#trying to just live in the moment and just ‘be’

[satoblue]

you know those safety precautions women take just to feel a little less vulnerable in their own homes? house alarms or extra locks — even a pair of men’s shoes by the front door?

well, yours are sneakers. slightly scuffed and huge — just enough to pass as believable. like there is a man of the house. and honestly, you’ve never thought twice about it.

that is — until satoru visits your home for the first time.

like always, he’s halfway through teasing you. this time, it is about your adorable entryway rug. the sorcerer is passing through the doorframe, ducking his head slightly due to his towering height when he suddenly halts in his tracks.

the words stutter to a stop on his tongue. the very tip of his right dress shoe hovers in the air above the floor where he stands frozen — paralyzed.

you can sense the shift in the air. it is not hard to miss. after all, satoru never goes quiet just like that. not unless something shakes the man.

and consider him shaken by the sight in front of him.

he spots a pair of men’s sneakers in the corner of his eye. nothing flashy yet glaring. one is upright, the other on its side. as if they had been haphazardly kicked off just recently.

there’s an eerie silence. a pause. a throbbing in his chest.

to be honest, you didn’t think he’d notice. but that’s the thing about him — you always underestimate what he notices. what he sees.

because in a millisecond, those six eyes are scanning for a thousand possibilities — racing with infinite thoughts you can’t read. but you can feel it — the way his whole body has gone absolutely still on reflex.

“what are those?” he questions lowly.

there is no humor. no teasing grin. just a raw, shaky edge in his voice. and for once, he doesn’t even bother with the usual sarcasm to hide the hurt that’s bubbling up in his chest.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you — it’s that he wasn’t ready to feel this much about the idea of you letting someone else in. of having another man in your life. the very notion makes him sick to his stomach.

you blink, a bit caught off guard by his bothered demeanor and you hurry to explain.

“satoru, it’s not what you think— those aren’t anyone’s. they’re mine… for safety. you know, to make it look like a man lives here.”

soon enough, you watch your words land. you see the way his shoulders shift, the tension breaking only slightly with relief. but then — something darker shifts in his expression. angrier.

but not at you.

at the world.

at the fact that you even have to think that way. that pretending to belong to a man is the easiest shield society gives you.

satoru doesn’t say much after that. he just looks at you for a long, long moment before pretending as though it never even happened.

but the next time he comes over, he comes with a bag. and when you glance by your front door — the old pair is gone.

now, they’re replaced with a pair of his own — some obviously beat up sneakers from his school days. the kind he only kept around for nostalgia.

you lean against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed as you watch him shuffle through your pantry.

“so…” you start carefully, “are you gonna tell me what happened to my shoes, or should i guess?”

“it’s more convincing if they’re worn,” he huffs back quickly like he rehearsed in the mirror, trying to act nonchalant. but you see the way his eyes dart to the shoes in the front — his shoes now. as if making sure they don’t walk off on their own.

“they weren’t even really yours anyway…” satoru grumbles, acting like an unbothered cat marking its territory as he searches for his favorite chips you always keep stocked up for him.

“seriously didn’t expect to walk in and see another guy’s shoes by the door — off brand by the way.” he notes, continuing to mumble to himself before taking a little peek at you. “kind of a jarring welcome, don’t you think?”

you roll your eyes at his behavior. it’s clear as day — he was jealous. not that he’d admit it. not yet anyway. he’s too proud to admit he had gotten jealous over nothing.

when he finally finds his snack of choice, he shuts the cabinet and closes the distance between you in two lazy steps, arms slipping around your waist like it’s second nature and pulling you in close. your heart skips a beat.

“besides,” he adds, mouth close to your ear, voice dropping low. “you could’ve just told me you needed protection.”

and with that, satoru releases you before plopping onto your couch, big sock clad feet propping up on the coffee table like he owns the place — like he’s the man of the house now.

“my savior…” you mumble sarcastically, watching him open the loud bag of chips before popping one in his mouth and flashing you a charming grin as he chews happily.

but you know him. you know that there is something fierce beneath the casual tone — an unspoken promise.

he’s offering — no — he is telling you that he’ll be your home security system. unlimited plan. premium package. comes with a hot boyfriend as a plus.

because there is no world where he’d ever let anything happen to you. as if anyone could even dare to try.

[coriihanniee]

TELL ME, WILL WE SURVIVE? ⋆˚࿔

۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : you're the 4th member of Huntrix, tasked to eliminate the Saja Boys, five powerful demons disguised as idols. However, encountering them face to face brings an achingly familiar pain to your chest.

۶ৎ PAIRING : reincarnated 4th member huntrix!reader x saja boys ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : romance, reincarnation, angst ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of death, use of weapons, slight emotional manipulation, sexy hot fictional men

۶ৎ A/N : asked if I should write this fic with a poll and 434 votes is crazy... so here it is! This will probably be my only kpdh fic 🥹 I hope this satisfies you~ It was tough to come up what to write apart from Jinu's considering the fact we don't have more information about the others T^T

The tension in the Huntrix dorm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I still can't believe it," Zoey muttered, pacing back and forth across the living room while clutching her notebook. "A new boy group that just debuted... and they're actual demons."

Mira sat cross-legged on the floor. Her usually perfect hair was tied back in a messy bun. "The way everyone was completely fascinated by them..." She shuddered. "Like they couldn't look away or think of anything else."

"Five guys who came out of nowhere and had everyone mesmerized on their very first performance," Rumi said grimly, her voice still hoarse from the throat issues that had sent them to the doctor in the first place. "That's not normal idol talent, that's demonic influence."

You looked up from lacing your combat boots, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread. While your three groupmates had discovered the Saja Boys' true nature during their trip to the clinic, you'd been stuck in back-to-back variety show recordings. Part of you felt guilty for missing such a crucial moment, but another part was almost grateful. Something about facing demons, especially these particular demons, made your chest tight with an emotion you couldn't name.

"So what's the plan?" you asked, trying to push away the odd nervousness in your stomach.

Rumi stood up, her leader instincts taking over despite her vocal strain. "Intelligence suggests they're operating out of several locations around the city. We need to track them down and neutralize the threat before their next public appearance."

"Five of them, four of us," Mira noted. "Not impossible odds, but we'll need to be smart about this."

Zoey stopped pacing and looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, this is our first time facing demons this powerful. The Saja Boys aren't like the lower-level creatures we usually hunt."

You nodded, though your heart was racing for reasons you couldn't explain. "I've trained for this. We all have."

"We don't know much about their individual abilities yet," Rumi warned, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "But we know they're organized and powerful enough to steal our fans and mess with the Honmoon. They've been systematically targeting our fans, hypnotising them with some kind of influence we don't understand yet.”

"We split up," Rumi continued. "Cover more ground that way. But nobody engages alone unless absolutely necessary. These aren't ordinary demons, they're organized, intelligent, and extremely dangerous."

As your groupmates continued planning, you found yourself staring out the window at the Seoul skyline, a dozen city lights twinkling like stars. Somewhere out there, five demons who had quickly become the nation's beloved idol group in less than a day were hiding, planning, hunting.

So why did the thought of facing them feel less like preparing for battle and more like... coming home?

"Ready?" Rumi's voice snapped you back to reality.

You grabbed your weapon and stood up, pushing down the strange emotions swirling in your chest. You were a member of Huntrix. You had a job to do.

Even if something deep inside you whispered that this mission would change everything.

JINU ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Three hours after the briefing, you crouched behind a concrete pillar in an abandoned office building, your heart hammering against your ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with the mission. You had tracked Jinu here alone, separated from his group members, conducting what appeared to be private business on the fifteenth floor.

The elevator had been deliberately disabled, forcing you to climb the emergency stairwell. Each step upwards felt heavier than the last, as if your body fought against an invisible current. When you finally reached the target floor, the silence was deafening.

You pressed your ear to the stairwell door, listening for voices, footsteps, any sign of demonic activity. Your weapon felt foreign in your grip, a silver-blessed blade that had never failed you in past hunts, yet now trembled with your uncertainty.

The hallway beyond stretched like a mouth waiting to swallow you whole. Fluorescent lights flickered sporadically, casting dancing shadows that made your vision blur. You moved silently, checking each empty office as you passed, until you reached the corner suite at the end of the corridor.

The door stood ajar.

Through the gap, you could see him.

Jinu sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his profile illuminated by the pale glow of Seoul's skyline through the windows. Even in the dim light, his features were sharp and aristocratic, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, dark hair that fell perfectly across his forehead. 

"The contract is simple," his voice carried through the crack in the door, smooth as silk yet cold as steel. "Your daughter's medical bills disappear. Her surgery is guaranteed successful. All I ask in return is a small favour down the line."

"What kind of favour?" The other voice was desperate, broken, a father's voice.

"Nothing that will harm your family directly. You have my word."

You should have burst through that door immediately and struck while Jinu was distracted, before he could complete whatever twisted bargain he was weaving. But the moment your eyes found his face, your entire world tilted off its axis.

Inexplicable pain lanced through your chest. Your vision blurred from the tears suddenly sliding down your cheeks. Images surged and vanished too quickly to grasp : a child's laugh, the strum of a bipa, a soft voice humming, arms wrapping around you beneath a threadbare blanket.

"I'll take care of everything. You'll never have to worry again."

You gasped, stumbling backwards and nearly dropping your weapon. The sound echoed in the empty hallway like a gunshot.

The conversation inside the office stopped abruptly.

"I believe our business here is concluded," Jinu's voice had changed, taking on an edge that made your spine stiffen. "You know how to contact me when you've made your decision."

The desperate father's voice slowly faded as he was presumably escorted out through another exit.

You pressed yourself against the wall, mind racing. You had lost the element of surprise, but the mission remained the same. Jinu was alone now. This was your chance to strike before he could reunite with the other Saja Boys.

You kicked the door open and rushed inside, blade raised and ready.

Jinu stood by the window with his back to you, hands clasped behind him as if he had been expecting your arrival. The moonlight turned his silhouette into an ethereal and angelic vision, a cruel irony given what you knew him to be.

"You're faster than I anticipated," he said without turning around. "Though not as quiet as you think."

"Turn around." Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

He complied slowly. However, when his eyes met yours, your soul cracked down the middle.

You could see a brief flicker of recognition cross his face, perhaps even mourning, or maybe grief worn thin over centuries.

You raised your blade higher, just enough to hide how much your hands were shaking.

"You've grown beautiful," he said softly.

Your breath caught in your throat, forcing down a wave of emotions that threatened to break free. You gritted your teeth. "Don't."

He stepped forward. 

"I said don't."

He moved closer.

You slashed by reflex. Jinu blocked it with his arm. He didn't exactly attack back. But he parried, blocked, dodged with the ease of someone who'd trained lifetimes for this.

It happened before you could think. Your body moved, like it already knew what to do. Your chest rose and fell too fast, ears buzzing with the rush of your heartbeat. Jinu barely fought back, annoyingly and effortlessly dodging your attacks. However, you refused to stop until the hurt had somewhere to land.

Until he disarmed you, your blade clattering across the floor.

Jinu didn't press the advantage or move to strike.

Instead, he stepped back. 

You froze for half a second. Why isn't he fighting back? Was this pity? Mercy? Did he think you couldn’t handle it?

"You don't remember." It wasn't a question.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Four hundred years ago," he said quietly, "I had a mother and a sister. We were starving. I played the bipa on street corners, until I found you, you were the only light we had left. You kept us together, even when everything fell apart."

Images tore at your mind again : your hands mending a child's robe. Jinu's fingers brushing yours. The bipa's music cutting through the dark.

"You were there," you whispered, not understanding why you knew it was true.

"I was." His voice cracked. "And I failed all of you."

"But… you're a demon now. You manipulate people. Steal their souls."

"I offer what they ask for. I offered it then, too. I was desperate and hungry. My family and you were dying in front of my eyes. Gwi-Ma found me and promised me a life of comfort and power. I thought if I accepted it, I could bring you all with me."

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"But the gates closed behind me," he said, barely audible. "I turned around and they wouldn't let you through. I left you in the cold while I slept on silk."

You shook your head, but the memories were surfacing now,

"I searched for you after. But you died, didn't you? Alone. Like the rest of them. While I lived in luxury with blood on my hands."

The truth settled like ice in your lungs. Your memories were fractured, broken by time and pain, but you remembered enough. Remembered waiting put in the cold and the hunger that ate you alive while he feasted in hell.

"I waited for you," you whispered.

Jinu closed his eyes as if the words were a blade through his chest. "I know."

The admission ignited a fury so pure it burned through your veins like poison. He knew. While you were wasted away in that freezing hovel, praying for his return until your throat was raw. While you'd begged strangers for scraps, sold every precious thing you owned just to buy another day of life, he was feasting in warmth and safety. He knew, and he'd done nothing.

"You knew," you snarled, and the rage in your voice made him flinch. "You knew we were dying and you left us there to rot."

Your hands clenched into fists. Every cell in your body screamed for violence, for justice, for him to feel even a fraction of the agony he'd caused.

You lunged for your weapon again. He didn't stop you.

"I'm going to kill you," you said, raising it with trembling hands.

"Then do it."

However, you hesitated, the blade wavering above his heart. Tears blurred your vision as you stared down at him, this man who had once been your entire world. Your arm shook with the effort of holding the weapon steady, but your body refused to obey. Every instinct screamed at you to drive the silver through his chest, to end his suffering and yours, but your heart betrayed you.

Even after everything, you couldn't bring yourself to destroy him. The realization broke you more than his abandonment ever had.

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

"Because I loved you more than my own soul. And letting you end it is the only way I can repent for what I've done."

Your eyes widened at his words, the blade slipping from your nerveless fingers. It hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed through the empty office.

Jinu's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the fallen weapon, in disbelief at what had just happened. His composure finally cracked, and tears spilled down his cheeks, the first real emotion you'd seen from him since you'd entered this room.

Why?" he whispered. "After everything I've done to you... why can't you do it?”

"I-I don't know…’ you said, voice cracking. “But… this doesn't mean I forgive you…”

"I wouldn't dare ask."

"And I'm not letting you walk away."

He nodded, tears tracking down his cheeks.

You stepped closer, your heart shattering with every breath.

"This time, we need to talk, about the four hundred years you stole from us."

ABBY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The underground fight club pulsed with sweat, blood, and money changing hands. You pressed your earpiece, static crackling back at you as you tried to reach Rumi. 

"Rumi, do you copy? I lost visual on the target."

Nothing but interference.

Intel had tracked two Saja Boys to this district, Abby and Mystery had split from the main group. Following a thorough discussion, you and the other girls decided to split into duos to ensure greater safety. You and Rumi were supposed to stay together, but the crowds and maze-like underground tunnels had separated you. Now you were alone in the bowels of Seoul's illegal fighting scene.

The roar of the crowd guided you deeper into the complex. Through a doorway marked with graffiti, you found the main arena, a concrete pit surrounded by screaming spectators waving fistfuls of cash. 

In the center of the ring stood Abby.

He moved like violence incarnate, all muscle and controlled fury as he circled his opponent. Abby was shirtless, his body a map of scars and fresh bruises, sweat making his skin gleam under the harsh lights. 

The expression that you caught on his face made your breath catch. Pure, undiluted joy. He was having the time of his life.

His opponent lunged. Abby sidestepped with fluid grace, then drove his fist into the man's ribs with a wet crack that echoed over the crowd's cheers as the man fell to the ground hard. 

"Next!" Abby called out, not even breathing heavily. His grin was sharp enough to cut glass. "Who else wants to dance?"

Three men climbed into the ring together as the crowd grew wild.

You should have taken the shot then, but watching him move was hypnotic. Every punch and dodge was precise and calculated. 

Two opponents were quickly taken down, and the third hesitated to swing.

"Come on," Abby taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Don't tell me you're scared now."

The man reluctantly charged. Abby caught him mid-lunge and slammed him into the concrete so hard the ground cracked.

The crowd erupted as money flew. Abby raised his arms in victory, basking in the adoration.

You waited until the chaos died down, until the crowd dispersed and the arena emptied. Abby was collecting his winnings from the promoter when you finally made your move.

"Good fights tonight," you said, stepping out of the shadows.

He went completely still for a second, so brief you almost missed it. Then he turned around with that cocky grin already sliding into place. 

"Well, well. What do we have here?" He looked you up and down, but it wasn't the casual appreciation of a stranger. It was recognition wrapped in careful performance. "You don't look like the usual groupies. Too pretty. Too dangerous."

"I'm not a groupie."

"No kidding." He stuffed the money in his back pocket and grabbed his shirt from where he'd thrown it, but didn't put it on. Still showing off, but his movements were more deliberate now, as if he was buying time to think.

 "So what are you? Reporter? Cop? Or just someone who likes watching sweaty men beat the hell out of each other?"

"I'm here for you."

His grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that's direct. Though I gotta say, most people who want me specifically don't usually start with small talk."

The arena was empty now except for the two of you and the lingering smell of violence.

Perfect.

"You're coming with me," you said, hand moving to your weapon.

"Am I?" He stepped closer, and the playful mask slipped just slightly. "And here I was thinking you might be here for something else entirely."

"This isn't a game."

"Everything's a game, sweetheart. The trick is figuring out if we're playing by the same rules." He was circling you now, but it felt less predatory and more like he was trying to get a different angle, trying to see something in your face. "Though I gotta ask, do you even know who I am?"

You drew your blade. His expression shifted, resignation mixed with anticipation.

"There it is," he said quietly, flexing his fingers. "Was wondering when we'd get to this part."

He moved faster than you'd expected, still testing you. Every move of his was calculated, like he was trying to figure out how much you remembered about fighting. 

About fighting him specifically.

"Come on," he said, dodging your blade with familiar ease. "I know you're better than this. You always were."

The words slipped out before he could catch them. You saw the moment he realized his mistake, saw him try to cover it with that cocky grin.

"Always were what?" you demanded, pressing your attack.

"Always were too careful," he said, but his voice was strained now. "Stop holding back."

"I'm trying not to kill you."

"How thoughtful." His voice was softer now, almost fond. "Always looking out for everyone else."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he caught your wrist and pulled you against his chest. For a moment, you were close enough to see the conflict in his eyes.

"Got you," he said, but it sounded more like a prayer than a taunt.

You drove your elbow back into his ribs and spun free. He let you go reluctantly.

"There we go," he said, rubbing his side. "That's more like it."

You came at him again, blade swinging through the air. This time when he grabbed your wrist and twisted until you had to drop the weapon, his grip was careful, like he'd done this exact move with you before.

"How do you know how I fight?" you asked.

The question made him freeze. His grip loosened just enough for you to break free, but instead of reaching for another weapon, you just stared at him.

"Have we met before?" you asked.

All the pretense drained out of his expression at your question, replaced by rawness and desperation.

"Every day for a hundred and twenty three years," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

His hands came up to frame your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones like he was memorizing them all over again.

"You really don't remember," he said, and his voice cracked on the words. "God, I hoped... I thought maybe..."

His touch was so gentle, and his voice was softer now. 

"How do you know my name?" you whispered.

"Because I've been saying it every day for over a century." He laughed bitterly "Because it was the last thing you heard before you died."

Images flashed through your mind : rain-soaked streets, a thin boy with kind eyes, the sound of your own scream echoing off alley walls.

You stumbled backward, hand pressed to your temple. "What's happening to me?"

"Hey." He reached for you, movements careful now, gentle. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

"I'm not okay. I'm seeing things that aren't real."

"What kind of things?"

"A boy. Someone I loved." The words came out before you could stop them. "Someone who died because of me."

Abby went very still. "How did he die?"

"I don't know. I can't—the memories aren't mine." You looked up at him desperately. "This is crazy. I don't even know you."

"Yes you do." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You do know me. You just can't remember because dying screws with your head."

"I didn't die."

"Yeah, you did." He was close enough to touch now, hands hovering just shy of your skin. "Hundred and twenty three years ago. In an alley. They put a knife in your back while I watched, too weak to do anything about it."

The memories hit like a tsunami : cobblestones slick with rain, rough hands dragging you away from a thin boy who was calling your name, the burn of steel between your ribs.

"Oh god," you whispered.

"I made you a promise," Abby continued, his voice thick with a century's worth of grief. "On your grave. That if I ever got the chance to see you again, I'd be strong enough to protect you."

You looked at him, and saw past the muscle and scars to the boy underneath. The boy who'd loved you. The boy who'd become a monster for the chance to keep you safe.

"You became a demon for me?"

"I became whatever I had to become." His hands finally made contact, cupping your face gently, as if any more pressure might shatter you into a million pieces. "I don't care what that makes me. I care about keeping you alive."

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel behind you. Rumi's voice called out your name, worried.

"Shit," you whispered. "My partner's coming."

Abby's expression hardened instantly, all the vulnerability vanishing behind that familiar cocky mask. "Right. Back to reality."

"Abby, wait—"

"No, it's fine." He stepped back, putting distance between you, but his eyes never left your face. "You've got a job to do. I get it."

"I can't just—"

"What? Kill me? We both know you're not going to do that." He grinned. "So what's the play here, sweetheart? You gonna tell your partner you found me and just... let me walk away?”

The footsteps were getting closer. You had maybe thirty seconds before Rumi found you.

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Well, you better figure it out fast." Despite his words, he wasn't moving towards the exits. He was just standing there, waiting for you to decide his fate again.

"There's another exit through the back," you said quickly. "Behind the equipment room."

His eyebrows shot up. "You're letting me go?"

"I'm giving you a head start."

"Why?"

Because somewhere in your fractured memories, you remembered loving him. Because he'd spent over a century becoming strong enough to protect you, and maybe you could be strong enough to protect him too.

"Because I remember enough," you said simply.

His mask cracked just for a moment. "This isn't over."

"I know."

"I'll find you again."

"I know."

He started towards the back exit, then paused. "Hey, sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to die before I see you again. I'm getting really tired of that particular tragedy."

In a blink of an eye, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows just as Rumi's voice echoed closer.

ROMANCE ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rooftop overlooked the glittering chaos of Seoul's entertainment district, where neon signs blazed advertisements for idol groups and concert venues stretched towards the horizon. You crouched behind the air conditioning unit, silver blade steady in your grip as you surveyed the empty space. 

Wind carried the distant sound of traffic and late-night revelers, but here, twenty stories above the city's pulse, silence reigned.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

You tensed, weapon raised when you heard his voice, achingly familiar despite being impossible to place. It wrapped around your ribs like phantom fingers, squeezing until your chest felt tight with inexplicable longing.

Romance emerged from behind the rooftop access door with fluid grace, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Under the city's electric glow, his features appeared sharp and ethereal, pink hair catching the wind as he regarded you with calm amusement.

"Though I suspect you're not here for sightseeing," he continued, taking measured steps forward. "Hello, hunter."

Your blade remained steady despite the tremor in your voice. "You know what I am."

"Of course I know exactly what you are." His smile held no malice, only a strange sadness that made your throat constrict. "The question is, do you know what I am?"

Without warning, you lunged.

Romance flowed backwards like water, your strike cutting through empty air as he spun away from your advance. He moved with practiced precision, dodging rather than retaliating, speaking in that same measured tone even as you pressed your attack.

"You fight beautifully," he observed, sidestepping another slash. "Trained well. Committed."

You snarled in frustration, spinning to catch him with a backhand strike that he avoided by millimeters. "Shut up and fight back."

"Why would I want to hurt you?"

The question threw off your rhythm, long enough for Romance to close the distance between you. His hand found your wrist with gentle firmness, and your weapon clattered across the concrete.

You struck out with your free hand, but he caught that too, holding both your wrists as you struggled against his grip. His touch burned with unnatural warmth, sending sparks up your arms that had nothing to do with his demonic nature.

"Let me go," you hissed.

"In a moment." Romance's eyes searched your face with desperate intensity. "I need you to see—"

He shifted, a small and bright object tumbled from his pocket, a ring that caught the neon light as it fell. Simple silver band, modest stone, nothing extraordinary except for the way it made your heart stop.

Pain lanced through your chest. Your knees buckled as emotion crashed over you in waves, grief so profound it stole your breath, love so pure it felt like drowning, loss that cut deeper than any blade. You didn't understand where these feelings originated, only that they threatened to tear you apart from the inside.

Romance released you immediately, crouching to retrieve the ring with reverent care. "You feel it too," he whispered.

"I don't—" You stumbled backward, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache pulsed with each heartbeat. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. This is yours." He held up the ring, and the sight of it made tears spring to your eyes without explanation. "It was meant for you."

"What—that's impossible."

"You taught me what love felt like, centuries ago." Romance said quietly, his mask of casual amusement finally cracking. "Before you, I was nothing. A shadow in my own house, invisible to parents who saw only disappointment when they looked at me. You were the first person to show me kindness, love me without expecting anything in return."

He cradled the ring like it held his entire world. "I saved for months to buy this. Worked every odd job I could find, skipped meals. I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep."

His confession struck a place you didn’t know could still hurt. Your eyes flickered back to the ring again, breath hitching.

"You fell ill a few weeks before I planned to propose." His voice cracked, centuries of grief pouring through the fractures. "I held your hand for seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay with me."

"Y-You're lying." But your voice had no strength behind it.

"Your last coherent words were asking me to promise I'd love someone else after you were gone. You were so worried about me being alone." Tears tracked down his perfect cheeks, and seeing them made your own eyes burn. "I lied and said yes because I thought it would help you let go peacefully."

The pain in your chest intensified, spreading through your ribs like poison. "That's not—"

"I tried to keep that promise as a human. I spent years searching for someone who could make me feel what you had.” Romance's voice dropped to a whisper. “But no one came close to you.”

"You became a demon because you couldn't move on..."

"I made a pact with Gwi-Ma after years of failing to love anyone else. I became something that could create love, manufacture and distribute it to anyone desperate enough to want it." His smile was self-loathing incarnate. "If I couldn't feel real love, at least I could give others a taste of what you gave me."

"You're feeding on people and hurting them."

"I'm keeping my promise to you." His eyes blazed with centuries of accumulated pain and twisted devotion. "Every heart I touch and every moment of artificial bliss I create is all for you. You asked me to love someone else, and this is the only way I know how."

The logic was twisted, but the raw anguish in his voice made your chest tighten with sympathy you couldn't afford. "You're manipulating innocent people."

"I give them what they desperately need. The feeling of being cherished, desired, worthy of devotion. When the illusion breaks, yes, they're disappointed. But at least they got to experience something transcendent." Romance stood slowly, the ring disappearing back into his coat. "Tell me that's not better than the emptiness they had before."

"It's a love built on lies."

"All love is lies in the end." His smile returned, but it held no warmth. "The difference is I'm honest about the illusion I create."

You backed towards the rooftop edge, every instinct screaming at you to flee. The mission was clear, eliminate the demon. However, your hands shook as you reached for a backup blade, and the pain in your chest made it difficult to breathe. Each word he'd spoken felt like a knife twisting deeper.

"This isn't over," you managed, but the words came out weak.

"I know." Romance made no move to stop you as you retreated. "But I won't fight you anymore. I've caused enough damage to someone I—"

He cut himself off, the unfinished words hung in the air between you.

"Someone you what?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

"Someone I loved more than my own existence." His voice was barely audible above the wind. "Someone I'm still failing, even now."

The words crashed over you like a tidal wave. Ring. Proposal. Seventy two hours. Promise. Death. Demon. Love. The pieces swirled in your mind, too many fragments to assemble together, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your training screamed at you to stay, but your heart couldn't bear another second of his confessions.

You turned and ran.

The fire escape blurred past as you descended, taking stairs three at a time until your legs gave out two floors from the bottom. You collapsed on the landing, gasping for air that wouldn't come, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could physically force back the tears threatening to spill.

His voice echoed in your mind : I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep.

Why did that hurt? You were a hunter trained to kill demons, not sympathize with their tragic backstories.

You forced yourself to continue down the fire escape, your movements mechanical and disconnected. 

Seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay.

Your back hit the alley wall and you slid down until you were sitting on the cold concrete, arms wrapped around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face as you grieved for reasons you couldn't name.

This couldn't have happened before. You would remember dying. You would remember being loved with that kind of desperate devotion. You would remember someone saving money for months to buy you a ring.

...

Wouldn't you?

MYSTERY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You lean against the Huntrix dorm balcony railing, watching Seoul pulse beneath you like a neon heartbeat. The city sprawls endless and electric, towers of glass catching streetlight, traffic threading through concrete arteries. Behind you, voices clash over mission prep.

"We should split up and handle each demon individually," Rumi insisted. "Pick them off one by one."

"That's suicide," Mira counters. "We stick together, overwhelm them with combined firepower. Safety in numbers."

"Okay, okay!" Zoey jumps between them with enthusiastic gestures. "What if we compromise? Split into pairs? Best of both worlds, right? Right?"

There are weak spots in the Honmoon barrier scattered across Seoul like broken bones. You've memorized their coordinates, trained for this until your muscles know the patterns by heart. So why won't your pulse settle tonight? 

The argument behind you fades to background noise as you stare at the skyline. 

Suddenly, a soft and delicate melody drifts across the night air.

It felt like a tune you hum when your hands are full of flowers, when you're dizzy with new love. It shouldn't reach you from this height. Seoul's chaos should swallow such fragile notes whole, but the song finds you anyway.

Your breathing stops. You've heard this melody before in dreams that leave you gasping at dawn. 

Across the urban maze, movement flickers near a crumbling rooftop. A shadow that doesn't belong.

You don't hesitate one second. 

The balcony railing becomes your launching point. Rooftop to rooftop, your feet find purchase on surfaces that shouldn't hold human weight. The melody grows stronger with each leap, pulling you forward like a current.

Seoul blurs beneath you, kaleidoscope light and shadow, lives stacked in vertical towers. You follow the song through this maze, breath controlled, heart pounding against your ribs.

The tune leads you to an abandoned building that time forgot. Dark windows, cracked facade, studio spaces that once housed art but now hold only dust. You slip through a broken skylight, landing silent on debris-covered floors.

The music comes to a stop.

Mystery stands beside a shattered mirror, fingers turning over what looks like an old locket. He doesn't startle when you drop in. Instead, his mouth curves into a smile that holds too many secrets.

"You've always been good at finding me."

Your weapon clears its holster, barrel trained on his chest, and his smile deepens.

Ice floods your veins. Your grip tightens on the weapon. "Who are you?"

He laughs softly, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "I would tell you now, but where's the fun in that?"

"This isn't a game." Your voice comes out sharper than intended.

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head, studying you with eyes that hold starlight and shadows. "You followed my song across half the city. Left your friends mid-mission. That sounds like playing to me."

Heat rises in your cheeks. He's right, and you hate that he's right. "Answer me. Why do you know me?"

He steps closer curiously, like he's watching a flower bloom in real time. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"All those summer nights when you'd sneak out just to hear me play." His voice drops to a whisper. "The way you'd fall asleep in my arms while I hummed that exact melody."

Your heart stutters. The exact melody that's been haunting your dreams for months. "That's impossible. I would remember—"

"You would remember me, wouldn’t you?" He reaches out, fingers barely grazing your cheek. 

You should pull away, you know you should put distance between you and this stranger who claims to know your past. But his touch feels familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

"You haven't changed. Well, except for the blade." His gaze drops to the weapon still trained on him. "You never needed those before."

"Before what? Before when?" Desperation creeps into your voice.

He smiles again, stepping back. "Don't remember me yet. It's more fun this way."

"Fun?" The word explodes from you. "You think this is fun? I'm losing my mind trying to figure out who you are, and you think it's entertaining?"

"I think," he says, moving towards the broken window, "that some things are worth waiting for. Some mysteries are sweeter when they unfold slowly."

Moonlight catches in his dark hair as he pauses at the window's edge. "Besides, you always did love puzzles. You used to spend hours on them when you couldn't sleep."

Another piece of impossible knowledge. Another fragment that feels true but shouldn't exist. "How do you know that?"

"I know lots of things about you." His grin turns wicked. "You bite your lip when you're thinking too hard. You always eat the corners of sandwiches first. You used to trace constellations on my back with your fingertips."

Your weapon wavers. "Stop."

"Why? Does it hurt to remember what you've forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. I don't even know who you are." But even as you say it, phantom sensations ghost across your fingertips.

"Liar." He says it fondly. "You remember pieces. Little fragments that visit you in dreams. That's why you followed the melody tonight."

He's right again. You hate that he's right again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, preparing to slip through the window.

"Wait—" The word tears from your throat. "At least tell me your name."

He pauses, half-silhouetted against the night sky. "You'll remember it when you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready? What if I never remember?"

For a moment, his smile falters. Vulnerability flickers across his features. "You will. You have to."

He turns to leave, but moonlight catches his profile at just the right angle. Your breath hitches. Along his temple, barely visible unless you know what to look for, the faint outline of demonic markings. Intricate patterns that shimmer like oil on water, there one second and gone the next.

Your training kicks in before your heart can catch up. The weapon in your hands shifts, finger finding the trigger. He's a demon. You're a hunter. The math is simple.

His hair shifts slightly, and for just a moment, you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the strands.

"You see it now," he says quietly. "The monster I am.”

Your finger hovers over the trigger. This is what you've trained for. What you've dedicated your life to. But something deep inside you hesitates.

Your hand trembles. The weapon feels impossibly heavy.

"Tomorrow," he says again, stepping towards the window. "When you remember who we were, you'll understand why I can't fight you. Why I'll never fight you."

In the blink of an eye, he's gone, leaving you alone with the echo of his voice, that phantom melody, and the terrible knowledge that you just let a demon walk away.

You land back on the balcony, chest heaving. The sliding door opens before you can compose yourself. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey spill out, eyes wide with panic.

"Where were you?! We've been searching everywhere—"

"Can we go tomorrow instead?" Your voice sounds foreign. "I don't feel great."

They exchange loaded glances. Eventually Rumi nods. "Of course. Rest is part of prep too."

You turn away before they can see the cracks spreading across your composure and witness how your hands shake.

That night, your bed feels like a battleground. The melody plays on repeat behind your closed eyes. Each note carries weight you can't name and memories you can't quite grasp.

The mystery of it all pressed against your mind. What past did you share? Why couldn't you remember? 

Mystery himself seemed to revel in the unknowing, content to watch you struggle with fragments of what you'd once been to each other. 

BABY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Something was wrong with your hands.

They'd been trembling since you left the dorm, and no amount of clenching your fists or pressing them against your thighs could make it stop. Rumi's words echoed in your head like a mantra you couldn't shake, "Don't let his face fool you. They're still dangerous demons working for Gwi-Ma nevertheless."

Pictures of the Saja Boys were already circulating online in less than a day. Five demons who'd seemingly appeared overnight, stealing the hearts and souls of your fans.

"Ugh, I’m going to beat their stupid pretty little faces," Zoey had said, tapping the images with her pen. "Seriously, look at them! Acting all mysterious and brooding like they're in some kind of boy band. I mean—they are… but look! The internet's already making fan edits—fan edits! Of demons!" She'd gestured wildly at her tablet, where countless social media posts were flooding in by the minute. "Half the comments are people asking where they can meet them. It's insane!”

You'd barely heard her. Your eyes had been drawn to one face among the five, sharp features that still held traces of boyish softness.

His face had made your chest tighten with recognition, like looking at a stranger who wore the face of someone from a half-remembered dream.

Why did he feel familiar?

The neighbourhood around you was a study in urban decay, half the buildings scheduled for demolition, the other half already hollow shells. You decided to turn a corner and came across an abandoned playground.

You knew this place.

You stopped mid-step at the chain-link gate. The monkey bars where someone had scraped their knee. The slide with the chip in the yellow paint. The bike rack, now empty and listing to one side like a broken rib.

This was from your dreams. Or maybe...

"Didn't expect you to come."

The voice drifted from somewhere behind the playground equipment with an edge that made your hand move instinctively to your weapon. You'd heard that voice before, in fragments that scattered whenever you tried to grasp them.

"Show yourself," you called, stepping through the gate. The metal squealed in protest, the sound echoing off empty buildings like a warning.

He laughed mockingly. "Still giving orders, I see."

He emerged from behind the slide, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the chill of the night. He looked barely out of his teens, with features that still held traces of boyish softness despite the hard set of his jaw.

"You always had a thing for chasing monsters," he said, tilting his head as he studied you with uncomfortable intensity. Those dark eyes flickered, darting away from your face as if looking directly at you caused him physical pain.

"How do you know me?"

Baby shrugged with affected indifference. "Lucky guess."

The way he held himself like he was trying very hard not to care, made anger flare in your chest. "That's not an answer."

He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the asphalt. "Maybe you're just forgettable."

The casual cruelty in his voice should have stung. You drew your blade, silver gleaming in the late afternoon light.

"Are you going to come quietly, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Baby looked at the weapon, then back at your face. For a moment, vulnerability flickered across his features before he crushed it down.

"Do what the hard way?" He stepped closer, invading your personal space with  reckless confidence. "Fight me? Kill me?" His voice dropped, a hint of intimacy laced inside, bitter amusement threading through each word. "You wouldn't be the first to try."

You raised the blade between you, but instead of stopping, he knocked it aside with casual violence, the metal ringing as it struck the nearby swing set. Before you could recover, he was on you, crowding you back against the chain-link fence with predatory grace.

"I waited for you, you know," he said, one hand braced against the fence beside your head, effectively trapping you. "Stupid thing to do when you're a kid."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "What?"

His free hand came up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The touch was rough, but not enough to hurt.

"You really don't remember," he said, his laugh sharp enough to cut. "How convenient."

"Remember what?" The desperation in your voice made you flinch, but you couldn't take it back.

"Us." The single word fell between you, sending ripples through memories you couldn't quite grasp. "This place. The promises you made."

You tried to push him away, but he caught your wrists, pinning them against the fence. His grip was careful despite his aggression, strong enough to hold you, gentle enough not to bruise.

"You died," he said, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "And I had to grow up. Happy now?"

The world tilted sideways. Images flashed through your mind like broken film, a boy with tears streaming down his face, small hands clutching yours, a voice promising forever, all turned into ashes now.

"I'll never leave you."

The words rose from deep in your throat. Baby's eyes snapped to yours, wide with… hope, if hope weren't such a dangerous thing for creatures like him to carry.

"You broke your promise first," he whispered, and the accusation send a chill down your spine. 

You stumbled when he finally released you, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache was spreading like cracks in ice. Baby stepped back, flexing his fingers, trying to forget the feel of your skin.

"I don't—" You shook your head, struggling to make sense of the fragments flashing through your mind. "I don't understand."

"No," Baby said, his mask completely slipping. "You never did understand. You were always too good for this world."

He kicked your fallen blade across the asphalt, the metal scraping against concrete. "That's why you had to die, isn't it? Pure things don't last in places like this."

The words were bitter, but his voice cracked on the last syllable. He turned away quickly, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Next time we meet, I won't be nice," he said without looking back.

"Please, wait—"

He froze at the sound of your plea, shoulders going rigid. You thought he might turn around. Instead, he let out a short and humourless laugh.

"Begging now? Huh, pathetic."

H walked away, each step deliberate and final. Just as he reached the edge of the playground, he stopped.

"The songs," he said quietly, not turning around. "Those stupid lullabies you used to sing when I had nightmares. I still—"

He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Forget it. Forget everything."

He simply walked away down the empty street like any other person with anywhere else to be. You watched until he turned the corner and vanished from sight, leaving you alone with your forgotten blade and the sound of wind through rusted swings.

You picked up your weapon with trembling hands, but the silver felt cold and foreign now, it now felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @kjwluvr @arieslucy @permanenceimp @arienic

[cheftsunoda]

hiii!

I love your writing sooo much and I just had an idea for a story with Lando (if you write for him)

The idea came to me when I was watching one of his interviews in which he gets asked if he likes cats or dogs and he says that he's DEFINITELY a dog person and hates cats (which should be a crime imo)

Anyway I was wondering if you could write a story in which the reader LOVEEEES cats and Lando likes reader a lot but they tell him that they refuse to date someone who doesn’t like cats so Lando tries to charm/befriend their cat/cats

nine lives — ln4

lando norris x !cat lover reader

smau + blurbs

You’ve always said you could forgive many things in a relationship—bad taste in music, questionable cooking, even the occasional forgotten anniversary. But not liking cats? Unforgivable. Which is why, when a clip of Lando—your boyfriend of almost a year—where he boldly declares “I just don’t trust cats. They stare at you like they’re plotting your death.”, your phone practically explodes with notifications. And right in the middle of your peaceful Sunday morning, curled up in bed with four purring furballs and one very smug grey baby sprawled on your chest, Lando walks into the room holding his phone like it’s ticking.

“They’re all sending me this video,” he says, deadpan. “And now half the internet thinks we’re about to break up because I disrespected Mister Whiskers the Third.”

You blink at him. “You did. And you disrespected me.”

And that’s when he sighs—loudly, dramatically—and looks your cats in the eye like he’s facing his greatest challenge yet.

“I guess I’m gonna have to win them over, huh?”

fc : random pinterest girlies

(a/n) : hi babyyyyyy. thanks for the love:) i am a huge cat person so this was very fun for me to write. my cat was stepping on my keyboard keys as i was literally trying to type it out. LMAOOO

ALSO NOT MY DUMBASS HAVING THIS EDITED AND READY FOR TWO DAYS AND NOT REALIZING. IM SO SORRY.

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lando’s ‘undercover’ GQ interview — 6/23/2025

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It starts innocently enough. You’re lounging on the couch in your sunlit living room, a tabby curled against your hip, a calico stretched across your feet, and your ancient, grumpy Persian—Count Meowcula—curled up like a loaf of bread on the coffee table. Lando is still asleep upstairs, likely tangled in the duvet with his mouth slightly open and hair sticking up like a dandelion. You’re scrolling through your phone when the first tag pops up.

@/username000 : NOT LANDO SAYING HE HATES CATS 💀💀💀 @/yourusername come get your man pls

You furrow your brows and click the link.

It’s a recent clip, from the GQ interview he just did the other day. The interviewer shows him an old clip of himself.

And the younger Lando on the video, without missing a beat, replies with boyish arrogance, “Dogs, obviously. Cats are evil. I don’t trust them. They just sit there and judge you.”

Your jaw drops a little. “Excuse me?”

He goes on—oh, he goes on.

“They’re always knocking things off tables. Like, why? For what reason? I could never live with a cat. I’d be on edge all the time.”

You blink at the screen, stunned. A moment later, your mentions erupt like fireworks.

@/username00 : so like… yn owns FIVE cats and lando said THIS?????

@/username0 : the betrayal. the slander. does Count Meowcula know??

@/username1 : if my man ever said this about cats i’d simply let them scratch his eyes out 😭

You let out a little laugh—half horrified, half amused—and glance around the room. As if sensing drama, your youngest cat, a tiny grey kitten named Pickles, climbs onto your lap and stares directly into your phone screen like she’s reading the replies.

“I know,” you murmur to her. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

Almost on cue, heavy footsteps pad down the stairs. You hear a yawn, then a groggy voice.

“Morning…” Lando steps into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’s in one of your hoodies and a pair of mismatched socks, hair a complete mess.

You swivel your phone toward him, the video paused on the exact moment he says, “Cats are evil.”

He squints. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Lando flops face first onto the couch beside you, groaning into a throw pillow. “I was, like, twenty! I didn’t know better!”

“The internet disagrees.” You smirk, holding your phone up as notifications keep pouring in. “You’ve got approximately two million cat lovers and a grumpy Count Meowcula very disappointed in you.”

Lando turns his head, eyes squinting at the Persian cat who is, indeed, staring at him with an expression of utter betrayal.

“I told him it was an old interview,” you say solemnly. “He doesn’t care.”

“I’ll never earn his forgiveness, will I?”

“Not unless you make amends.”

He sits up dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Then I have no choice. I must… bond with the cats.”

“Oh?” you tease. “The same cats who are evil? The ones you can’t trust?”

“I was young! I was foolish!” He throws himself at your feet in mock agony. “Please, my love, allow me to prove myself to you—and to Pickles. And to Mr. Whiskers. And… Count Meowcula.” He pauses.

“God, why do they all sound like retired supervillains?”

“Because they are.”

Pickles meows at him, unimpressed. Lando slowly sits back up, adjusting his hoodie and patting his lap. “Alright. I’m ready. Send me your softest warrior.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I’m ready to face the consequences of my words,” he says solemnly. “Bring me the cats.”

One by one, like some ceremonial trial, the cats are introduced. Pickles curls up beside him without protest. Mr. Whiskers claws his leg once, just for good measure, and then lays on his foot. Count Meowcula eyes him for a solid three minutes before climbing onto his lap and promptly falling asleep.

You grab your phone and take a picture of the scene—Lando sitting stiff as a board, surrounded by cats, one paw resting over his knee like a warning.

Moments later, the tweet goes viral. The top reply?

@/alex_albon : petition for Lando to do a cat photoshoot in apology form.

You grin and show it to him.

“Absolutely not,” Lando mutters as Mr. Whiskers licks his hand. “Okay. Maybe. Only if I get to wear the little ears too.”

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yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 1,201,005 others.

yourusername : should i leave this muppet because he doesn’t like my babies?

tagged : lando

—

view 72,075 other comments.

alex_albon : yes. absolutely. dump him. lily and i will take you and your cats in.

liked by yourusername and lilymhe

↳ yourusername : omw to the albon farm where me and my 5 children will be APPRECIATED.

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ lando : HEY HEY WE DO NOT HAVE TO GO THIS FAR

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : i am like the cat whisperer now. ask pickles.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : you screamed when mr whiskers jumped up on the couch behind you. mans was just existing.

liked by alex_albon

↳ lando : HE STARTLED ME.

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 : leave him. now. i want to see him walking down the road with one of those hobo sacks.

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : OH MY GOD. YOU ARE ALL SO OVERDRAMATIC. I WAS YOUNG.

↳ maxverstappen1 : do not care. you still said it.

liked by yourusername

username00 : i take it he is still in alot of trouble yn

↳ yourusername : oh yes. very much so. sleeping on the couch currently.

liked by maxverstappen1 and alex_albon

↳ maxverstappen1 : make him sleep on the sidewalk.

liked by yourusername and username00

lando : I AM SORRY BABYYYYY DO NOT LEAVE ME. I NEED YOU AND YOUR 5 CHILDREN.

liked by yourusername

alexandrasaintmleux : leave lando. not bc of the cat thing but just so you can date me😻

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : ALEX. OUT. DO NOT TRY TO WIN OUT ON MY MISFORTUNE.

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

oscarpiastri : I, for one, stand for feline rights. #teampickles

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc: just wait til she has a conversation with zhou about this…

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, yourusername and zhouguanyu24

↳ zhouguanyu24 : oh i already know and sweetcorn and i are offended deeply

↳ lando : BROOOOOOOO

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f1gossipgirls

liked by yourusername and 1,100,100 others.

f1gossipgirls : Lando on live tonight with YN’s kitten Pickles!

tagged : lando and yourusername

—

view 175,007 other comments.

username000 : pickles pawing him in the head killed me #teampickles

liked by yourusername

username00 : @/yourusername you are so powerful. he went from hating cats to calling pickles his son in a matter of a week

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : that’s what good pussy does…bad joke?

liked by lando and username00

username0 : pickles had more screen time than max 😭

liked by yourusername and maxfewtrell

username1 : HE DID THE BABY VOICE AWWWWW

liked by yourusername

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The stream wasn’t even supposed to happen. It started because Max texted Lando “go live you coward I miss your face”, and then fifteen minutes later Lando was setting up his webcam while you sat cross legged on the couch, cradling Pickles in your lap like royalty. You had no intention of being on camera—until Pickles decided to launch himself from your arms and climb straight up Lando’s hoodie mid-intro.

“AH—oh my god—HE’S IN MY SHIRT,” Lando yelps, half-laughing, half-panicking, while you scramble into frame trying to extract the tiny menace from his hood. The comments explode instantly.

@/username0000 : IS THAT PICKLES??

@/username000: this is already the best stream of the year

You finally wrestle the kitten free and sit down beside Lando, both of you breathless from laughing. Pickles, smug as ever, curls into a perfect ball on Lando’s shoulder like he owns the place.

“He’s… decided to stay,” Lando mutters, eyes wide. “I’m not moving for the rest of the stream.”

“That’s called growth,” you tease. “You used to call him a demon.”

“I still think he is,” Lando says. “He’s just my demon now.”

Then Max joins the call. And everything goes downhill.

“Oi,” Max says, grinning into his camera. “Am I interrupting domestic bliss?”

“Pickles almost crawled into my ribcage five minutes ago,” Lando replies. “So yes, but it’s fine.”

You wave at Max. “Hi Max. I saved your best friend from a feline induced death.”

“Legend,” Max says with a wink. “Though if Pickles had finished the job, I’d finally win our Fantasy league.”

Lando flips him off. The chat goes wild. Over the next half hour, it descends into total chaos. Lando’s trying to game, Max is throwing shade, and you’re in the background trying to keep Pickles from knocking over an open can of Monster with the energy of a feral toddler. At one point a conversation sparks.

Max started. “So YN, how many cats is too many cats?”

You thought for a moment. ”Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten.”

Lando spits out his drink, “TEN?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying. We have the space.”

Max laughed. “This is how it starts. First it’s one kitten, next thing you know, you’re on a reality show called My Strange Addiction..’”

You laughed, “I’d watch my episode.”

Lando sighed heavily, “Don’t give her ideas, she’s already been measuring out a catio for the balcony.”

The chat is unhinged at this point.

@/username11: lando is literally becoming the cat dad he swore he’d never be and I love it

Then Pickles decides to crawl back onto Lando’s lap mid game, and instead of pushing him off, Lando just says, “Okay okay buddy, you can sit there, just don’t touch the mouse—”

Immediately, Pickles touches the mouse. Lando loses the round. Max howls laughing.

“I’ve been sabotaged,” Lando groans. “By my own child.”

You hand him a tiny sweater. “He earned this.”

Lando holds up the sweater to the camera—soft knit, neon orange, a little lightning bolt stitched across the back.

“It’s giving superhero sidekick,” Max says. “He needs a cape.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you say, already pulling out your phone to text your Etsy supplier.

By the end of the stream, Pickles is asleep on Lando’s chest, purring, and Lando’s stroking his tiny head absentmindedly while bickering with Max about who cheated in karting back in 2015.

“He’s so gone,” Max mouths into the camera, pointing at Lando, who doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy whispering, “You’re my best mate, but if you ever touch my mouse again, I swear—” to a literal sleeping kitten.

The final shot before the stream ends? Lando kissing the top of Pickles’ head without even realizing he’s doing it. The comments explode. And the clip goes viral.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

You come home expecting the usual—a trail of cat toys on the stairs, a half consumed cup of Lando’s coffee on the kitchen counter, and Pickles dramatically lounging in your spot on the couch. What you don’t expect is Lando standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back and the guiltiest grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you ask instantly.

“Why do you assume I did something?” he replies, rocking on his heels.

“You only smile like that when you’ve either crashed a scooter or spent a suspicious amount of money.”

“I prefer the term invested.”

You narrow your eyes. “Lando…”

He takes your hand. “Okay. Just… come with me.”

He leads you to the balcony, practically vibrating with excitement. The sliding doors are already open, and the cats are pacing back and forth like they know something’s up. And then you see it. A catio.

Not just any catio. A custom, multi-level, architectural wonderland that stretches across half the balcony. There’s a tunnel system, clear bubble pods for sunbathing, platforms shaped like trophies, and tiny nameplates engraved for each cat. At the top—of course—is Count Meowcula, looking down on his kingdom like he’s about to demand taxes.

You blink. “Lando. What the hell is this?”

“It’s a Catio 2.0,” he says proudly. “Designed it with a guy from Reddit. Don’t ask how much it cost.”

You turn to him, stunned.

“And this?” you say, gesturing to the racing stripe hammock that literally says “PICKLES’ PAD.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay that part was my idea. And the tiny pit wall.”

There is a tiny pit wall. You burst out laughing, hand over your mouth. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He shrugs, pulling you into a hug. “You said they deserved fresh air and enrichment. And I figured… if I’m gonna be a cat dad, I might as well go all in.”

You lean up and kiss him, dizzy with love. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he grins. “But you love me anyway.”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

It started as a joke. You were scrolling through Instagram with Lando one night, curled up on the couch while Pickles aggressively kneaded his thigh. Zhou had just posted yet another selfie with Sweetcorn, his fluffy, spoiled cat, perched on his shoulder like a queen.

Lando squinted at the screen. “I’m starting to think Zhou loves that cat more than he loves people.”

You smirked. “I respect it. Honestly, I love sweetcorn too.”

“Okay, weird. But what if we got him, like… a Sweetcorn pillow?” Lando said, half joking, half serious.

You stared at him. “Wait. That’s actually genius.”

Two weeks later, the package arrives.

A two foot long plush pillow—an eerily accurate, almost too realistic version of Sweetcorn, down to the slightly tilted ears and smug expression. You nearly cry laughing when you pull it out of the box. Lando holds it up like he’s presenting Simba.

“We’ve peaked,” he declares. “This is our legacy.”

You’re both waiting outside the Ferrari hospitality unit when Zhou walks up, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, completely unprepared.

Lando grins. “Got you a present.”

Zhou raises a brow. “What’d you do?”

Then you pull the pillow out from behind your back and hold it up proudly.

Zhou stops. Blinks. Takes off his sunglasses in slow motion.

“You did not.”

“Oh, we did,” you laugh. “Meet… travel-sized Sweetcorn.”

Zhou stares at the pillow, mouth open, completely speechless. Then, without a word, he drops his coffee and takes the pillow in his arms like a long lost child.

“I’m never sleeping alone again,” he says.

Lando bursts out laughing. “We made it extra squishy so you’d get maximum cuddle support.”

Zhou is still cradling the pillow, already doing voices— “‘Who needs anyone when I’ve got you, Sweetcorn 2.0.’”

You snap a picture of him holding the pillow like a baby, and before long it’s all over social media.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

lando

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 4,001,008 others.

lando : i have made amends with all the cat people in my life. built a catio, traveled to the albon farm and got zhou a mini sweetcorn. and i can say i finally understand why max broke down the door for his cat children.

tagged : alex_albon, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and zhouguany24

—

view 175,001 other comments.

yourusername : this is the man i love. covered in cat hair.

liked by lando

lando : god i hate how i will do literally anything for you

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you lannnnnnn

liked by lando

maxverstappen1 : and id break ten more doors.

liked by yourusername and lando

alex_albon : you still flinched when one of ours sneezed but we made progress so idc

liked by yourusername and lando

zhouguanyu24 : mini sweetcorn sleeps beside me every night. nothing will ever top this gift.

liked by yourusername and lando

yukitsunoda0511 : yn!! do you think we can get him to go to the cat cafe in tokyo??

liked by yourusername

lando : no

yourusername : if you love me you will

liked by yukitsunoda0511

lando : GOD damnit

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[bunbun007]

ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴛʀɪᴘ - ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: ꜰᴀᴍᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɢ

Warnings: Mentions of demon pacts ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) Word Count: 1.9k Pairings: Saja Boys x Reader Chapter sum: You have come to accept the fact that your soul belongs to a group of demons and try to coexist with them. It's hard.

<- Last chapter || Next ->

It was moments like this that made you consider that maybe, just maybe, the one suffering from making a pact with demons was them instead of you. Honestly, it was a funny conclusion, but given the fact that they were lying on the ground weeping, it seemed like it.

“We are so doomed. Hopeless.” One of the demons whined as he ruffled his short pink hair. “You hopeless, useless human! How come you are poor?”

Classist. That’s what this group of five demons was.

Not only were they ungrateful for your soul—your precious, all-worthy soul, thank you very much—they had the nerve to complain about your living situation.

“This is some sort of joke, right? You didn’t just summon us to have us live in this… hovel.”

You gasped dramatically while clutching your shirt, throwing daggers at the blue-haired demon. “I’ll have you know that the only reason why I summoned you was so that I could get out of this situation. And yet, regardless of everything, my ‘situation’ is not that bad! I’m just a few months behind in rent!” And your diet consisted mostly of instant noodles below 1,000 won. But hey, how could they judge? They didn’t even own a home.

“Wow, you are just sad.” The demon in the middle —heavens, why was he always standing in the middle?— gave you a small smirk as he walked in front of you, his black hair being covered by a black gat that matched his hanbok. “But fear no more, human. We’re here to make it better. We’ll help you out, yeah?”

You gulped — that being the only sound in the room.

“Why me? What type of demons even are you?” Your voice cracked. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was the growing, horrible realization that you were in over your head.

Silence.

One of the demons stretched out across your bed, yawning like a cat who owned the place. Another picked up a cracked mug on your table and sneered at it. Then, finally, a soft chuckle came from behind you.

“Why not you?” a voice purred, lilac hair draped over his eyes as he tilted his head. “You’re cute. You’re sad. And you’re clearly desperate enough to sign anything, aren’t you? Besides, it was either you or the middle schoolers who knew nothing about idols. And—” he walked closer, booping your nose softly and snickered— “they weren’t nearly as alluring.”

You took a step back. Idols?

“Idols, as in performers? What is it to you if I know about idols or not?” You stood your ground—or tried to, at least—but these creatures were weirdly enticing, as if an invisible force was pulling you toward them. The pact was getting stronger the more time you spent with them. “Is that why you all have colored hair? Must be it. Are the hanboks part of your theme too? Most demons are supposed to be scary, terrifying. But you are all… handsome.”

Finally, the last demon—who had yet to talk—walked behind you, his light pink bangs fluttering in your eyes as he held you by the shoulders and tilted your head back. “Quite. Thank you, dear. You clean up after yourself quite well.” He winked as he held you in this uncomfortable yet butterfly-inducing position.

Your stomach dropped as you pried away, holding your hands in front of your chest to keep some distance, but your shoulder hit something else.

A yelp escaped your lips as a flash of blue hair came into vision and a soft hand held the side of your waist to prevent your endangerment.

“Aye, careful there. Wouldn’t want our little human to get scratched, or hurt.” You froze, only straightening when the demon pushed your back forward so that you stood on your own.

A hand ruffled your hair as you steadied yourself.

“There, there. You look stressed. Poor thing looks ready to snap.” A sudden hand ruffled your hair messily as he fixed you a smirk, the only thing visible due to the purple locks covering his eyes.

A strong arm circled your shoulders and pulled you toward him in spite of a small sound of dissent from the one who held you before. You tilted your head to face the demon and he flashed you a smile. “Our starshine sure does. Relax, little one. We won’t hurt you—unless you want-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” the last demon called. Given the fact that the others stopped pestering you, it was a sign he was their leader. “You guys know how humans are—their little hearts can’t take it. And judging by their body language, this one is at their limit.” He walked closer. “Come here, starshine. We’ll explain everything.”

And they did.

Well, it’s not like you could do anything but listen. They were the owners of the chains you were now bound to. As their voices filled with teasing contempt, they revealed that whoever bore your contract… owned your soul.

As a visual representation of their power, they started throwing this small piece of paper around—a folded black envelope—and smirked at you. When you asked, they just laughed.

“Oh, this? This is your soul, Moonbeam. It’s ours to play with.”

⋆｡˚✩˚｡⋆

There’s a truth in sad boy literature: you don’t know how lucky you are until you miss that shine you took for granted. The magic behind being alone and at peace. But now, you were being trailed by a group of five sad-looking, handsome men.

“Why are we here…” The blue-haired demon whined. He unmistakably whined in a way that would usually be considered annoying—were it not for his handsome face. Pretty privilege. He tugged at your hair audaciously. “Hey human, this is so boring~”

You stopped in your tracks and turned around painfully slow.

“Stop being such a baby. You guys might be free from hunger, but I’m not. And if you want me to be able to promote your sad excuse of a boyband, then let me have this.” A sharp arm wrapped around your waist. You nearly dropped your basket.

“Now, Moonbeam, we wouldn’t want you to lose your cute little ability to talk back. Now, would we? If I were you, I would be nicer to us.” The light pink-haired man spoke softly in your ear, holding you more sternly as you tried to pull away.

To anyone else, it looked like a cute couple being close and shy with each other.

“Well, aren’t you a romantic…” You gritted your teeth and detached from his embrace, the hair on the back of your neck standing. “I’ll take your suggestion. Thanks.” You gave him the fakest, most obvious smile you could muster.

All that charm, and still can’t fix his attitude? Tragic.

Breathe.

“But if I were you, I’d be nicer to your manager. After all, I know how the world of entertainment works. While you…” Your gaze lingered on the black hanboks they were still wearing—pedestrians thought they were some kind of cosplayers. “…are undoubtedly lost. Face it, you guys need me.”

What you needed was power. Being your rightful owner again.

You needed them to free you.

The demon in the center smirked as he grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. “I think it’s the other way around, sweetheart. Remember your place, human—we could have you six feet under if we please.”

You saw red. But tried to breathe.

Yeah.

That didn’t work.

"You want to own my soul? Fine. But if you're going to drag me to Hell, you better do it right—because right now, you're all just dragging your feet." You snatched the man's hand away from you and pulled him dangerously closer. “If you want your little show to work, then you’ll have to hand some of the reins over. The summoning connects us both ways. Don’t think I don’t know that, demon.”

The demon froze, his eyes scanning your face as his lips fought to hide a small smile.

“Whatever you say, Polaris. But if you want to threaten me, do it by cursing my name. Jinu."

⋆｡˚✩˚｡⋆

You were being dragged to another store. Because, apparently, that’s the only way demons knew how to guide you anywhere they wanted to gaze at.

After spending the day with them, you had come up with a few nicknames for some of the demons—the ones that teased you most.

There was Baby, the smug, annoying one who kept tugging your shirt and making flirtatious comments when older women were present, making you a stuttering, ashamed mess.

There was also Romantic, which was originally just you being sarcastic—he had yet again threatened to end your life if you didn’t buy him a shiny necklace he liked.

Mysterious, who didn’t speak much, except for the small remarks he made when he thought you couldn’t hear him.

And Abby—who originally wanted to be referred to as Abs—who had a weird habit of holding your shoulders to show off his muscles.

Apart from the comic dialogue that had filled the silence in your head for most of the day, you were set on a single thought:

The demons needed clothes.

You didn’t know how you would pull off the whole boyband idea, but it was more than obvious that you wouldn’t be able to do it with them dressed like a historical Korean drama.

“I saw this exact fit on J-Dragon,” Romantic said proudly, shoving a hanger of glittery skinny jeans in your face. “Fancy, aren’t they, Moony?”

“From what year?” you asked, stepping back to admire the pair of slacks fully. You made an expression better left sealed than shown to the world. If side-eyes could kill, those pants would be long gone. “Those things are banned by Big Bang now.”

“2010, maybe?” he said.

“Exactly.”

Baby was already halfway into a pair of skin-tight pants. You didn’t know how he moved so fast—or how his bones were even intact.

“I look good,” he posed in front of the mirror like he was auditioning for a role in Twilight. “Humans will drool over me, won’t they, little star?”

You groaned. “You are so old, it’s painful to see.”

“No, no,” Mysterious spoke from beside you, making you jump as he appeared out of thin air. He flipped through a rack of mesh tops with a sinister kind of interest. “It’s vintage now. Retro. Cool.”

They were all going to get arrested for crimes against fashion.

“Bold of you to talk about crimes,” Jinu said, humming as he smirked your way—not understanding the definition of personal space.

…Did you say that out loud?

He tried on a leather jacket with zippers that went nowhere. You had to give it to him—he could wear a trash bag and still look good.

“Since we’re not paying for any of this.”

You froze. “What?”

They didn’t answer.

...

The alarms went off fifteen minutes later.

You walked briskly. They strolled—bags in hand, not a single receipt between them. Not even pretending to care. One of them even waved at a security guard on the way out.

“This is shoplifting!” you hissed, nearly tripping over your own feet as you tried to escape mall security. You were sweating bullets, and you weren’t even the one who committed a property crime.

“We don’t call it that,” Jinu said calmly, adjusting the lapels of his coat. “We call it… redistribution of aesthetic resources.”

“It’s theft!” you hissed again. “You could’ve gotten us caught!”

“No one saw you do anything,” Baby said, patting your head like you were a toddler who just learned object permanence. You pushed his face away as he laughed. “We handled it.”

The worst part?

They had.

Did I make everyone flirt with the reader? Yes, and I was blushing the whole way JAJAJA But then again, I don’t want to make them soft straight ahead. Because…they are demons.

ANYWAYS

Reader being nicknamed after stars bc when souls go to the demon realm, they look like shooting stars. Each character had a special nickname which will be unlocked throughout the series start.

Here are the unlocked nicknames until now:

Romantic — Moonbeam Why: “Moonbeam” feels elegant, timeless, and full of ‘gentle’ affection — perfect for someone who says “dear” like he invented the word. It's also a little melancholy, which fits “Come now, Moonbeam, don’t pout. The night would weep without your light.” Jinu — My Polaris Why: He sees you as his an anchor. The nickname reflects deep respect and connection. It’s not flirty — it’s reverent “You don’t have to prove anything, my Polaris. I’ll follow you anywhere.” Maybe, still a work in progress: When the whole nicknames are revealed, the story will break into individual routes for each character. Like otome games.

Special thanks to: @lillycore @apelepikozume @junni-berry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @crescent-z @arieslucy @enerofairy @soldmygenderforglitter

☆ ～('▽^人)

[juicykvnture]

WHITE ROSES

ex-husband!BruceWayne x fem!reader

tags: AFAB reader, DILF!Bruce duhhh, established relationship, slight angst, he’s down bad and needy, slapping, overstimulation, kinda dumbification, headlocks, dacryphillia, praise + degradation,

a/n: a man who yearns is a man who earns.

wc: 2.7k | masterlist

“Bruce?” you scoff under your breath, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, “what the hell?”

“You should lock your windows, a crazy person could break in.” his tone is clipped despite his inner turmoil, he can already sense the annoyance in your tone.

“One already has.”

“What? Where?” his brows furrow, gripping the glass in his hand tighter as he whips his head around, already on guard as he scans every inch of the kitchen.

Right.. you mean him.

You open your eyes fully to stare at him, your expression as tired and unamused as ever.

“You’ve helped yourself to my whiskey.” you frown, brows knitting together as you watch his hand grip the glass, wedding band still on his finger.

“Our whiskey.” Bruce corrects you, only earning a scoff in response.

Right, your shared whiskey - a wedding gift from many, many moons ago.

Your plan was to save it for a special occasion, something you both agreed on - maybe a ten year anniversary?

Now that you look back, it’s stupid.

Hilarious, you thought your marriage would last that long.

For the last few months, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that your divorce was amicable.

You thought so anyway, though it hurt you more than you’ll ever admit when he agreed to sign those divorce papers without blinking an eye.

It was reasonable, even. That made it worse.

He wasn’t a bad man, it’s not that you two fell out of love.

He just didn’t have time for you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. After all, who wants to live with a ghost?

“What are you even doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” you break the heavy silence, your tired gaze settling on the bouquet of white roses on the kitchen island.

His sulky expression softens by a fraction when you question him, tilting his head up as if he’s leaning into the sound of your voice.

He never expected to miss your constant pestering and nagging so much.

“I was in the area.” Bruce stares at the roses, not entirely sure what to tell you.

You don’t say anything, but he can tell just by looking at you that he isn’t exactly welcome right now.

With your shoulders slumped, you reach for the bottle, pouring some of the whiskey into a random mug from the drying rack.

“Classy.” Bruce scoffs under his breath as he downs his own sip.

“Shuddup.”

His gaze softens slightly, watching you as you stare down into the mug.

He isn’t sure what the fuck he’s doing here, what the fuck he’s doing in general - without you.

Your silence is the last thing he expected when he showed up, how passive you are.

You’re not shouting, you’re not telling him to leave, you haven’t thrown your stilettos at his face like last time.

It’s dumb, but deep down.. maybe he wants a reaction.

He wants to mean something to you still, doesn’t matter if it’s negative. He wants to be more than just a fleeting thought in your mind.

“You’re not yelling at me.” Bruce breaks the silence this time, scratching the back of his neck.

Your grip on the mug tightens for a moment, as do your shoulders.

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you.” you sigh, punctuating your words with another sip.

He observes you silently, trying to seem indifferent when he notices the bags under your eyes, the arch of your brows.

You never were a particularly sound sleeper, even when you two were still together.

You’d sit in bed for hours on end, refusing to close your eyes until you heard the sound of his boots dragging down the hallway - until you were sure he had come home safe and in one piece.

Hell, even if he didn’t come back in one piece, you wouldn’t dare close your eyes until you were satisfied you had bandaged him up enough to not get bloodstains on your silk sheets.

An awful, selfish part of him hopes you still worry about him each night.

Internally scrambling to find something to talk about, you tilt your head up, giving his slightly dishevelled appearance a once-over.

“You’re greying.” you point out gaze lingering on a few silver streaks at the crown of his head.

That earns a small scoff in response, partly offended.. partly flattered.

You noticed.

“Haven’t had the time to deal with it.” Bruce offers, shrugging as he goes to top up his whiskey.

See, that’s partially true.

He’s been keeping himself busy with anything and everything.

He’s even been taking the time to go after petty criminals recently - a waste of time for the literal Batman, but it keeps you off his mind.

The real reason, though? He can’t really bring himself to do it.

It was always your thing.

For vanity’s sake, Bruce always said he hated those pesky grey hairs of his - so much so that he’d have you perched up on the bathroom counter with a bottle of hair dye every few weeks.

He never hated the greys, he just loved the attention when you fussed around with the comb, his hands resting on your thighs as you mumbled and complained that he had to keep his head still.

“I miss doing your hair,” you mumble into your mug, your words falling from your lips before you could even stop them.

Bruce doesn’t blink, staring down into his glass.

“I miss my wife.”

The silence is deafening, all you can hear is your own pulse thrumming in your ears.

You miss your husband too, of course you do.

But you can’t do this again.

Bruce hesitates for a moment before he speaks, trying not to gag on the words coming out of his mouth.

“..is your boyfriend home?”

Boyfriend. Bruce says the word like a curse, like he’s physically unable to say the word without injecting it with pure distaste.

“No, and he’s not my boyfrien-“

You blink, words dying on your tongue.

What are you supposed to tell him? You’re not about to confess that the guy you’ve been seeing is nothing more than a distraction.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Bruce takes a step forward to gently pry the mug out of your fingers.

His other hand goes to tilt your head up to look at him, the cold wedding band still on his finger a contrast to your warm skin.

He hesitates, then comes the question.

“Is he good to you?”

“Yeah,” you croak, though both of you know what he’s really asking.

Is he good enough for you?

Bruce pauses for a moment, giving you ample time to pull away before lightly running his thumb along your bottom lip - silently praying you don’t try and knock his teeth out.

As silly as it is, the way Bruce holds you has always made you a little weak in the knees.

But it’s different this time, it’s been so long.

It’s been so long that you’re not used to it, your hands moving to rest atop his shoulders just in case you fall.

But you already did, a long time ago.

“Yeah?” Bruce repeats, pressing a small kiss to your knuckles, eyes locked on you like they’re searching for something.

“Is he good in bed?” he asks, bluntly.

That makes you wince a little, you knew that question was coming.

You blame the heat rushing to your face on the fancy whiskey, the fact you’re exhausted.

But all you can do is sigh, meekly shaking your head.

“No?” Bruce pauses, and for just a moment, his lips hover over your skin as you nod.

He lets out a low chuckle, which to someone else might have sounded sarcastic.

To you, it’s almost smug.

Like he found a little secret that he knows he won’t ever share.

He sighs, letting a hand wander down to the drawstring of your pyjama shorts - tugging gently as he murmurs against your cheek.

“That’s disappointing."

Bruce Wayne would never ever leave his woman disappointed.

..not in bed, anyway.

And that’s the logic he’s clinging onto, trying to at least - with his fingers digging into your hips and his sweat-slicked hair clinging to his forehead.

He’d managed to mope and scowl and bat his lashes into some pity from his dear ex-wife, which promptly ended in him all but ripping those flimsy shorts straight off your body.

He’s had his face buried between your thighs, his tongue greedily lapping at your cunt like he’s been deprived of you for all eternity. His fingers played with you just beneath his mouth, anything to make up for lost time - anything to render you speechless.

Whatever it is he was doing was definitely working, all you could do was whine and arch your back and yank desperately at his hair.

It’s almost embarrassing that he got you to cum so hard, only proving his suspicions - you haven’t been fucked properly in a long time.

Not since him, anyway.

And god, does that make him wanna go harder.

You’re not even sure how many hours he’s kept you up at this point. Hell, it could be morning by now.

He lifts his head after what feels like an eternity - but not without dragging his lips down your thighs until he presses a small kiss to your knee, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, almost delirious as he kneels between your legs, unable to look away from your trembling form beneath him, your fingers still clutching the sheets.

“..Bruce?” you pant out, chest heaving as you scramble to reach for his hand - still dazed after what he’s just put you through.

“Mhm, still here sweetheart.” he catches your hand, giving it a small but firm squeeze - fuck, he hasn’t called you that in forever.

Bruce watches you for another moment, rubbing his thumb over the back of your knuckles - trying to ignore the burn in his chest at the lack of your wedding ring on your finger.

Seeing you like this reminds him of when you were still together, when almost every time you two had sex it would always start with his face between your legs - just to get you warmed up.

But now? you’re all shaky from just that, all spent and glassy-eyed.

Bruce shifts slightly, one hand resting over your hip as he leans his face down to hover over yours.

And then it dawns on him.

You’re not used to it anymore.

See, that just won’t do.

“Don’t you close those legs.”

He’s gentle as he can be when he moves you onto your hands and knees, one rough hand at your hip and the other lightly holding the back of your neck.

“..Bruce, I can’t.” you manage to croak, your knees almost giving out from under you until his hands find your thighs, holding your legs open.

You’re all twitchy and part of him almost feels bad for keeping you up so long, he isn’t even sure what time it is either.

But that little part of him is very much overshadowed by the fact he just has to fuck his ex wife.

Your little whines about how it’s all too much fall on deaf ears, he’s too desperate.

With a shaky groan, one of his hands moves down to pull his boxers down, with such desperation his throbbing cock slaps up against his abs, already flushed and leaking.

“You’ll take it.” his words fall from his lips between shaky breaths as he gives himself one slow stroke, trying not to go cross-eyed at the sight of you in front of him.

He doesn’t even warn you before he’s slamming his cock inside you.

It’s not the usual slow or steady thrusts you were always used to, it’s not like that at all. He’s almost shaking from how much he’s missed this, slamming into your cunt like someone’s trying to rip you from his arms.

"Jesus- fuck- Bru-" you gasp, trying to breathe.

Your pleas are met with a firm smack across your ass, making your back arch even more - your face hitting the pillow.

Must he repeat himself?

“You’ll take it," he grunts as he pulls out just a little, soon driving the point home with a rough thrust back into your soaked cunt that has you trembling even more - the pillow doing little to muffle your whimpers.

Actually, how fucking dare you try muffle anything.

The thought of his wife trying to hide those pretty little sounds from him makes him almost snarl, one of his strong arms locking around your neck to keep your head up.

“You still moan like a slut, Mrs. Wayne.”

He’s so fucking grateful you’re too out of it to backhand him for that. You probably wouldn’t even care that he’s calling you a slut - you’d likely be more offended by the whole Mrs. Wayne thing.

“..for you I always do,” you manage to choke out, knowing damn well you’d face plant into those pillows again if he didn’t have you in that headlock.

He lets out an exhale at that, his voice softening despite the harsh thrusts of his hips and the arm around your neck.

“Yeah? Good girl.” He breathes out, cock twitching inside you as he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“S’cause I always had you well trained, isn’t it?”

That tone makes you throb, trying to turn your head to look at him - the arm around your throat stopping you.

“Head down, slut.” Bruce murmurs into your shoulder, trying to hold back a grin when he feels your hips stuttering under him, your knees threatening to give out once more.

Oh, you’d so kick him in the balls for that in any other context.

But right now all you can do is let out soft little whines of his name and let him use you, one hand still digging into the skin of your hip to control the pace as he slams into your already overstimulated pussy.

“Bruce-“ you sniffle before the breath is knocked out of your lungs with another swat to your ass - paired with a kiss to your nape.

He only scoffs and holds you tighter with a grunt against your neck. His fingers gently smooth over where he just smacked before his hand comes down again.

It’s probably gonna leave marks that sting when you press them, but that’s fine by him.

It seems you need a reminder that you’re still his wife, and he’s the only man capable of fucking you properly.

Naturally, that earns another one of those sweet little whines.

Though this time, he swears he can feel the little tears rolling down your cheek and down his forearm.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” Bruce lets out a low hiss, his thrusts getting more erratic as he bites at your neck.

“You’re still my fucking wife, you hear me?”

His arm falls away but he’s quick to replace it with his hand, tilting your head back so you can at least look him in the eye through your tears, so you know who’s making you cum.

The only man who’s ever fucked you properly.

The only man who ever will.

You’re sobbing his name out and he’s staring at you breathless, still slamming himself into you as the hand on your ass moves to run over your clit - letting out a muffled string of curses when you throb around him even more.

You're crying, babbling on a load of nonsense, panting and shaking as your tear-streaked face hits the pillows.

You just about feel that familiar feeling of him cumming inside you, the mess dripping down your thighs.

In all honesty, even when it’s too much for him - Bruce just can’t bring himself to pull out, his fingers digging into your hips like a lifeline as be moves so you’re both laying on your side, one arm firmly draped over your torso as the other goes to tangle with yours, pressing messy kisses to your knuckles with slurred out praise.

You’re just so pretty, so perfect for him, he’ll never want anyone else.

And you just look so soft when you’re fucked out like that, his cock still twitching inside you.

“I love you,” Bruce mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your hand tighter.

He just hopes you’re too out of it to notice him sliding your wedding ring back onto your finger.

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! also 400 followers!!

I have such severe Bruce brain rot so pls send me suggestions of what I should subject this man to next..

Bruce Wayne m.list

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Imagine Joel taking your virginity

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

WC: 5.4k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, porn with no plot, unspecified but big age gap, oral (m!receiving), virginity loss, unprotected piv, thigh riding, daddy kink, baby-talking, young and innocent reader, creampie, condescending joel, terms like baby girl, sweet little girl etc.

Even thought this part is a standalone, you might want to read a previous part: Joel teaches you how to go down on him.

Today was just another quiet afternoon in Jackson, you’d been heading back from the greenhouse, you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings, too focused trying to brush the dirt off your knees, until you saw them…

Joel was outside the stables, half-laughing about something with a woman, gray in her hair, deep lines around her eyes from a life lived outdoors, she looked about the same age as Joel. She was standing close to him, not too close, nothing inappropriate, nothing that would give you the right to get pissed, but the kind of close that felt natural.

You stopped walking without meaning to, and you watched as she touched his arm and laughed. They looked right together, and it hit you like a sucker punch, the breath caught in your lungs and wouldn’t let go. Maybe because you’d never look right with Joel next to you, at least not in the way people expect a couple to look. People didn’t assume you two were together, hell, you’d even been mistaken for father and daughter more than once whenever someone new showed up in Jackson.

You turned away, heading back home before you could watch more. You felt so small, so young, like some little kid playing grown-up. You weren’t enough, not for him, not when he could talk for hours with a woman who remembered the same pre-outbreak songs, who didn’t need Joel to teach her how to shoot, or how to suck him off, a woman who could take all of him, not just the tip.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed after you reached your house until you heard the door open, footsteps crossing the threshold. Joel’s voice followed a second later, light and casual.

“Hey, darlin’. You home already?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. You felt so insignificant, who were you trying to fool? There would come a day, because of course there would, when Joel would get tired of playing house with a little girl pretending to be a woman.

Joel walked into the bedroom, you didn’t look up, you were staring hard at the floor, fists clenched in your lap. He paused in the doorway, sensing the shift in the air instantly.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“C’mon now,” he said gently, stepping closer. “I know when something’s up, sweetheart.”

You finally glanced up, and the moment your eyes met his, everything cracked.

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “With her. That woman.”

Joel blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Her. Outside the stables.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean Carmen?”

You nodded once, the name sounded even worse spoken aloud.

Joel crouched in front of you. “What about her?”

You let the silence hang for a second too long, he caught it, could see it on your face. What were you supposed to say? He hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t cheated or anything like that.

“Goddammit,” he murmured. “My baby’s got herself twisted up, huh?”

“She’s your age,” you whispered. “She laughs with you. She gets your stories. She probably remembers music on the radio. And—and—I feel like a stupid little girl. You’re a man. You’ve lived this whole life. I don’t even… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, I just pretend, and you’re just—You’re Joel. You don’t need me.”

“You really are just a dumb little thing, huh?” Your breath caught, he wasn’t cruel when he said it, just… exasperated, deeply, lovingly exasperated “Little dumb baby.”

Your breath was shallow, tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. Joel didn’t say anything at first, just reached for your hands, gently unclenching them.

“I’m gonna say this once,” he said, voice low. “And I want you to hear me, alright?”

You nodded, barely.

“You’re my baby. You're soft, and sweet, and so fuckin’ easy to wreck I can barely keep my hands off you. You look at me like I’m good, even when I ain’t. And yeah, baby, I like that you need me. I like teachin’ you. I like when you look up at me all scared and excited, askin’ me to show you things no one ever has.”

He pulled your hands to his chest, right over his heart.

“I want you. I choose you. Every single goddamn day.”

Your throat closed, he sounded sincere, and you really wanted to believe him

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked. “I see someone who makes me laugh when I forget how. Someone who touches me like I matter. You know how long it’s been since I’ve felt that? I feel alive, baby. I feel like a man again. Not a ghost.”

You looked at him, really looked, and saw how wrecked he was now, how deeply this was hitting him too.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re not a phase. You’re not pretendin’. And you’re sure as hell not some kid to me, you’re my girl.”

“I just… I know I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not older. I don’t know how to do stuff. I had to ask you to show me how to… suck you, and then I couldn’t even take you, not really. Just the tip.” your voice cracked on that. “You’ve waited so long already and it’s not fair—”

“Stop.”

You blinked, his voice was quiet, but it had teeth. Joel pushed himself up slowly, sitting beside you on the bed, and looked down at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I don’t want this?” he asked, voice low and gravel-deep. “You think I’d rather be off with some older, experienced woman who could deep throat me and ride me into the goddamn sunset?”

He shook his head, almost laughing, but there was no humor in it.

“You think I give a single shit that you don’t know what you’re doin’? Sweetheart, I like teachin’ you. I like that you’ve never done this before. I like bein’ the first cock you take. I like that I get to be gentle with you. Take my time. Watch you fall apart under me.” He leaned down, bracing himself over you, hand sliding to your cheek. “You think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause I only had the tip inside you? Baby girl, that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I’ve had in years.”

Your breath caught.

“You were clenchin’ around me so tight, I damn near came the second I pushed in. And you were so sweet—so good—lookin’ up at me all wide-eyed, sayin’ please, Joel, please just the tip, like you didn’t know you were ruinin’ me.”

You looked away, a bit embarrassed by the memory, but is hand gently brought your face back to his.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, softly this time. “You think I want someone who’s had twenty dicks in her mouth and five up her pussy?”

Your eyes widened, Joel was always so blunt, you let out a startled laugh, he grinned, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I want you, baby. I want this tight, shy little thing that don’t even know how sweet her own mouth feels until I show her. I want the girl who looks up at me while she’s suckin’ and asks, am I doin’ good, Joel? like it don’t drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You nodded against him, voice small. “I just… I want to be enough for you.”

Joel pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. You were so clueless, Joel thought, how couldn’t you see how much he loved how soft and innocent you were? How you were all he’d ever wanted? Your sweetness made both his heart ache and his cock throb.

“You are enough. You’re fuckin’ perfect for me.”

You searched his face, the lines, the grey at his temples, the quiet sadness behind his eyes, and all you saw there was truth.

“Even if I need you to teach me everything?” You whispered.

“Especially that,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m gonna teach you right. Teach you slow. You’re gonna learn everything from me, and only me."

“Joel... I wanna try again,” you said, and your voice came out soft, but sure. “With my mouth.”

Joel stilled, his eyes darkened slow, oh, the things you did to him, hearing you say those filthy things with that sweet, innocent mouth of yours. He smiled, slow, crooked, filthy.

“You mean suckin’ my cock?” he asked, all teasing drawl and patronizing sweetness.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to.”

Joel’s hand slid higher on your thigh. “You askin’ real nice, baby girl.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Joel. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna do it right this time.”

He groaned, low and sharp, hand flexing on your skin.

“Alright, then, but only cause you want to, not because you feel like you need to prove somethin’,” he muttered. “Go ahead. Show me what you remember.”

He shifted back on the bed and unzipped his jeans with one hand, tugging them low enough to free his cock, already half-hard, thick, and flushed. You sat up on your knees between his legs, suddenly so aware of how big he looked like this, broad and spread out, just waiting.

Your hand wrapped around the base of him, he twitched in your palm, and you leaned down slowly, licking a soft stripe up the underside like he’d shown you before.

Joel exhaled sharp through his nose. “Thassit. Just like that, baby.”

“Hi there,” you said softly with his cock on your hand.

Joel huffed a laugh, low and almost incredulous. “You talkin’ to my cock now?”

“Maybe,” you said to Joel, before focusing your eyes back to his cock. “Hello again,” you said sweetly, leaning in to kiss the head. “Missed me?”

His breath was already hitching, you took it as a good sign and did it again, this time licking the head in slow, teasing circles, letting your tongue slip under the ridge.

“Look at you. Such a good boy. Getting all big and strong for me.”

Joel groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. You’re one of a kind, baby girl.”

You batted your lashes up at him. “You like it.”

“I love it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on your mouth as you gave another teasing lick up the underside. “Love my silly baby girl talkin’ nonsense while she plays with her food.”

You giggled and leaned in, rubbing your cheek affectionately against his cock like it was a plush toy. And then you leaned down and kissed it with over-the-top reverence, soft little “muah” sounds, little nose nuzzles. You really liked his cock, sure, it was the only one you’d ever seen in person, so you didn’t exactly have a reference point, but still… if you had to guess? It was the kind of cock a woman would want

He gave you that slow, dangerous smirk. “You gonna make out with him right in front of me, baby?”

You nodded solemnly. “Don’t be jealous, daddy. He deserves love too.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Christ, you’re such a goddamn brat.”

You were driving him absolutely insane, on your knees, looking like a sweet little angel who’d fallen from heaven, your innocent little face nuzzling all over his cock, rubbing your cheek against it, pressing soft kisses… He wanted so badly to grab your hair, shove his cock down your throat and hold you there as he emptied his balls.

You kept flicking your tongue over his tip over and over again, watching as it began to leak more

“I’m your brat.”

“Damn right you are,” he said roughly, running a hand through your hair. “My sweet dumb baby. Givin’ daddy a heart attack every time she opens her mouth.”

“He missed me,” you whispered, tongue tracing around his tip. “He loves my mouth, doesn’t he?”

Joel’s voice dropped, rough and sweet and low. “Yeah, baby. He does. You got the best fuckin’ mouth. He wants you drooling all over him, don’t he?”

“Mhm.” You licked a fat stripe up the underside, then wrapped your lips around the head, making Joel moan, loud and unfiltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “You been practicin’ in your dreams or somethin’, baby girl?”

You smiled against him. “Just been thinkin’ about it,” you whispered. “Thinkin’ about makin’ you feel good.”

“Better just be that,” Joel groaned, “and not you practicin’ on any of those boys from round town.”

“Jooeeel,” you giggled, sweet and teasing, “you know I don’t want anyone else but daddy.”

He growled, and you let your lips close around the tip and sucked, hollowing your cheeks, going slow, shallow, just the tip, in and out, working your hand at the base to match like he'd taught you last time.

“Atta girl,” Joel groaned. “That’s it. Look at you. My good girl. My perfect little cockslut.” Joel’s hand came to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just resting.

“Jesus, baby. You’re learnin’. Makin’ daddy feel so good…”

You moaned around him, and he twitched in your mouth, the vibrations were just adding to the intense pleasure you were already giving him.

“Fuck—yeah, do that again. Moan on it. Shit.”

You moaned and took him a little deeper, your throat felt tight, but you were determined, wanting to prove him you were a big girl, one that could take his entire cock in your mouth. You pulled back after you ran out of breath, and sucked softly on the tip, letting spit drip and smear down your fist.

He groaned loud. “Look at you,” he panted. “Look at this fuckin’ mouth, takin’ my cock so sweet. You were made for this, baby girl.”

You got bolder by his compliments, and licked down to the base and back up again. Let the head rest on your tongue and gazed up at him, eyes wide and wet, mouth full.

“Oh fuck, baby—don’t look at me like that, I swear to God—”

“You like that?” You asked, lips glossy with spit. “You like watchin’ me do it?”

“I love watchin’ you do it,” he growled. “You’re so good, baby. S’good for me. This mouth’s made for suckin’ daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered, and he caught your face in both hands, gently guiding you down again, rocking his hips just a little. He needed it, yes, he loved the gentle flicks of your tongue, the toying with his tip, but right now he needed to hit the back of your throat.

“You take what I give you,” he murmured. “Little bit deeper now. That’s it. Just like that. My good girl. Take him all the way. Show him how much you love him.”

You worked him with your mouth and hand together, taking breaks to lick, to suck, to breathe—and each time you paused, he praised you, whispered filth like you were doing him the biggest favor in the world.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so pretty like this… pretty mouth full of me…”

“Yeah, just like that, take your time… fuck, I ain’t gonna last…”

“You feel how hard I am for you? You know what you do to me, baby girl?”

You sucked him harder, hand twisting at the base, Joel groaned, full-bodied and deep. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna last another minute with you takin’ it like that.”

You whimpered around him, thighs squeezing together. Just his moans and those bold, filthy compliments were enough to get you wet and aching.

“Aw, baby’s gettin’ wet just suckin’ cock, huh? Poor little thing. Gonna need me later?”

You nodded, still bobbing, spit running down your chin. You pulled off just enough to murmur:

“He’s gettin’ twitchy.”

Joel grunted. “Yeah? You feel him startin’ to cum?”

“Warn me, daddy,” you said around him. “But I’m not stoppin’.”

You smiled and sucked him back into your mouth, sucking deep, and you didn’t let go until he was shaking, grunting, hips stuttering.

“F-Fuck… baby—daddy’s cummin’, he’s cummin’—fuck, right now—” Joel groaned, voice rough and desperate, his hips jerking up into you as the pleasure overtook him.

He came down your throat, hot and thick and salty, you liked the taste of it more than you did last time. You swallowed around him, let him ride it out in your mouth, his hands cradling the back of your head, thumbs stroking your cheeks like you were precious.

When you finally pulled off, he was panting, staring down at you like he didn’t know what hit him.

“Holy fuck, baby…”

You smiled, wiped the corner of your mouth. “Did I do good?”

Joel laughed, breathless. “You did perfect.” It was only the second time you’d sucked him, and you’d already outrun every other woman who’d ever been in his life.

He pulled you up onto his lap, arms tight around you. His thigh shifted beneath you, solid and warm, and you didn’t realize you were grinding down against it until he did.

“Ohh,” he said lowly, voice nearly a growl. “There she goes.”

You froze, a little ashamed by the fact that you were so horny you hadn’t even realized you were unconsciously humping his thigh, but Joel leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart. Keep ridin' me like that.”

Your eyes fluttered. “On… on your thigh?”

He nodded slowly, letting his hand drag up the curve of your back. “Mhm. That’s it. That’s what a sweet, shy girl like you needs. Nothin’ too scary. Just daddy’s thigh to start.”

“Joel,” you whispered, embarrassed and overwhelmed and aching so bad.

“S’just like dancin’, baby,” he cooed. “You know how to move your hips, don’t you?”

You nodded shyly, lashes still wet from sucking him, clutching at his shoulders. He adjusted your legs so you were straddling one thick, muscled thigh, your knees braced on either side of his, making you feel the corded muscle shift under you.

“Try movin’,” Joel whispered, voice all honeyed patience. “Rock your hips on me. Just a little to begin with. Just rub your sweet lil’ pussy on my thigh. Pretend it’s my cock if you want.”

You hesitated, but then rolled your hips forward, slowly dragging your clothed pussy over the ridge of his thigh, the friction made you gasp and clutch your fingers on his shirt.

“There we go,” Joel cooed. “See? That feel good? That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do all on your own. Go slow at first. Just lil’ rocks, baby.”

“Oh…”

“Atta girl. You’re doin’ so good. S’just like that.”

You moved again, the soft cotton of your panties growing damper with every pass. Joel watched you like a starving man, eyes hooded, hands staying right at your hips, guiding your movements.

Your breath came quicker as your clit caught on the firm pressure beneath you. The friction was perfect through your panties, rough enough to spark pleasure but safe enough not to scare you.

“Feel good, baby?”

You whimpered. “Y-yeah.”

“You ridin’ me now, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “Even if it’s just my thigh. So desperate to be a big girl, you just had to feel it, huh?”

You nodded, moving again, this time more confidently, moaning under your breath as the pressure hit just right.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he whispered, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “Look at you grindin’ all over me like you need it to breathe.”

Your cheeks burned, you buried your face in his neck as your hips rocked faster. “Feels so good, daddy…”

“I know it does. This is what happens when you trust me to teach you. I’ll show you everythin’, baby. Start you slow… get you used to it.”

You moaned into his skin, your clit catching just right on his thigh.

“Bet you’re gettin’ your pretty panties all wet, huh?”

You whimpered again in response.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” he growled. “Soakin’ through. You keep goin’, baby girl. Use me. Rub that little pussy right on me ‘til you cum.”

“God, Joel, it—feels so good—”

He nodded, hand sliding up your back. “I know it does, sweetheart. That’s your little pussy learnin’ how to get off. Keep goin’ for me

“Joel—”

“You need to cum,” he said, gently but firmly. “You need it, don’t you?”

“I—I think so—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Think real hard. Wanna cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, now chasing every movement of your hips, the pressure was building and building, your clit throbbing against the strength of his thigh. He let you do your thing, just watched you unravel slowly, whispering praise like poison in your ear.

“That’s it. Just like that. Look at you—so sweet and dumb, so fuckin’ precious. Bet if I let you cum like this, you’ll be beggin’ me to show you what ridin’ my cock feels like next, huh?”

“I think—I think I’m gonna—Joel—”

You cried out, back arching, your thighs shaking as the orgasm hit. It was hot and dizzying and so much stronger than you expected just from grinding him, but you’d never done anything like this, never been talked through it like this, handled like this. You kept rocking even through it, drawn-out and needy, until Joel’s hands stilled you.

“Shh. That’s it. That’s enough, baby. I got you.”

Joel held you close through it, murmuring praise into your hair, arms wrapped around you like you were something breakable. When your breath finally slowed and your hips stilled, you whispered, “Joel…”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed, voice small. “I think I’m ready.”

He stilled, blinking, breathing harder now.

“Yeah?” he said after a second, thumb still pressed to your mouth. “You sure, sweetheart? Don’t say it if you’re not. I can wait. I’ll fuckin’ wait forever for you.”

You nodded. “I want it to be you.”

Even though that orgasm had been mind-blowing, your body was still craving more. You were a little scared, but you knew Joel loved you, and that he’d take such good care of you in every step of the way.

Joel let out a shaky, wrecked sound and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like you’d given him something holy. He felt so honored to be the one, the only one, to take that part of you. To be the first cock to stretch you open, to fill you up completely.

“Alright,” he rasped. “Alright, baby girl. We’ll go slow. Real slow. I got you.”

He laid you spread open on the bed, softly, like you were made out of glass. He kissed down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, murmuring as he went.

“I just…” You swallowed, cheeks burning. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.”

Joel exhaled softly, his voice dropped low.

“S’a stretch, baby. First time always is. You might hurt some. But I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll help you through it. You just gotta listen to me, yeah?”

You nodded.

“Gonna be s’good for me,” he breathed. “You’ve been s’good for me already, haven’t you? Lettin’ me teach you. Lettin’ me touch you. And now you’re gonna let me take you all the way. That what you want, baby? Want daddy to take your little virgin pussy?”

Your thighs trembled. “Y-Yeah.”

Joel pulled back just long enough to wrap his hand around himself, hard, and heavy, all over again.

“Look at this cock, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You really think you’re ready for all this?”

Your eyes flicked to his cock, shy but sure, it was all you needed right now. “I want it.”

He groaned, moving between your thighs again. “Alright. Gonna give you just a little first, okay? Gotta stretch you open slow, baby. I ain’t lettin’ you hurt.”

His fingers stroked through your folds, slick and ready, spreading you for him, and then you felt the broad head of his cock, warm and insistent, pressing right at your entrance.

“Deep breath,” Joel said, his voice like velvet. “Just the tip first, like last time. Let daddy in.”

You exhaled, and he took that moment to push forward, just barely, just enough to breach you. You gasped, your whole body tightened around him instinctively, but Joel was already soothing you, already leaning over you with kisses and murmurs and praise.

You gasped—your hands flew to his arms, nails digging in. “Joel—oh—wait—”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “I know, baby. I know. It’s a lot. Daddy’s so sorry.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. You were shaking, even if he wasn’t moving.

he whispered. “Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “Just… hurts more than I thought.”

“I know, baby. I know it hurts. Just breathe f’me. You’re doin’ great.”

You tried to breathe through it, feeling the dull burn of being opened by something too big, too thick, but still, you wanted it, you wanted him.

“Shhh, baby, that’s it. You’re doin’ so good. Tight little thing, ain’t you? Gonna suck me in so sweet. I knew you’d be tight, but fuck—you’re squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry as he gave another slow push.

“It’s a lot, huh?” he whispered against your ear. “Big cock stretchin’ you for the first time. Feels full, don’t it?”

You nodded, jaw trembling. “So full.”

“Too much?”

“No. Keep going, daddy.”

His breath hitched. “Jesus. You’re so fuckin’ brave, baby girl.”

And then finally—finally—he was all the way in, buried to the hilt, making you gasp again. Joel froze, holding you tightly, his whole body shaking above yours.

“Christ,” he groaned. “You took all of me. First time and you’re takin’ me so goddamn deep. That pussy was made for me. You feel that?”

You could only nod. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes. Joel looked down, utterly wrecked by the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, of that tight little hole stretched around him.

You could feel everything, every twitch, every throb, every part of him stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined. It hurt, he was so big, and your body was struggling to take it, but you knew the pain would fade, your just needed to give your body a minute to stretch, to get used to him, and once it passed, the good part would come.

Joel rocked gently, barely moving, just letting your body adjust. You whimpered at the pressure, at the fullness, at the intensity of it all.

Joel just babied you. “Such a sweet girl. So fuckin’ brave. You lettin’ me be your first, baby? Makin’ me feel honored.”

“Don’t move yet,” you whispered. “Just… stay.”

“I ain’t movin’,” Joel said. “You tell me when. This pussy belongs to you until you give me permission.”

Your heart ached by how sweet he was, you wrapped your arms around his neck, held on, breathed, and slowly, the pain dulled, the sting turned to heat, the fullness turned to need, you needed more, you desperatly needed friction.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can move now.”

Joel pulled back, just a little, and then rolled his hips forward, slow and steady. And again, and again. Each stroke made you gasp, made you cling to his shoulders, the feeling of him sliding deep, hot and heavy and perfect, dragging against every tender, untouched nerve inside you.

Every thrust was shallow, slow, careful, but it still made your thighs tremble. The pain was a shadow now, replaced with a tight, delicious ache and something filthy blooming low in your belly.

“Good girl,” he kept whispering. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. I knew you would. This sweet little pussy was just waitin’ for me, wasn’t it?”

You moaned so loud your throat felt sore. You would’ve been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been so completely lost in the overwhelming, electric pleasure coursing through your body.

He was trying to hold back, trying to stay gentle, because he knew how important a first time was, and you were his baby, you deserved for it to be nothing but soft and sweet. But in the back of his mind, he was already tasting the future, already imagining how he’d have you in all fours soon, when your body was ready to take more. He’d be rough then, fucking you deep and hard, just like he knew you’d want it once you got a real taste of him. But not now. Not yet.

“You wanted this cock,” he murmured. “You needed it. Wanted daddy to teach you how to take it. Fuck—look at you, baby girl, takin’ every inch. Buryin’ my cock all the way in this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, not quite from pain anymore, but from how full and overwhelmed you were. Joel kissed them away, he started to move faster, the heat built with every slow thrust, every slick grind of his hips against yours, and then his hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

You arched under him, sobbing louder now, overwhelmed and shaking from how deep he was. It felt like he was in your stomach, stretching places you didn’t even know could feel pleasure.

“J-Joel, it’s so much,” you whimpered. “I—didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He groaned low, voice thick and wrecked.

“That’s right, baby. That’s me all the way up in there,” he murmured, pressing his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the bulge where his cock reached so deep it made your eyes roll back.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Want this little pussy to milk me dry. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-Yes—yes—Joel—”

You didn’t even have to try, the tip of his cock found that perfect spot inside you, that sweet, aching place you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the moment he hit it you saw stars, and then he hit it again… and again… and again.

You came hard, it was all so new, so perfect. You clenched around him, voice breaking, and the spasms of your cunt made Joel snap. His thrusts got rougher, deeper, his hips stuttering as he groaned your name over and over again.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck—gonna fill you up, baby girl, give you every fuckin’ drop—mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

He spilled inside you, grinding deep, holding you to him as you both fell apart. You clung to him, trembling, panting, tears still slipping down your cheeks. It was strange, so strange, a sudden heat blooming inside you, you swore you could feel his thick and warm seed being spilled inside you, and then sliding back out, dripping from your sore, used hole, slick and messy between your thighs. You whimpered at the sensation, so sensitive now that even the slow trickle of it made you twitch.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “So goddamn good. You’re mine now, baby. Every part of you.”

Afterward, Joel gave a few slow, shallow thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you before going completely soft. Even as he pulled out with a low groan, he watched the last of his seed slowly drip from your hole.

“Fuck… look at that, baby,” he rasped, his voice still thick with lust and awe. “Can’t even keep it in. I filled you that good.”

You could barely speak, barely breathe. All you could do was lay there and feel his release leaking out of you in hot waves.

“Daddy made a mess in you,” he murmured, his thumb gently playing with the warm slickness, spreading it over your folds and making you flinch from the sudden sensitivity. “D’you want me to clean you up, baby?”

“Mmm, can I stay like this, daddy?” you whispered. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

It felt… nice. Comforting, even. Being this marked by him. Joel just nodded, he didn’t move away from you, he just stroked your face, your hair, kissed your cheeks and whispered how good you’d done, how proud he was, how much he loved you.

And even though your body ached, your legs were still trembling, and your thighs were sticky with him, you felt safer than you ever had in your life.

He kissed your face, your hair, your lips. You were still crying a little.

“You did so good, baby girl,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ good f’me. I’m so proud of you.”

You held onto him, safe in his arms, and whispered.

“…I love you.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought I could.”

A/N: This definitely ended up being much longer than I intended, especially for pure porn without plot, lol

I’m so happy to see how much you liked the previous part I posted🥹 I immediately started writing this other one, and I hope you enjoy it just as much. If you do, please consider showing some support, it would mean the world to me🩷🩷

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[inseobts]

Hello! I'd like to please request a little scenario for multiple characters if possible; I'm especially interested in your take on this with Law, Sanji and Ace given their backstory. If you're open to writing for the ladies as well then adding Robin into the mix would be appreciated! My idea is simple; an S/O with a child, and the aftermath of discovering that fact. I don't mind if it's an established relationship and there just wasn't an opportunity to meet the kid before or something else, I just like the idea of these characters dealing with the concept of surprise family/parenthood, the angst that may arise from dealing with the role of a stepparent if they want a relationship (and its happy ending if possible!) Good luck with all the requests, I hope you have fun with them!

Found Family (Reader with a Kid)

gn!reader

characters: law, sanji, ace, nico robin

tags: under each character + secret child

a/n: I started it with a fem!reader in mind and changed it to gender neutral only later since the post didn't mention the gender, so please if I missed some changes please tell me

words count: around 0.8k - 1.7k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Law:

Tags: Established Relationship, Surprise Family, Angst to Comfort, Fluff

The wind blows soft through the port town. Law steps off the ship, coat flapping behind him, hands in his pockets. He’s quieter than usual, eyes scanning the street ahead. He’s not here on a mission. He’s here for you.

You sent a letter three weeks ago.

Just one line: “I need to talk. Come if you can.”

Law doesn’t like surprises. But he comes.

He finds you standing outside a small house with peeling paint and flower pots on the windowsill. You smile when you see him, but it’s tight, like you’re scared.

He frowns “You alright?”

You nod “Yeah… I just—can we go inside? I don’t want to do this out here.”

Law follows you in. It’s warm. Smells like soup and soap. A small jacket hangs on a hook by the door. Not yours. Too small.

His sharp eyes catch it, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

You lead him to the living room and sit. He stands. Watches you.

You look down “There’s something I never told you.”

Law’s voice is low “I figured.”

You breathe in deep “I… have a kid.”

Silence.

You look up. His face is unreadable. Like ice. You hate that expression, it means he’s trying to think without feeling. To stay calm.

He speaks finally “How old?”

You blink “She’s five.”

He does the math. That means before him.

“She yours?” he asks, even though he already knows.

You nod “Yes. Mine. The... other parent's gone. Completely.”

He nods slowly. His voice is cold, but not cruel “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.” You twist your hands “We met during a war. We never talked about kids, or… futures. Then we got together, and things felt good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You thought this would ruin it?”

“I thought you might walk away.”

He looks away “You didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, standing now too “I’ve been through things. I didn’t know how you’d react. You’re not… You don’t talk about family. You barely talk about your past.”

His jaw tenses. You hit a nerve.

You try softer “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there never was one. Until now.”

Silence again.

Then small footsteps.

You freeze.

Law turns just as a tiny figure walks into the room, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

“Who’s this?”

Her eyes are big, curious. Law stares.

You kneel “Sweetheart, this is Law. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Law doesn’t speak. He just looks. She hides behind your leg.

You don’t blame her.

“She’s shy,” you say “But she’s smart. She reads pirates like storybooks.”

Law kneels too, finally, lowering himself to her level. His voice softens.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he says “I’m just… surprised.”

Your daughter peeks out “You talk funny.”

Law blinks.

You laugh nervously “He’s from the North Blue.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head “Do you have a boat?”

Law nods “A submarine.”

Her eyes widen “Cool…”

She steps forward. He doesn’t move.

Then she offers her rabbit “You wanna hold Mr. Bun?”

You almost cry.

Law takes it. Careful. Gentle. Like it’s glass.

He looks at you over her head. Still unsure. Still quiet.

But he’s here, and he’s not walking away.

The rabbit sits on the table between you.

Law hasn’t said much since dinner. He eats quietly, politely. Your daughter sits beside him, munching rice balls like they’re treasure. She’s talking to him. A lot.

“Do submarines have beds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep in them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you dream of fish?”

“…No.”

You nearly laugh into your cup. Law sends you a look. It says help me. You shrug. You’re doing fine.

When she finishes eating, you ask her to brush her teeth. She runs off with Mr. Bun in her arms. The house falls quiet again.

Law leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even flinch,” you say “When she offered you the rabbit.”

He shrugs “She trusted me. I didn’t want to break that.”

You nod, chewing on your lip “That means a lot, Law.”

He looks at you. Eyes sharp but not cold “I’m not angry.”

“Really?”

“I’m hurt.” His voice is honest now “You didn’t tell me. I could’ve helped. Been there. Or at least known what I was walking into.”

“I know,” you whisper “I was scared. I didn’t want to push you away.”

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N. I’ve lost family. I’ve lost everything. But I never said I didn’t want to build something new.”

You look down at your hands “She’s my whole world.”

“I can see that.”

“And now that you’ve met her… what do you want?”

He pauses.

That pause stretches long and sharp between you.

Then, softly “I don’t know.”

You nod. You expected that. You’re not mad. Just scared again.

Law stands and walks to the window “She’s a good kid. Brave. You raised her well.”

You smile a little “She’s got my temper.”

“I noticed.”

You walk over to him. You both stare outside. The moon is bright tonight.

“I’m not asking you to be her father,” you say “You don’t have to… take that role if you don’t want it.”

He turns “What if I want to?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to be that,” he continues “A father. A parent. I’m… I’m a surgeon. A pirate. I know how to fight, how to cut, how to survive. Not how to raise a child.”

You place your hand over his “She doesn’t need perfect. Just present. Just kind. Even I didn’t know how to be a good parent.”

He watches you. Something cracks in his expression.

“I want you.” he says.

“I want you too.”

“But I can’t lie to you… I’m afraid. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You squeeze his hand “We’ll learn together. She’s not looking for perfect either. She just wants someone who doesn’t leave.”

That hits hard.

He nods and then tiny footsteps again.

Your daughter peeks from the hallway “Hey... can he read me a story?”

Law blinks “Me?”

She nods “You have a cool voice.”

You laugh softly “What do you say?”

He hesitates. Then walks over.

“Alright, let’s try.” he says “But only one.”

She beams.

You stand in the hallway, listening through the door. His voice is low, slow, careful. Reading a picture book about sea creatures. She’s tucked in, eyes half-closed. The rabbit is between them on the bed.

Law finishes the page. She murmurs, “You’re not scary like someone said.”

You gasp quietly. Betrayal.

Law chuckles “Someone said that?”

“Mhm. They said you’re all sharp eyes and brooding. But you’re kinda soft.”

Law mutters, “I am never going to live that down.”

You grin and walk back to the living room.

He stays. Finishes the story. Even tucks her in.

When he comes out, he looks… changed.

“You did good.” you say.

“I didn’t even sweat.”

“Liar.”

He sighs, then smirks “Okay, maybe a little.”

You take his hand again “So…”

“So.” he echoes.

“You staying the night?”

He raises a brow “You asking?”

You smile “I have tea. And a couch. Or a bed, if you behave.”

He smirks “I’ll try my best.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Tags: Flirting Sanji, Soft Sanji, Humor, Fluff, Unexpected Bonding, Found Family

Sanji flirts with you every time he sees you.

At the market “Ah, Y/N! Did the sun rise just to see your face today?”

At the docks “Want me to carry those for you, my love? Your hands are far too lovely for heavy lifting!”

Even after the battle in your city, where the Strawhats helped “You’re even more beautiful covered in blood. Should I be worried about how much I love that?”

You never fall for it. You roll your eyes. You walk away. You don’t even blush.

It drives him insane.

“You’re difficult to get,” he says one afternoon, following you through town “but I like that.”

“I don’t fall,” you say flatly “Especially not for men with hearts in their eyes.”

“Ahhh, but my heart is sincere!”

You stop and face him “Sanji. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

You pause. He’s annoying, yes. But not bad. He’s never pushed you too far. Never said anything mean. Just flirty. Charming. Too charming.

You sigh “Fine. You want to know me?”

He lights up “Yes! Of course!”

“Then come with me.”

You lead him through town, away from the market, away from the noise. Into a quiet part of the island. A garden path. A small house tucked in the trees.

He’s still smiling “So this is where the beautiful Y/N hides. A date, then?”

You don’t answer. You open the door. Inside, it’s neat. Warm. Lived-in. There are toys in the corner. A tiny pair of shoes by the door.

Sanji frowns “Is this… your house?”

“Wait here.” you say.

You go into the back room. A few seconds later, you return, holding a small child. Sleepy-eyed. Holding a stuffed whale. While another lady leaves the house as if her job there is finished.

You look Sanji in the eye.

“This is my daughter.”

Sanji freezes.

Dead silent.

You wait.

You expect a nervous laugh. A fast goodbye. A dramatic “I’m not ready for this!” speech.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead…

“Her hair’s like yours,” he says softly “She’s beautiful.”

Your daughter rubs her eyes, looks at him “Who’s that?”

You answer “Just... a friend.”

Sanji kneels slowly “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Sanji. Can I say hello?”

She shrugs. He waves. She waves back with the whale.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Whale.” Sanji says seriously.

You blink.

She giggles.

You didn’t expect this.

You make tea. Sanji helps. He insists, actually.

“She can’t have sugar this late.” you say.

“Then honey,” he says “Gentle on the stomach.”

You watch as he puts her cup in front of her like a butler. Bows. She bows back. You nearly choke on your tea.

“Do you cook?” she asks.

“Oh yes,” he says “Better than anyone.”

She claps “Make us dinner!”

Sanji glances at you. You nod. Why not?

He makes a simple meal. It smells amazing. Your daughter eats two full plates.

After, she sits in his lap and shows him a book of sea animals. He listens. Really listens.

You don’t understand what’s happening.

You were trying to scare him away.

Instead, he’s… perfect.

When she falls asleep, he carries her to her bed. Quiet. Gentle.

He tucks her in, fixes her whale beside her, and kisses her forehead.

You follow him back to the living room in silence.

“Well...” you say, still confused “That wasn’t what I expected.”

He smiles but smaller this time. Softer.

“I flirt because it’s fun,” he says “But I stayed because I wanted to see you.”

You stare at him “You weren’t scared?”

“I was shocked,” he admits “But not scared. You’re a single parent. That’s strong. She’s lucky to have you.”

You look away “I thought it would make you leave.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You smile at that and look at him again. This time longer.

Sanji isn’t just charm. He’s heart. He’s warmth.

And… maybe you were wrong about him.

Your daughter’s asleep.

Sanji’s sitting on the couch, arms stretched over the backrest like he belongs there. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled up, and a soft smile on his lips.

He looks so… calm. Like this is normal. Like he wants this.

You sit across from him, legs tucked under you. You sip your tea. Your hands are shaking just a little, but you hide it well.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say “She loved it.”

“She’s adorable,” he says, smiling “And polite. You’ve done an amazing job.”

You stare into your cup “I didn’t do it alone. But… it’s been a long time since I shared her with someone.”

Sanji watches you quietly. No teasing now. Just listening.

You swallow. Here goes nothing.

“So,” you say “I’ve decided something.”

He leans forward “Oh?”

You lift your eyes to meet his “I’m saying yes.”

His brows lift “Yes to what?”

You smile “A date.”

He freezes “Wait. A—really?”

You nod.

“I mean, I’ve been asking for weeks, but I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” you say “I just didn’t believe you.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

He stares at you for a second. Then a slow, beautiful grin spreads across his face. Like he’s won a war. Like the clouds finally moved for the sun.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

“You—you have no idea what this means to me, Y/N.”

You chuckle “I might have some idea.”

“Do you want flowers? Candles? Music? Should I wear a suit? I’ll cook, of course—”

You laugh softly “Just come as you are.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You sip your tea again. Calm on the outside.

But inside? Your heart is thundering. So loud it feels like it echoes in your chest. And he doesn't even know your heart is actually beating faster than his own.

You’ve had to be strong for so long. For your child. For yourself. Love always felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

But Sanji… he’s something else.

Not because he’s charming.

But because when it really mattered, he stayed.

And now, you let yourself fall a little deeper.

You stand. Walk over. And press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He goes still.

You pull back and say quietly, “Can't wait for the date.”

His eyes widen, then fill with something warm surprised, happy, maybe even a little nervous.

“You… really?” he asks, softer than you’ve ever heard him.

You nod “Don’t make me regret it.”

His laugh is breathless “Never.”

You smile, heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. He doesn’t need to know yet how much this means.

A few nights later for your first date Sanji goes all out, but not in a flashy way. It’s thoughtful. Intimate.

He sets up dinner on the ship’s deck. Small candles, soft music from a den den mushi radio, and a view of the sea under stars. He cooks something warm and comforting, not fancy, just full of love.

You talk for hours. About silly things, quiet things, your pasts and dreams. It’s easy. He listens more than he speaks, and when he does talk, it’s gentle.

No cheesy lines. Just Sanji. Real and warm.

After dessert, he walks you home in silence. Not awkward, just peaceful. The kind of quiet where you don’t need to fill space.

At your door, he looks at you with hopeful eyes but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for your choice.

So you step closer.

You kiss him.

Soft. Sure. Just once. But it’s full of everything you’ve been holding back.

When you pull away, he blinks like he’s just been hit by a wave.

You smirk “You were taking too long.”

He laughs, dizzy and full of stars.

And for the first time in a long while, so do you.

── .✦ Ace:

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Humor, Emotional Reveal, Mutual Feelings Hidden, Teasing to Serious, Marine Conflict

The sun burns above you. You’re lying on the deck of your ship, one leg over the other, a half-empty bottle between your fingers. Ace is beside you shirtless, grinning, sweat on his brow, flame flickering off his fingers like it’s breathing with him.

“You always steal my rum.” you say, kicking him lightly.

“You always keep it warm,” he shoots back “I’m doing you a favor.”

You roll your eyes “Your idea of favors sucks.”

He leans closer, his voice lazy and smug “You didn’t say that last night.”

You groan “Get a new line, fire boy.”

He grins wider. You punch his arm. He fake-winces, like it hurt. It didn’t.

That’s the two of you: teasing, biting, half-fighting, half-kissing. No promises. No labels. Just good fun and bad timing.

Pirate life is rough. You take what joy you can.

“Hey,” you say after a long silence, watching the sky “Wanna hear a secret?”

Ace smirks, eyes still closed “If it’s about that thing you did in the galley with the honey—”

“No, dumbass. A real secret.”

That makes him open his eyes. He turns to look at you “Alright. Hit me.”

You sit up. Serious now. The bottle rests on your knee.

“I have a son.”

Ace snorts “You what?”

You nod, eyes still on the horizon “Yeah. He’s five. His name’s Ren.”

He blinks. You go on before he can interrupt.

“I had him before all this, before the piracy, before you. I got caught in something messy with the Marines. To keep him safe, I left him with my parents. Changed my name. Ran.”

Ace stares.

You keep talking “I go see him when I can. Disguised. Just for a day or two. He thinks I’m some traveling doctor or something. He doesn’t know who I really am.”

You pause. Swallow.

“It’s hell, leaving every time. But I’d rather he grow up safe than have him hunted.”

Ace starts laughing.

You blink “What the hell?”

He’s full-on laughing “Holy shit, you got me! I thought you were serious. What is this, some new kink? Roleplay? Mommy pirate stuff?”

You just look at him.

Dead quiet.

No grin. No tease.

Ace’s smile dies instantly. The flame on his fingers goes out.

“…Wait,” he says “You’re not joking?”

You don’t say anything.

His expression changes fast… shocked, confused, then something close to guilt “You really…?”

You nod once “I’m not playing around.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly tense “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you say, dry “That’s usually the first response.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again “Why are you telling me this now?”

You shrug “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a real connection in years. Or maybe I just got tired of lying all the time.”

He stares at you.

You look away “I didn’t expect you to laugh. That sucked.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“No,” he says quickly “I’m serious. That was a shitty reaction. I just… I didn’t think you were the kind of person to hide something that big.”

You exhale “Turns out, I’m full of surprises.”

The silence between you is heavy now. Not like before.

Then Ace says quietly, “What’s he like?”

You blink “Huh?”

“Your kid. Ren. What’s he like?”

You smile a little “Stubborn. Smart. Messy. Loves drawing fishes. Hates carrots. Thinks I have the coolest boots in the world.”

Ace nods, quiet. He looks down, then up at you again.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I’m sorry for laughing. And I’m… kinda honored you told me.”

You raise a brow “Didn’t peg you for the emotional type.”

He shrugs, eyes soft “Didn’t peg you for someone with a child.”

Touché.

Ace doesn’t talk much for the next few days.

No flirting. No teasing. Just quiet looks when he thinks you’re not watching.

You try to act normal with some old jokes, same smug grin as always, but you feel it too. Everything changed with that one secret. The space between you now holds more than just fun.

It holds truth. Real, heavy, warm truth.

You’re standing at the helm when he walks up beside you.

“I want to come.” he says.

You glance at him “Come where?”

“When you go see your son.”

Your hands tighten on the wheel “Ace—”

“I’ll stay out of sight. I swear. I just… want to see him. I want to understand what you gave up. What you’re protecting.”

You study him for a moment. His eyes don’t waver. There’s no joke. No smirk.

Just Ace. Real. Honest.

You nod.

Months later — The island is quiet. A small village with stone houses, chickens in the streets, a little bakery that still smells like your childhood.

You pull your hood low. Ace wears a cap, sunglasses... he looks ridiculous, but no one’s looking at him. Just another traveler.

Your parents’ house is at the end of the road. Garden full of wildflowers. Paint peeling on the fence.

Your son is playing outside.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s chasing butterflies. Laughing. Barefoot.

Ace stops walking.

“That’s him?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod “Ren.”

Ace just stares. His hands slowly curl into fists.

You call out softly, “Ren?”

The boy turns. His face lights up.

He runs to you screaming. You drop to your knees and catch him in your arms. He’s warm. Real. Solid.

Ace looks away.

Inside, your parents keep things short. They know who Ace is. You warned them. They’re not happy, but they trust you.

You all sit outside. Ren sits on Ace’s lap by accident. You try to grab him, but Ace just holds him steady.

“It’s okay,” he says “He’s light.”

Ren shows him a toy ship made of sticks “I made this!”

Ace chuckles “Really? That’s better than some ships I’ve sailed on.”

You stare.

Ren grins proudly “My parent used to tell me stories. About pirates and fire powers. Did you know there’s a pirate who can set his fists on fire?”

Ace raises a brow “Sounds dangerous.”

Ren gasps “But so cool!”

You laugh softly. Ace sends you a small look. It’s gentle. A little sad.

Later, when Ren naps, you and Ace sit on the back porch.

“He’s amazing.” Ace says.

“I know.”

“You’re amazing,” he adds “You left this. For his safety.”

You stare at the grass “I think about quitting all the time. Just staying here. Being at his side full time. But… the world’s not kind. And if they find me—”

“I get it,” he cuts in “You’re doing what you have to.”

You glance at him “I didn’t expect you to care so much.”

He shrugs “Neither did I.”

Then he adds, “But now I can’t stop.”

Your heart stumbles.

“He’s got your eyes.” Ace says softly.

“Don’t get attached.” you warn “This life… it’s dangerous.”

“So is mine,” he says “But that didn’t stop you from letting me in.”

You look at him. Really look.

“I didn’t plan for this...” you whisper.

“Neither did I.”

But here you both are.

And suddenly, fun doesn’t feel like the right word anymore.

The sound of quiet laughter wakes you.

You blink against the morning light, still groggy, still warm under the blanket. It takes a second to remember where you are... your parents’ house, back in your old bed.

And then you hear it again.

Ren’s voice.

And Ace’s.

You sit up, heart skipping.

You slip out of bed, still barefoot, and pad toward the living room. And there they are.

Ren sits cross-legged on the floor, his little wooden ship in one hand, while Ace sits across from him, mimicking an enemy pirate voice.

“Noooo! You got me again, Captain Ren! My ship is sinking!”

Ren giggles and throws a pillow at him “That’s what you get, bad guy!”

Ace dramatically falls back, hands in the air “Ughhh… defeated by the mightiest pirate on the seas…”

Your heart squeezes.

Ace looks so natural. Hair messy. Eyes full of warmth. Like he belongs here.

But then your parents come in.

They freeze when they see the scene.

Ace doesn’t notice at first, he’s laughing with Ren, his smile unguarded.

“Ren.” your mother says, sharply.

Your son turns.

“Come away from him,” your father says quickly, stepping forward “Now.”

Ace blinks, confused “I—”

“Ren,” your mother repeats “Come here.”

Ren looks at you, unsure.

You step in “What’s going on?”

Your father’s jaw tightens “We don’t want him near the child.”

You stare “Excuse me?”

“He’s a pirate,” your mother hisses “A famous one. Fire Fist. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s also sitting on the floor playing ships...” you snap.

Your parents say nothing.

“You trusted me enough to come here with him,” you continue, voice rising “Now you’re trying to pull Ren away like he’s some kind of monster?”

“We’re protecting our grandson.” your father says coldly.

“From what? A man who’s been nothing but kind to him?”

“You don’t know what kind of life he brings.”

“I do,” you shout “I live it too. If you forgot. And yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s hard. But Ace has done nothing but respect my family, protect me, and treat Ren with more care than anyone ever has!”

They go silent.

You’re shaking now, fists clenched.

“And for your information, I love him.”

The words fall like a hammer in the room.

Ren blinks.

Your parents’ eyes widen.

Ace just stares at you.

You don’t move.

You didn’t mean to say it... not like this, not loud, not angry... but it’s out.

And real.

You look at Ace, heart thundering “I love you.”

A beat.

Then Ace stands slowly, eyes locked on yours. He walks to you, quiet. The room holds its breath.

He stops in front of you.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say it first,” he says, voice low “Didn’t want to scare you off. But you beat me to it.”

You blink.

“I love you too.” he says.

He reaches out, gentle, and takes your hand.

Your parents stay silent. Ren looks between the two of you, then claps once like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I have pancakes now?” he asks.

You and Ace laugh at the same time, breathless.

And just like that, the tension cracks.

── .✦ Nico Robin:

Tags: Established Relationship, Soft Confession, Emotional Intimacy, Bittersweet Past

It’s late.

Most of the crew has gone to bed, except you and Robin. You're both in the library room. She’s reading. You’re not. You're just holding the edge of a piece of paper... frayed, uneven, and pulsing with life.

A vivre card.

You don’t have to look at it to know it’s still there. Still pointing somewhere far away, where you can’t be.

Robin closes her book softly “Is that what’s been on your mind all day?”

You glance over.

Of course she noticed.

You nod “Yeah.”

She tilts her head slightly “Can I ask who it’s for?”

You hesitate.

You’ve never told her. Not because you didn’t trust her, but because it always felt like a story that belonged to a different version of you. The you from before the sea. Before the Straw Hats. Before her.

But she’s already part of everything now.

So you answer.

“My son.”

Robin says nothing but her gaze sharpens. Attentive. Careful.

“He’s with his other parent now,” you continue, voice quiet “I raised him alone before I joined the crew. He’s the one who said it was okay. Actually, we were always together, in another small crew. Then he wanted a different kind of life. One with… peace. So we contacted his other parent.”

Robin nods, slow “He sounds mature.”

“He was always like that. Smarter than me, I think.”

There’s a short silence.

You look at the vivre card “I haven’t seen him since I joined. We talk through letters, sometimes den den mushi. But I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him again.”

Robin’s eyes soften “Do the others know?”

You shake your head “No. Just you.”

She reaches out. Her fingers brush yours, just enough to touch the vivre card “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smile, small but real “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Robin hums “I already see you. Clearly.”

You blink.

She looks at you steady and kind “You carry something heavy. And still laugh with the crew. Still help cook. Still stand beside me in battle. That’s not weakness.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

She pauses, then adds, “If one day… you want to try and see him again, I’d go with you.”

Your voice catches “Really?”

She nods “Of course. I’d like to meet him. He sounds like someone I’d admire.”

You look down at the vivre card.

Still warm. Still burning.

Maybe not as far away as it feels.

It’s just past dinner.

You’re with Robin as she asked you to stay close. A soft excuse about helping her with some documents. You're both sitting on the floor, back against the wall, a soft lamp between you.

You have the vivre card on the table. You don't always keep it out, but tonight you felt the need to hold it.

You glance at the Den Den Mushi nearby.

You hesitate.

Then pick it up and dial a number you’ve had memorized since your hands first held his.

The snail blinks sleepily… then perks up.

“Hello?”

Your chest tightens at the voice.

You smile “Hey, kiddo.”

A pause, then, “IT’S YOU!!”

You laugh, caught off guard by the pure excitement.

“Oh my god—FINALLY! You didn’t forget me, right? You didn’t sail into a storm and disappear forever, right?”

Robin lifts an amused brow, watching you with quiet interest.

“I didn’t forget you,” you say softly “You know that.”

“Just making sure. I’ve been drawing so many sea monsters lately you would not believe. I made a kraken with three hats.”

You laugh again, voice cracking slightly “Three hats? He must be important.”

“Very.” He pauses, then adds, “...I missed you.”

You shut your eyes “I missed you too.”

Robin looks away respectfully, but stays close.

Then, from the snail: “Hey, wait—who’s near you? Are you with someone?”

You glance at Robin, who blinks, caught.

“She’s... a friend.” you say carefully.

Robin speaks, her voice soft “I hope I’m more than just a friend.”

The Den Den Mushi mimics a shocked face.

“...OH MY GOD. IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND??”

You bury your face in your hand.

Robin chuckles lightly, graceful even when embarrassed “Hello. I’m Robin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There’s a long pause.

“...You sound really cool.”

Robin smiles “Thank you. So do you.”

“Wait—how much do you know about them? Like... do you know about the time they tried to cook without instructions and set the wall on fire?”

You groan “Don’t tell her that.”

“It was a microwave! The noodles caught on fire!”

Robin’s shoulders shake with laughter.

You shoot her a glare that holds no heat “I regret this entire call.”

“No you don’t.”

And he’s right. You don’t.

Not even a little.

Later, when the call ends, you sit in silence.

Robin’s hand reaches for yours “He’s amazing.”

You nod, voice soft “Yeah. He really is.”

She squeezes your hand gently “He has your spark. And your chaos.”

You smile through the ache in your chest “He’s better than I’ll ever be.”

Robin rests her head against your shoulder.

“You’ll see him again. When the time is right. And I'll be with you... if you want me.”

"Of course I do."

And somehow, with her beside you, that feels like a promise you can believe in.

[dearceleste]

astro obs pt 3

hey guys! I hope you all are fine :) hope you enjoy this post

Venus in Sagittarius people are so in and out of love so very quickly. In the moment it seems that they are so in love but the colours fade away very suddenly. I assume it usually can be surprising to them as well because I think they don’t think their feelings through that well anyways. They might also love the idea of love from distance mostly! However once they have anchored themselves on someone or something, it’s their world.

Venus in Leo people like people to admire and validate their romantic partners I have seen. Almost like, see I have such a shining golden trophy.. I very much think these people admire mass appeal themselves so it may be a part of that thing. But they do love loud and proud for the most part. They like sociable people as partners is one more thing.

Venus in Libra people are other folks I have seen you’d never see with questionable or eccentric choices in partners. They usually want people that are admired or at least socially acceptable, someone they don’t have to defend or explain. Also, LOOKS ARE IMPORTANT lol.

Venus in Cancer people are the types to put their family before their partners a lot many times. They do try to be nurturing and kind in relationships, and very much are, but they need that warmth first to give it back, Also very nostalgic and don’t move on very fast, In love with memories. Also very confused and non confrontational in matters of love. I don’t know why but most people I have seen with this placement low-key like the grief that comes with love.

Venus in Virgo people are super avoidant about topics of love for some reason, they usually don’t speak about it very openly and loudly. Conversely, these people don’t speak but SHOW their love. They show it, prove it, even if they may not be able to articulate it well. They should never be with a person who likes to HEAR more than SHOW. I have often seen they don’t give up until the very last straw :(

Venus in Scorpio people may have this thing of having “rebound partners”. They may or may not pursue this desire depending on how self aware they are. They may actually create a situation like that somehow knowingly or unknowingly lol. They might also like the idea of showing off their current partner to their exes, not because they still like them but as a form of a revenge almost lol

Venus in Taurus people do not like the roller coaster love I have seen. I mean if you are SUPER in your feels type of person they might not be able to understand it a lot. They’d like to understand if they are genuinely into you tho but won’t keep up with that attitude for too long I have seen.

Venus in Aries people are actually people who love bravely, someone who would STAND UP for you, but at the same time they are also quick to scapegoat, I would say they are rather unpredictable and volatile in matters of love. I have seen people with this placement can be SUPER LOYAL and fixed on their partners and also cheat on them in heat of the moment intentionally or unintentionally. Unpredictable is the right word loll

Venus in Gemini people are the realest people to not give 2 fs and move on pretty fast not Venus in Sag people lol. I have seen they like to live in the moment and enjoy stuff for what it is now, It is usually easy for them to have their foot out if something happens or just because they aren’t feeling it enough. Many people I have seen with this placement either give or like that hot/cold treatment just to have something going in the relationship lol.

Ok I don’t want to be offensive but Venus in Aquarius people DO love people who are intellectually curious and able to hold conversations with them and talk about deep things with them, but more than intellectually stimulating and being open to “wider perspectives ” they usually like someone who’s rather agreeable I have seen. Venus in Sag are far more accommodating to a partner with conflicting views because it kinda becomes disrespectful to these people if you are not agreeable to them mentally and intellectually yk.

Venus in Capricorn folks usually “delay” falling in love no matter how much they have options or how many people like them. I think they really have some “mental timing” of most things especially love and like if it falls into that bracket or it can probably give them severe doubt and anxiety (for example: finishing school, getting that job, making that money). They are very loyal and would stand through thick and thin but usually do not like to have a struggle in love.

until the next time xx

[coolwyous]

┈─★ #1 𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ megan skiendiel loves three things in this world: her amazing brilliant wife, her incredible adorable kids, and the beautiful sport that is ice hockey.

   ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey daddy!megan skiendiel x f!reader

   ➴ genre + wc: 3.3k, domestic parenting au, all fluff no pain baby!

┈─★ a/n: wrote this in 2 hrs bc i missed our big puppy hockey!megan so bad and this put such a cute fucking vision in my head. can def be read as a standalone but if you're new here, i highly encourage reading the college hockey!au verse this is based in! <3

“babe! baby! jesus christ babe, get in here!”

your mind goes to the worst possible places. your son could be choking, he could be having an allergic reaction, he could be stuck in between a piece of furniture, and your perfect angel of a wife could be having a crisis as she tries to figure out what exactly to do in an emergency.

marriage with megan has been an absolute dream, and you always knew she’d make an incredible parent. protective, calm, kind— basics, sure, but megan does them so easily, you never questioned that a family together would be an absolute dream. however, megan is still megan, and you love her for each part of her, including the parts that panic when things do not go according to plan. that’s where you balance each other out: you keep megan in line when she starts to spiral, and she reminds you of the beauty in the day to day.

in this scenario, you’re in panic-mode, racing into the living room expecting the worst.

you let out a gasp to find not only is there no crisis, no furniture on fire, no natural disaster sweeping up your son and wife, but quite the opposite.

megan is reaching her arms out, crouched down, and your infant son is taking his first steps towards her, his chubby face squished up in the cutest smile you could have ever imagined.

“look at this guy! so sturdy,” megan beams, reaching out ready to catch him should he start to wobble.

you laugh and take a mental picture of the moment. you see a mischievous glint to megan’s eyes as she watches his wobbly little body take another step forward.

“megan, i swear if you even think about—”

“i wasn’t gonna say it!” she throws her hands up innocently.

“he just took his first steps,” you chastise her, knowing her well enough after all your years together. “don’t do this. i didn’t start rambling about universities or classic literature when he first said mama.”

“fine,” megan shakes her head in defeat, focusing back on waving to your son to get him to take a few more steps forward. “fine.”

you smile and turn to go hunt down your phone to document the moment. before you’re fully out of the room, you hear a quiet voice whispering to the baby.

“you’re a tank, dude. you’re gonna make a killer defender. get that core strong and we’ll be on the ice in no time.”

“megan skiendiel,” you warn firmly.

“shit. mommy heard us talking about the no-no word.” megan swoops up your son and uses him like a human shield, knowing you can’t stay mad at your two favorite people in the whole world. “okay, okay. i can wait. i get it.”

“i just want one milestone where you’re not trying to prep him for the nhl, i’m begging,” you laugh, reaching out to kiss her. she grins and kisses you back, scooping up your son to hold him between you two.

you can’t even pretend to be mad. you have the most perfect family in the world, what more could someone want?

-

“push left, then push right.”

megan makes skating look so easy, impossibly easy as she always has. when the first snowflake of the season fell, you already knew to get the kids’ winter coats ready, knowing megan would force you all into the car and haul you all to the lake ASAP.

“this is hard,” maxie breathes, his lower lip jutting out in frustration. 

“guess what?” megan tells him, her voice softening as she realizes the emotions taking over your toddler. “it may be hard, but you can do hard things. and you’ll have me holding your hand all the way through.”

your daughter starts to squirm out of your grasp and eagerly reaches for her other mom. you press a kiss into the beautiful baby’s head and hold onto her, knowing your wife needs all her focus in one place right now.

“push left, push right. don’t be afraid to fall,” she nods confidently as you watch from the snow. “you’ve got this, dude. if i didn’t think you could do it, i wouldn’t be pushing you.”

your heart swells as you see your son’s eyes burn with determination at megan’s encouragement. max does exactly that, and he’s shaky, but making slow paces forward. 

megan skates over to you, giving your son some space to figure it out without her over his shoulder. you grin and reach out to kiss her reddened nose, cold to the touch from the chilly falltime air.

“forgot how good of a captain you were,” you compliment, your chest warm and fuzzy seeing how gently but firmly megan builds your son’s confidence. “might want another one just to keep seeing you be that good.”

“another team for me to captain?” megan grins.

you laugh. “no— another kid, loser.”

“oh.” her eyes widen, but that stupid dopey grin only multiplies on her face. “right right right.”

your daughter wiggles once more in your grip and reaches out again. you smile, handing her to megan, who nestles her onto her hip while skating backwards to keep her eyes fixed on your son. 

“look, look!” max calls out loudly, beaming with his precious toothless grin as he glides slowly along the ice.

you look up, ready to cheer him on, but your wife has already got you beat, her face lighting up instantly in pure, sincere, beaming pride.

“that’s my boy! that’s my boy!” she cheers.

megan throws your daughter up into the air and swings her legs around her neck to have the toddler sitting on her shoulders, causing the girl to giggle uncontrollably. max, still wobbly, manages to skid along the ice, his confidence increasing with each pace forward he makes without tipping. you smile at your little family. 

-

“baby,” you call out, peeking at the three on the ice from over the pages of your book. “your daughter is about to do a backflip off of the snowbank.”

“josie, sweetie, sit down please,” megan calls out to her, standing with max as the two practice passing a puck back and forth.

“no thank you,” the girl responds simply.

“okay, no, wait,” megan pauses, wrinkling her nose. “no, princess, it doesn’t work like that. daddy’s words are not an option.”

max pauses, watching the whole thing unfold in front of him. he shrugs and drops his stick, putting his hands on his hips as he innocently observes his sister. “auntie dani says sometimes you just gotta send it.”

“okay, no more time at auntie dani’s,” megan grits. you burst out laughing. 

“i told you she’d be a terrible influence.”

“i didn’t think she’d try to influence a five year old,” megan groans, grabbing josie to snatch her off the snowbank. the girl pouts and wiggles out of your wife’s grip, taking easily to the ice in her skates.

“babe, you know how daniela is,” you laugh. “you’re the only one to blame if you trusted her to be a good influence. i told you lara is more than happy to watch them.”

“lara has enough on her hands with the twins,” megan shakes her head, giving max a push to help him slide across the ice, sending the boy screaming laughing. “josie is a tornado.”

“so you stick her with the most insane person you know and expect it to go well?” you laugh.

“okay, okay, this is not bag on daddy time,” megan scrunches her nose at you, grabbing josie by her hood as the rambunctious child tries once more to climb the snow and jump. “i thought maybe dani could help me understand how to lay the law down more. you never have any problems with them.”

“the kids listen to me ‘cause i mean what i say,” you laugh, watching as megan increasingly fails to wrangle the two children as they go in opposite directions. “unfortunately, big bad strong hockey daddy folds every time your five-year-old gives you the puppy eyes.”

josie’s little voice cuts in, somehow at the top of the snowbank.

again.

“can you send a picture of me up here to auntie dani? i want her to see me send it!”

megan’s eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight.

“my perfect sweet wife, will you grab your daughter, please?” she pleads, nervously holding her arms out in case the girl is too quick and jumps anyways.

you shake your head, pointing behind her as max is aimlessly hitting pucks off in random directions on the ice, pucks you know will never be found again.

“actually, my perfect sweet wife who doesn’t listen or learn, i wanted to do a library date. you’re the one who insisted on taking them to the lake. when you know i still can’t skate,” you remind her.

“oh my god,” megan groans, reaching up to snatch josie by the ankle, causing the little girl to giggle uncontrollably as she gets swung through the air and placed gently back down onto the ice. megan picks up her stick and quickly blocks max from hitting his last few pucks, instead redirecting them all easily back into the small bucket they came in. you watch, impressed. megan has been retired for a year now, shortly after josie turned 4, but she’s still good as ever.

“my thoughts exactly,” you laugh.

“remind me of this exact moment next time i suggest doing this again,” megan blinks.

“babe, this happens every time.” you remind her, flipping through another page in your book. “literally every weekend.”

megan, still impossibly strong, grabs both your kids by the back of their jackets, flipping them both around to face the same direction on the ice. the sound of their rumbling giggles makes your heart flip.

“laps, both of you.” she demands, her voice stern (or about as stern as your goofy, ridiculous megan can get.) “now, minions.”

“no,” josie pushes back challengingly. 

“oh yeah?” megan bends down, pointing a finger menacingly at your daughter. “why? scared you’ll get left in my dust?”

you laugh, watching as your wife takes off on the ice, your two bumbling children skating along after her in an attempt to catch her. your heart melts at the sight. 

-

even at lara and dani’s encouragement, megan had never seen herself as exactly coaching material. several colleges had tried soliciting her to coach for them after her time in the wnhl, and she had turned down each of them in favor of staying home with the kids while you continued to work. you didn’t mind— between what she had made playing professionally, your current job, and the current time she can dedicate to her family now that she’s done traveling, the trade off is well worth it.

but the perfect way to fill her time was coaching your son’s 7 & under junior hockey league. 

“way to take that shot, champ!” your wife cheers as max misses yet another practice shot. “love the confidence, buddy!”

you laugh and hand her the coffee you just picked up for her in the lobby. “you’re being surprisingly patient.”

“no, he’s honestly so, so bad at this, poor guy,” megan lets out a quiet breath, and the both of you laugh. one of the assistant coaches takes over the drills as you two watch the kids from the side. “he’s trying like hell, though.”

“alright, relax coach,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully. 

you both hear a thud against the plexiglass and realize josie, who is supposed to be taking figure skating lessons on the other side of the rink while max’s team practices, is shoulder checking her poor coach into the wall again, much to the woman’s displeasure. you give her a sharp look to cut it out and she instantly straightens up, nodding at you in understanding.

megan gives you a quick look before bursting out into laughter. you know your daughter’s menace-like behavior is nothing to laugh at, but it’s such a sharp contrast to gentle and compliant max, you’re grateful to have such characters for children that keep you and megan on your toes.

“josie’s sick of figure skating, meg” you tell your wife gently, knowing you’re approaching a sensitive topic for her. “she’s been stealing his sticks and messing with his goal in the backyard. i know you’ve seen her.”

megan lets out a nervous sigh. “i was afraid that’d happen.”

when max happened, you saw it be so easy for megan, like being a boy dad was the most thing in the world. she had all the answers, no fears, no concerns. but as much as she loves both your children equally, you know for a fact that josie was different. megan was so, so much more nervous with raising a girl, and while you didn’t feel the same pressure, you knew it kept megan up at night wanting to make sure she did everything just right for your guys’ little princess.

“she wants to be just like you, meg,” you tell her gently as you both watch the girl roll her eyes at the coach and do another twirl. “she pays attention, talks about your teams, wants to watch your old games. she’s so eager to be part of that world, and you keep brushing her off.”

megan shakes her head, clearly wanting to pivot away from the topic. “mrs. baker called again today. she’s worried about her reading.”

you sigh. mrs. baker, josie’s kindergarten teacher. 

“i remember how the first meeting went, megan. i was there, remember?” you laugh, rubbing her arm soothingly. “josie’s still got time to figure it out before they go on diagnosing anything. she’s barely 5. give her time. you sound more worried than her teacher did.”

megan’s knits her brows, avoiding your gaze as she watches both kids on the ice. 

“i don’t want her to distract herself with hockey if she’s already at risk of falling behind in school.”

“meg,” you soften your voice, leaning you weight against hers. “it’ll be okay. let her try, we can support her. she won’t fall behind.”

“i don’t want her to beat herself up.” her voice drops into a rasp as you see her swallow down nervously. “i don’t want her to feel stupid.”

your heart aches thinking about baby megan, all those years beating herself up over struggles that were never her fault. you see how anxiously she projects forward, wanting so desperately to spare your guys’ daughter from the same fate, the same self-consciousness, the same lack of confidence.

“she won’t. give her a chance. she might thrive,” you reassure her. “having something she’s that passionate about might make her motivated to work harder.”

megan nods, pressing a kiss into your head. you feel her body relax against yours as you two lean together, watching the practices go on. “you’re right. i’m overthinking it.”

“she might be the next you,” you smile.

before you can say anything else, megan is motioning for the figure skating coach to pause, waving for your daughter to come over to where you guys are standing. 

“max, come here,” she calls out, leaning down on the wall to be eye-to-eye with your kids as they both skate over, their eyes wide in confusion. “josie, go borrow your brother’s gear.”

“are you benching me?” maxie asks anxiously. 

“would you rather go get a new book and hot cocoa with your mom?” megan asks, her voice soft, her eyes scanning over your son’s face as she chooses her words carefully. “would you rather not come back to practice?”

“i like hockey,” max says quickly, almost too quickly. your heart aches. you see megan in him too— nervous, kind-hearted, eager to be good, not wanting to hurt anyone.

“but do you love it?” megan pries gently, taking one of his hands in hers to comfort him.

“i would rather be reading, yeah,” max admits, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

megan is quick to take his chin gently in her fingers and lift his gaze back up to hers. “hey, hey, that’s okay. were you afraid to hurt my feelings by telling me that?”

“yes,” he admits sheepishly. 

“thank you for being kind, but thank you even more for being brave and telling me the truth,” she pulls his helmet off of his head and presses a kiss into the top of his sweaty hair. “go with your mom. i love you so, so much. you’re the coolest kid.”

the boy complies, coming off the ice and taking off his gear, handing each piece to his younger sister. “i was scared you’d be mad at me.”

you see megan’s face wrinkle in concern. she shakes her head, reaching down to give the little boy a tight, comforting hug.

“never ever. i love you with my whole heart. i can’t wait to buy you all the books in the world, dude,” she reassures him, nodding. “go give your sister your gear. your mom is waiting.”

you smile and reach out to your son, handing him his hoodie. he swipes it up eagerly and takes your hand, beaming excitedly.

“i heard you’ve been practicing on your own,” megan says as she kneels down, focusing now on helping josie put on all the gear. it’s a size too big, but it’ll do. “you ready to show me what you can do?”

“really?” josie’s eyes light up.

“these boys are bigger than you are,” megan warns, but she doesn’t sound worried. she sounds eager, proud. “think you can keep up?”

“yes,” the girl nods eagerly. 

“go show off,” she encourages, giving josie a push on the ice to send her towards the practice. “but no backflips! you’ll give me a heart attack.”

“boring,” she gripes, skating off. 

you can’t help but laugh. 

“she’s going to kill me,” megan groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

you poke her in the cheek, letting max rest on the bench for a moment. 

“she’s karma for every single time you lashed out at one of your teammates. remember senior year?”

“yeah. alright, alright,” megan waves you off, rolling her eyes, but she pulls you in to give you a quick peck. you both watch as she boldly joins the drill as if she’s been doing it for years, quickly handling the stick and the puck with a confidence unmatched by most of the boys on the team.

“she’s a natural,” you beam proudly.

megan lets out a low whistle. “better than i was my first time on the ice.”

“i’ve always said she’s just a less anxious version of you,” you smile. “right down to the puppy dog eyes.”

megan grins back, wrapping an arm around your waist. “you love these puppy dog eyes.”

you look into those puppy dog eyes, the things that drew you in when you first met her, and the things you’re pretty sure were the first part of megan that you fell in love with, before the rest of her fell right into place inside your heart.

“being just like you won’t be the worst thing in the world, meg,” you tell her gently, you both watching as josie blasts past the other boys on the ice, handling the puck with unimaginable expertise. 

“at least college is paid for,” megan wrinkles her nose, letting out a sigh. “who knows. maybe some sucker will get roped into giving her their english class notes.”

“and then they fall in love with each other and become college sweethearts. and survive long distance, and get married. and have a super cute family with two kids and a crusty white dog,” you add on, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her into a hug. 

“i got super lucky,” megan breathes, finally turning to look down at you.

“yes you did,” you grin back up at her. 

“i love you,” she tells you, kissing your forehead tenderly.

you admire her perfect face, looking back at your perfect daughter and your perfect son. your perfect little family, something you could have never pictured when you first met megan in your british literature class all those years ago.

you smile, reaching up for one more kiss.

“ditto.”

[mortal-ethos]

Mm hopping on this

I struggled with depression since I was four years old. Parents got divorced and mom remarried when I was four, my dad gave up his rights when I was 3. If you're asking yourself if that's just a coincidence, it's not. My adoptive father was emotionally and mentally abusive, and immediately made me feel like I was worthless. I had no home to feel safe in, I was autistic and trans so school wasn't safe, and I had no agency to try to find safety anywhere else. I had no idea that life could be happy. The closest I ever got was fleeting moments for maybe a couple hours with friends, and then it was back to feeling numb at best. I don't remember most of my childhood, the good and the bad. I find myself at times struggling with this idea that I never had a childhood, and I think that pain is valid. But I'm giving myself now the best life I can, with the best opportunities I can offer. I'm giving myself now the space to be the kid I could never be, to feel things and enjoy life, and I never knew life could feel like this. I never knew life could be happy.

Trust and believe that it really does get better. I never believed it, I don't know how I lasted this long but I fucking mean it. You can make your life something you want to live, and that's a freedom I never understood until now.

I get to be more free as an adult than I ever did as a child and I think more kids need to know that. as a high schooler part of what made my depression so bad was being told over and over again that it was the most carefree time of my life. while I was trapped in an abusive home + amongst bullies at school + in a body that wasn’t right for me. opportunities to be carefree don’t end when you turn 18. you can be more you than ever as an adult and that’s such a gift. I know ‘it can get better’ is an annoying thing to see over and over when you’re as trapped as I was back then. and I know that if you’re still a kid you deserve to be free right this second. but it can and will get better and this is not where life stops being interesting. promise

[penelopehere]

Being A Demon HCs With Saja Boys

Jinu

The only demons he’s familiar with are the ones Gwi-Ma sent to help him on his mission

Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to remember who you were, only focusing on getting his memory erased

Would only go out of his way to interact with you if you acted out and proved to be a threat to his plans

He would get reports of a demon purposefully stopping others from harvesting souls and often going rouge, disappearing for periods at a time

At first he’d be absolutely pissed, sending others to hunt you down and get rid of you

However, the more you manage to evade them, the curiouser he got

There was no reason you should be standing in the way of Gwi-Ma, and the fact that you managed to act out despite his voice in your head astounded him

That’s when he decides to seek you out himself

He’d instantly go in to attack, trying to see if the stories he heard about you were true

Would be making a lot of snide comments as well, still annoyed at the fact that you were in his way

When you managed to evade him over and over again, disappearing the moment he turned his back towards you, he’d be a lot more open to just getting you to talk

Would act innocent at first, raising his hands when he saw you and clarifying that he was alone

He would doubt that you managed to escape Gwi-Ma’s voice, asking what you had to gain from acting out like this

Would be in heavy denial about a demon being able to go off and be free like you were, since he wasn’t able to

Eventually however, he begins to wonder if it was really possible and he could do it as well

Begins to manipulate you a lot, trying to get you to open up about your past and reveal your inner shame as well as how you managed to overcome it

Would also open up to you, only revealing parts of his history since he was mainly doing this so you’d let down your guard

Sometimes uses his tiger and bird to find you to convince you to meet up and trust him more

However, when he sees how genuine you are with not wanting to be like the other demons, his behaviour shifts

His becomes more caring, empathizing with you a lot more and purposefully warning you of upcoming attacks so you weren’t anywhere near them

If any other demon found you and tried to hurt you or bring you back to Gwi-Ma, he would quickly get rid of them

Wanted you to be his secret

Even the other members of the group weren’t fully aware of his relationship with you, only knowing that a rogue demon took up a lot of his attention

But the moment he realises how close he was getting to you, he’d immediately distance himself and not give any explanation as to why

You’d have to be the one to confront him, asking what went wrong and why he’s acting so weird

He’d then snap back at you, saying not all demons could live your life and it wasn’t easy to just change

From there he would ignore your advances, purposefully avoiding you if you ever tried to seek him out again

It’d only be during a confrontation, where you were in some sort of danger with demons or hunters, would he step in and bring you away from the fight

He’d be checking you over for injuries, practically ignoring your words as you continuously asked why he abandoned you

It’d take a lot of coaxing, but eventually he’d confess he cared too much about you and didn’t want to feel vulnerable

It’d be best if you didn’t try to pry any further, cause he wouldn’t want to explain himself

From there you’d have to take control of the relationship, with him being less sure of his actions now that he realized his feelings for you came from a genuine place

If you were patient though, things would eventually evolve into something more loving

Neither of you would officially acknowledge it, with the words ‘dating’ accidentally slipping out one day and neither of you correcting it

Would be a lot more teasing, being relentless with his playful jabs and insults

Often times enjoys spending quiet time with you, with both of you doing your own thing but still touching in some way

Loves to explain things to you, especially new things he’s learned about the human world that he knows you’re not familiar with

Sometimes, in more intimate moments, he’ll open up about his history with his family and how much regret he has from it

You’ll have to be the one to constantly pull him from Gwi-Ma’s voice

Doesn’t fully stray away from his plan to erase his memories, so he tries to avoid the topic with you since he doesn’t want to argue

Is infatuated with your markings, never even considering demon traits could be beautiful until he met you

Would enjoy training together to develop your demon abilities, since it was fun but also so he knows you’ll be safe when he’s gone

Will also make sure you have access to souls to feed on if you needed it, regardless of your opinion of harming humans

Would do everything in his power to make sure Gwi-Ma never got a hold on you again, even considering turning against the overlord if it came to it

Baby

Often goes off and does his own thing away from the group, so getting his attention even as a fellow demon would be difficult

However if you also had a rebellious side he’d be at least a little intrigued

Like if you wandered off during missions and overall just didn’t care that much about Jinu or Gwi-Ma’s plan

Just toeing the line between doing the bare minimum and being a liability, so you managed to fly under the radar for a while

If you also liked to mess with others, whether it’s demons or humans, he’d be even more interested in you

Would do whatever it took to get a reaction out of you

Followed you around constantly, and would act even worse if you ignored him

He’d repeat questions over and over again like a toddler, or poke you until you acknowledged him

Would definitely tease you a lot, making fun of how you basically worked for him and that he was the reason you could get souls

From this he would also try to pry into your personal life, curious about who you were and how you became a demon

However, anytime you even considered doing something rebellious, he would be right by your side and force himself to be apart of it

There’d be no point in trying to stop him, since you were both equally stubborn and would spend hours arguing with each other

The other members would notice his interest in you, especially with how often he wandered off to go find you

Eventually would force you to come with him, dragging you to rehearsals, meetings etc

Anytime you tried to leave, he’d basically drag you back and place you in your own little corner to chill in

The group didn’t care that much, slightly relieved Baby had someone to focus all his mischievous energy on

That was until the two of you teamed up and began pranking the other members

Then everyone began to be a lot more cautious if you were anywhere near each other

Neither of you talked about your emotions that much, mainly hanging out in silence or planning your next stunt

There was no doubt you guys had a connection though, not that either of you would admit to it

The only way something would change in your relationship is if you had to leave the human world, whether that be because you got in too much trouble or if the mission no longer needed you

Baby would try everything in his power to make sure you could stay with him

Would be lowkey about it, going to other members to casually ask if they could do anything or just full on threatening lower ranked demons in secret

Would go as far as getting rid of other demons so you could replace them and stay

Even considered going back to the demon world with you, but the other members wouldn’t allow it

Eventually you’d confront him on this, not wanting to make a big deal out of having to leave since you were unsure about his feelings towards you

This would force him to accidentally confess, causing the two of you to go silent for a couple moments

He’d ask if you felt the same way, and when you admitted to it, neither of you would know how to act at first

To break the tension Baby would probably begin teasing you about your ‘crush’ on him until you did it back

From then on the two of you would be inseparable, the members having no choice but to make sure you stayed in the human world

If they didn’t then Baby would leave and the mission would be put at risk

He stays by your side no matter what, basically hovering around you since he finds comfort in your presence

In more private settings, he loves to have you resting against one another

Would develop the most insane tricks to scare humans, even incorporating these acts into performances or interviews sometimes

Also uses it to get souls, getting satisfaction out of the torment they experience

The two of you also get scolded the most out of the group

Loves to make posts with you, even showing off your markings sometimes saying it was just ‘makeup’

Even does this with your fangs and eyes on occasion, loving your demon form and enjoying how risky it was just revealing it on the internet

If you ever felt insecure about being a demon, or if Gwi-Ma’s voice became too overwhelming, he’d try to reassure you with his actions

Like by calling you dumb for even thinking such a thing, while pulling you closer and draping his arm around you as he rested his chin on your head

Romance

He practically obsesses over getting attention from fans in the human world, mainly using demons to further push his image as an idol

So it’d be hard for him to develop a genuine connection with you if you were just assisting the, in the mission

However, if you were someone back in the demon world that knew him before he became a Saja Boy, he would remember you

The two of you only interacted a couple times, too busy with surviving and finding ways to get souls

However, the kindness and respect you showed him in those rare moments still left an impression

Automatically places you in high regard because of it

When he got put on Jinu’s mission, he managed to get you assigned with them

It gave him an excuse to spend more time together and he was eager to get to know you more

Would use his charming personality as a front since it was so successful in getting human fans

Used you as a ‘stand in’ for fans and interviewers, telling you pick up lines and constantly touching you in some way in an attempt to catch your interest

Even tried to help you develop your own human form, making sure you guys has matching styles

Everything he did felt disingenuous at first, feeling like he was just trying to manipulate you into liking him

While in reality, Romance would overthink constantly about how you perceived him and what kind of person you wanted him to be

Everyone in the group was well aware of his little crush on you, constantly teasing him about it since he acted so fake with you

This would make him consider being more vulnerable with, even if the very thought of doing so frightened him

So at some point, when the two of you were alone, he would open up to the stress he faces because of this mission and Gwi-Ma’s voice

He used it as a way to explain why he was hesitant to be sincere when you first met, feeling insecure about his true personality

It would take a while for you to fully let your guard down, still unsure if anything he was telling you was true or if he had some ulterior motive

But eventually you’d see he was being genuine, allowing you to develop a proper relationship with him

You’d also open up about hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice in your head, the two of you supporting each other and talking it out whenever things got really bad

He’d definitely be the one to confess, planning everything out to the smallest detail and getting the other members to help him make sure it was perfect

He’d do all the stereotypical things, like giving you roses, lighting candles, taking a walk with you in the moonlight

However at the end of the night, all his plans go out the window

After looking into your eyes, he knew he would do anything to make sure you were happy

He told you how he felt about you, that you were different from anyone else that he met and how you made him feel things he didn’t think were possible

Around you he felt confident in who he was and loved, despite being a demon

After hearing your response, saying you felt the same way, he’d be so overcome with emotion that he’d just hold onto you; not wanting to let go

Now that you were dating, he was lot less extravagant with the PDA since he feels more secure with you

Still likes to be touching at all times though so he knows you’re there

Also keeps on flirting with fans, taking his role in the group very seriously and wanting the Saja Boys to succeed

However reassures you though that he belongs with you, through both his actions and words

Especially since he can’t go out with you while being overly affectionate, due to his role as the ‘flirt’ of the group

Is constantly checking on your wellbeing, making sure you were handling being in the human world well and had enough souls to feast on

Becomes a lot more secure with his demon form since he loves the markings and fangs you have

However he does enjoy pretending to human with you, loving how you let him style your appearance

On special occasions he finds ways to go dates with you in public, charming his way out of it when confronted during interviews and fan meets

Abby

To get his attention you’d have to be on the team somehow and working closely with him

So your role would most likely be one of the demons that follows the group at all times, acting as a form of protection in case any hunters come by or if human fans want to see them when they’re busy

He would mainly interact with you by making a few side comments, saying he could protect everyone himself because of how strong he was

It’d only be after seeing you in battle would he start to take you seriously

Would constantly ask you to spar with him, taunting you if you kept saying no

Eventually he’d just try to sneak attack you, getting frustrated when you’d just disappear or ignore him

If you fought back he’d be ecstatic, giving it his all and expecting you to do the same

Losing would make him distraught, immediately demanding a rematch

However if he won, don’t expect him to ever let you forget it

Would probably be so annoying that you instigated the next sparring match

From then on he’d subconsciously try to get your validation by trying to be better than you at things

No matter how small the task, he’d insist he could beat you at it

Basically everything became a competition, and he would spend most of his free time just being around you because of it

Everyone in the group probably realised that he liked you before he did and they’d tease him relentlessly about it

Out of principle he’d deny it, sounding like a little kid throwing a tantrum

However if you ended up finding out about this, most likely by overhearing one of the members saying it, he’d get a lot more flustered

Began stuttering and backtracking on all his words, not truly knowing how he felt

You’d have to take control of the conversation, admitting your feeling first so he could calm down

Honestly short circuits, not talking for a few moments as he focuses on your words and forgets everything he was thinking

Tries to be causal when he says he likes you too, eventually saying he expected it because of how strong he was

Still tries to constantly impress you, however now it’s more so about skills and talents he has

This mainly includes his cooking, always wanting you to try whatever he makes

Will take your opinion very seriously, especially since you weren’t familiar with human food and he wants your experience with it to be perfect

Is okay with redoing things over and over again until they taste just right

Would fall even deeper in love if you asked him to teach you how to cook, brushing it off by bragging about how he’s the best teacher you’ll ever have

Also has you help with a few of his dance moves, loving how you can keep up with him cause your both demons

Is constantly hugging you and putting his arm over your shoulder, almost like he’s trying to draw you in closer whenever you’re nearby

Also continues to spar with you a lot, playfully jabbing you and escalating it to the point where one of you is pinned to the group

But he is more open to both of you improving your fighting technique, taking the time to show each other effective attacks and defences

He still has a short temper, often letting his demon attributes coming out when he gets mad, however he appreciates that you can match his energy and stand up for yourself

Also loves seeing your demon attributes getting more enhanced when you get pissed, loving how unapologetic you are with being inhumane

He thinks it makes you seem more authentic

The only reason he would try to convince you to have a human form is so he could go out in public with you and show yourself off as a power couple

Also tries to do the same thing around demons, bragging about how the two of you could probably defeat the hunters by yourself

But if you ever did doubt yourself, whether that be because of your own thoughts of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he’d do his best to reassure you

Would give you praise, stating every compliment as if it was a fact before finding something fun or relaxing to do to take your mind off things

Mystery

He usually stays quiet in large groups, so you wouldn’t really catch his interest by being a demon that hangs around the members

He also didn't make that many connections in the demon world, so he wouldn’t know you from there either

Most likely you’re a soul collector, going between both realms and eventually catching his eye

This is because he found it interesting how you managed to blend into the shadows and disappear, similarly to how how did

He’d follow you every now and then, keeping an eye on how you lure humans away and find them in moments of weakness

You wouldn’t even notice him at first because of how quiet he was

At most you’d notice something in the corner of your eye, or feel like someone was watching you

However, when you looked around, no one would be there

The only way you’d properly meet is if he decided to approached you out of sheer interest and curiosity, appearing at your side and accidentally scaring you

You recognised him of course, with the Saja Boys being the whole reason as to why demons like yourself could collect souls

He wouldn’t say much, merely staring at you and then immediately disappearing in a cloud of smoke

These interactions would get slightly longer and longer overtime, with him eventually just walking behind you and hovering while you did your job

You never really asked him to leave you alone, since he rarely interfered with what you were doing

The only times he’d step in is if you were about to get caught

If it was by a human, he would come from behind and take the soul from their body, before retreating into the shadows once again

However if it was a hunter, he would pull you into a hiding spot, even going as far as transporting away with you if he thought things were too risky

On some more rare occasions though, you’d also see him tormenting a few of his own humans while you were out hunting

Sometimes to steal their soul, but often just scaring them to the point of tears

The first time you heard him spoke was simultaneously fighting and calming, not expecting him to actually say anything but strangely loving the way his voice sounded

He still didn’t speak much though, only saying a few words every now and then

Because of this, whenever you guys were around each other, it’d be a comfortable silence or you’d be talking to yourself

You’d most likely open up to him on accident because of this, not even fully realising that your guard was down until much later

Despite his eccentric nature, you’d still find it calming to just be around him

From this an odd friendship would form, the two of you finding solace in the other’s presence despite not truly knowing much about each other

Eventually you’d hang out with him in front of the other members, just sitting in silence and doing your own thing

However the group didn’t question it

They had a small suspicion he was doing something like this, but they would have also believed he just found a stray cat he really liked

You would slowly begin staying at their house more and more, everyone else just leaving the two of you alone since you seemed to be getting along

The only way your relationship would move forward is if another member questioned if you guys were dating

Neither of you knew how to answer that, just staring at each other

You decided to have a conversation about it when you guys were alone, finally saying that you both liked one another

At first you thought nothing in your relationship would change, immediately turning around to walk back towards the house

However, when Mystery reached out and gave you a back hug, holding you from behind for a few moments, you were glad that some things were going to change for the better

He would become much more affectionate in his own way

Always having his arm draped over you somehow or has your pinkies locked together

Loves helping you collect souls, especially when you play with the humans for a bit first before devouring them

Personally prefers his demon form over his human one, so is most likely in it when he’s around you cause it makes him more comfortable

However he would also enjoy helping you develop a human form, implementing it when you guys go hunting

If you ever became too overwhelmed with being a demon, specifically because of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he would quietly take you into his arms and whisper words of reassurance if you needed it; promising he would keep you safe

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had this kind of stray puppy thing going on that Wayne was reluctant to give him a shovel talk. And he didn't even do anything! All he did was sat there with his perfect posture—straight back, hands politely folded on his lap, big earnest eyes, and calm breathing. He was all good-mannered and nervous smiles, which was both annoying and endearing.

Now, Wayne wouldn't call himself soft or lenient when it came to securing his nephew's happiness. But maybe, he'd mellowed out because of old age. Or maybe, he'd seen how Steve always brought out the best of Eddie, making him the kind of man that Wayne was proud of.

Either way, Wayne didn't have the heart to threaten Steve with something truly malicious, so he just skipped right over it and ended the talk with a well practiced stern look that made the Harrington boy cower just fine.

Later that night, when Eddie came home with a goofy, lovesick smile, Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Anyone given ya the talk, yet?"

"What talk?" Eddie plopped down beside him on the couch and took a long swig from the bottle of Guinness he'd just retrieved from the fridge. A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head when Wayne gave him a raised brow. "Ah yes, The Talk. 'Course. I'd be offended if they didn't!"

Wayne hummed and continued nursing his lukewarm beer while watching the TV, ignoring Eddie's curious look that slowly turned mischievous.

"What? I just left you guys alone for fifteen minutes and you already adopted him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Ed, not some stray," Wayne responded gruffly, but Eddie could easily hear the exasperation in his flat tone.

"Jesus," Eddie cackled, slapping his knee as if he couldn't believe it. "You're worse than Hopper, old man!"

This time, Wayne just stopped pretending to not care and smirked at his nephew's nativity.

"Ya really think it took that man longer than me?"

Eddie paused and let out a gasp, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"He threatened to hunt me down if I dare to hurt Steve." Eddie slapped his forehead. "No way it'd take him months to adopt baby Steve on sight!"

Wayne nodded, not so smugly. "Now you're talkin'."

He'd eat his pickup truck if Hopper didn't also immediately yield under those puppy eyes. The Harrington might not be the best kind of people, but Wayne had to admit that their son was a sweet soul with a big heart. No thanks to them, of course.

"Anyway," Eddie smirked, nudging at his shoulder teasingly. "You're not distracting me from the fact that you consider Steve family now."

Wayne shrugged, unbothered. Family was family. He'd lived long enough to know it had nothing to do with blood relation.

"'Course, he's your boy."

And though neither of them said it aloud, they both agreed that Steve had been a Munson since the day he saved Eddie's life and continued to make it better with his presence alone.

"Thank you," Eddie said softly a moment later when they were about to go to bed.

The only good thing that came out of the whole 'earthquake' incident was their new apartment, which was afforded by the government's compensation money. And even so, if Wayne was allowed to choose again, he'd rather they still lived in their shoebox of a trailer than watch his nephew suffer from blatant PTSD that none of the kids were willing to talk about and this town's blind hatred.

"He makes you happy and you love him. That's what matters to me." Wayne shrugged, ignoring Eddie's blush and sputtering N– No, I'm not!

Before Eddie could try to argue against a moot point, the phone rang and he sprinted toward it to snatch the receiver up as if fearing it'd disappear otherwise.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said breathlessly, looking far too smitten for someone who'd just refused to admit he was in love.

Shaking his head, Wayne decided to leave his nephew be for now. The way he saw it, Eddie wouldn't be able to hold back for long. Not with someone like Steve Harrington.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 21: Pack Cardio

The moment Yeosang's door closed upstairs, the living room fell into an awkward silence broken only by the sound of Wooyoung dramatically throwing himself back onto the couch.

"Well," he announced to the ceiling, "that escalated quickly."

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warned from the kitchen doorway, though his own nostrils were flaring slightly as the combined scents of aroused omega and claiming alpha began to drift through the house.

"What? I'm just saying! One minute they're having a nice literary afternoon, the next minute our quiet little Yeosang is going full possessive alpha and dragging our mate upstairs like—"

"Like what?" San asked, appearing from the direction of the stairs looking slightly dazed. His enhanced alpha hearing had clearly picked up more than he bargained for.

"Like a romance novel hero!" Wooyoung finished dramatically. "I'm so proud. Our little bookworm finally grew some claws!"

A muffled sound from upstairs made all four alphas in the living room freeze. Hongjoong, who had been trying to read emails on his phone, closed his eyes and took a deliberately slow breath.

"This is fine," he muttered to himself. "This is completely normal. Mates. In our house. Being... mated."

"Is anyone else finding it very hard to concentrate right now?" Jongho asked quietly, his voice strained as he gripped the arm of his chair.

"The scent," Yunho said from where he'd appeared in the doorway, his eyes slightly unfocused. "It's... intense."

Wooyoung sat up suddenly, sniffing the air with exaggerated movements. "Oh my GOD, you're right. It's like... happiness and jasmine and— satisfied omega."

"Wooyoung!" Seonghwa hissed, though his own control was clearly being tested as he unconsciously moved closer to the stairs.

"I'm just appreciating the experience!" Wooyoung defended. "This is educational! Scientific! I'm learning about pack dynamics!"

Another sound from upstairs—definitely your voice this time—made Mingi appear from the kitchen looking like he'd been punched. "I'm going for a run," he announced abruptly.

"Good idea," Hongjoong said immediately. "Long run. Very long run."

"I'll come with you," San added quickly, already heading for the door.

"Make that four," Yunho called, following them. "Y/n is becoming incredibly valuable to our cardio."

Wooyoung watched four of his packmates flee the house before turning to the remaining alphas with theatrical despair. "Am I the only one with any self-control here? Any emotional maturity? Any—OH HOLY MOLY THAT WAS LOUD."

He promptly buried his face in a couch cushion.

"That's it," Seonghwa announced, his composed facade finally cracking. "I'm going to meditate. Very intensely. With noise-canceling headphones."

"Can I join your meditation session?" Jongho asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not. Find your own coping mechanism."

As Seonghwa stalked toward his room, Jongho looked around the now mostly empty living room before grabbing the TV remote with grim determination.

"Action movies," he muttered to himself. "Very loud action movies. With explosions."

Wooyoung lifted his head from the cushion long enough to give him a thumbs up. "Good strategy. I'm going to lie here and contemplate the cruel irony of being surrounded by my mate's happiness while being unable to participate."

"You could go for a run too," Jongho suggested, turning the volume up considerably.

"And miss this?" Wooyoung gestured wildly toward the ceiling. "The mating habits of bookish alphas in their natural environment!"

"You're insane."

"I'm INVESTED in their relationship success!" Wooyoung declared, then immediately dove back into the cushions as another particularly clear sound drifted down. "But maybe also a little dead inside."

The opening explosions of Jongho's action movie filled the air, providing blessed auditory cover for whatever was happening upstairs. Both remaining alphas settled in for what was clearly going to be a very long evening of aggressive distraction techniques.

"Next time," Wooyoung said conversationally, his voice muffled by the cushion, "I'm investing in better soundproofing. For my mental health."

"Next time," Jongho replied, eyes fixed determinedly on the screen, "we're installing a separate wing for private time."

"With industrial-grade ventilation systems."

"And really, really loud ceiling fans."

Another explosion from the TV masked whatever response they might have heard from upstairs, and both alphas silently agreed that action movies would be their new favorite genre.

*****

Yeosang held you against his chest as the aftershocks faded, his hands gently smoothing over your bare back, breath syncing with yours as your heartbeat slowed. He brushed damp hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss there, lingering.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, voice worry-soft but full of awe, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles along your spine.

"Mmm. Never better," you murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder, boneless and utterly safe. You could feel the smile against your hair as Yeosang wrapped both arms around you, cocooning you in warmth and careful strength.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, simply holding you close, his scent mingled with yours in the cool darkness. Then, softer still: "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

You managed a sleepy smile. "Only because you see me that way."

He let out a quiet laugh, so affectionate it warmed you from the inside out. "No—because that's exactly what you are. I… I've never felt this close to anyone."

You looked up, caught his gaze, and felt your heart stutter at the vulnerability there. "Me neither. I like… being yours, Yeosang."

His breath caught, the words hitting him somewhere deep. He answered with another gentle kiss, tender and slow, before tucking you back beneath the covers. "Rest, angel. I've got you."

You yawned, drifting as his fingers stroked lazy shapes along your skin. "Stay?"

"Always," he promised. And he did, until your eyelids fluttered shut, your breathing deep and soft, finally lulled to sleep in his arms.

Yeosang lay there a little longer, just listening to your quiet breaths, his hand protectively spanning your waist.

After a while, he slipped from the bed, dressing quietly. He hesitated in the soft light, smiling over your sleeping form—so peaceful, so wholly his. Then, padding softly down the hallway, he made his way to the kitchen, mind still humming with the memory of your touch, your scent, and the words you'd let him claim.

---

The living room was still glowing with the blue light of Jongho's action movie when Yeosang descended the stairs, though the volume had been mercifully lowered. Wooyoung was sprawled across one end of the couch, no longer hiding behind cushions but instead lounging with the satisfied air of someone who had thoroughly enjoyed the evening's entertainment. Jongho sat rigidly upright in his chair, determinedly focused on the screen where explosions continued to light up the night.

Both alphas' heads turned immediately when Yeosang appeared, their enhanced senses picking up the combined scents that clung to him—satisfaction, contentment, and the unmistakable proof of a thoroughly claimed omega.

Wooyoung's face immediately split into the most delighted grin Yeosang had ever seen.

"Well, well, well," Wooyoung practically purred, sitting up with theatrical slowness. "Look who's finally emerged from his literary den of passion."

Yeosang paused halfway to the kitchen, color rising to his cheeks as he realized there was no hiding what had transpired upstairs. "Wooyoung—"

"Oh no, don't 'Wooyoung' me," he interrupted with a dramatic wave of his hand. "I am LIVING for this character development. Quiet, bookish Yeosang discovers his inner alpha and claims his mate with such enthusiasm that half our pack fled the premises in terror."

Jongho made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh or a cry for help, his face turning steadily redder as he kept his eyes glued to the TV screen.

"You should be proud!" Wooyoung continued, hopping up from the couch to follow Yeosang into the kitchen. "I mean, the passion! The intensity! The way you just growled at me and dragged her upstairs like some kind of—"

"Please stop talking," Jongho called from the living room, his voice slightly higher than usual.

"Like some kind of romance novel alpha!" Wooyoung finished triumphantly, completely ignoring Jongho's plea. "I'm getting secondhand satisfaction just from witnessing your happiness. It's beautiful. Inspiring."

Yeosang had reached the refrigerator and was pulling out a bottle of water with hands that were definitely not shaking. "I just came down for water."

"Water," Wooyoung repeated with obvious amusement. "Yes, hydration is very important after such... vigorous literary discussions."

"Oh my god," came Jongho's mortified voice from the other room.

"What? I'm being supportive!" Wooyoung called back before turning his attention back to Yeosang, who was drinking water with the focused concentration of someone trying very hard to ignore the conversation happening around him.

"So," Wooyoung continued conversationally, hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter, "on a scale of one to ten, how completely ruined are you for anyone else? Because honestly, the scent of satisfied omega has been driving us all absolutely feral, and I'm just wondering if we should prepare for more emergency runs in the future."

Yeosang nearly choked on his water. "Wooyoung!"

"I'm asking the important questions! For pack management purposes! Seonghwa would want to know these things for schedule planning!"

Before Yeosang could formulate a response to that particular brand of logic, the front door opened and four very windswept alphas stumbled inside, clearly having run much further and harder than any sane person would on a casual evening jog.

Mingi collapsed against the door frame, Hongjoong on the couch, breathing hard. San bent over with his hands on his knees, while Yunho leaned against the wall looking like he'd just finished a marathon.

"Did we run enough?" Yunho panted. "Please tell me we ran enough."

Wooyoung leaned around the kitchen doorway to survey the returning runners with obvious delight. "Judging by the fact that you all look like you've been fleeing a natural disaster, I'd say you ran the appropriate amount."

"Is it safe?" San asked between breaths. "Are they... done?"

"Our darling Yeosang just came down for water," Wooyoung reported cheerfully. "Looking thoroughly satisfied and glowing with post-coital bliss. So yes, I'd say the immediate crisis has passed."

Hongjoong, who had maintained his composure better than the other three runners, straightened and fixed Wooyoung with a look. "Where's Y/n?"

"Sleeping peacefully upstairs," Yeosang answered quietly, his voice carrying a note of possessive satisfaction that made all the alphas in the room shift uncomfortably. "In my bed."

"Right," Hongjoong said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Okay. We need to... we need to figure something out. Because if every individual bonding session is going to affect the pack this intensely, we're all going to lose our minds."

"Agreed," Seonghwa's voice came from the stairs as he descended, looking like he'd just emerged from the most stressful meditation session of his life. "I could hear everything even with noise-canceling headphones."

"See?" Wooyoung said, gesturing broadly. "This is what I mean about the soundproofing. It's a real issue."

"It's not just the sound," Mingi said, finally catching his breath enough to speak properly. "It's the scent. The... energy. It's like the house itself was vibrating with satisfaction."

"Very poetic," Wooyoung observed.

Hongjoong looked around at his pack—exhausted from running, frazzled from failed meditation, and generally looking like they'd all been through some kind of ordeal—and made a decision.

"This can't continue," he said firmly. "We need a better solution than half the pack fleeing the house every time two of us are intimate."

"Actually," Wooyoung said, suddenly sitting up straighter with an expression that suggested he'd just had a revelation, "I have an idea."

"Oh no," Jongho muttered from the living room.

"No, hear me out," Wooyoung continued, hopping down from the counter with renewed energy. "The problem isn't that they're being intimate. The problem is that we're not bonded enough to handle it properly."

"What do you mean?" Seonghwa asked, though his tone suggested he suspected where this was going.

"I mean," Wooyoung said, spreading his arms as if the solution was obvious, "we complete the bond. All of us. Full mating claim."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Think about it," Wooyoung continued, apparently taking their stunned silence as encouragement. "Right now, we're all partially bonded but not claimed. So when two people are intimate, the rest of us feel left out, possessive, confused. But if we all have an equal claim, if we're all fully mated, then instead of feeling excluded, we'd feel... included. Like their happiness is our happiness."

"That's..." Yunho started, then stopped, clearly working through the logic.

"That's actually not completely insane," Hongjoong finished, sounding surprised.

"See?" Wooyoung beamed. "I have my moments of brilliance. We just need to make it official. Full pack bond, complete mating claim. Then instead of running away when two of us are together, we can all just bask in the collective satisfaction like a proper pack."

"You're suggesting we all mate with her," San said slowly, as if making sure he understood correctly.

"I'm suggesting we formalize what's already happening," Wooyoung corrected. "We're already her mates. The bonds are already there. We just need to make it official so our alphas stop freaking out every time someone else gets lucky."

Yeosang, who had been quietly listening to this entire exchange while leaning against the kitchen counter, finally spoke up. "She'd have to agree to it."

"Well, obviously," Wooyoung said with a dismissive wave. "We're not cavemen. But considering how happy she looked being thoroughly claimed by you tonight, I'm thinking she might be amenable to the idea."

"This is a huge decision," Hongjoong said seriously. "A full pack mating bond is... permanent. Life-changing. We can't just spring it on her because we're having trouble with jealousy."

"True," Wooyoung agreed. "But we also can't keep pretending this is a temporary arrangement. She's not going anywhere, we're not going anywhere, and our alphas are only going to get more possessive as time goes on. Better to deal with it properly now than wait until someone actually loses their mind."

The logic was sound, even if it was coming from Wooyoung in his typical dramatic fashion. Around the room, you could see the others processing the idea, weighing the implications.

"It would solve the territorial issues," Yunho said thoughtfully.

"And the scent confusion," Mingi added.

"Plus," Wooyoung said with a grin, "think of how happy she'd be. Eight alphas all officially, completely devoted to her happiness and satisfaction. What omega wouldn't want that?"

"We'd need to discuss it with her properly," Seonghwa said, his practical mind already working through the logistics. "Make sure she understands what it means, what we're offering."

"And that she wants it," Hongjoong added firmly. "This only works if everyone is completely willing."

"Oh, she wants it," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "Trust me. I have excellent instincts about these things."

"Your instincts once told you that putting pineapple on pizza was a good idea," Jongho called from the living room.

"That was completely different!" Wooyoung protested. "And pineapple pizza is delicious! Don't change the subject!"

Despite the teasing, the idea was taking root. You could see it in their faces—the possibility of finally formalizing what they all felt, of creating a bond that would make sense of the complex emotions and territorial instincts they'd been struggling with.

"So," Hongjoong said slowly, "we talk to her. All of us. Make sure she understands what we're offering and what it would mean."

"And if she says yes?" San asked.

Hongjoong looked around at his pack—exhausted, confused, but unified in their love for you and their desire to build something lasting together.

"If she says yes," he said finally, "then we give her everything. Complete devotion, full claim, the kind of bond that legends are made of."

"Perfect," Wooyoung said with satisfaction. "Operation Claim Our Omega is officially a go."

"We are not calling it that," Seonghwa said immediately.

"Operation Formalize Our Feelings?"

"No."

"The Great Mating Initiative?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fine," Wooyoung sighed dramatically. "But when this works and we're all blissfully happy and properly bonded, I want full credit for the brilliant idea."

"You'll get credit," Hongjoong assured him with a small smile. "Assuming she says yes."

"She'll say yes," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "Trust me. I know our omega. She wants this just as much as we do."

Looking around the room at seven alphas who were all nodding in agreement, Yeosang couldn't help but think that Wooyoung might actually be right for once. The bond was already there—they just needed to make it official.

And judging by the way you'd responded to him tonight, the way you'd surrendered so completely to being claimed and cherished, he had a feeling you'd be more than ready to take that final step with all of them.

"Tomorrow," Hongjoong decided. "We talk to her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," the others agreed, and for the first time all evening, the house felt peaceful again—filled with anticipation rather than frustration, hope rather than confusion.

Tomorrow, they'd offer you everything. And hopefully, you'd say yes.

——

After the pack meeting concluded, Yeosang had quietly made his way back upstairs, his heart full of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring. The house had finally settled into peaceful quiet, the earlier chaos replaced by hopeful planning and shared understanding.

He slipped back into his room to find you exactly as he'd left you—curled up in his bed, breathing softly, looking utterly content in the cocoon of his sheets that now smelled like both of you. The sight made something warm and possessive unfurl in his chest.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, Yeosang undressed and slid back under the covers, immediately pulling you against his chest. You stirred slightly, a soft sound of contentment escaping your lips as you instinctively nestled closer to his warmth.

"Yeosang?" you murmured sleepily, not quite awake but sensing his presence.

"I'm here," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. "Go back to sleep, angel."

You hummed in response, your arm sliding around his waist as you settled back into deep sleep. Yeosang lay there for a long time, just holding you, his mind drifting between memories of the evening and anticipation of the conversation they'd have with you tomorrow. Eventually, lulled by your steady breathing and the rightness of having you in his arms, he drifted off to sleep.

---

You woke slowly, consciousness returning gradually as you became aware of the warm body pressed against your back, the strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, and the familiar scent of bergamot and books that could only belong to Yeosang. A smile tugged at your lips as memories of the previous evening came flooding back—the bookstore, the ride home, the way he'd claimed you so thoroughly that you'd fallen asleep still trembling with satisfaction.

You were just beginning to stretch languidly in his arms when you became aware of another presence in the room. Opening your eyes fully, you found yourself staring directly into Wooyoung's bright, mischievous face. He was lying on his side on top of the covers, his head propped up on his hand, watching you with obvious delight.

The moment your eyes focused on him, his face split into the most ridiculous grin and he gave you a slow, exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that was so absurdly theatrical you couldn't help but burst into giggles.

"Good morning, Tulip," Wooyoung said cheerfully, his voice pitched just loud enough to wake the alpha behind you. "Sleep well? Dream of anything... educational?"

Behind you, Yeosang's arm tightened protectively around your waist as he was pulled from sleep by your laughter and Wooyoung's voice. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he realized what was happening.

"Wooyoung," Yeosang's voice was rough with sleep and exasperation, "what are you doing in my bed?"

"Technically, I'm on top of your bed, not in it," Wooyoung replied with mock seriousness. "Very important distinction. I'm respecting boundaries while also being adorably intrusive."

"How long have you been watching us sleep?" you asked, still giggling at his antics while trying to pull the sheet higher to maintain some modesty.

"Oh, only about ten minutes," Wooyoung said with a dismissive wave. "And I wasn't watching you sleep, I was waiting for you to wake up. Much less creepy."

"It's literally the same thing," Yeosang pointed out, though his tone had shifted from exasperation to fond amusement as your continued giggles made it impossible to stay truly annoyed.

"Semantics," Wooyoung dismissed airily. "The point is, I bring news! Important pack business! Time-sensitive information!"

"What time is it?" Yeosang asked, reaching blindly for his phone on the nightstand.

"Time for a pack meeting!" Wooyoung announced before Yeosang could find his phone. "Everyone's gathering downstairs to discuss very important matters that definitely cannot wait for you two to finish your post-coital cuddle session."

"Post-coital?" you repeated with a laugh, your cheeks flushing at his blunt terminology.

"Very fancy words for someone who couldn't spell 'sophisticated' last week," Yeosang observed dryly.

"Hey! I've been expanding my vocabulary!" Wooyoung protested. "Seonghwa gave me a word-a-day calendar. Very educational. Yesterday's word was 'perspicacious.'"

"Do you know what it means?" you asked with amusement.

"Having keen insight," Wooyoung replied promptly, then grinned. "And perspicaciously speaking, I can tell that you two had a very good time last night based on the way you're both glowing and the fact that your scents are so mixed together I can't tell where one ends and the other begins."

Yeosang made a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming," Wooyoung corrected. "Now come on, pack meeting time! Everyone's waiting!"

"Can't the pack meeting wait until we're dressed?" you asked reasonably.

Wooyoung's grin turned absolutely wicked. "Clothing optional, actually. Very progressive of us, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not," Yeosang said immediately, his arm tightening around you possessively. "You can wait downstairs while we get dressed."

"But I'm comfortable here," Wooyoung whined, making himself more comfortable on the bed. "Besides, after last night's audio-visual experience, I think we're all past the point of being shy around each other."

"Audio-visual experience?" you squeaked, your face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"Oh yes," Wooyoung said with obvious delight. "The whole house got a very thorough education in the mating habits of of you two. Very informative. Jongho nearly had a heart attack."

"Oh my god," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"Don't be embarrassed!" Wooyoung said quickly, his tone shifting to something more genuinely reassuring. "It was beautiful! Inspiring! The scent of happy omega had us all practically floating on clouds of secondhand satisfaction!"

"That's not helping," Yeosang pointed out, though he was rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I'm being supportive about your romantic success!"

"You're being a menace," Yeosang corrected, but his tone was fond. "Now get out so we can get dressed for this pack meeting."

"Fine, fine," Wooyoung sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed with exaggerated reluctance. "But first..."

Before either you or Yeosang could react, Wooyoung was leaning over you, his hand gently cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours. What started as what you expected to be a playful peck transformed into something deeper, more intense. His mouth moved against yours with surprising tenderness, passionate yet reverent, as if he was pouring all of his affection for you into the contact.

Your head spun from the sudden shift, the unexpected intimacy making your heart race and your omega purr with delight. Without conscious thought, your hand reached up to fist in his shirt, trying to pull him closer, your omega instincts suddenly demanding more contact, more connection with this alpha who was kissing you like you were something precious.

"Wooyoung," you breathed against his lips, your voice carrying a note of need that made both alphas in the room go very still.

Wooyoung pulled back slowly, his eyes dark with desire but also filled with such tender affection it made your chest tight. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, his thumb stroking across your cheek before he straightened up.

Behind you, Yeosang's arm had tightened possessively around your waist, though his expression showed more understanding than jealousy as he watched the exchange.

"Now that," Wooyoung said with a satisfied grin, though his voice was slightly rougher than usual, "was a proper good morning. Much better than my eyebrow wiggle, don't you think?"

You could only stare at him, still slightly dazed from the kiss and the way your omega had responded so immediately to his touch.

"You're definitely a menace," Yeosang said, but there was warmth in his voice as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, grounding you.

"But I'm your menace," Wooyoung replied cheerfully, heading for the door. "Now seriously, get dressed. Important pack business waits for no one, not even thoroughly satisfied mates who've just been properly kissed."

He paused at the threshold to look back with a grin that was somehow both mischievous and genuinely happy.

"For what it's worth," he said, his voice losing some of its theatrical edge, "you two look really happy together. It's nice seeing our quiet alpha finally getting properly appreciated."

The genuine warmth in his words made your heart flutter, and you saw Yeosang's expression soften considerably.

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you said sincerely.

"Don't mention it. Now seriously, get dressed. Hongjoong's already on his second cup of coffee, which means he's reached maximum leader patience levels."

With that warning, Wooyoung disappeared down the hallway, his cheerful humming fading as he made his way back downstairs.

"He's absolutely insane," Yeosang said with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"But he's our insane," you replied, turning in his arms to face him properly. "And he's right—we should probably get downstairs before Hongjoong reaches his limit."

"Probably," Yeosang agreed, though he made no move to let you go. Instead, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning," you replied with a smile that was pure contentment. "Last night was..."

"Perfect," he finished for you, his own smile soft and satisfied. "Absolutely perfect."

"Now come on," you said, reluctantly pulling away from his warmth. "Let's go see what this mysterious pack meeting is about."

As you both began the process of finding clothes and making yourselves presentable, you couldn't help but wonder what could be so important that it required an immediate pack meeting. But judging by Wooyoung's excitement and the way he'd talked about "important pack business," you had a feeling it was going to be something significant.

"Ready?" Yeosang asked, holding out his hand once you were both dressed.

"Ready," you confirmed, taking his hand and letting him lead you toward whatever awaited you downstairs.

Though judging by the butterflies in your stomach and the anticipation in Yeosang's eyes, you suspected your life was about to change in a very big way.

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[ilynpilled]

yes, i think ppl living in the imperial core should stop engaging with the world like it is a tv show. all i am personally telling you is to reflect and interrogate why your first impulse is to try and get a hit post with this format the moment you hear about another development in something with as much gravity as this. it demonstrates such a ghoulish level of irreverence, disrespect, and dehumanization towards the populations that are the victims of the very hegemony you live in. i am sorry but i do not care about your “coping” excuse here, it does not work on me when you are not the one who is actually impacted. again, you are just engaging with it like it is a tv show. i think it is beneficial to confront and then attempt to correct that bc it is so normalized

i am legitimately so frustrated by the stupid unfunny destiel confession news thing u losers r still doing. destiel “the us has bombed iran” do u ppl not understand how obnoxious this is? the bit has run its course and been unfunny for years now anyways but doing this shit is so fucking offensive and irreverent

[azzinator3000]

Locked Doors 

Word count (so far): 2K 

Content: Friends-to-lovers, secret relationship, intense sexual tension, UConn season 2023/2024

Warnings: Mature Content (Minors DNI)

CHAPTER 1 - SOFT SPOT

Paige wasn’t sure what scared her more — that Azzi stayed the night, or that Paige kind of wanted her to. No, actually — not kind of. She wanted it. She definitely wanted it. 

Which was… a problem.

Because this wasn’t supposed to be like this. They had their thing, you know? Their rhythm. Their rules. Well, not rules exactly, because neither of them ever really said anything out loud. 

But there were rules.

Azzi was right there, asleep in her bed. Paige could hear her breathing, could see the soft light hitting her brown skin, the little rise and fall of her shoulders under Paige’s old t-shirt. God, she hoped she was wearing underwear. Paige was honestly too scared to check. 

A part of her felt dirty for even thinking it, for looking at Azzi like this, for wanting something so uncomplicated to suddenly become so messy and demanding. But the dirtiness was mixed with a thrill, a possessive burn in her gut. Azzi, here, in her bed, wearing her shirt. It felt… right. Too right.

And it’s not like this was the first time. This was college. They did this. That’s just what it was. 

Paige didn’t even know if Azzi liked girls, she never asked. She never asked because — well, she didn’t want to hear an answer that would ruin this thing they did. 

Maybe Azzi just liked her, and that was easier to sit with. The idea that Azzi was only drawn to her, Paige Bueckers, not the concept of girls in general, was a selfish thought. But it was a comforting one, a private vanity she clung to.

Paige knew she liked girls, of course she did. She always knew. She’d been messing around with girls long before Azzi ever showed up on campus. 

But that wasn’t something she could say, not out loud. Not as Paige Bueckers. 

Paige Bueckers? She’s a shooter. She’s clutch. She’s marketable. She’s not gay. 

Well, she is, but not in a way that fits the story people already wrote for her, the one with the clean, straight lines and the wholesome, All-American appeal. It was an unspoken contract, signed in endorsements and public appearances, that her private life would remain just that: private, and preferably, utterly conventional.

It was weird, right? That she was bothered people just assumed she was straight, but she also never really corrected them. She accepted that this was how it had to be. 

Except… then there was Azzi. Azzi, with her soft voice, her big heart, her perfect family, her laugh. Azzi, who Paige would do literally anything for. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t even a secret. It was just Paige and Azzi. That’s how they worked.

 Paige would tape over the windows to block the sun, but after Azzi started, well, showing up more often, she stopped doing that. She let the light in, even though she hated it in the morning, because Azzi was scared of the dark. Paige could never let her be scared. 

And now here they were. Morning. Quiet. Paige sitting there, hugging her knees to her chest, trying not to lose her mind, realizing Azzi slept over. Azzi stayed. That wasn’t their thing. Their thing was the stolen moments, the frantic rush, the quick, desperate relief, and then the return to their separate lives. Azzi rarely spent the night. 

And the girls? The girls definitely saw them. Paige vaguely remembered the door creaking open last night, the shuffle of shoes, someone whispering, and Paige trying to laugh it off, like it was nothing, like, haha, we just fell asleep. But no one really said anything. 

A soft rustle from the bed. Azzi stirred, a soft groan escaping her lips as she burrowed deeper into the pillow, her dark curls splayed against the white cotton. Paige’s breath hitched. God, she was beautiful, even rumpled and half-asleep. 

The morning light, which Paige usually abhorred, seemed to halo Azzi, highlighting the caramel tones of her skin, the gentle curve of her neck. Paige felt a familiar possessiveness clench in her chest, a primal urge to keep this sight, this moment, all to herself. She wanted to lean down, press a kiss to Azzi’s forehead, feel that soft skin against her lips. But she didn’t. Not yet. The rules, unspoken as they were, still held a subtle power.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the sunlight. For a moment, she looked disoriented, then her gaze landed on Paige, sitting on the floor by the bed, and a slow, sleepy smile bloomed on her face, dimple flashing. That smile. That fucking smile unraveled Paige every single time.

“Morning,” Azzi mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, a little hoarse. She stretched, arching her back, and the t-shirt rode up, just enough to reveal a sliver of toned midriff. 

“Morning, Princess,” Paige responded, her voice coming out a little rougher than she intended. 

But then Azzi’s face changed. Like, she remembered. Like her whole body tensed up all at once. 

“Wait—” she sat up, eyes wide now. “Oh my God. I stayed over.” Paige’s stomach dropped. This was it. The moment the fragile bubble burst. “Azzi, it’s fine.” Paige tried to keep her voice even.

But Azzi was already spiraling, grabbing her phone like that was gonna solve something. “No, no, no, this is bad. They’re gonna think—like, if the girls saw me leave this morning, they’re gonna think there’s, like, something going on.” Her voice was a frantic whisper, her eyes wide with genuine alarm. 

She glanced at the door, then back at Paige, her caramel skin looking paler in the bright morning light.

And Paige just blinked at her, sitting there like—what? You think they don’t already know? You think they didn’t know when we disappeared last night, mid-Jena’s dance moves? You think they haven’t known for years, since we were barely teenagers and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you at USA camp? Since your first UConn party?

Paige’s throat went a little dry. She didn’t know why. Maybe because she’d just realized Azzi was scared. Like, really scared. Like, this wasn’t just pretending-it’s-nothing scared. This was don’t-even-let-them-think-it’s-something scared. 

or Azzi, this was still just a casual hookup, a fun, illicit thrill with a friend. Paige felt a hot surge of annoyance, mixed with a deeper, more painful sense of embarrassment. 

“It’s fine,” Paige said quickly, forcing the words out, because Azzi was pulling on her shoes like she was about to sprint out the door, her movements jerky with anxiety. “I told them you were drunk. That’s why you stayed.” Lie. A complete, unadulterated lie. She hadn't said a word to anyone. 

The girls had let them be, as they always did. But Azzi’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. The tension drained out of her, replaced by a visible wave of relief. And Paige wanted her to feel better. Even if it meant lying. 

Azzi gave her this soft little smile, still half-flustered, but grateful. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Thanks, P.” She zipped up her jacket, grabbed her small bag, and gave Paige one last, quick, almost apologetic glance before hurrying out the door.

Paige just nodded, watching her go. The door clicked shut, leaving a silence that felt heavier, colder, than before. Paige wanted to scream, to break something. She wanted to grab Azzi and shake her.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, the spot where Azzi had been still warm, a ghost of her presence. She pulled herself up, her movements stiff, and headed out to the kitchen, a restless energy buzzing under her skin.

KK was there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone, eating dry cereal out of the box because, you know, of course she was. Aubrey was perched on a stool nearby, humming along to something in her headphones, probably already awake for hours, having finished her morning lifts. Ice was nowhere in sight, likely still passed out.

“Well, well, well,” KK grinned without looking up, a spoon clattering against the cardboard box. “Look who finally came out of her love nest.” Ice took off one headphone, a knowing smirk on her face. “Took you long enough, P. We were starting to think Azzi had you chained to the bed.”

“Don’t start,” Paige muttered, pulling open the fridge aggressively, the harsh fluorescent light doing nothing to improve her mood. She wasn’t even hungry. She just needed to do something, anything, to dissipate this frustrated energy. 

The thought of Azzi’s panic, the casualness of her exit, grated on her nerves.

“Okay, but like—” KK’s grin only widened, “—are you gonna tell us when the wedding is or should I just pencil in spring? We need a head count for the national championship party, might as well combine.” “Shut up.” Paige’s voice was sharper than she meant, laced with a bitterness she usually reserved for bad calls on the court.

She slammed the fridge shut, rattling the bottles inside.

KK raised an eyebrow, finally looking at her, her expression losing some of its playful edge. “Whoa. Okay. Relax. We’re just messing around.”

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t.” Paige’s voice was, icy. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“We literally do,” Aubrey interjected, leaning forward on the stool. “We heard you two stumble in last night. And we saw Azzi leave just now, looking like she’d run a marathon”

 “You don’t.” Paige’s jaw was tight. She knew they knew. She’d always known they knew. But Azzi didn't. And that was the problem. 

That was Azzi's problem, and now it was Paige's.

KK tilted her head, studying her, a rare seriousness in her eyes. “Okay. You’re mad. Like, actually mad.” She held up her hands, like, I’m out of this. 

“Whatever’s going on, it’s between you and Azzi. But don’t get all cold with us when we didn’t do anything. We’re literally just trying to support  whatever the hell that is.” 

Paige clenched her jaw. She knew that. She knew KK wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Paige wanted something that wasn’t hers to want.

This was supposed to be her senior year, her championship run, and instead, her heart was getting twisted into knots over a girl who saw them as nothing but a 'night rush.' It was messy. It was a distraction she couldn't afford.

Just then, the door to the room opened again, and Azzi came out, wearing her jacket, still looking a little shaken but smiling now, all soft and sweet again, like the panic from earlier never happened.

 She’d clearly just come back from her own room probably to grab something or just to make a point of leaving Paige's room properly.

“Hey, guys,” she said to KK and Ice, her voice light, innocent. Then her eyes found Paige’s. She brushed past Paige, lightly bumping her shoulder, a casual, friendly gesture that felt like a slap in the face. 

“You okay, P? You look… intense”

Paige looked at her, and yeah, her heart softened immediately, which was annoying. 

Like, seriously? Seriously? You’re just gonna melt like that? All that anger, all that frustration, it just… evaporated the moment Azzi’s eyes met hers. 

Paige Bueckers you’re pathetic

“Yeah,” Paige muttered, forcing the word past her tight throat. “I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter. 

Azzi smiled at her, real and bright, and Paige hated that it made her feel better.

KK watched the whole thing, chewing slowly on her cereal, her gaze shifting between Paige’s softened expression and Azzi’s guileless smile. Aubrey, too, had put her headphone back on, but she was definitely watching, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Huh,” KK said finally, once Azzi had turned to chat with Ice about their morning practice schedule. 

“So, you’re all sharp with us, but with her, you’re soft. Interesting.” 

Paige shot her a look, a venomous glare that usually made KK back off. “KK.” 

“Just saying.” KK shrugged, unbothered, her eyes twinkling. “Guess we know what your weakness is, Bueckers.”

But Paige couldn’t even stay mad because it was true. She was soft with Azzi. That’s how it worked. 

Paige could act all tough with the rest of the world, she could be the fierce competitor, the unyielding superstar. Azzi? Azzi was the soft spot. Always was.

[selunefae]

a/n: first time doing headcanons. :p wanted to try it bc they're quicker to write. i was at the gym and got inspired. xD

masterlist | rules

Gymbro!Caleb who notices you the first day you step a foot into the gym. It’s not every day a cutie like you walks in, all nervous and tugging at your sleeves as you squint at the machines like they're some kind of torture devices.

Gymbro!Caleb who's always there at the distance. All big arms and even bigger chest, tank top clinging into his skin and leaving little to the imagination. You can't help but glance his way every time his muscles flex as he finishes a series. He's always wearing that gentle smile that makes it hard to focus on your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally makes his move when he catches you struggling at the hack squat machine – legs shaking, form all wrong, far too much weight. He starers at you for a moment, then walks straight over with no hesitation and that damn smile. "Here, let me help you."

Gymbro!Caleb who absolutely didn't need to get that close to help you. His chest brushes your sides, one arm around your waist as he adjusts your back. From this distance, you can catch traces of his smell. The faint smell of sweat, faded deodorant, and something distinctly masculine. You're too dazed to protest.

Gymbro!Caleb who somehow always ends up at the gym during your sessions. Monday before work? He's there. A late friday evening? Still there. And every time, he finds a new excuse to keep lingering. "Want to take turns in press?" or "Let me lift this for you."

Gymbro!Caleb whose hands trail lower with every interaction. One day it's his hands brushing your stomach, another day his fingers ghost your thighs. And you don’t stop him. In fact, you start to look forward to those moments.

Gymbro!Caleb who visibly stiffens the moment another guy talks to you. His smile drops, his jaw tightens, and his brows knit together like he’s about to lift the entire gym floor. The guys always end up storming off when he appears behind you, but an instant later, he acts like nothin happened.

Gymbro!Caleb who starts bringing you snacks and protein-packed meals to eat after workout. At first, it's "I made to much and don't want it to go to waste", but two weeks pass by and he’s still doing it.

Gymbro!Caleb who smirks every time you mess up a set and get really flustered, just to brush it off with “Don’t worry, i’ll help you with whatever you need.” And he means it. But he wishes you needed him for more than just your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who offers to walk you home one night after a late session and waits outside your building until he sees the lights in your room turn on. He doesn't care if he lives on the opposite side of town.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s never flat-out told you how he feels, but shows it in the little things he does. He wipes down every machine before you sit on it, never leaves until you're done, and makes sure you're eating enough.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s clearly into you, but you still think he’s just being nice.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally snaps when a cocky newbie tries to flirt with you near the dumbbell racks. He steps in mid-sentence, voice low and one hand resting on your shoulder. “She already has a trainer.” And suddenly, he’s twice his size and the guy’s gone.

Gymbro!Caleb who leans in right after, close enough that his breath warms your cheek: “Guess I’ll have to make you mine before someone else tries to snatch you.”

Gymbro!Caleb who drags you into the empty yoga studio that night, presses you against the wall, and kisses you like he’s been holding back for months. One of his hands traps you as the other hugs your waist, his kisses are hungry and messy. You let him, because you've been waiting to.

Gymbro!Caleb who might be territorial and a little too possessive, but completely melts the second you tug his hair and push him down.

Gymbro!Caleb who lets you take the lead, savouring how you rub agaisnt him as you continue desperately tugging at his hair and clothes. He could easily overpower you, but he likes seeing you in control. He likes that you think he's wrapped around your fingers, and maybe he is.

Gymbro!Caleb who still cooks for you after that night, who still checks your form and counts your sets and glares down every guy who glances your way. Especially now. Because now, he’s finally claimed you, and he’s not letting anyone else have you.