes, but perhaps she might know the writing style? Curious, Giselle carefully opens the book and begins to read.

~

It was mid-afternoon before Giselle exited the captain’s quarters, much later than usual. When she does, she immediately charges towards her quarters in a fury.

It takes every bone in Giselle’s body to stop her from ripping her room to shreds to find the letters that she had locked away years ago.

The letters that reminded her of you. The letters that had the same cadence and writing style that you did. Those letters tied you to her, and, at the moment, pointed to you as the author.

More than that, Giselle had come to the realization that Winter knew that the two of you were connected.

And that was more terrifying than confronting someone from her past.

Giselle finds the letters under her bed, and they’re carefully tied together with a bit of rope. She snatches them within an instant, and she tucks them under her arm before beginning her journey to find Winter.

“Giselle!” Ningning calls out to her as Giselle appears on the upper deck. “I had a question about some of the knives that I found in the gunroom.”

“Not the time.” Giselle charges right past her as she spots Winter on the quarterdeck. 

“Is that the book Winter asked me to get you?” 

Giselle, with no hesitation, turns on her heel to face the assassin.

“Of course she did!” She sighs before turning around. “Am I the one finding this out last when it’s my business?”

“If it comforts you, I didn’t ask for any details. I just grabbed the book and gave it to her.” Ningning plays with a knife in her hand as Giselle tightly squeezes the book in her left hand.

“Thanks.” She grumbles before calling out to Winter, “Hey, you have some explaining to do!”

“As do you!” Winter copies her volume, but she waits until Giselle comes closer to begin speaking in a softer tone. “Are they the reason why you tried to send letters back to your hometown from the different ports that we stopped in?”

“You knew about that?” Giselle stares, absolutely befuddled.

“I know when my friends aren’t themselves. I did a little digging, and I found a gold vein.” Winter looks out to the ocean. “You could’ve told me, you know. We could’ve worked something out.”

“But you needed me-”

“-I did, but I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I knew that your loyalties lied with someone else.”

Giselle physically deflates before confessing the truth to Winter.

“So you know that I was a part of the naval academy before I joined you.” Giselle looks away in shame, like a small puppy. “They were too, but we quit together-”

“-so you could chase your dreams together. You, an acclaimed mapmaker. Them, an accomplished novelist. Do I have the narrative right?” Winter raises an eyebrow at Giselle.

Not quite.

“I loved them.” Giselle bites her lip. “I love them.”

Panic covers Giselle’s face as she opens her mouth to speak.

“There it is,” Winter smirks before yelling to the crew, “Set sail to the west.”

“I’m doing you a favor, mind you. You need to figure this out before it ends with you getting yourself killed. I can’t stand to watch my crewmate, my friend, drink herself into an early grave.”

“So we’re doing this?” Giselle asks.

“You’re doing this.”

~

“The pirates are coming! The pirates are coming!” A man on a horse repeats the same phrase over and over as he passes by your estate.

Pirates? Here? Why?

No, it can’t be those pirates.

Your head snaps towards the nearest window that faces the docks. In the distance, you can see a large pirate show approaching your humble town.

And wouldn’t you know it, the flag on the ship shows a dead skull sporting some fire-red hair.

The Red-Hair Pirates.

The crew that Giselle’s a part of.

Shit.

You can see a group of villagers approach the docks from your side, and you’re sure a fight will break out - no, a bloodbath will occur - if someone doesn’t get down there and stop it.

Maybe that naval training will come into use.

~

“Your kind isn’t welcome here.” A villager points a large shotgun at Winter’s chest, and she seems unphased by his outburst.

“We’re not here to loot, we just want to rest.” She pulls out a gold coin and flips it into the air before grabbing it and offering it to the villager. “Our coin is good here, no?”

“I-” He pauses before studying the coin. “One night. And the only place that you can shop is the night market.”

“That sounds like our kind of place, right?” Winter turns to her pirates, who cheer loudly. “I’ll make sure they’ll behave, I swear.”

“You better.” He scoffs before spitting at the ground. “C’mon, we have better things to do than guard open docks.”

The villagers disperse, which causes Giselle to sigh in relief.

That’s a battle I didn’t want to fight.

“Alright, everyone, back on the ship until nightfall. We aren’t welcome here until then, so this boat better be spotless in a few hours!” Winter commands, and her crew scrambles back onto the ship as Winter pulls Giselle aside. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I do, and I don’t need backup. I’ll be back before nighttime.” Giselle softly says before Winter grabs her shoulder.

“I’d like to meet your friend, if they want to meet me. Perhaps it can help explain why you left - take some of the blame off of your shoulders,” Winter shrugs, “Or I can just have a drink with a friend and a friend of a friend. Either works for me.”

They’re… leaving?

“Not sure I’d call us friends, but I’ll see what I can do.”

~

You watch from a distance as the villagers, your neighbors, disperse with varying emotions on their faces. Some look relieved, others seem pissed, but most appear to be indifferent.

As if killing another wasn’t a brutal act that weighed on your soul for as long as you lived.

A woman with striking red hair turns to the pirates on the dock, and with only a few words, she sends them back onto the ship.

Their captain - Winter, the pirate queen of myths and legends.

Infamous doesn’t even begin to describe Winter, as her face was neatly plastered on every wanted board across the nation. Her reputation of brutality nearly exceeds her generosity and kindness. She took from the rich government ships and gave to the poor towns that she traveled to.

Almost like a storybook character. Perhaps my next protagonist can take some of her qualities.

Before all of her crew can go back to the ship, Winter pulls one of them aside. A girl with blonde hair, but a face that you recognize. Not from the wanted posters that showed her with black hair and a devilish yet charming smile.

But a ghost from your past, the woman who you were hoping to escape from. The girl who had invaded your dreams every night since she left.

Your Rosella.

Giselle.

You want to turn away, to run back to the safety of your home, but you can’t. Not because you want to see Giselle, but because she’d follow you back home.

After all, it was her home too.

With a deep breath, and as much courage as you can muster, you let your feet carry you towards Giselle.

Towards your destiny.

Giselle’s eyes widen as she sees you walking towards her with an unreadable expression on your face. You’re not completely pissed, which is good, but you don’t look happy. You’re not sad, but there isn’t any longing in your eyes. There’s no indifference in your face, but when your eyes meet hers, a twinkle of nostalgia appears briefly.

~

Perhaps you missed her as much as she missed you.

“You look…” Giselle pauses as the two of you meet in the middle of the road. “Well.”

“Thanks.” You nod before looking out to the ocean. “I like your blonde hair. It suits you.”

“Thanks…” Giselle trails off while hoping that the road would open up and swallow her whole.

Why was it so hard to talk to you? She thought of a million things to say to you, but none of them seemed right.

So let’s start with the simplest one.

“I’m sorry.”

When the words leave her lips, you look over in surprise.

As if you thought that she meant to hurt you.

A dagger slices through her heart, as the wound that is your shared history is reopened again. She’s going to let herself drown in bad blood unless she says something else.

Something that will make this right.

Nothing will, she knows this. But why not try?

“I’m sorry for leaving you with such a shitty goodbye. I’m sorry for convincing you to leave the naval academy with me and then leaving you behind. I’m sorry that I never was able to return your letters.” She pauses to hand you them.

“You kept them?” You tilt your head at her. “After all of these years?”

“Of course I did.” She says before softly laughing. “It was the only reminder I had of home.”

“I thought the sea was your home.” 

“No, my home was always you.” Giselle quietly mumbles. “I wanted to explore, to see the world, but I wanted to come back home.”

“Why didn’t you write me back?” Your voice is laced with hurt, and Giselle wants nothing more than to hold you in her arms.

But you’re not that close, not anymore.

“I tried to, but no letter carrier would take my money. Turns out that people aren’t fond of pirates,” She scoffs, “but I kept them all in my quarters. Perhaps you’d like to see them?”

A light smile appears on your face - you’re actually contemplating her offer.

“Would you like to see the home first? I don’t know if it has changed much-”

“-that sounds great.” Giselle lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

A peace offering. An olive branch. Perhaps you can begin anew?

~

Months ago, you would’ve sworn at Giselle if she had set foot in your town, let alone in your house. That was before you finished the book, before a character in that book taught you something about forgiveness.

“Will you ever forgive me, my dear?” Rosella says to her beloved. “I know it’s been years, but I can’t help but yearn for you. Our souls are intertwined, and no amount of treasure will ever make up for losing you.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive and forget, but…”

“But?” A flicker of hope appears in Rosella’s eyes.

“But maybe there’s room for us to start again. If we’ve both healed from our past wounds, then what’s the use of bringing them up again?”

You watch Giselle comb over your bookshelf as you take a seat in the living room. 

“You really didn’t change this place, huh?” She says before sitting at a chair on the opposite end of the room.

“It didn’t feel right. This is still your home, after all.” You say.

“Our home,” Giselle corrects you before her eyes widen, “shit. I didn’t mean to-”

You wave away her concerns with a charming smile.

“No, it’s alright.”

An awkward silence spreads over the room - what should you say to her now?

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Giselle softly asks before looking in your eyes. “I don’t want to intrude if I’m not welcome.”

You take a deep breath - it’s time to address the massive elephant in the room.

“Giselle, I don’t want to do this back-and-forth with you. I want to talk about what happened between us.” 

You’re surprised at how mature you sound, how non-malicious your words are. You had gone over this moment a thousand times in your head, but none of them were this nice or friendly.

“What is there to talk about? I ruined your life, no, our lives. I promised you that pirating was only a temporary thing, and you can see how that ended-”

“It pains me to see you tear yourself up about this, Giselle.” You calmly say as she pauses and reflects for a moment. “How can we move forward if we’re stuck reliving the past over and over?”

“You want to start again?” 

Giselle looks dumbfounded as you nod.

“We might not be that close again, not for a long time, but we can try being friends. Then we’ll see where it goes.” You shrug your shoulders as she thinks for a moment before responding.

“Why would you let me get away with what I did to you? I left you alone for years, with not a word of my health and well-being. Why put yourself through that again?”

You chuckle to yourself as familiar words come to the front of your mind.

“Maybe there’s room for us to start again. If we’ve both healed from our past wounds, then what’s the use of bringing them up again?”

“From your book.” She responds wistfully before her eyes widen. “You wrote yourself as the love interest?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod as the realization comes crashing down on Giselle.

“And the girl, Rosella, who is strong, beautiful, and kind. The girl who messes up time after time yet she still manages to redeem herself - that’s me?”

“Yup.” You’re quiet for a moment, to allow Giselle to process everything. “Do you know why I chose you as my inspiration?”

“Why?” She leans forward as her voice quivers in anticipation. “Why me?”

“Because no matter how much I hated you, I could never get you out of my head. You haunted my every dream and nightmare. I couldn’t escape your grasp, so I wrote about the woman who had completely transfixed my mind, body, and soul.” 

A breathy chuckle escapes your lips.

This is just like a confession that I would write in my book. The next thing she would say is I love you-

“I never stopped loving you.” She confesses before standing up.

You stand up to meet her gaze.

“Neither did I.”

~

“To be completely honest,” Winter says as you and Giselle approach the docks, “I didn’t expect you to come back.”

“You’re still my captain, Winter.” She smiles before gesturing to you. “This is my friend, the one I told you about.”

“Friend,” She stares at your intertwined hands, “right. Excuse my staring. It isn’t every day that you meet an author of legend.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Ah, that’s sweet of you to say.” You nudge Giselle’s shoulder. “Why can’t you be as charming as her?”

“Hey-” She tries to defend herself, but Winter’s laughter cuts her off.

“Oh, I like them. They’d be a good addition to our crew.”

Your mouth hangs agape as you blink rapidly.

“You… you can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so, unless Giselle objects?” Winter turns to Giselle, who glances at you.

“It’s your decision. I won’t force it on you-”

“Yes,” You quickly answer, “but I’m not sure what use I would be to your crew.”

“We could use your writing and organizing skills to keep track of weapons, finances, maps, food, and other supplies on the ships. That means that you would be working closely with Giselle and I.” Winter explains as you nod along. “Plus there would be plenty of time for you to continue writing your latest masterpiece. I know you’re good with a gun - I can see the Navy’s engravings on the handle, so combat won’t be an issue for you.”

You quickly hide your gun holster with your coat.

“I hope you don’t take offense to my weapons background,” You say before leaning over to Giselle, “how the fuck does she know all of that?”

“Long story, I’ll explain after a drink or two,” Giselle whispers back, “but I’m glad that you’re going with us. It’ll be nice to show you to all of the places that we’ve been before.”

“Got it.” You smile before letting go of Giselle’s hand.

She reaches out to grab it, but you instead maneuver around her hand to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I, um…” She struggles to articulate her feelings as a furious blush appears on her face.

Winter laughs loudly before gesturing towards the ship.

“We still have a few hours before nightfall. Perhaps we can celebrate with a drink?”

“Sounds good. You in?” You ask Giselle, who can’t even look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Her face is still red as Winter walks to the ship.

“Feel free to join me when you’re ready.”

You go to follow behind her, but Giselle stops you by catching your arm with her hand.

“Hey, I-” She pauses to regain her composure, “Thank you, for this. I needed it.”

“It really isn’t a problem,” You say before leaning in to tease her, “but don’t expect me to kiss you every time you need a pick-me-up.”

“Damn, you know my schemes before I can properly plan them.” Giselle smirks before pulling you closer. “But I can always kiss you, right?”

She closes the distance between your lips before quickly pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Tease.” You grumble as she leans back.

“You started it, and I ended it.” She shrugs before her hand slips into yours. “We shouldn’t keep Winter waiting - we don’t want her to have a bad impression of you, right?”

You nod as Giselle leads you on to the ship.

As her crewmates greet you and welcome you onto the ship, you wonder if this new chapter of your life will be something to write about.

Maybe it’s time for my story to be told.

[eunhaminning]

College AU - Jealous! Yejun X Reader [18+]

[note: I wrote with they/them pronouns but I also wrote with the body parts of female anatomy]

tags: friends(?) to lovers, mutual pining, angst, miscommunication, misunderstanding.

word count: 2.2k

tw: alcohol, swearing, sex, etc

You never really understood Yejun. Some days you think he likes you, some days you didn’t know if he just acted like that with anyone. He was nice, handsome, kind, funny, basically the embodiment of perfection. I guess that’s what bothered you the most. He was like that, he’s kind to everyone, everyone loves him, and you were one of them. Sometimes Yejun did things that would make you question if you were special, different towards the others. Sometimes Yejun did things that made you feel like he was just THAT kind.

“Y/N you look really good today.” Yejun said to you while you were in sweatpants and hoodie with a rat nest for hair that day. You would’ve felt special if you didn’t know better that he was just kind. He was always busy too, you would ask him if he had time to get a coffee and would always say “Sure! I’ll let you know when I’m available.” He was never available, he was always busy with group projects, meetings and whatever. You shouldn’t be overreacting like this, after all… you’re just friends.

[11:49 PM]

Yejun: I just listened to the song you sent me, I really liked it, please recommend me some more music, I love your taste. 

You glared at the text message, you told yourself you would try and move on but one simple text somehow just made your brain shut off.

“ARGHHHHHH.” You screamed into your pillow.

 [11:52 PM]

You: Here’s a playlist I have of music I’d think you would like!

You send the playlist acting like it wasn’t a playlist that you curated for your feelings for him 3 weeks ago during a mental breakdown.

[12:05 AM]

Yejun: listening to it rn, thanks !!

You stared at the message for about 5 minutes before opening the phone app and dialing your best friend Noah’s number.

“Hey…” you said faintly after he answered.

“Is it Yejun again?” Noah said.

You sighed deeply.

“Should I walk into oncoming traffic?” you asked.

“No…” Noah paused. “…but do you want to go get shitfaced drunk?”

You paused for a second.

“Yes.”

After about 20 minutes Noah came over with 6 bottles of soju and a dream.

“Drink your heart away princess.” He said sarcastically. Shot after shot after shot you became increasingly more drunk, the more drunk you became the more you complained about Yejun, the more you complained about Yejun, he more you got upset.

[2:45 AM]

You were 2.5 bottles of soju in, Noah is on your apartment floor hanging with his phone above his head listening to your rambles and life is life. Until your phone began to start buzzing.

INCOMING CALL FROM YEJUN

“Do not answer that.” Noah said sternly

“WHY???” You shouted.

“One, you’re shouting, two, you’re shit-faced drunk, three, nothing that comes out of your mouth is even a little bit coherent.”

“But-“ before you even finished your sentence Noah took your phone out of your hands and pressed the decline button.

“Go drink some water right now.” You felt like a guilty puppy getting scolded by their owner after peeing on the carpet.

YEJUN POV

After his call got declined so suddenly, Yejun pouted wondering if he did anything wrong. He knew Y/N was awake though, they had just posted on their story 3 empty bottles of soju. After seeing that, Yejun noticed that Noah had also posted those bottles of soju on his story, so he decided to call Y/N to see what they were up to.

Yejun would hate to admit that he was jealous, he would hate to admit that he imagined that they were doing god knows what with Noah while he was listening to the playlist they had just sent him. The phone being declined so suddenly didn’t help his racing imagination either. He had noticed how his stomach flipped upside down, his jaw clenched, and his hands were suddenly in a fist shape. He noticed. He told himself to calm down but he noticed. He noticed a lot of things.

He noticed stolen glances, he noticed lingering touches, he noticed how his heart raced whenever he heard their name, he noticed how he felt whenever he saw another person lingering too close to them.

He wasn’t sure what he and Y/N were either, but he knew Y/N wasn’t even his, there was this blurred line between friendship and god knows what. The blurred lines consisting of frustration, miscommunication, jealousy, labels, and time.

What the hell would Y/N be doing with Noah at 3 AM??

Time Skip [the next day]

Y/N POV

Feeling a little hungover from yesterday still, you still tried to pretend you were fine and not totally out of it.

You still had a group assignment to do with Yejun and other members of the group and had promised to meet up at Yejun’s place. You could feel Yejun’s cold glances at you though, you were just hoping you were overthinking it and it was the hangover making you imagine things. You just kinda focused on your work and trying to laser in on finished it.

After some time had passed the other group members had made an excuse to leave and you had been debating whether to leave too but trying to not make it seem like you were avoiding Yejun.

“So, uhm, I think I’ve done enough work for today and we can pick up on this tomorr-“

“Can I ask you something?” Yejun said cutting you off. Your heart began to race and you began to sweat because that is never a good question to ask.

“Oh- uh yeah, sure.” You hesitated.

“You and Noah… are you guys uhm… you know?” Yejun asked.

“Me and Noah? Oh uh we’re just friends.” You stuttered.

“You drink at 3am with just friends? At your apartment?” Yejun said with his teeth clenched which made you more hesitant to answer his questions.

“I mean, yeah? Don’t you?” You said confused. Yejun gulped and looked at you, narrowing his eyes. “Y/N I thought you and I were, uhm..”

“What?” you said, sweating, “I thought we were just friends?” you said confused.

“Friends?” Yejun’s eyes widened and he stood up walking over to sit next to you on the couch you were sitting on. “Is that what this is? Friendship?” Yejun sounded disappointed.

“I mean, isn’t that what we are?” You asked.

“No.” Yejun said sternly, “I really hoped we weren’t.” He said while picking up your hand. He stared at your hand in his hand for a couple seconds.

“Then-“

“Can I kiss you?” Yejun said cutting you off.

You paused for a second before finally answering.

“Yes.”

After hearing that Yejun crashed his lips onto yours, he grabbed your face gently with his hand and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before moving his hang to the back of your neck while his free hand makes it’s way down your waist. Yejun separating his lips with yours to trace his lips to your ears.You feel his hot breath against you ear suddenly whisper.

“Y/N.” Sending chills down your spine, Yejun placed another kiss on the nape of your neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He says while his hand lingers down in between your thighs, feeling your core get hotter and hotter.

You bring your lips to Yejun’s ear to whisper back. “Don’t stop.”  

With that signal Yejun quickly removed his shirt and smashed his lips against yours once again, slowly moving down to your neck leaving marks softly. Yejun tugs at your shirt signaling you to take it off, you quickly pull off your shirt and toss it to the side and lie down with Yejun hovering above you, both of your breathing short and steady, at the same time hot and airy. You look up at Yejun, his face looking so gentle but when your eyes meet his it’s met with a hungry Yejun.

Yejun’s lips crash against yours once again, he slides his tongue into your mouth, while his tongue and yours dance against each other you feel Yejun gliding up against your thigh and squeezing as his hand gets higher and higher. Yejun’s hands eventually make it to the front of your pants unbuttoning it while his mouth is still intertwined with yours. He slides your pants off and tosses it over to wear your shirt was thrown.

You slide your hands that have been resting on Yejun’s shoulders down from his chest, then to his waist, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them off of him and tossing them to the side before bringing your hands back to his neck. You break the kiss while still breathing heavily, gesturing to Yejun to sit down and climbing on top of him. You gently kiss his neck while your fingers are entangled in his hair. While palming your hands over his underwear and gently gliding your fingers over his bulge. Small whines escape from Yejun’s mouth as his breathing gets heavier.

You stand up and kneel while Yejun breathes heavily on the couch, staying still as his eyes watch yours. Maintaining eye contact he watches you kneel in front of his legs without breaking eye contact. You brush your hand against the bulge that’s begging to be escaped by the thin layer of cloth. You narrow your eyes to look at the bulge before sliding his underwear down removing the one piece of clothing. You grab his long shaft and stare at it for a second before sticking your tongue out to lick the tip of it. Yejun’s soft whimpers had become louder, until you decided to put it all in your mouth until his shaft hit the back of your throat. Yejun couldn’t hold in his moans and it had become louder, enough to echo throughout the entire apartment. Your lips had wrapped around his entire shaft and slowly your mouth had become filled with his salty precum. 

“Wait- nngh wait-” Yejun didn’t want to release all of him just yet, “Come here” Yejun gestured to come sit on his lap again, as you gently sat he grabbed your waist and gently laid you down on the couch with your eyes and his not separating for a single second until Yejun’s eyes meet your chest before bringing his lips to your nipple and sucking on it while he massages the other gently between his fingers. Yejun really treated your body gently and like it belonged to him. 

“Yejun-” You say in between your short breaths, “Ah- Yejun-” 

“Please don’t ever call me your friend again.” Yejun says before moving your underwear to the side and inserting two fingers into you. “A friend wouldn’t make you this wet would they?”  

Your moans eventually start getting louder and once you realize you tried to hold back so he wouldn’t get in trouble from his neighbors. Once Yejun realized you were trying to hold back he inserted another finger inside you and picked up his pace. Your breaths became harsher and Yejun enjoyed the sight of you being so pleased underneath him. He took his fingers out from you and placed himself in between your legs and looked at you and brushed a strand of hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead due to the sweat you and him had created. Before inserting himself into you he places a kiss on your forehead and waits for your signal before he lets himself inside of you. 

“Please.” quietly escapes your lips. 

Yejun slowly inserts himself into you gently, and gently thrusts back and forth, with his breath hitching matching the rhythm of his thrusts. At the same time you can’t find yourself to hold in your moans. 

“Y-Yejun-ahh” escapes your lips. Yejun’s pace continues to pick up and both of your bodies become in sync. Yejun’s body fits into yours and your rhythms matching like a perfect symphony. 

“Ah- Y/N I don’t think-” Yejun’s breath hitched, “I don’t think-” 

“Cum for me Yejun.” You whispered in his ear. 

Yejun pumped into you more before taking his cock outside of you and releasing himself all over your stomach. Yejun took his fingers, breathing heavily and pumping them inside of you to help you release yourself in a pace that matches your breath.Yejun’s moans quickly transformed into grunts trying to help you climax. Your moans become in perfect pitch to his ears he pumps faster until you release yourself all over his fingers. 

Yejun collapses on top of you, breathing heavily before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m yours.” Yejun whispers into your ear. 

The next morning you find yourself in Yejun’s bed wearing his shirt with no other clothes and under his soft blanket with Yejun nowhere to be found. You bury yourself in his blanket in embarrassment before Yejun walks back into his room slowly getting himself back into his bed thinking you were asleep. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” Yejun said surprised 

“Mhm” you say quietly embarrassed. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m yours now.” Yejun says before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

[malarign]

silence

contains: crush!Riki x fem!reader | genre: fluff but with angst at the beginning | tw! yn is totally blind man idk what to tell you, mild argument with a reconciliation :)) | wc: 1,0k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i just thought it would be nice to write some continuation to shoulder nap, so hope you enjoy!

You shifted in your sleep as the sound of a ringing phone reached your ears. Scrunching your face in tiredness and lassitude you opened your eyes that soon got bigger at the sight in front of you. Just inches from your face was Riki, who slept soundly with his arms wrapped around you. You froze realizing you must have dozed off on him. What if you made him uncomfortable? Why didn’t he just wake you up?

Your living room filled with the sound of an incoming call, so you wanted to see who that was but Riki’s grip around your waist tightened.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled half awake and nuzzled his face against yours.

Freezing at his small action you felt how blush tinted your cheeks. What the hell is happening?

“Riki, it’s really late and I think it’s your phone not mine,” you reasoned, hoping it’ll make him let you get up but he lazily shook his head.

“I don’t get to spend time with you almost at all,” he said, voice low from his sleepiness. “And I hate it. If I knew I won’t be able to hang out with you as much as we did earlier, I wouldn't have become an idol.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said after a solid minute of being at loss for words. He dreamt of standing on a stage since you could remember. And now you could see a new side of him, a new smile that performing in front of seas of fans created. You loved watching it, just like you loved him.

“I don’t mean what?” His eyes met yours in the darkness. “Hating not being able to spend time with you or not becoming an idol?”

“Both?” you said quietly, but unfortunately loud enough for him to hear. How he wished he didn’t though.

“When will you finally realize?” he sent an ask into the ether.

You got up nervously and handed him his phone, pretending you didn’t hear his confession-like question. Riki looked up at you slightly sad and resigned and with a sigh took his phone which started ringing again. Accepting the call he heard Jungwon, who was either extremely nervous or furious.

“Riki? Where the hell are you?” His voice reached even your ears through his phone.

“At Y/n’s place, where else?” he snapped back.

“Do you know how late it is? Do you know who gets massive nagging from our manager?” Jungwon asked helplessly, but not hearing any response from the younger he continued after calming down a bit: “Send me her address, I’ll get you a cab.”

“No need to, I’ll get it myself.” Riki ended a call and without a word walked past you to the front door.

“Riki,” you called him before he could step out of your apartment. “Are we okay?”

His eyes filled with hurt looked straight into yours. Not wanting to say too much, he decided to not say anything. He just turned around and closed the door behind him leaving you confused, with a single crack on your heart.

Days passed and not even a single message was exchanged between you two, unusual for your long term friendship. The silence killed you from inside and in frustration of being ignored by him you decided to pay him a surprise visit. Greeting the security that by now knew you pretty well from all the times you watched their dance jam lives or other activities you made your way to the dance studio they always used.

“Y/n?” You heard Jungwon’s voice when you were about to step in. He looked at the determined expression that painted your face and without questioning you he said: “He’s alone. Please solve whatever happened cause he’s being unbearable.” Mumbling the last part he left you in front of the practice room.

You could hear music coming from inside accompanied by a few frustrated grunts. Taking a firm hold on a handle you stepped in. As soon as he saw it was you he stopped his routine and turned around to face you. Looking at him you tried to stay mad, but just like the day you last spoke his eyes showed hurt, making it almost impossible. But somehow you managed to spit out: “Are we gonna talk or you’re going to ignore me again?”

He lowered his head and glued his eyes to his feet. Already familiar silence suffocated you. He finally said weakly: “I like you, Y/n. Screw this, I love you. And I don’t know what else I have to do for you to finally realize that.”

Now it was him who searched for answers in your eyes. But the impact of his words dumbfounded you. So your stupid feelings were reciprocated this whole time?

“What?” you asked in a whisper. Tears brimmed abruptly in your eyes not believing what you just heard. “Say that again.”

The face you put on brought a smile to his lips. He stepped closer to you to the point the tips of your shoes touched.

“I love you.” His hand brushed the strand of your hair away and made you let out a shaky breath.

“Again.” Your voice was even more quiet.

“I love you.” He raised your head by your chin to face him properly.

“Again.”

Riki leaned in, laying a soft kiss on your lips. It took a while for you to respond but when you did both of you melted in each other’s touch. He cupped your cheeks as you placed yours at the back of his neck. Pulling away he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Can’t believe you didn’t see how crazy you made me feel throughout our friendship,” he suddenly chuckled.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“I literally said I wouldn’t become an idol for you, I think it’s quite telling,” he reasoned. “And please, I let you fall asleep on me, why on Earth would I let you do that?”

“Because we’re friends? Friends care about each other,” you said tilting your head.

“I cuddled you, in my arms. You think I cuddle Sunoo to sleep?” He tried to argue convincingly.

“You don’t?”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

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[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding CH. 01 | one night, forever?

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

.

.

.

Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), arranged marriage, satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 (coming soon)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

12:09

one, two, three…

this can’t be right, why do these all say positive, there isn’t any possible way this could be happening. You were only twenty two, this can’t be happening.

positive

positive

positive.

the plus sign on the pregnancy test is clear as day. you were pregnant. this had to be some mistake, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve got it on with someone let alone let anyone not use protection.

you’ve always been way too cautious, especially with your mother being a young mother herself, always so strict when it came to boys and using protection.

how could you fuck up this bad?

a tear falls from your face, before many more. you can’t hold it together, not now. you can’t be a mother? you don’t even know who the father is. this is all too much.

beep, beep

Incoming Call: King Nobara

you look at the dumb contact name you and nobara made up one night while you were drunk recalling the night where she had yuji bow down to her passing her drinks while pronouncing her ‘King Nobara’ for getting the drunkest.

You send it to voicemail, there’s no way you could face her right now. nobara would burn down the city if she knew her best friend was crying.

ding

King Nobara: omgggg im so hungover from last night, yuji said him and gumi had to force me out lmao

King Nobara: where did you go btw i was tryna find you all night, last i saw you were with doctor save a hoe 🍆💦

fuck.

14 hours ago.

“Oh my god i can’t believe Shoko invited us here, there’s so many hotties! Oh my god is that Maki Zenin” She slaps your arm playfully trying to grab your attention towards Maki Zenin.

Maki Zenin, She wasn’t a big shot surgeon but she was a quick learner, being the first in her class to get an internship at only nineteen years old, making a special exception straight out of high school. Nobara is a total fangirl for her, admiring her for being a ‘girl boss’ and her beauty.

some would even say Nobara had a little crush, although she would never admit it.

“aren’t we supposed to be here for work” Megumi makes a remark towards Nobara and Yuji who are already shoving wine down their throats.

“Hey man take advantage of the free alcohol, this shit is nothing like cheep shit we get, taste it gumi!” Yuji hands Megumi a glass looking at him like an excited puppy.

Megumi rolls his eyes and takes a sip.

“Whatever, i just hope I don’t see Gojo, he’s always pestering me about how I should let him mentor me.” Megumi gets all creeped out from the thought of Gojo.

Apparently he has known Gumi since he was a kid, they are about 8 years apart in age.

Megumi hates him.

“He’s the #1 Neurosurgeon in tokyo, it isn’t a horrible idea” You suggest, “Being close to someone like that itself is a blessing, he could totally help you out”

“Yeah i hear he’s like loaded rich! he could pay for like your dog food and shit since you buy that crap every day!” Nobara slurs her words and laughs,

Megumi has a lot of pets surprisingly, Nobara likes to joke that he’s ‘Snow White’. He really does buy a lot of dog food though to be fair, his dogs are huge.

“No amount of money is worth spending time with that maniac, I’d rather buy dog food every hour” He finishes his drink

This talk of Gojo is getting him worked up, “His best friend isn’t that bad though, I hear he’s a respectable man and good at his studies” Megumi adds,

“Oh what’s his name! uh Gojo-“ Yuji tries to think of who he’s talking about, the mention of Gojo makes megumi shoot Yuji a glare, “-OH! I KNOW! I KNOW! GETO!” he says excitedly as if he just figured out the hardest puzzle in the world,

Nobara cheers Yuji on, and you take a sip of your drink admiring their immaturity. Something you and Megumi can appreciate from them is how they always keep a light attitude. The pressure of school and work was draining and keeping a light attitude constantly couldn’t be easy.

You all look over to find Geto before Nobara points towards him, “oh my gosh he’s so handsome, you should totally talk to him y/n he’s ogling you like crazy! you need to get over that stupid choso anyways” She says grabbing your arm to motion you towards him,

“ugh don’t remind me, i don’t want to think of that asshole” You say, chugging down drinks before you could think any longer.

Before you knew it, Geto was walking towards you, you suddenly felt nervous, his presence was intimidating. Anyone can argue his beauty is unmatched, he has such a romantic aspect to him, looking at him looks like love itself, you’re struggling to keep your composure.

“Hello, you must be y/n l/n, I’ve heard lots about you, I couldn’t help but introduce myself” He says with a charming smile,

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I admire your medical expertise” You say entranced in his eyes, it felt like he was staring into your soul.

“No need to be so formal, you can call me Suguru if you’d like” He says while taking your hand and kissing it, you realize Nobara has disappeared somewhere.

“You should come by my office sometime, I would be interested in talking more with you soon, i’m afraid i’ve grown too tired to stay here any longer, have to hide before Satoru brings me into some trouble” He laughs off at the mention of Satoru,

Wow, Satoru Gojo really wasn’t a good influence, huh?

You nod and say you’re goodbyes as you watch as he leaves with a blonde man. Nanami Kento, Tokyo’s #1 Obstetrician.

You wander off barely holding yourself up as you bump into someone nearly causing you to fall over. “M-my apologies” You say slurring your words as you look up to see a tall white haired man, he looked like an angel.

His blue eyes pierced you as he smirks and says “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, i was in the way, how about I buy you a drink for my stupidity” He flirts

and it’s working.

You nod and he pulls you gently over to sit down in a corner, there wasn’t many people here, almost everyone left.

As you guys pile up on drinks, you both become ridiculously drunk, talking about debt and studies and about your career, until you both could barely think.

You both just sit in a comfortable silence for a while, before you see the white man slowly pull you into a kiss, his lips were soft and you could smell the cologne on him, he smelt really good.

You’re hand wrapped around his neck, you look around before going any further realizing you two were the only ones left. You get on top of him and sit on his lap as he pulls you closer, tracing the arch of your back.

He holds your hips down on him, feeling the bulge in his dress pants. The kiss deepened as he laid you down on the booth, placing his jacket under you for comfort without pulling away from the kiss once.

He slowly plants kisses down your chest, “you’re beautiful” he breaks away before unbuckling his pants and pulling them down just enough to pull out his dick.

He unbuttoned his shirt next to show his muscular body, you traced the lines of his abs with your fingers before going down to his v line, he groaned a little before lifting up the dress you were wearing to take your underwear off, grabbing one of your clothed plump boobs that were barely staying in the dress.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, promise princess, gonna make this pussy mine” he says as he places his dick against your core, feeling him twitch against your clit earning a moan from you and for him to buck his hips closer.

He enters you and he swears he’s seeing stars as he thrusts into you greedily, he’s slurring his words as he mutters things about how “it’s mine, gonna cum in this pussy” he says feeling himself become closer the longer he’s inside of you.

you haven’t gotten any action in so long, you haven’t even been on the pill, this didn’t cross your mind in the moment of course. Who would think about that when Satoru Gojo is saying he wants to cum inside of you?

“shit, fucking gonna cum inside, so tight, gonna breed you so well, say it. say you’ll let me breed a sweet little baby into you, fuck” he groaned letting lose of the little composure he had before.

“cum inside me, Satoru, want you to put a baby inside of me” and with those words Satoru whimpered in your ear as he kept thrusting hard feeling cum ache out of his balls, filling you up to the brim.

This happened about 3 more times before he had your drive drop you off at home where you’re roommate, Megumi had to carry you inside and he gives Gojo a disgusted look.

After laying you down he leaned down on the car door, where Gojo slowly rolled down the window and looked like a child on trouble.

“What the fuck did you do, Satoru. She is barely conscious.” He says with anger in his voice. He knew Satoru wouldn’t do anything without consent but he wouldn’t be surprised if he took advantage of his pretty privilege with drunk woman.

“So am i, Gumi” he says barely able to stay awake for this conversation.

“Whatever just leave her alone, she isn’t one of your girls, she’s my friend and she has potential to be more than one of your little interns” He says while walking off

In the moment Satoru was glad Megumi left because he was on the verge of passing out. He didn’t think you were one of his little interns, he was listening when you were speaking about your goals and dreams of being a doctor. He really wasn’t trying to get into your pants, but he knew Suguru was been eye balling you for weeks, so he already felt regretful for sleeping with you.

back to the present

you’re brought back from your thoughts when you hear a knock on your door startling you from your head as you take a second to clear your voice so it doesn’t sound like you were crying.

“You alright in there? i heard a noise” Megumi’s voice echos through the door and you grab your composure, wiping away your tears before opening the door.

you put on a smile, “yeah sorry i’m just really hungover, you can come in” you offer noticing he brought you a coffee.

you both sit on the bed before megumi breaks the silence, “Gojo dropped you off last night, are you okay? he didn’t make you join an orgy or something right?” he asks concerned.

You and megumi have been friends since you were kids, his big sister was your best friend before her death in middle school, ever since then you and megumi have been pretty close, you were almost like family. sharing a mutual grief and love for someone close to each other.

“No, he didn’t do anything like that, I promise” you laugh off and he stares for a while trying to find any discomfort in your words before believing your words.

ding

King Nobara: OH YEAH AND YUJI KISSED MEGUMI LAST NIGHT!!!! DONT TELL HIM I TOLD YOU

The phone was on the bed facing right towards you and megumi before his face turns red and he flips the phone over.

you’re face brightens at this news, “Megumi! you have to tell me about this right now, hold on let’s all have a group call!” you say laughing heading towards your phone before he chases you down for it.

You: TELL ME ALL THE DETAILS.

“NO!” He raises his voice a little, face burning red, “I’m not talking to itadori.” He states, looking away in embarrassment.

ding

megumi looks up with wide eyes, “Wait!” he says flustered trying to reach for the phone.

King Nobara: MEGUMI KISSED HIM FIRST

Megumi lays his head in his hands and faces towards the wall like a child who has been punished. “WHAAAAT” you say laughing as you poke at his sides trying to get it out of him.

“I’m leaving now.” he says walking away with hands still in his hands as he goes to find the leashes for his dogs.

you laugh as he walks away.

“Wait Gumi! quick question” you say stopping him, hesitated if you should ask him

He stops at his tracks and turns towards you raising an eye brow in acknowledgement,

“Can you give me Satoru Gojo’s Address”

he looks away almost in disappointment before writing it down on a sticky note before heading out the door, before closing it he pauses before saying, “be careful, y/n”

Now that you have his address, you head off to find his house

knock knock knock

Your nerves were going crazy, like at any moment you would explode. How were you even supposed to tell this to him?

Oh hey! I know your probably don’t remember me because we were hammered but you actually got me pregnant haha surprise!

What were you thinking, as if he would even care. If anything he was gonna tell you to go away or that you were crazy or threaten your career so you will get rid of it.

A rich asshole doesn’t want his life interrupted by this.

Before you turn to leave, you hear the door swing open revealing a familiar face.

Suguru Geto

He looks surprised to see you, he’s most likely thinking ‘how did this crazy chic find my place’

Damnit megumi gave you the wrong address, this is so embarrassing, you should just go home and eat ice cream while crying about how utterly stupid you are.

“Oh, i’m so sorry- this is so weird uh i thought this was Gojo’s house, megumi gave me an address and he gave me the wrong one, so sorry! uh i’ll be going now..” you say looking down in embarrassment, it stays silent for a while before you hear him laugh.

Why is he laughing?

“May i ask why you’re looking for Gojo?” he asks in curiosity,

You try and think fast of an excuse to use, what could you possibly tell him, there was no good excuse to be at his house, it’s not like you guys were friends.

So you do the most believable excuse you could give him.

“I left my uh underwear at his place and i came to pick it up but i was too hammered to remember the place!” you say, that had to be convincing, right?

He nods in amusement,

“aw that’s interesting. Satoru came home alone last night, I would know I live here as well” And now you feel stupid.

Fuck.

“So uh this is his house then…” you say,

Suguru nods slowly before you see Satoru call out for Suguru, approaching the door, shirt off and only in pajama pants.

His eyes widen when he sees you, Suguru can’t know about what happened last night, oh he’s fucked. He has to play it off like he doesn’t know you, it’s for the best.

You look at him in worry, he wonders if something is wrong with the way she’s looking at him. Suguru looks towards him with a smirk but he knew Suguru was pissed by the way he didn’t look him in the eye.

“You have a visitor, Satoru.” He says before leaving back into the house.

Satoru looks at you now, “Hey” he says awkwardly rubbing his head, he somehow feels like your gonna yell at him, he feels like he’s in trouble.

You take a baggie out of your pocket that showed the three pregnancy tests, all positive.

He looks confused at first before he sees it for himself, his eyes widen, fuck.

“What the hell are these fake?! I can’t be the father, haven’t you slept with anyone else lately?!” He says in a panic not realizing how aggressive he is coming off

You shake your head no, feeling tears fall from your eyes

“You can’t keep it! Suguru would kill me, your career is at stake! my career is on the line! It isn’t mine!” He starts freaking out, how could he fuck up this bad

“I can raise it on my own, this was stupid! I knew i should have never told you, you only care about yourself!” you yell before you try and walk away and he grabs your hand.

He takes a moment to get his composure back, to get himself together. “let’s just, let’s sit down” He says calmly not looking you in the eye.

You sit down and you both don’t say a word for a few minutes, satoru runs his hands over his hair and you lay your head in your lap.

Hiding the fact that it’s Satoru Gojo’s child would be very hard, his clans genes are very strong, your child is bound to have his signature white hair and blue eyes.

The only man with those features. It would be puzzled together with no problem, you don’t have any of those features. Would you really have to abort the baby?

You didn’t plan on being a mother but…

it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to be.

“I’m keeping the baby. You don’t have to be in its life if you don’t want to. I understand.” You grab your bag and stand up.

“I will be in the child’s life, it isn’t fair to just leave you with a child, i’m not an asshole. It’s my fault in the first place, I will accept it, eventually.” He said looking down in his hands, for once he seemed mature, like he was serious about what he was saying.

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Thank you for showing me, y/n” He looks up and softly smiles, he felt sorry for how he just stressed you out, the least he could do was offer a comforting smile, he wanted to be there for her.

“You live with Megumi right?” He asks even though he knows the answer. You nod.

“That wont do, you will move your things here, there are two doctors here and a maid to watch over you and Gumi’s place isn’t big enough for a baby” He says but it’s almost demanding.

“What do i tell him?” You ask, how were you gonna tell your friends this, Megumi is gonna be so disappointed.

“Dunno, it’s up to you, I wont tell him anything until you do so it’s up to you, you don’t need your bed and stuff, just get what you need, we can get it now” He says going in his house to get his keys, seeing Suguru looking at him from behind the kitchen island.

You walk in as he grabs his keys and look at the floor, still in your head about all of this.

“Where are y’all heading” Suguru asks, sipping on his coffee like a dad interrogating his daughter. Which in this case his daughter is Satoru.

“Getting her stuff, she’s gonna move in here” He says, he knows what he did was messed up to Suguru but he didn’t feel like he owed him an explanation, not now. He still needed to process it himself.

Suguru says nothing to Satoru and turns towards you instead, he places a soft smile of hospitality towards you, “Well make yourself at home” He says before walking off not even looking at Satoru as he walks off.

The rest of the night, Satoru takes you to your apartment so you can pack your things, he helps you and thankfully Megumi isn’t home so it makes things easier. Satoru would get a mouthful from him for sure.

Before packing the last of your things, you leave the money for the bills you pay and a sticky note,

What were you supposed to say?

“I’m going to be moving, found somewhere to stay, thank you for letting me stay with you Gumi, you have my number if anything, the keys are under the mat” and you stick it on top of the money before heading out.

The car ride home is silent, leaving you and satoru both in your thoughts. A man you just met yesterday got you pregnant, and now you’re going to live with him.

Not to mention, you are living with Tokyo’s finest and best surgeons in the country.

How did you get here?

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A/N. OMG i just realized that reader wouldn’t be able to find out she’s pregnant just after one night but i already wrote it and don’t feel like changing it soooo let’s just not pay attention to that mistake…

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take me to the next chapter! (coming soon…)