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fizzyapplecandy · 2 months ago

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The one with the shy bunny and the rowdy cat Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Final

Ateez Seonghwa X Wooyoung X Reader

Owner Seonghwa X Cat hybrid Wooyoung X Bunny hybrid Reader

Genre and warnings: poly relationship (no mxm, just with the reader) hybrid, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, angst, heavy themes, mature language, happy ending

Word count: 6.2k

You thought you had run out of options. It was pouring outside, and a couple of aggressive dog hybrids made you move from your favourite spot behind the mall. There, you managed to make yourself a little living space. Being a stray wasn't easy, and life loved to remind you from time to time. Luckily, there seemed to be a little bench in front of a small bakery. The roof did enough to cover you, so you'd be good for the night. What you didn't expect was to be confronted by another hybrid - this time a cat. You were expecting the worst, making a new friend wasn't on your mind at all.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

This will probably be a two-part imagine, maybe three if I feel like it needs it. Stay tuned for the next update!

Lots of love, and happy reading X

Life hasn't been easy in the past couple of months. You ran away from your previous home after the owner nearly beat you unconscious. He didn't give much shit about you, so he hasn't even tried looking for you.

You suppose it was your fault. At the end of the day, he wanted a cute, shy bunny to play with, and you were the complete opposite. Although now your self confidence went down drastically, and you remained a shell of what you once were.

Five months ago you were in a shelter, having fun with your fellow hybrids, when Jisung came. He looked and smelled nice, and you instantly gravitated towards him. The workers at your shelter told him you were quite confident, and you knew how to take care of yourself. You were the tiniest one in the litter, so you had to toughen up over the years.

It didn't take long for him to change his approach towards you. The first month went smoothly, but then he became more aggressive. Pets on the head became slaps on your cheek, food had to be earned, and you could only wear the clothes he bought you. No, there weren't pretty dresses and your favourite soft jumpers. There were only tight mini skirts and revealing tops. You were hungry, cold, tired and emotionally drained. It's not like you didn't try to fight back. Truly, you did. However, the amount of force he would use soon made you cower away.

One day, about two months ago, he left for a work trip and told you to stay put. He would be back by the end of the day, and you were to wait patiently. Maybe he was careless, maybe he even wanted you to run, because he left the key to the front door beside the shoe rack. It was a bit hidden, but your keen senses managed to help you find it. You dressed in the warmest clothes you owned, and out the door you went.

People on the street took pity on you, so they often gave you food, and sometimes even a warm blanket. You wish you knew the way to the shelter, but you were a lost cause. Some nights you cried yourself to sleep, others you ran until your feet hurt because the other stray hybrids weren't as nice as you thought.

You made yourself comfortable behind a closed mall, with a makeshift bed and a slight roof over your head. It was still early fall, and you had some time to think about what you were going to do in the winter. There was no chance to survive in the cold, with you being a bunny.

Your thoughts were interrupted when three stray dog hybrids made their way in front of you and your small shelter.

"Hey rabbit! Move, now."

"I-I'm a bunny."

The biggest of them scoffed before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

"We do not care. Move it bitch!"

He threw you to the floor just as the rain started picking up. You had no other choice but to run, and you had no clue where you were going. You could still hear them laughing at you, and your eyes filled with tears. This was going to become an everyday thing for you now. Maybe you should have just stayed by Jisung's side. That way you would have had a warm bed at least, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

You tried running faster as the rain came pouring down, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts. It seemed like the street had no end.

Just as you were about to crouch down and give up, you saw a little bench in front of what seemed to be a bakery. The lights were off, and the roof covered the bench just enough to shelter you from the rain. Exhausted, you crashed onto the seat and pulled your knees towards your chest. You were freezing at this point, your thin rain soaked sweater doing a piss poor job at keeping you warm. You made peace with your destiny for tonight, and you were about to close your eyes and huddle into yourself when you heard the door beside you open.

"Oh! Hello there! I could smell you from inside you know? Your anxiety is freaking me out!"

Your eyes went wide, ears flat against your head. There stood a man, a hybrid it seemed, with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

"So, what are you doing here? It's pouring out there, you should go home! My hyung would be really mad at me if I stayed in the rain like this. And where is your jacket? Does your owner not make you wear one? I swear Hwa would have a heart attack if I went out without one!"

He seemed to be energetic. It's when you noticed the black cat ears on top of his head. They blended in with his dark hair, so it took you a minute. The cat hybrid continued ranting while you sat there almost speechless.

"Do you talk? You know how to, right? I know bunnies can be afraid, but hey I'm cool! I can be your friend you know? Hwa likes it when I make friends because then I don't bother him all day long. Hey, let's be friends!"

He rushed towards you and it made you freak out. Before he could reach the bench you stood up, stumbled on your clumsy feet and landed on your ass in front of him. The cat was taken aback, and he froze when he saw your hands covering your head, your shoulders shaking from fear.

"Oh... Sorry bunny. I don't... I just wanted to sit next to you..."

He slowly crouched down to your level, balancing his elbows on his knees.

"I'm Wooyoung. I'm a black cat. Hwa says I'm usually too straightforward, and I can see it now. What's your name?"

You still held your hands above you, only letting out small sniffles. It took everything in you not to cry, but you were barely holding on.

"Okay... You don't have to tell me yet. But hey..."

He shuffled a bit closer, but you didn't have it in you to move again.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate? You haven't had anything sweet in a while. The offer was tempting, but you were still afraid. What if he was just saying that to lure you in?

Wooyoung cleared his throat.

"Or maybe... I can get you one of his carrot cakes? How's that?"

Oh my... A carrot cake? Why did he have to offer that? The thought of a carrot made your mouth go dry. The last time you had one was months ago, and you loved carrots.

You slowly lowered your hands and peaked at him. He was still crouched down, and he didn't attempt to move closer. You had to give it to him, he was persistent. Looking better at his face, he was handsome as well. The little mole under his eye was cute. He smiled when he noticed you were checking him out, and he slowly shuffled forward.

"Hmm... Carrot cake it is. Wait here, don't go, I'll be right back!"

He was up and running inside in a flash, and it gave you a moment to breathe.

Maybe he really wanted to befriend you?

You hit yourself on the forehead.

Was a carrot cake enough to make you dumb? Have you not gone through hell? Before you could dwell on it for too long, he was back.

"Okay, I managed to get you not one, but two pieces! It's a special cake for little bunnies like you! My Hwa loves making treats for hybrids. Come on, dig in!"

He left the pink plate with the cakes and a spoon on the bench, sitting down in front of you. Wooyoung didn't want you to feel scared, so he thought it was best to be eye level. It bothered you to see him cross legged on the cold concrete, the rain wetting his pants.

"Don't... Don't cats hate water?"

His eyes went wide hearing your soft voice. He started nodding frantically.

"Yeah, we do. But you can't be the only one getting wet. What's a little water, am I right?"

You glanced at the plate again, too afraid to reach for it. Wooyoung noticed, and he picked up the spoon, extending it over to you.

"Come on. You must be hungry. I don't like carrot cake, you can have it all to yourself."

Your eyes stayed fixated on his hand holding the tiny spoon. Should you go for it? You were hungry, tired, and frankly if he wanted to do something bad, he had many chances.

Slowly, your hand reached out, and Wooyoung smiled. He clapped when you finally took the spoon in your small hand.

"That's it! Good job bunny. Now, dig in!"

Oh well, here goes nothing. Just as you put the utensil in the soft, creamy cake, the door to the shop opened again.

"Wooyoung! Where the hell did you run off to with my plate! You don't even like..."

You stood up quickly, dropping the spoon from your hands and backed up a few steps.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I won't eat, here!" Your voice trembled with fear, hands held up in the air so that he could see you weren't taking anything.

"Oh damn it Hwa! She was about to take a bite!"

Wooyoung stood up as well, going over to this Hwa person. He was a young man, with long blonde hair tied in a small ponytail. He was frozen in place until Wooyoung hit him on the shoulder. If you ever did that, you'd be beaten until you couldn't stand, but the man didn't even blink.

"So... I assume the cake is for her?"

"Yes! I was about to make a new friend, and look, now you scared her!"

The boys glanced at you, shivering, hands still in the air. The blonde man cleared his throat.

"I apologize for that. I'm Seonghwa, and this is my naughty, obnoxious, loud..." - "We get it!"

Seoghwa covered Wooyoung's mouth with his hand.

"- hybrid Wooyoung. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Hey how come you've told him your name right away but you didn't wanna tell me?"

You had no answer to Wooyoung's question. Honestly, you were too afraid not to answer, because two against one was a losing battle.

"Calm down Woo, look at her. The poor thing is terrified. Hey, Y/N, please, help yourself with the cake. It's all yours."

Not a chance. The whole ruckus had to stop, or you would faint from fear.

"I don't want it. I'm sorry, can I please go now? I won't come back, I promise. Please, just... Let me go."

Both men looked at you with a sorrowful expression, and Seonghwa quickly realised what they were dealing with. If your freaked out stance wasn't a giveaway, it was the lack of suitable clothes for this weather, and your dirty bunny ears. Wooyoung was a bit oblivious sometimes, so he probably didn't figure it out. you were definitely a stray, and by the looks of it, you were having a tough time.

Seonghwa pushed Wooyung behind him, fixing him with a stare before the cat opened his mouth to complain. They had to do this carefully.

"Say Y/N... Do you live around here? Does your owner know you are away from home?"

They're not going to send you back to him, right? They wouldn't do that? I mean, you could explain it, but would he believe you? What if you just say you were out on a stroll? Maybe they will let you leave peacefully?

"I-I... M-My home..."

It took one pleading look from Wooyung to make you break down.

"Please don't send me back! I swear I will never come close to your shop, just please don't make me go back!"

Tears were starting to slide down your cheeks, and the men felt crushed. There you were, an incredibly cute bunny hybrid, all alone in the cold. You were so afraid of going back home you were shaking. Wooyoung felt miserable looking at you. He had his Seonghwa, a bed, food, shelter from the storm...

He didn't know what to say. For the first time in forever, he was speechless.

His brain, however, worked overtime. It clicked.

"We can take you with us! Right Hwa? She can come with us?"

You froze, tears still falling down, and looked wide eyed at Wooyoung. Seonghwa's mouth dropped open, and he turned towards his hybrid.

"Wooyoung! You can't just say that." The cat grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Please Hwa! Look at her! We can't leave her like this." He pushed him away and rushed towards you. His arms went around you, and you tried breaking free, but he was much stronger than you.

"Wooyoung, let the poor thing go! You're scaring her!"

Seonghwa tried prying his hands off you, but to no avail. He wasn't letting go, and your tears weren't letting up.

"I'm so tired... Please, just let me go..."

You stopped shaking after feeling his warmth, and you honestly haven't felt it in so long you almost forgot how it was.

The men noticed you were calming down slowly, and Seonghwa was at a crossroad.

"Please Hwa, look at the poor thing."

Seonghwa sighed. He hated when Wooyoung was right, but he had to agree with him. They couldn't let her stay outside in this condition. She was clearly frightened, cold, and who knows what she's been through.

"Y/N... Do you want to come with us? We can give you some real food, and a warm bed. Wooyoung won't mind sleeping on the couch tonight, is that right?"

Wooyoung loved his bed, and he hated sharing it, but he didn't even think twice before answering.

"Yes! You can have my bed, and my fuzzy socks. I will even give you my favourite blanket. It has kitties all over it."

Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh. His hybrid was one of a kind, and he loved him for it. They watched the poor bunny as she slowly looked up from Wooyoung's chest.

"C-Can I? I-I promise I'll be gone tomorrow."

"What? No! You're not going anywhere!" She looked up at the cat, and he was almost offended by her statement.

"Come on now, we'll talk about it tomorrow when you're rested. Woo, let the poor girl go now, you'll suffocate her." He tried prying his hands off the bunny, but to no avail.

"She doesn't mind, right? Stop trying to separate us!"

"A-Actually, you're kind of making it hard to breathe."

Seonghwa gave Wooyoung a hard look, and he reluctantly let go.

"Fine, but I'm hugging you again later. You're really soft."

You swayed on your feet a bit as his arms let go. It was obvious you were tired, so Seonghwa rushed inside to pick up his things and lock up. Meanwhile, Wooyoung took the plate and spoon in his hands. He smiled at you, offering it again.

"It would be a shame to let it go to waste, we'll take it home with us."

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. The thought of cake made you a bit sick at the moment.

Before Wooyoung could start blabbing again, Seonghwa came out with his bag and locked the door behind him.

"Okay, we're all set. Our apartment is just around the corner, are you okay to walk? We have an umbrella, you and Wooyoung can share it."

He handed over the large yellow umbrella, but Wooyoung quickly shook his head.

"I don't need it, give it to her." His owner's eyes almost bulged out of his head. The cat hated getting wet. He must really like you if he was willing to get drenched for you. Seonghwa watched as his hybrid wrapped his red sweater around your shoulders, careful not to scare you again. He then opened the umbrella and made sure you had a good grip on it before turning to Seonghwa and gesturing that they should go.

They made their way down the street, not exactly rushing because they knew you probably couldn't go very fast. Seonghwa was a bit lost in thought.

Wooyoung has been in his life for almost three years now. They were both young when Seonghwa adopted him from a shelter. He didn't like how people treated hybrids, because at the end of the day, they were still part human. He decided he would find himself a companion, someone to share meals with, talk, and have fun. He was a nurturing person, so the prospect of taking care of someone came naturally for him. Wooyoung was a firecracker from the start. He didn't hide his rambunctious personality, and he always kept Seonghwa on his toes. They had a strong bond, and everybody in Seonghwa's life adored the lovely black cat. When he opened up the bakery two years ago, Woo insisted on being the first customer. With the money he saved up doing online photography commission, he bought almost every dessert in the display. He even left a hefty tip. The joy on his face made Seonghwa melt, and he adored how happy he was.

They talked about making their family of two bigger by adopting another hybrid, but soon decided it was best they stay as they are until Seonghwa found someone he wanted to settle down with. Wooyoung wasn't jealous, but he loved his space and he didn't like sharing it. It was obvious why Seonghwa was taken aback by his wish to take the little bunny home with them.

He turned around and glanced at them, hearing Wooyoung talk about how nice his bed was, how his Hwa makes the best pancakes in the morning, and how they were going to make her a bubble bath once they got to the apartment. The bunny looked at her feet, struggling to hold onto the umbrella. She only nodded along to the other hybrid's words, but no sound came from her.

She must have had it rough out in the streets. Who knows what she's been through. One look at her could tell it wasn't a nice experience. He could only hope she would eventually trust them enough to tell her story.

After a quick walk, they arrived at their apartment building.

"Look bunny, here we are! Come on, come on, let's hurry inside."

Wooyoung rushed past Seonghwa, handing him the umbrella. He was still clutching the plate with two very wet pieces of carrot cake. His determination was sometimes overshadowed with his carelessness.

"Wooyoung, don't hassle the poor girl. It's okay, you don't have to rush. We live on the fourth floor, are you okay with taking the elevator?"

He looked at the shivering bunny, and she only nodded in response.

With a sigh, they caught up to Wooyoung who was already holding the door to the elevator open.

"Come on slow pokes! Our bunny needs to warm up!"

His owner raised an eyebrow. 'Our bunny'?

He was clearly thinking they were going to keep her. Maybe they could, but they first had to get her settled for the night, then they could talk about it more thoroughly.

The dim light cast a shadow over her, and it was apparent how tired she was. The dark bags under her eyes stood out even more. There was a sharp tug in Seonghwa's chest, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Poor little thing.

Once they made it to their door, his cat practically oozed joy. He put the key in and unlocked it, and Wooyung bolted inside.

"So here we are! Shoes go onto the rack by the door, we don't want Hwa to have a meltdown. Dirty clothes immediately get taken off and thrown into the hamper because the furniture can't be dirty, lastly you..."

Wooyoung stopped talking when he saw her cowering by the entrance. Seonghwa stood next to him, gesturing for the cat to shut up for a second.

"Hey bunny, he didn't mean to startle you. Just take it easy, okay?"

"You want me to take my clothes off?"

He realised what she had in mind, and he flailed his hands around, shaking his head.

"Oh, no. No, no, bunny. He didn't mean it like that! We will give you a fresh set to change into after you take a bath, but you'll do it all by yourself. We won't come near you, I promise. You can even lock the door."

Wooyoung nodded along to Seonghwa's words, realising himself how that might have sounded to her.

She nodded, taking a couple more steps inside. Her senses picked up on the faint vanilla smell, the ticking of the big clock above the TV, and the movement of the small lava lamp on the counter. Their apartment was nice, clean, and homey. She could see yarn balls in every corner of the room, probably Wooyoung's. She could also see a stack of cook books on the coffee table, and she guessed those were Seonghwa's.

"C-Can I go to the bathroom now please? I-I'm kind of cold."

Wooyoung, ever the eager, took her by the hand and walked her down the hallway.

"Of course! You just take your time inside. Here we are." He opened the door and took the liberty of preparing everything she would need.

"There you have all the shower products that you need. You can even use Seonghwa's expensive hair shampoo, he won't mind. He doesn't let me use it because I always empty out his bottle. But you're cute, so he'll let you. Oh! You can even make a bath bomb, look. You have many options in this basket."

He also gave her a stack of towels and told her to use whichever she wanted. By the time the tub was full Seonghwa came inside with an armful of clothes. He put them on the washing machine before turning towards her.

"Here you go. I didn't know what you would like, so you have some sweaters and shirts to choose from. Leave your clothes in the hamper, I'll take care of them later. You can also explore the cabinets above the sink, we have many products. Take as much time as you need, we'll be in the living room. Would you like to eat something?"

She forgot about food for a second. Her stomach rumbled a bit, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Some bread would be nice, please."

The boys looked at each other before turning towards her again. Seonghwa crouched down to look her in the eyes.

"How about some warm soup and a bowl of rice? Does that sound nice, bunny?"

She nodded slowly, almost afraid he would take the offer back if she was too eager.

He only smiled. "That's settled. We'll leave you to it now."

He ushered Wooyoung out before the cat made you more nervous, and they closed the door.

Finally, alone with your thoughts, you sat on the edge of the tub and looked at the tiled walls. Never could you have imagined running into people like them. Human or hybrid, your encounters these past few months have been terrible. You were so used to insults, nasty comments and a shove here and there, that the concept of someone being decent long escaped your head.

The exhaustion took over your body, and the warm water was calling your name. You walked over to the door and turned the lock, checking the handle to be sure you were safe inside. After that, you took your dirty clothes off and pushed them inside the hamper. The second you stepped into the warmth, your body almost started humming. As you settled in further, a smile made its way onto your face.

How you've missed this feeling. You submerged yourself completely, wetting your hair and ears before leaning against the tub. There was a variety of bottles in a small plastic container on the shelf, and you picked a random one to start washing yourself.

If Wooyoung said you had free reign, you might just use it. God knows when you'll be able to again.

"Please Hwa! She is clearly in need of a home. I don't mind, really. I want her with us!"

"Wooyoung, for the love of God, you've only just met this girl. How can you be so infatuated already?"

The excited hybrid went to the fridge and pulled out various ingredients to make the bunny something to eat. He knew she would mainly go for vegetables, so he made sure he had lots of those. Maybe he could make her a quick salad while heating up the soup?

"Listen, hyung, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'm sure you like her as well, you just won't say it. Look at her! She is so tiny, and soft, and she smells so sweet... She's perfect for us. And I won't be so bored when you're at work."

"You sit at the bakery most of the time."

Wooyoung scoffed.

"Yeah, well, I want to sit at home, but I don't want to be alone!"

Oh. That was new. Seonghwa was kind of stunned for a moment before he really took a good look at the rowdy cat. He looked kind of... Sad.

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner? We agreed a year ago we wouldn't bring more hybrids to the house."

He was now aggressively chopping some lettuce, and Seonghwa was worried he'd chop a finger off.

"I know, I was there. I was the initiator of that conversation. I just... Sometimes I wanna sit here, on my favourite couch, and just do nothing. But I hate being alone. I thought you would be mad at me."

Seonghwa quickly walked over to him. He opened his arms and the cat rushed into a hug.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't notice it sooner. I'm not mad at you, I'm surprised you've managed to keep it to yourself this long."

They both chucked and enjoyed each other's embrace. Wooyoung was affectionate, his love language being physical touch, so Seonghwa had to cuddle him all the time. It's not like he minded, it gave him a sense of calmness as well. Although most of the time he had to measure his blood pressure to make sure it didn't go over the roof.

"Does that mean we can keep her? She can stay here and be with me? I promise I'll take care of her!"

Seonghwa stayed silent, thinking about how their lives would change if they took her in. She was clearly in need of it, and Wooyoung had a point. It might give him some space to do things on his own, and he liked that.

"Listen, I'm saying we can talk to her about it, and if she says yes..."

Wooyoung squeezed him again, rubbing his cheek all over his shoulders and neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't wait to tell her!"

As if sensing they were talking about you, you slowly emerged from the hallway.

"I-Im done. S-Sorry I took so long, it felt really nice."

If they could have melted on the spot they would've. You were as cute as a button, with your wet hair and ears, swimming in Seonghwa's sweatshirt and Wooyoung's pants. You bare feet tapped on the ground, and you nervously grabbed the hem of the shirt in your small hands.

Wooyoung detached himself from Hwa and made his way over to you.

"Look at you! Oh, let me get my fuzzy socks, I have tons! And I'll get a hairbrush and the dryer. We don't want you catching a cold all wet like this. Come, come, the soup is ready. Hyung, make sure she eats a lot!"

He went around you, sniffing slightly and smiling when he caught a whiff of his scent mixed with yours. He couldn't wait to properly scent you, so that others knew you belonged to him.

"Come, bunny. Take a seat." Seonghwa gestured towards the kitchen island where three chairs sat, and you picked the one closest to you.

"I-I can sit on the floor if you want."

He frowned. "Nonsense. I barely managed to teach Wooyoung to sit at the table during meals, he'll go right back to eating in front of the TV if he sees you."

So, they had freedom to sit where they wanted? That was a new thing for you. You didn't want to question it, so you made yourself comfortable on the chair. Seonghwa placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of you, next to it a bowl filled with fresh salad, and a big glass of water.

"Eat first, then drink the water. Try not to rush, we don't want you to get a stomachache."

"Yes sir." You nodded as politely as you could and slowly picked up the spoon. Seonghwa lightly frowned at your choice of words. Never once had he heard Wooyoung call him that. It was always something endearing, or a simple 'Hwa'. Whoever had you before made sure to discipline you harshly it seemed. He noticed you glancing at him, still holding the spoon but not taking a bite. Maybe you thought he would punish you if you actually ate? That made him turn around and go to the sink to wash the dishes Wooyoung pulled up while cooking. He would give you the privacy you needed to make sure you ate without fear.

He heard you slurping the broth after a few minutes, and soon enough you started chowing down on the salad. He kept himself busy with his back turned, and only when he heard you exhale in satisfaction did he turn.

You sure made a mess on the table, and your cheeks were still full, but you looked absolutely adorable.

"How was it bunny? Is Wooyoung a good cook?"

"Of course I'm good! I'm brilliant! Look, she ate it all! Good job sweetie!"

You froze in place, swallowing the remaining food, and keeping your head down.

"H-He is. Thank you, Wooyoung."

The cat was beaming at your words, and Hwa could practically feel the praise going into his head.

"My pleasure! I'll cook for you every day! Come now, I finally found the pink socks, and I even found a pink hair tie. Hyung loves pink, but he won't admit it out loud."

Seonghwa gasped. "Hey now. Don't go around telling all my secrets."

"Oh please, give me a break. I don't have time to argue with you right now, I have a bunny to groom. Let's go to the couch, we can put on my favourite movie!"

The girl barely managed to get down before she was dragged towards the living room. Things change, but Wooyoung will always stay the same. He understood to some degree that she was delicate, but that perished from his mind as soon as he let himself be, well... Himself.

"Here, you sit down on the pillow, and I'll sit behind you. Hwa, can you get us some snacks? Thanks!"

Yes, he was unapologetically himself.

"Sure thing Woo... Remind me who the owner of this house is again?" The younger boy laughed, the sound startling the poor bunny.

"Silly you, we share it, remember? I'm the perfect housewife, and you bring in the money! We love money Y/N! I'll teach you how to use hyung's special credit card to buy cute clothes."

He positioned himself behind you after making sure you were comfortable on the pillow. You hugged your knees to your chest, and glanced around seeing his legs beside yours. You were never this close with someone before, but it felt nice with how warm Wooyung was. He slowly started brushing out your tangled hair, and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. Seonghwa came over and you saw him place a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you.

"Help yourself Y/N. There's a variety in there. Wooyoung usually eats all the strawberries, but I'm sure he can share them with you."

"Ha! Of course I can. She can eat them all if she wants." He paused the brushing for a moment.

"Well, maybe leave me one or two, but go ahead!"

You smiled slightly, and Seonghwa's eyes softened. Wooyoung had a way with people, and he could make them comfortable quickly. He was glad his hybrid had an impact on you already.

The moment was soon ruined by a single touch to your ear.

"Hey, let's brush these out as well, you -"

"No!"

You covered your bunny ears with your hands, gathering yourself in a ball.

"Please don't! N-Not my ears. Please!"

Wooyoung could feel you trembling, and he moved his hands in the air.

"Woah, bunny, sorry. I won't touch them if you don't want to."

Seonghwa kneeled in front of you, lowering his head to catch your eyes.

"Hey sweetie, he won't touch them. He didn't mean to scare you. Do you want him to stop brushing your hair now?"

You nodded and Wooyoung's happy face soon turned sad. Maybe he should have asked before touching, but he didn't think it would be a problem. He loved it when people scratched behind his ears.

"Do you want to feel my ears? I sometimes make Hwa pet me for hours!"

You uncovered yourself slowly, turning your head to glance at him.

"Y-You like that? D-Doesn't it feel bad?"

"No! Not at all! Come on, I'll show you how to do it."

He gently grabbed your hand and placed it behind one of his black ears, moving it around to guide you. He let go, and you continued petting him. The purrs he let rumble from his chest made you confused? Jisung only grabbed you by the ears to teach you a lesson. Sometimes he even pulled you around the house. Wooyoung's eyes closed, and he leaned into your touch.

"See bunny? Now that he showed you, he's gonna make you do it all the time." Seonghwa reached over and scratched the cat's other ear, and he looked like he went to heaven.

"I-I see... B-But can you not do it to me, please? Not y-yet..."

You put your hand down, and Seonghwa moved his away. Wooyoung opened his eyes and smiled.

"No problem. But just so you know, I expect scratches from you too now. Your hands are really gentle."

You glanced at him again, seeing the satisfaction on his face. Maybe it didn't have to be so bad after all? You were still queasy about the thought of someone touching your sensitive ears, but it could be an option in the back of your mind.

The evening went on without a hitch after that. Seonghwa helped you put on the fuzzy pink socks, bickering with Wooyoung who was brushing your hair for an hour straight. If somebody had told you this is how hybrids talked to their owners, you wouldn't believe them. You would likely get smacked if you even thought about raising your voice, but Seonghwa only sighed at Wooyoung's screams. Your ears kind of hurt, but it was amusing, so you stayed quiet. They showed you how to turn the TV on, where the pantry filled with treats was, and how to adjust the heater in Wooyoung's room. He didn't want to change the sheets because he claimed it would only comfort you if you smelled his scent. You kind of had to agree with that.

Soon enough, you were tucked under a soft blanket with the two men standing above you.

"Night night bunny! Wake me up when you get out of bed, I usually sleep until noon, but I don't want to miss out on our time together!" The cat waved and hopped out of the room, leaving you with his owner.

"We can talk about everything tomorrow once you've rested. You had a long day." He lightly patted you on the head, avoiding your ears, and soon you were left alone.

Even though the room was unfamiliar, you kind of liked how it made you feel. The walls were filled with polaroids, you could see a camera on the desk, and there were fairly lights on the ceiling.

Your eyes slowly closed, and you fell in a dreamless sleep for the first time in God knows how long. You were finally safe, and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

#ateez #ateez imagines #imagine #fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez hybrid au #poly relationship #mature language #strangers to friends #strangers to lovers #heavy themes

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cxvii666 · 11 days ago

Text

“cuntry boys & city girls”

satoru gojo x reader

“and, oh you know we country boys are only after sex and noise, take me, shake me, i'm a real mess, oh yes. we love the way you city girls dress, even though your head's in a mess.”

wc: 5k

starting track...

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

....

"he's such a cunt."

"who's a cunt?" your sister mumbles sleepily from across the room.

you wrench yourself out of bed and glare out the window. fuck, you were so tired.

you've never felt this physically and emotionally drained in your life.

when your dad had sold you the idea of 'the farmlife' over the phone, it had sounded so delectable. time away from the big smokey city, from the stress of coursework, from looming deadlines. summer sun, clean air. new faces, new places, new sounds, and you might finally be able to get your creative juices flowing, take a few decent photos for your portfolio.

'something different.' your professor had said. apparently urban landscapes and candid but well-structured shots of your friends smoking, or drinking, or doing makeup, or partying, in cool and interesting lighting, was out.

you sigh at the thought of your camera now.

you hadn't taken one good picture since you had arrived back at your family's farmhouse. the fresh scenery, the insane visuals you can get of the clear night sky, of the rolling hills, of the white clouds and the green fields, of the sunsets and sunrises- all down the fucking drain.

because of him.

you scoff out loud to your sister and violently jab your finger towards the window that sits parallel to your bed. the window that leads to the field behind the farmhouse.

the curtain is half drawn, not enough to expose the room, but enough to let the morning light leak in. enough to see him, there, in the middle of the field, just outside your bedroom window, at six in the godforsaken morning.

satoru gojo.

"he always fucking does this!"

and you're correct. he does always do this.

your dad is surprised that his laziest/most efficient, farmhand is finally getting up at the crack of dawn to start his daily chores, like he's supposed to have been doing.

but you know the truth.

every morning, for the past three weeks, he's been outside your bedroom window, making all sorts, any sort, of noise he could possibly make. like the shrieking of chickens you've heard, and the horrible sound of that old stupid tractor you remember from your childhood, except you're not 7 years old anymore, and instead of you driving around on it with your dad, and there's some stupid white-haired boy abusing his power.

and he is a boy. 'such a sweet young boy', according to your mother. he's over a year your junior but, at times like these, the gap seems way bigger.

"GOJO!" your sister jumps in her bed then covers her face with her pillow when you've finally had enough. drawing the curtains all the way back, the morning light flooding the room, you crack open the window to start yelling, "WOULD YOU CUT THE CRAP FOR ONCE?!"

there's a dumb smile that creeps onto the white-haired boy's face when he sees you appear behind the glass windowpane as he yells back, "CAN'T HEAR YOU?" which you barely hear across the sound of the tractor still fucking going. it makes you fight the urge to punch him.

then he points back to you and gestures down to the field "...'GONNA HAVE TO.... COME DOWN-"

and you miss the cheeky giggle he lets out when he sees you disappear from window, because you're already stomping your way down the stairs, through the kitchen, ignoring the good morning from your dad, as you steal pair of his outside slippers, and marching across the dewy fields, extremely irritated.

"GOJO."

ohhhh, he grins like the cat who got the cream as he brings the tractor to a halt and leans his lanky figure out of the side.

"princess," he smirks down at you, and you roll your eyes. he's already so fucking tall, he doesn't need to elevate his presence that much, "sleep well?"

the morning air is still, but it's cold out, he's probably used to the fresh chill, but you're wearing your sleep clothes. goosebumps prick up your shoulder as you cross your arms at him and put on your best mean mug. "no. i did not sleep well."

he jumps out of the tractor, completely unsafe, but totally effortless, and scratches the back of his fluffy head white of hair, "shameeee," though his tone lacks any hints of sympathy, your fingers itch to slap him, "you free today?"

the blank stare that graces your features is almost comical.

"excuse me?"

satoru takes a deep inhale of the fresh morning and stretches out his back as he repeats himself with a yawn, "are. you. free. today."

you shake your head with a scoff as you turn heel with the intention of marching back into your comfy bed.

"i heard you," and you think for a moment, of the vast expanse of procrastination you've been doing, and the amount of work you've yet to do.

"of course i'm free."

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

"you're going into town with satoru later."

"what?!"

your dad spares you a small glance over his shoulder and then goes back to reading the instructions on a bottle of pancake mix.

"i want you to go into town with satoru later," he repeats calmly like he hasn't just shaken up your whole afternoon.

you had fallen into somewhat of a routine since you arrived over a month ago. your dad had inherited this place, the farm and the farmhouse, from your grandad who had passed way over ten years ago. your whole family used to stay out here every summer up until you turned 15 and decided that you were 'too cool for the countryside', you'd rather stay in the city, take pictures, go out with your friends.

so yeah, you didn't know the area all that well and had taken to, getting up at whatever time your body decided, trudging downstairs to eat breakfast, and essentially, fucking off for the rest of the day, until your stomach rumbled and called you back to eat dinner. some days, if it was particularly nice out, you'd explore the fields, snap shots of loose cows or stray rabbits. some days, you'd take your speaker, smoke a zoot, and fall asleep under a tree in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. other days, you'd travel down to the river, and stare at your reflection in the water as you contemplated your existence.

the point is, you had a routine.

so, while technically, as you had said to gojo, you were free, you had also made plans to climb one of the really big hills, smoke at the top, and try and take some clear landscape shots of the entire farm.

"why me?" you whine through a mouthful of apple juice. you sound like a toddler about to throw a tantrum, but you really don't care, "i'm busy, why do i have to go? he's perfectly capable of going by himse-"

"he's going to need help." you don't even think he was listening to you, too busy trying to figure out if he's supposed add milk or not, as he continues on, "i'll write you a list, there's eggs that need to be delivered and i want you to give the fresh apples to that old lady down the way so she can make pie-"

"are you serious?"

"absolutely, her apple pie is phenomenal-"

you tune out your dad's voice and contemplate whether it’s worth throwing a bigger fit.

"you can take the truck."

"done."

the word tastes bitter in your mouth but you’re too tired to argue. besides, your dad’s already moving on, back turned, muttering something about milk ratios and flipping pancakes, and you’re just left standing there in your pyjamas and borrowed slippers, wondering how your day got hijacked before it even started.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

by the time you’ve washed your face, thrown on something clean, and hunted down the stupid truck keys—checking every countertop and pocket twice—gojo’s already out front.

he’s lounging against the passenger door like he owns the damn thing, arms crossed, one leg cocked just right like he’s auditioning for some cursed vintage farm boy calendar. the morning sun hits his hair like he planned it that way, all windswept and insufferably angelic.

he perks up when he sees you.

“wow,” he whistles, slow and lazy. “you clean up alright.”

“shut up and get in,” you mutter, unlocking the driver’s side. “don’t touch anything.”

he obeys, sort of, flashing a grin that says he absolutely plans to touch everything.

you turn the ignition key. the old truck coughs like it’s trying to die and fails. it groans, sputters, then reluctantly rumbles to life—somehow more cantankerous than you remembered. you grip the steering wheel and breathe in deep, then exhale slowly, counting backwards from ten.

it’s just a quick trip. gojo knows where you’re going. you’re just there to help carry the baskets, make the deliveries, maybe tolerate some small talk with old people who’ll ask how tall he’s gotten since they last saw him. in and out. no dramatics.

he props his boots up on the dash.

you slap them down without looking.

“what did I just say?”

“right, right,” he mutters, then—before you can stop him—he flicks the radio on.

the speakers explode with static and some god-awful old indie track, bass cranked way too high for the decrepit machine. it rattles the dashboard, ruins the melody, makes your teeth ache.

you flinch, then slap his hand away from the volume knob.

he yelps like you’ve mortally wounded him. “why are you so violent?” he cries, cradling his hand like he’s been shot. “jesus. i was just trying to set the mood!”

“this isn’t a mood, this is a hostage situation,” you mutter, jabbing the radio off. the silence that follows is deafening. and blessed.

gojo pouts, rubbing at the back of his hand, casting you one of those exaggerated puppy-dog looks like he’s the most wronged man alive. “you know,” he drawls, “you could stand to be a little nicer to the guy making your errands more interesting.”

“you’re not interesting. you’re loud. and this truck is old. and if you break anything, I swear to god—”

“what’s it gonna do, fall apart harder?” he cuts in, casting a dramatic glance around the cracked dashboard and sun-bleached seats. he taps the dangling cow-shaped air freshener with one finger. it spins slowly, ominously.

“this thing has, like, three safety violations just existing,” he adds, deadpan.

you don’t even argue. you just pull out of the drive, gravel crunching under the wheels, and hope—pray—he shuts up for at least ten minutes.

he does not.

but he hums quietly, which is almost tolerable.

and, god help you, the morning sun’s kind of nice on your face through the cracked windshield. even with gojo in the passenger seat.

"why am i so violent?" your repeat under your breath, "why are you so fucking dense?" barely sparing him a second glance as the car starts plodding along the winding roads

"hey, i heard that," he mumbles back childishly. he sits in a silence for a beat, settling in as the gravel drive turns into road, the truck grumbling its way down the narrow lane flanked by wildflowers and rusting fences. you remember this road faintly from summers past—how the hedges always seemed taller than they should be, the way the ditches filled up with water after storms, how birds wheeled overhead in lazy spirals, like they had nowhere better to be.

the silence stretches, not uncomfortable, just full. the kind of silence that hums under your skin instead of sitting on top of it.

his mind drifts. the two of you used to be quite close, well, as close as twelve-year-olds can be.

he was a lonely child. big grand farmhouse, whole piece of land to his family's name, rich parents, and no friends.

so he used to work.

ok not work, your dad didn't start paying him till he turned sixteen, but he used to help. odd jobs around the fields, he must've broken and refixed the back wall of the chicken coop at least three times one summer, but his favourite job was feeding the baby lambs.

so far out from the city, there was no fancy tech for this one, you had to feed all the cossets by hand. and they were fussy, and they'd fight over the bottles, and you'd have to feed them one by one, and you'd have to refill the bottles and clean the nozzles, ugh it was sooo long. that's why you'd come out and help him.

you were so easy to talk to back then, to make smile and laugh. and you were so gentle, with the babies, with him. you used to treat him so delicately. he remembers that well. in a way no one else did. you'd smile softly at him, bring an extra slice of shortcake when you were sent out to bring lunch for your father. if he closes his eyes now, he can feel the breeze of that hot summer day, late in august. he'd spent hours trying to wrangle the horses, an impossible task for a thirteen-year-old, and you dad had given him a short reprieve. in the form of you, and an entire basket of fresh strawberries. a large apple tree as your saving grace, the two of you sat and spoke for hours about nothing, about everything, it was pure magic.

“y’know,” gojo starts again, stretching out in the passenger seat like he hasn’t a care in the world, “i always thought city girls were supposed to be, like... soft life. demure. subtle. not all...” he waves a hand in your general direction like he’s painting a picture of everything you’re not.

you don’t even look at him. don’t have to. the sarcasm practically drips from your voice. “soft life? who taught you that one?”

from the corner of your eye, you catch the slow grin that spreads across his face, like he’s proud of himself for using it correctly.

“i know things,” he says, smug. “i’m not just some backwards country bumpki- left up this road."

“debatable,” you mutter, flicking the indicator and swinging left onto the main road out of the farm. the sky opens up in front of you, all soft blues and lazy white streaks. the kind of view that would look good through your lens, it makes your fingers itch for your camera.

you settle into the silence for all of five seconds before you shoot him a sideways glance. “and not all what?”

“huh?”

“back there,” you say. “you said not all... and then waved at me like a toddler on a sugar high. finish your sentence.”

he hums like he’s debating whether to say it out loud. then, with zero remorse, “you’re just so… vulgar.”

you slam on the brakes. not hard enough to cause damage, but just enough for dramatic effect.

he lurches forward with a yelp, smacks a hand against the dash, and spins to glare at you. “what the fuck was that for?!”

“vulgar?!” you echo, eyes wide. “me?!”

“okay, yeah, maybe not vulgar,” he backpedals immediately, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “but you’re not exactly... gentle.”

“neither are you,” you snap.

he blinks. then grins again. “maybe that’s why we get along.”

you roll your eyes and start driving again, hands a little tighter on the wheel than before. “if by ‘get along’ you mean ‘i actively plot your demise every morning,’ then sure. besties.”

“and i am soft life,” you mutter, exasperated, tapping your fingers against the wheel. “you just don't listen.”

gojo doesn’t respond right away.

so you glance over—and immediately regret it.

he’s already looking at you. that stupid face of his, all relaxed and unreadable, except for the way his eyes—those wide, ridiculous, unfairly blue bambi eyes—search yours like he’s trying to read your mind. or worse, like he already has.

you hate when he looks at you like that. like he sees through the sarcasm and the stomping and the eye rolls. like he knows the exact kind of exhaustion you've been carrying around since before the summer even started.

and for a second, just one second, that ever-present smirk of his fades into something... softer. quieter. it’s not pity, not quite. but there’s something knowing in it, something that sees you—not just the version of you that yells at him in the mornings or threatens to run him over with your dad’s truck, but the you that’s tired. that’s stretched too thin. that’s still trying to find her footing in a place that used to feel like home and now just feels... confusing.

your throat feels tight.

so, you look away first.

“eyes on the road, gojo,” you mutter, even though you’re the one driving.

he doesn’t correct you. just hums, low and thoughtful, like he’s filing something away for later.

and you don’t say anything else either, suddenly way too aware of how loud your heart is in your chest.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

town isn’t so bad.

it’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t turned cruel, just warm and soft against your shoulders as you pull the truck into the small gravel lot that passes for a town center. the streets are quiet in the way small towns always are—like everyone knows where they’re supposed to be and there's no rush getting there. birdsong trickles down from the power lines, tangled up with the lazy creak of an old shop sign swinging in the breeze.

you both fall into a rhythm without talking about it. gojo hops out first, arms looping effortlessly under the heavier crates—eggs stacked in cardboard trays, baskets overflowing with apples so ripe they shine. the homemade jam, too—your aunt’s latest obsession, wrapped in gingham cloth like it’s the 1950s.

you grab the lists your dad scribbled, the little cloth bag with some folded-up cash, and take lead on the front-facing stuff. talking. charming. smiling just enough to make people feel like they’re part of something. you didn’t sign up to be the PR manager of your dad’s side hustle, but somehow, you’ve ended up the spokesperson.

the first few stops are all blur and sunshine. a wooden porch here, a stooped old man there, the scent of honeysuckle lingering in front gardens you half-remember from your childhood. you knock on doors, pass off crates and bundles, nod through stories that start with “back when your granddad ran this place—” and end with an unsolicited hug.

gojo, to his credit, keeps his mouth mostly shut. but he hums, always, some warbled melody you can’t quite place. his voice off-key but kind of soothing in a way that sneaks up on you. at one point, you catch him balancing a box on one arm and pretending to moonwalk on the sidewalk. you throw a dishtowel at his head.

a kid with sticky fingers and grass-stained knees snatches a strawberry from one of the open boxes while his mom apologizes profusely, but you just wave it off. the kid grins like he’s the one doing you a favor.

the market square is simple: a bakery, a tiny cafe with chipped patio chairs, a post office that also sells greeting cards and snacks. outside the cafe, while waiting for the cashier to fetch your dad’s change, you find yourself watching the way the breeze lifts the edges of the tablecloths. the fabric flutters lazily, casting little shadows across gojo’s face as he leans back on the heels of his boots, head tilted to the sky. the wind tousles his hair just enough to make it look styled, even though you know he didn’t even try.

it’s annoyingly cinematic. and worse—it’s peaceful.

you’re not used to things feeling like this. like they belong. like you belong.

someone passing by—an older woman in a sun hat and bright floral skirt—gives you both a look, all crinkled eyes and too much knowing in her smile. “you two make a cute pair.”

you nearly drop the carton of eggs you’re holding. gojo doesn’t miss a beat.

“hear that, princess?” he calls, grinning like the devil himself. “cute.”

you pretend not to hear him, busying yourself with adjusting nothing on the crate like your life depends on it.

the final stop is the bakery. the building leans slightly to one side, like it’s grown tired over the years. ivy coils up the walls in thick ropes, and the windows are fogged with flour dust and condensation. the scent of fresh bread hits you the second you pull open the door—yeast and sugar and vanilla and a little bit of smoke.

the woman behind the counter lights up when she sees you.

"you tell your daddy thank you, now,” she says, accepting the basket of apples with practiced ease and a tap to your arm that leaves flour on your sleeve. she smells like cigarettes and caramel. “and you come back soon. next time I’ll have a slice ready for both of you.”

you nod politely, already halfway out the door, but gojo stays rooted in place.

“what about a whole pie?” he leans against the counter, grin on full display.

she laughs—a wheezy, delighted little sound—and waves him off. “go on, sugarplum. you’ll get your pie if you stop flirting long enough to let me bake one.”

as you both walk back to the truck—gojo whistling smugly, you fighting the urge to throw a baguette at him—the bed sits empty now, crates cleared out, nothing left to do but drive home.

your hands smell like apples and grass, and your stomach growls. but for once, you don’t mind the feeling.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

your fingers are sticky with fruit and your throat’s dry from all the small talk. the truck is quiet now, humming faintly with leftover sun and dust, the buzz of a long day clinging to your clothes and skin.

satoru has his head tilted back against the seat, one arm draped lazily across the top of the bench. his eyes are half-lidded, lashes catching little shards of gold from the window light. he's humming again—something tuneless and soft, barely there.

“not bad, huh?” he says eventually, without opening his eyes.

you glance over. “not the worst.”

he turns just enough to grin, slow and smug. “awwhhh, you’re blushing.”

“i’m not.”

“mmhmm.”

you don’t give him the satisfaction of a real response. instead, you shift in your seat, adjust your grip on the wheel, and focus on the winding road ahead—the kind that loops through stretches of tall grass and sun-bleached fenceposts, all of it golden in the late afternoon light.

but then, right as you’re coming around one of the familiar bends—just past the upper ridge that overlooks the patchy farmland and an old creekbed—the truck jolts once. hard.

then sputters.

and dies.

you let out a groan so deep it feels like it comes from your spine. “no, no, no—don’t do this to me now.”

you press the gas. nothing.

satoru sits up properly, turning the key. the engine coughs like it’s got phlegm in its lungs, then gives up entirely.

“piece of shit,” you mutter, thumping the steering wheel.

“bit dramatic,” he gripes, trying the key again.

the engine stays dead. you both sit in silence for a second, until you mutter, “this thing’s older than both of us. combined.”

“…okay, fair.”

you call your dad. he picks up with a grunt and a casual, “i’ll send geto. he’s out past the ridge, though, so it’ll be a bit.”

you hang up, sigh, but satoru's already opening the door.

“what are you doing?”

he hops out, boots crunching gravel. jerks his chin toward a sloping hill nearby. “there’s a tree up there. figured if we’re gonna be stranded, might as well wait in the shade.”

you hesitate, but the truck is a metal oven, and the hill does look inviting. he tosses you his canvas bag and you follow.

the climb isn’t steep, just enough to get your legs stretching again. at the top, the apple tree looms larger than it seemed from the road—old, wide-branched, knotted with age. its blossoms are pale and trembling in the breeze, petals falling like lazy confetti.

you both collapse into the grass beneath it.

the breeze up here is cooler. the air smells like crushed clover and warm bark. your muscles sag with relief.

satoru digs around in the bag and pulls out a container strawberries, “look what i saveddd.”

you raise a brow. “you hoard snacks now?”

“i’m a complex man. layers.”

you take one and eat it without argument. it’s warm from the sun, just this side of overripe, and sweeter than anything you’ve had all day.

a slow quiet settles between you. not heavy. just… full. the kind of silence that only exists in open air and old places and shared weariness.

he chews lazily and tilts his head toward you. “you ever think about coming back?”

you hum around a strawberry stem. “here?”

“yeah.”

you pause. “i don’t know. it’s peaceful, sure. but i think i’d miss the chaos.”

he grins. “you are kind of a chaos gremlin.”

“you’re one to talk.”

“touché.”

another breeze rolls through. birds chirp high in the branches. a petal lands on your knee and you flick it away gently, watching it tumble off into the wind.

then the white haired boy sits up straighter, squinting.

“…wait.”

you look at him. “what?”

he points, slowly. “am i tripping, or can you see that too?”

you follow his gaze.

and then you see it.

a lamb. impossibly small. white and fluffy like a cotton ball brought to life, wobbling down the hill with stiff little legs and wide eyes like it’s just been born into a world that’s too bright and too soft.

you gasp. “no way.”

satoru whispers, reverent, “holy shit.”

the lamb toddles closer, curious and weirdly determined. it sniffs at the crushed grass, stops just shy of your feet, and lets out a quiet, hesitant bleat.

you both stare like it’s a mirage.

“do we…” satoru breathes, “keep it?”

you blink. “we’re not keeping the lamb.”

“but what if it keeps us?”

you snort, and it turns into a laugh, bright and surprised, the kind that shakes something loose in your chest. birds scatter from the branches above.

the lamb edges closer, and satoru stretches out his hand solemnly, like he’s greeting royalty. “your highness.”

the lamb sniffs him. nudges his palm. he looks like he’s been knighted.

“i’m naming her strawberry.”

“you don’t even know if it’s a girl.”

“don’t care. she’s a strawberry.”

you reach out too. your fingers brush soft wool, and she leans into it like she knows you. like maybe she does.

the three of you sit there in the shade—two idiots and a lamb—while the sky leans toward gold and the air thickens with the smell of summer.

satoru tosses a strawberry stem into the grass and exhales, deep and easy.

“you know,” he murmurs, “this doesn’t suck.”

you look out over the hills, the still truck below, the tiny lamb dozing now between you.

and you nod. “no. it really doesn’t.”

suddenly satoru shifts beside you, rummaging through the canvas bag he’d tossed down earlier. “oh,” he says, like he just remembered something. “here.”

he hands you something small and clunky—a little digital camera, scratched around the edges, the kind of cheap model you'd find in a drawer full of old cables and forgotten batteries. you blink at it.

“what’s this?”

“found it in my room back at the house,” he says, leaning back on his elbows again. “figured you might want it. y’know. since your Big Photographer Brain has been in creative hibernation.”

you roll your eyes, but your fingers close around the body of it almost instinctively. it’s warm from where it had been tucked against his side. you click the power button. the lens whirs to life.

“it’s probably busted,” you mutter.

“only one way to find out.”

you glance through the viewfinder. point it lazily at the horizon. the hill slopes down into wild grass and fence-lined pasture, sky blazing soft gold behind it all. the frame looks… good. quiet and textured and gentle in a way that makes your chest ache.

you adjust the angle. snap.

then another—this time of the apple tree above you, its branches crooked like arms in dance. and again, lower: the lamb, dozing with her tiny legs tucked beneath her, fur catching the sun.

you shift slightly and point the camera at satoru. he’s squinting at you, hand shielding his eyes, mouth pulled into a lazy grin.

click.

“did you just take a picture of me?” he says, half-amused, half-smug.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you say, checking the screen. but the shot’s good. annoyingly good. sun-glow across his cheekbones, shadows soft, that stupid glint in his eyes.

it feels easy. it hasn’t felt easy in a long time.

you snap one more. just the strawberries, half-eaten in the basket. the shadows stretching long.

then, far off, the crunch of gravel and the low hum of an engine drifting closer.

you both look up.

a truck pulls into view from around the bend—familiar, beat-up in a different way than yours, the silhouette in the driver’s seat unmistakable even from here.

satoru raises a hand lazily. “sir geto of the ridge has arrived.”

you stifle a smile, brushing the dirt from your shorts as you get to your feet. the lamb lets out a soft bleat, like she’s mildly offended that you’re leaving.

you glance back once more as you start down the slope—at the tree, at the light, at him still lounging in the grass with that grin on his face, and, in this lighting, he looks less like a cunt.

the camera swings from your wrist, and you think:

maybe you’ll keep this one.

maybe you’ll print it.

....end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD YET DONT KILL ME

hey sweetiesss im out of hibernation neow, so take this as a piece offering, leave an ask in my inbox and i'll add you to the taglist or you can comment hear asw ig i have lots of shittt in my drafts that im excited to finish 😫🙏

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x black reader

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astrolook · 1 month ago

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The Catalyst Synastry That Triggers Your Destruction (and Rebirth) 🔥💀

Note: These are just my personal observations over the years and should not be taken as absolute truth. Astrology is complex, and every connection is unique. Take what resonates and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments!😉

Some people come into your life to love you. Others? To flip your entire existence upside down, burn it to the ground, and force you into a self-help era you never signed up for. Coincidence? Nope. It’s synastry. Let's see some relationship synastry overlays/aspects today!

Their Pluto in your 1st - They enter your life, and suddenly, you’re going through the biggest glow-up or hit rock-bottom and get existential breakdown of your life. No in-between.

Their Mars in your 8th - This person activates your deepest fears, kinks, and paranoia all at once. Either you really love them or hate them with a passion.

Their Moon in your 12th - You feel so connected to them and feel like they can read your mind. It’s because they live rent-free in your subconscious, triggering all your past-life trauma like a fever dream. You won’t realize the damage until they’re gone. And then? Good luck healing.

Their Saturn in your 7th - This one feels like a serious relationship. Until you realize that "serious" actually means suffocating, karmic, and possibly an unpaid internship. They either build you up or age you 10 years. Maybe both.

Their Venus in your 6th - They enter your life, and suddenly, you are doing their tasks like it's your part-time job. They love you. But they also love how convenient you are.

Their North Node in your 10th - Either a career change or a scandal. You will evolve, but first you will suffer. This person can either tear your public life apart and get you a bad name in the society or make you powerful. No in-between.

Their Neptune in your 5th - Love at first sight. Until it’s delusion at second sight. You were convinced they were your soulmate. Turns out, you just ignored all the red flags and created a fanfiction in your head.

Their Mars in your 4th - They feel like home until you realize it’s a home with constant fights. Your family probably hates them or vice versa. Childhood wounds are activated & parental issues are triggered. It’s not just passion, it’s war in your safe space. The relationship is either deeply healing or emotionally exhausting.

Chiron conjunct Moon - They expose every emotional wound you thought you healed. You cry. A lot. Sometimes over things you didn’t even know hurt. It might feel comforting and cruel at the same time.

Mars opposite Moon - They push every emotional button you have. Fights so devastating your ancestors feel it. The passion is insane. The emotional stability is nonexistent. You leave the relationship either stronger or in shambles. They make you feel wanted, desired, and constantly misunderstood.

South Node conjunct Sun - You know them maybe from a past life or maybe from a nightmare. They drain you emotionally, mentally, sometimes financially. You owe them something. You’re not sure what, but it’s ruining your life. You try to leave. You can’t. Not until the karma is paid. When it’s over, you’re relieved.

Uranus opposite Venus - You are both obsessed and repulsed at the same time. Passionate one day, distant the next. You never feel bored but also never feel safe.Just when you think it’s stable, BOOM. Another unexpected breakup. It ends suddenly. And you’re left wondering WTF just happened.

Moon opposite Uranus - One day, they adore you; the next, they disappear. You never know what’s coming next which is terrifying. The emotional highs are exhilarating and the lows are devastating. You’ll never be the same after this one.

Neptune conjunct Mercury - Their words sound like poetry. Until you realize it’s just well-crafted confusion. Miscommunication is a core feature of this relationship. They either gaslight you into a dreamlike state or open your mind to new realities. Maybe both. When it's over, you realize you feel in love with an illusion.

Venus square Pluto - Instant attraction or feels like you stepped on a landmine. This connection will ruin your peace and possibly your bank account. You don’t “get over” this one. You just learn to live with the emotional damage.

✨ Wanna know more about your birth chart or your relationship? DM me for a synastry or complete birth chart reading ✨ and check out my pinned post for pricing! 🌟💫

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gildedsilk · 1 month ago

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You Can Walk Home 🚙

Pt 2/2.

• Sim Jaeyun x Reader | Wc: 1K+ | Angst, Comfort | PG-13 ༻

༺ Masterlist | Pt 1.

The sound of tires rolling over wet pavement barely registered in your mind until a pair of headlights illuminated the sidewalk ahead of you. The familiar black car slowed to a crawl beside you, the hum of the engine the only thing cutting through the quiet of the night.

You didn’t stop walking.

The passenger-side window rolled down, and Jake’s voice—steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—broke through the cold air.

“Get in the car.”

You ignored him, tightening your arms around yourself as you picked up your pace. The rain had started drizzling again, fine droplets clinging to your hair, your clothes, chilling you to the bone.

The car matched your speed.

“Y/N.” His voice was firmer this time, less of a request and more of a demand. “Please.”

That made you stop.

You turned your head, meeting his eyes through the open window. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles taut, and his jaw was clenched in a way that told you he was frustrated. But beneath all of that, beneath the irritation and the stubbornness, was something else.

Regret.

“You told me to walk home,” you reminded him, your voice quieter than you intended, but it carried the weight of the hurt you felt.

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before resting it on the gear shift. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into your arms. “But you did.”

His grip on the wheel tightened. “I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

Silence settled between you, heavy and uncertain. The streetlights above cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the way his eyes searched yours, desperate for you to understand.

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” he admitted, softer this time. “Just… get in the car.”

You hesitated. Every ounce of pride in you wanted to keep walking, to make him feel the weight of what he’d said. But at the same time, you were exhausted—emotionally, physically, in every way that mattered. The fight had drained you, and the cold wasn’t helping.

With a sigh, you reached for the car door handle and slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car immediately enveloping you. Jake didn’t say anything as he reached over, turning up the heat without a word.

The ride was quiet at first. The sound of rain tapping against the windshield filled the space between you, but the weight of everything unspoken was suffocating.

“I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he said finally, his hands gripping the wheel. “I don’t want us to get to a point where we say things we don’t mean.”

You stared at your lap, tracing patterns on your jeans. “Then why does it feel like we’re already there?”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you over it.”

Something in his voice cracked at the end, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. The frustration was still there, but beneath it was something raw. Something vulnerable.

“We need to talk,” you said, voice steady.

Jake nodded, his grip loosening on the wheel. “Yeah. We do.”

And for the first time that night, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t walking away from each other after all.

The rest of the drive home was quiet—not the heavy, suffocating silence from earlier, but something softer. Tentative. Like the space between you both was fragile, held together by the things left unsaid.

Jake’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a nervous habit you’d seen countless times, but tonight it felt different. Less like restlessness, more like hesitation. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

You stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, your thoughts tangled in everything that had happened. The fight. The words you didn’t mean. The ones that still hurt anyway.

When Jake finally pulled into the driveway, he cut the engine but didn’t move. Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of the rain, the occasional drip of water sliding off the roof of the car.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Come inside?” His voice was careful, like he wasn’t sure if you’d say no.

You exhaled slowly, fingers gripping the hem of your sleeve before you nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the rain light but still enough to make you shiver. Jake didn’t hesitate this time—he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before unlocking the front door.

The warmth of the apartment wrapped around you as you stepped inside. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and something undeniably Jake. Familiar. Safe.

You slipped off your shoes, still holding his jacket tightly around yourself as you followed him into the living room. He stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, before finally turning to face you.

“We should talk,” he said quietly.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket. “I know.”

A heavy sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion. “For everything. For what I said. I shouldn’t have—” He exhaled sharply. “I shouldn’t have told you to walk home.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s not the part that hurt the most, Jake.”

His brows furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “Then what was?”

You hesitated, but you had to say it. You couldn’t keep holding it in.

“The way you made it seem like I’m just… too much. Like I’m always picking fights when all I’ve been trying to do is get you to talk to me.” Your voice was quieter now, but steady. “Lately, it feels like you’re somewhere else even when you’re right in front of me. And I don’t know how to fix that if you won’t let me.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might shut down again.

But then he let out a shaky breath. “You’re not too much,” he said, stepping closer. “I promise you, you’re not.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve been pulling away?”

He exhaled, rubbing his temples before finally meeting your gaze again. “Because I’m scared, Y/N.”

That made you pause. “Scared?”

Jake let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Scared that I’m gonna mess this up. Scared that one day you’re gonna wake up and realize I’m not enough for you.” His voice dropped, softer now. “So I started shutting down without even realizing it. I thought maybe if I didn’t say the wrong thing, if I just kept things light, I wouldn’t ruin this. But I was ruining it anyway, wasn’t I?”

Your heart clenched. You hadn’t expected that.

“Jake…” You took a step forward, closing the space between you. “You are enough. You always have been.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable, and it made your chest ache.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Then don’t push me away.”

Jake stared at your joined hands for a moment before his grip tightened, like he was afraid to let go.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I swear, I won’t.”

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. Then, finally, Jake pulled you in—slowly, cautiously, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You went willingly, melting against him as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He buried his face in your shoulder, exhaling deeply like he was finally letting go of something heavy. You held him just as tightly, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin, the words soft but certain.

Your breath hitched.

He’d said it before, but tonight it felt different. Like a reassurance. A reminder. A promise.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his expression open in a way that made your chest tighten.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

A breath of relief escaped him, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you. Slow and deep, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t put into words into this moment.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him as close as possible.

By the time you pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, breath mingling in the quiet of the room.

Jake let out a small, almost sheepish laugh. “So… I guess we’re okay?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Yeah,” you said softly. “We’re okay.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you into his warmth, and for the first time that night, the weight between you disappeared.

The fight was behind you. The words were forgiven. And as Jake pressed one last kiss to your forehead, you knew that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

#Enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jake angst #enhypen angst #angst #mini fic #sim jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake sim #jake #sim jaeyun angst #gildedsilk

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mysticbby2009 · 2 months ago

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Friends Without Boundaries (part 8)

Rafe Cameron smau texting based series rafe being a manwhore cause he doesn't want to realize his feelings for his best friend anything dark mode is Rafes pov

masterlist and series masterlist

part 7??

Your phone won’t stop buzzing.

Sarah. JJ. Even Topper, who usually stays out of it. They’re all blowing up your messages, and you already know what they’re saying.

Talk to him. Fix it. Stop being an idiot.

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and flopping down beside it. You feel drained—mentally, emotionally, even physically. You should’ve seen this coming. You should’ve known you weren’t strong enough to just “stay friends” with Rafe Cameron.

You’d been so sure of your decision, so sure that walking away was the right move. That was, until you saw Sarah's text about how hurt he is.

There’s a knock at your door.

You freeze. No one comes over unannounced except—

Another knock. This one firmer. “Y/n/n, open the damn door.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He sounds mad.

For a second, you consider ignoring it. But Rafe Cameron has never been the type to leave when told, and you’re too exhausted to deal with him picking your lock like he has way too many times in the past.

So, with a deep breath, you push yourself up and swing the door open.

Rafe doesn’t wait. He steps inside like he owns the place, closing the door behind him before turning to face you. His jaw is clenched, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable.

You cross your arms. “You could’ve texted.”

His lips curl into a humorless smirk. “Yeah, well, you could’ve not ended things like that.”

You flinch at his tone, but you stand your ground. “I didn’t end anything. I just—”

“—Pushed me away? Pretended like we don’t both know what’s going on here?”

You exhale sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Rafe, don’t do this right now.”

“Oh, so you get to say whatever you want and leave me standing there like an idiot, but I don’t get to talk about it?”

Your jaw tightens. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

His eyes darken. “Relieved?”

“You were always saying we were better off as friends.” You force yourself to meet his gaze, even though it’s like staring into a storm. “So I made it easier for you.”

His nostrils flare. “Easier for me? Are you insane?”

“Yeah, actually,” you snap, throwing your hands up. “Completely, fucking delusional for thinking I could be around you every day and pretend like I don’t—”

Your voice catches, and you clamp your lips shut before the words slip out.

Rafe exhales slowly, as if forcing himself to be calm. “Like you don’t what? Say it.”

You shake your head, backing up. “You already know.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. When he looks back, his expression is softer. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. But I still need to hear you say it.”

You swallow. Your throat feels tight. “I love you.”

Something shifts in his face. Like all the fight drains out of him at once.

“Yeah?” His voice is quieter now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He lets out a breath, stepping closer. “Good. Because I love you, too.”

Your heart nearly stops.

You’ve imagined hearing those words before—hell, you’ve dreamed about it. But now that they’re real, you don’t know what to do with them.

Rafe watches you carefully, then sighs. “Jesus, Y/n/n, you really thought I didn’t want you?”

You glance down, suddenly embarrassed. “You weren’t exactly clear about it.”

He scoffs. “I literally get into fights over you on a weekly basis. What more do you want?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe, I don’t know, a direct confession instead of threatening every guy who breathes in my direction?”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “That was my confession.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, shoving at his chest. “That’s not how normal people work!”

“We’re not normal people,” he reminds you, smirking.

You groan, but the tension in your chest starts to ease. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he muses, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you love me.”

You sigh dramatically, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Unfortunately.”

He grins. “That’s rough. Wanna make out about it?”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him when he leans in.

His lips meet yours, and—holy shit.

It’s not soft, not at first. It’s all the frustration, all the tension, all the wanting that’s been brewing for months. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you fist the fabric of his hoodie, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless.

“Damn,” Rafe mutters, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “We should’ve done that sooner.”

You huff out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Yeah, no shit.”

He grins, his usual cockiness slipping back in. “Wanna do it again?”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you ever think about anything other than kissing me?”

He pretends to think. “Nope.”

You smack his arm, and he laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can do it again. “Come on, that’s not fair.”

“You deserve it.”

“I do not.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into his chest. His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You okay now?”

You nod against his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I mean, you’re still an idiot, but yeah.”

He smirks. “Good.” Then, with zero warning, he scoops you up and throws you onto the couch.

You yelp. “Rafe! What the fuck?!”

He just grins, flopping down beside you. “Some things don’t change, babe.”

You shove at him, but he just laughs, pulling you into his side. And as you curl up against him, fingers loosely intertwined, you realize—

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

You love him and he loves you you're finally not just friends anymore.

@my-name-is-baby, @lili-swagalicious , @drewsswifeyy , @yktayy9669 , @yktayy9669 , @kissylec, @giouvarlakia, @bsenpai, @imtalkinnonsense, @wtfisastiles, @furiouscopshepherduniversity, @artbymin, @urbimom , @crvcified-kinx , @vanessa-rafesgirl @popou61 @emmaaas-posts @bridgersph @soulsearchinginkauai

im sorryy if i missed anyonee

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absdollievu · 10 days ago

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You said you were different, but you’re the same

toxic!abby x reader

Warnings: none really, just toxic abby

You wake up in a cold bed. The sheets are tangled, your throat is dry, and your head is still foggy from crying yourself to sleep. The sun’s already dipped past the window, casting long shadows across the walls. For a moment, you lie there, hoping—praying—that maybe you just missed her leaving for a walk, or maybe she’s in the kitchen, brooding silently like she does when the guilt starts to weigh on her.

But the house is quiet. Still.

Your chest tightens as you pull yourself out of bed, every step toward the hallway echoing louder than it should. Her boots are gone. Her jacket too. The keys aren’t on the hook. You check your phone—no messages. No missed calls. Just the timestamp reminding you it’s been almost a full day since the screaming stopped.

The argument plays in your head like a curse you can’t shake. The shouting. The slamming doors. Her face twisted in rage, veins in her neck taut as she barked back at you. You’d accused her of shutting you out again. She’d accused you of always picking fights just to feel something.

“You think you’re the only one who’s fucking miserable here?” she had snapped.

“At least I don’t run away from my feelings like a coward,” you shot back.

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you, Abby. I’m done trying to fix you.”

You didn’t mean it. Or maybe you did. But it didn’t matter. You passed out eventually, emotionally drained and heart-raw. And she left. Just like that. No goodbye. No door slam. Just… gone.

The tears come quickly. Your knees hit the floor of the living room before you realize it, and you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you call your best friend. When they pick up, you don’t even try to hold it together.

“She left. I think for good this time,” you choke out, voice cracked and small. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

They talk you down. Sit with you on the phone. Tell you to breathe, to drink water, to stop blaming yourself. And you try. You try so fucking hard. But the pain is curling in your chest like a fist.

It’s past midnight when you hear the door open.

You whip your head around from the couch, heart pounding—and there she is. Abby. Calm. Like she didn’t just disappear for the entire goddamn day. Like your world didn’t just fall apart without her in it.

She shrugs off her jacket. “Hey,” she says casually, like she’s just getting home from work. “Did you eat?”

You stare at her in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?”

She blinks, as if you’re the one overreacting. “What?”

“You fucking left, Abby! No note. No call. You just disappeared after that fight like I meant nothing to you!”

Her jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. “I needed space. You were acting crazy last night.”

That word. That goddamn word.

“Don’t you fucking call me crazy,” you snap, standing up. “You walked out. You left me to cry alone in this house like a piece of shit. And now you want to act like everything’s fine?”

“I didn’t come back to fight—”

“Then you shouldn’t have come back at all!”

The yelling starts again. But this time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation in your voice, no fear of losing her—just rage, built up over every night she came home late, every lie, every time she weaponized silence against you.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, shaking. “Take your shit and leave. I’m done.”

Abby scoffs, like you’re the unreasonable one. “You’re throwing me out? Seriously?”

You’re already gathering her things—jacket, gym bag, her charger, anything you can find—shoving it all into her arms, her duffel, the hallway.

“Don’t come back,” you say, voice breaking. “Not this time. I mean it.”

She stares at you for a long moment. And for once, she doesn’t fight it. She just leaves.

The door slams shut.

And you collapse onto the couch, the weight of it all finally crushing you. The silence is deafening. The anger fades. All that’s left is the ache.

And the tears.

You sit there in the dark, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing into the same couch where you once laid in her lap and thought you’d be safe forever.

But forever ended a long time ago. You’re just finally catching up to it.

⸻

a/n: repost because somehow I forgot the pictures and stuff. Part 3??

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kinzhae · 5 months ago

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✦•┈๑⋅⋯Marriage Of Steel ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

In a world where power and family ties define one's worth, [Y/N], a strong-willed woman from a neglected jujutsu clan, is married off to the aloof and powerful Satoru Gojo. Alone in a lavish yet cold estate, she struggles to find her footing as she faces both the isolation of her marriage and the whispers of disrespect from those around her. Determined not to be overshadowed, [Y/N] fights to assert herself in a world that expects her to be docile, all while grappling with her growing feelings for a husband who remains distant and emotionally unreachable. -Historical Au!

This is a Gojo x Fem!Reader series, I have posted this on wattpad already if you guys want to read it here is the link. This is a historical au! This series will be written by reader's POV. Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Morning sunlight filtered through the thin silk curtains, casting a soft glow over the spacious room. I lay still in bed, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling, my thoughts an unrelenting spiral.

How did I end up here?

The events of the past two weeks felt surreal, like I’d been swept into a current I couldn’t escape. An arranged marriage to the renowned Satoru Gojo of all people—the prodigy of the Gojo clan, with more influence and power than most could ever dream of. I was no stranger to responsibility or duty; my own clan had drilled it into me since birth. But nothing had prepared me for this.

For being a wife.

For being alone.

The estate was grand, more luxurious than anything I’d known, yet it felt hollow. Its vast halls and pristine gardens were unfamiliar, filled with people who barely acknowledged me—or worse, whispered behind my back. And then there was Satoru, my husband in name only. He was rarely here, always consumed by his duties or disappearing for reasons he never cared to explain.

I exhaled sharply and sat up, pushing the blankets aside. If I stayed in this bed any longer, I’d suffocate on my own frustration.

Dressed and ready for the day, I stepped into the halls, my footsteps echoing against the polished floors. I had no destination in mind, only a need to move, to shake off the weight pressing on my chest.

As I passed the sitting room, the sound of hushed voices caught my attention. I paused, listening.

“She doesn’t belong here,” a voice said, sharp and derisive.

My jaw clenched.

“She’s not fit to be the lady of this house,” the maid continued. “Walking around like she owns the place. I could do her job better than she ever could.”

“Be quiet,” another maid urged, her tone nervous. “If anyone hears you—”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

My hand tightened around the edge of the doorframe. I stepped inside deliberately, my presence cutting the conversation short. The maids froze, their faces draining of color.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, my voice cold. “Please, continue.”

The bold one opened her mouth, likely to deny everything, but I raised a hand to silence her.

“You think you can disrespect me in my own house?” I demanded, my tone sharp enough to make her flinch. “Do you think your position here gives you that right?”

The other maids glanced at one another, panic clear in their eyes, but the offending maid stood rooted to the spot, her face pale but defiant.

“I’ll teach you to know your place,” I said, my anger boiling over. “You—fetch me a stick. A small, sturdy one.”

The maid hesitated, but my glare sent her scurrying.

I held the stick tightly, glaring down at the maid who’d insulted me. “Hold out your hand,” I ordered.

She hesitated, trembling slightly, but didn’t move. My grip on the stick tightened. “Do it. Now.”

“Enough.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade, its quiet authority freezing me in place. I turned sharply to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His butler stood just behind him, silent and composed.

“What’s going on here?” Satoru asked, his eyes flicking from me to the maid and back again.

“She insulted me,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

His gaze dropped to the stick in my hand. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps measured. Without a word, he plucked the stick from my grasp, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, turning his attention to the maid. “You’re dismissed. Permanently.”

The maid paled further, tears welling in her eyes as she stammered apologies. Satoru’s butler stepped forward, escorting her from the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded once the room was empty, my anger rekindling.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Satoru replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You don’t need to resort to... this.”

“She disrespected me,” I shot back. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m beneath them.”

“Respect is earned, not forced,” he said.

“Spare me the lecture,” I snapped. “You’re barely here, and when you are, you act like I don’t exist. Don’t pretend you care how I’m treated.”

His expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, perhaps. Or guilt.

“Do what you want,” he said after a moment, turning to leave. “Just don’t cause a scandal.”

The confrontation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stormed back to my quarters, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Emiko,” I called, summoning my new maid. She appeared quickly, her kind face a small comfort.

“Yes, milady?”

“We’re going out,” I announced, not bothering to mask my irritation. “Prepare the carriage.”

Emiko hesitated but nodded. As she adjusted my hair and straightened my clothes, her quiet presence calmed me slightly.

“Are you alright, milady?” she asked softly.

I glanced at her, startled by the question. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, then softened. “Thank you, Emiko.”

As the carriage pulled up to the estate gates, Satoru appeared on horseback, his arrival as inconvenient as it was imposing.

“And where are you going?” he asked, dismounting with practiced ease.

“Shopping,” I replied shortly, climbing into the carriage.

“With no escort?”

I bristled. “I don’t need an escort. I can protect myself.”

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But strength doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not a child, Satoru.”

“No, but you’re my wife,” he said simply. “And I won’t have anything happen to you.”

I glared at him, but his calm resolve didn’t waver. Finally, I sighed, relenting just enough to allow one of the guards to accompany me.

I grumbled as Emiko handed a note to the driver, and moments later, a young guard appeared, bowing stiffly before climbing up to sit with the driver.

“You gave in?” Emiko asked softly, settling beside me.

“Barely,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Let him think he won this time. It’s not worth the argument.”

Emiko’s lips twitched, but she wisely said nothing.

As the carriage rolled forward, I glanced out the window, catching a fleeting glimpse of Satoru riding ahead, his figure disappearing into the crowded streets.

The ride was quite bumpy, Emiko kept talking about romance novels, everytime she mentions her favorite characters her eyes lit up and her speech got more faster. I also liked to read romance book's, at my own estate before I got married I used spent a lot of times reading books or cooking secretly.

My father and my mother were not in love, so growing up I didn't get any attention from both of them. My nanny was the one who always took care of me since I was a kid, she tought me to be polite, helpful and put people in their place if they deserved it. She also used to talk about "marriage, love, bounds." which is not a familiar words for me.

Nanny Miyako and her husband who worked as a chef in our estate was madly in love with each other, whenever she was taking care of me she would tell me about her sweet marriage and how she wanted a kid of their own but that was not possible yet she never complained about it and saw me as her own kid and raised me well.

My marriage with Gojo Clan's son, Gojo Satoru was not anything special. After the wedding he just simply disappeared for his 'mission' and ever since we barely saw eachother. The breakfasts and dinners were quiet since I eat by myself, when the maid's are busy I just walk around the big estate. I wasn't really fond of the maids, gojo and I were distant so they took a chance to gossip things about me behind my back like I didn't exist there.

"Milady, we arrived." Emiko got up and hopped off the carriage easily, I glanced outside before taking her hand and getting off the carriage.

The bustling streets enveloped us as Emiko and I wandered deeper into the marketplace. The vibrant energy of the crowd, combined with the enticing displays of goods, began to chip away at the irritation I’d carried all morning. The occasional clink of coins in my pouch reminded me that this outing was mine to control. Unlike at the estate, where every move felt scrutinized or dictated, here, I had a say.

We passed by a vendor selling bolts of exquisite fabric, their rich colors catching the sunlight. Emiko gasped, tugging gently at my sleeve.

“Milady, look at this!” She pointed to a deep crimson silk embroidered with gold threads. “This would make a stunning evening gown.”

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the smooth fabric. “How much for this one?” I asked the vendor.

“For you, my lady,” he said with a practiced smile, “five ryo.”

I raised a brow at the steep price. “Four, and I’ll take two yards,” I countered.

He hesitated, clearly torn between sealing the deal and holding out for more. Finally, he nodded. “Four ryo it is.”

Reaching into my pouch, I retrieved the coins and handed them over. The transaction felt satisfying, a small but significant reminder of my independence.

Emiko watched the exchange with wide eyes. “Milady, you’re so confident. I’ve never seen someone bargain so effortlessly.”

I smiled faintly. “If you don’t know the value of something, someone else will decide it for you. That’s a lesson I learned young.”

As the vendor wrapped the fabric, I felt the familiar prickling sensation of being watched again. Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of the guard still trailing us at a discreet distance. My fingers tightened around the pouch at my waist, irritation bubbling anew.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, my tone clipped. Emiko followed without question, her cheerful demeanor softening the edges of my frustration.

The next shop we entered was filled with sparkling jewelry, the pieces displayed under soft candlelight to enhance their brilliance. My gaze fell on a delicate necklace adorned with a single emerald, its simplicity drawing me in.

“How much for this one?” I asked.

The jeweler hesitated, sizing me up before naming a price. I didn’t bother haggling this time, simply pulling the appropriate amount from my pouch. Emiko watched with admiration as I paid, her enthusiasm almost childlike as she admired the necklace.

“It’s beautiful, milady,” she said. “It suits you perfectly.”

I held it up, watching the light catch on the emerald. “Perhaps,” I murmured, slipping it into a small velvet pouch before tucking it away.

By the time we returned to the carriage, my pouch was significantly lighter, but my mood was brighter. Emiko chattered happily as we climbed inside, her hands carefully holding the wrapped fabric.

“Do you always carry your own money, milady?” she asked as the carriage started to move.

I glanced at her, amused by the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “most ladies rely on their husbands to—”

I cut her off with a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Not me. My father may have treated me like a pawn, and my husband may not care enough to notice, but I’ll never rely on anyone to take care of me. If I want something, I’ll earn it—or pay for it myself.”

Emiko smiled, her admiration clear. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever served, milady. It’s... inspiring.”

Her words were a small comfort, a reassurance that even in a world where I often felt unseen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Chapter 2⋯⋅๑┈•✦

#jjk angst #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #angst #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk smau #historical au #arranged marriage

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batfamily14 · 6 months ago

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My personal take on how anger looks on the batboys part.1:

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson is eerily silent when he’s angry, which feels almost uncharacteristic for him. Instead of letting his emotions out, he broods and intentionally withdraws, refusing to give his attention to those he’s upset with. He bottles everything up until it inevitably explodes, leading to messy arguments that often leave everyone involved feeling emotionally drained.

The worst part is when he smiles—because it’s not the playful grin everyone’s used to. It’s chilling. That’s when you know he’s on the edge. It’s a warning, and if you push him past that, he can raise his voice in a way that cuts through the air—loud, rough, and sharp.

Dick’s also got a sailor’s mouth when he’s truly frustrated. If you push him far enough, he’ll swear like nobody’s business. It’s best to give him space when he’s like this, because the storm has already started, and there’s no telling when it’ll pass.

Jason Todd:

Depending on the situation, Jason Todd is the kind of person who’ll laugh when you cry. It’s harsh, but he makes no apologies for it. If you pick a fight with him and start breaking down, he WILL laugh in your face. No sympathy, no remorse—just a bitter kind of humor.

When he’s angry, Jason’s vocabulary becomes a weapon. He swears with precision, using every curse word in the book, and that’s when you’ll see his temper come to life. He’s the type to get right up in your face, towering over you, radiating pure rage. If his face turns red and his hands start shaking, you’d better get out of the room because he’s on the verge of snapping.

Jason’s also a master at reading people. If the fight goes deep enough, he’ll start picking apart your insecurities, one by one, with cold, brutal efficiency. The longer you push, the more he’ll dig in and exploit your weaknesses.

And, unsurprisingly, Jason’s a screamer. When he’s angry, he doesn’t bottle things up like Dick—he’ll let you know exactly how he feels, right then and there. His emotions are raw and explosive, and he won’t hesitate to unleash them on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in his path.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #batman #tim drake #nightwing #dick grayson #dc comics #bat boys #batfamily

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etherealrin · 12 days ago

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hiii its my first time requesting buttt i really love your works, so i was listening to paranoia by the marias and i was wondering if you could write a jealous rin itoshi to the point it was draining, resulting in a very angsty breakup thank you soso muchh 😭😭

. ♬ ݁˖ paranoia?

tw: toxic relationship, controlling … fem!reader, wc: 589

itoshi rin has a tendency to become obsessed with things he likes: first the horror games, then soccer, and his most recent niche happens to be you.

and in hindsight, you probably should have seen this coming.

his constant texts when you’re out alone with you’re friends. “are you safe? “come back soon.”

it had all seemed harmless at first, like he’d just cared about you. and his little fits of jealousy—where he’d go dead silent, a bit sulky, and ignore you whenever he thought you preferred a friend over him. you’d found that cute in the beginning too.

like a moth to a flame, you’d set up your own demise. no matter how much you tried to reassure him, sweet talk his insecurities out of him, he’d remained jealous, greener than the grass under your fingers you stare at now. but you’d thought it was fine, that he just loved you. no matter how controlling or difficult he could be, you’d forgive him. because he needs you.

you don’t even realize you’re picking at the foliage listening to him argue with you.

“swear he’s not anything to you,” rin pesters, his long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. “delete his contact!”

“rin, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? you know he has a girlfriend, and we’re just lab partners for this semester—if i don’t talk to him how will either of us pass the class?” the guy in question was a classmate, and you could tell he truly meant no harm, not to mention that you knew the girl he was dating. which you’d constantly reassured rin of for the past week.

“…give me your phone.” his teal eyes have gone cold. is this what you are to him now? some thing that he has to keep isolated at all costs? it’s ridiculous, hell you were with him every morning, evening, and night at this point—so why couldn’t he believe that you had no one else?

it’s even worse that there’s a small crowd forming around the two of you; because of course he had to pick a fight in the middle of your university campus. the onlookers are whispering amongst themselves, obviously waiting for someone to snap.

and you don’t hear the break, but it must’ve been you, because the next thing you know, there’s a rush of adrenaline, your mouth is opening and words are tumbling out faster than you can process.

“itoshi, i’m tired. it’s too much—whatever this is, it’s not healthy. for both you and i, it’s not. if you can’t get your paranoid ass together, no one else can do it for you! i can’t fix you!” you had never once spoken to him like that before. never openly admitted that he might not be alright, mentally.

rin’s standing too still. cold, emotionless. you see straight through his facade though, as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his eyes tell. that your words might have struck too close to home for him.

but you’re still mad, so you don’t—can’t—stop. “and honestly? it’s damn annoying. sorry itoshi, i can’t do this anymore. goodbye, and good luck.”

“w-wait! you don’t mean that…” his voice trails off, slowly twisting at the edges to pure hurt. it’s agonizing, letting his protests fall to deaf ears as he begins to follow you, though you have zero intention of stopping.

it’s been three months since. you tell yourself that it’s better for the both of you this way, like you’d told him then. but was it really, if rin still sends flowers to your front door once a month, on your old anniversary date, with a heart wrenching “take me back” folded into a paper heart attached to the blood red roses?

a/n: hii anon i’m so sorry this took me a while to get to! hopefully you like it :P + alternatively he could’ve called reader a “tepid piece of shit” but given how emotionally attached he was i think it results in a rare moment of public weakness (like in u20 ykyk).

now playing: paranoia by the marías, jealous by eyedress, dark red by steve lacy

masterlist.

#blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock rin #itoshi rin #rin x reader #bllk x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x reader #rin bllk #rin itoshi #bllk rin #凛 ; rin x reader

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talkdutchtome · 1 year ago

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"You're my forever" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . angst with fluffy end )

wc . . . 1250 words )

read my other work . . . here )

request something . . . here )

It was supposed to be a chill night out with your girlfriends, but when you turned up to the bar in tears; things ended up taking a turn. It only took a few tequila shots to spill what was on your mind to your friends. You and your boyfriend Max had gotten into a huge argument as you were getting ready to go out. You had been planning to introduce him to your parents for weeks now, and thanks to his busy schedule it had taken such a long time to find a date that suited everyone; but you had managed it. You found a date that worked and arranged everything, it was finally going to happen. Until Max informed you that he actually needed to be in the factory that day and therefore wasn’t going to make it.

As the argument with Max replayed in your mind, you couldn't help but feel the surge of frustration all over again. It hurt, a lot. This was so important to you, and he knew that, you had checked he was free multiple times but he waited until two days before to tell you that he wasn’t going to make it. He had dismissed your feelings, brushing off the significance of meeting your parents as if it were inconsequential. Your patience had worn thin with his constant excuses and last-minute cancellations. The tension between you had been simmering for weeks, and this was just the tipping point.

In the heat of the argument, harsh words were exchanged, wounds were reopened, and insecurities surfaced. You questioned the commitment of your relationship, wondering if Max truly understood your needs and priorities. Each accusation fuelled the fire of resentment, leaving both of you wounded and emotionally drained.

But as you recounted the events to your friends, their sympathetic ears and flowing drinks provided a temporary escape from the pain. With each shot of tequila, the sharp edges of your hurt dulled, and the weight of disappointment lifted. Laughter replaced tears as you immersed yourself in the lively atmosphere of the bar, surrounded by the warmth of friendship.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, you found yourself sinking deeper into a drunken haze. Your laughter became louder, your movements more unsteady, until you could barely stand on your own two feet. Your friends exchanged concerned glances as they realized you had gone past the point of no return.

With a collective decision, they reached for their phones, dialling Max's number in a bid to get you home safely. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the bar, concern etched on his face as he scanned the crowded room for you.

When he finally spotted you, his heart squeezed with a mixture of worry and affection. You were slumped against the bar, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over. As he approached, you caught sight of him and instinctively turned away, crossing your arms and pouting like a sulking child.

Max couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of you. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked, even in your drunken state. He settled down beside you, gently coaxing you to look at him and assuring you that everything was going to be okay.

For a while, you remained stubbornly silent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But as Max persisted, his patient demeanour slowly chipped away at your defences. Eventually, you relented, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and guide you out of the bar.

The cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, momentarily sobering you up as Max led you to his car. Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, you leaned heavily against him, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. As Max settled you into the passenger seat, you couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to rest your head on his shoulder. With a gentle smile, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead before starting the engine and driving off into the night.

As the car rolled down the familiar streets towards your home, Max stole glances at you, his heart heavy with concern. He wanted to address the issues that had caused the argument earlier, but seeing your bleary-eyed state, he knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he focused on getting you back safely.

Once inside your apartment, Max gently guided you to your bedroom, helping you out of your party clothes and into your cozy pajamas. With practiced care, he wiped away the remnants of makeup from your face, knowing how much you disliked waking up with a face caked in cosmetics.

As he tucked you into bed, Max couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the hurt he had caused you. He wished he could turn back time and make things right, but for now, all he could do was ensure you were comfortable and cared for.

The next morning, you stirred from your slumber, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to you in fragmented memories. As you blinked blearily, your gaze fell upon the glass of water and painkillers sitting on your bedside table.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what Max had done. Despite the unresolved tensions between you, his gesture spoke volumes about his concern for your well-being. With a grateful sigh, you reached for the glass, downing the painkillers in one gulp before sipping the water.

As you stepped into the kitchen, the comforting aroma of your favorite breakfast filled the air, and your heart swelled with gratitude towards Max. He stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a focused expression, and you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly took care of you.

"Hey," you greeted softly, offering him a warm smile.

Max turned towards you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling this morning?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay any lingering effects of the previous night's festivities. "Not too bad, actually. Thanks for asking."

"Good," Max replied, his expression softening with relief. He moved to sit beside you, his hand finding yours as he spoke. "Listen, about last night... I'm really sorry for not prioritizing our relationship. I know meeting your parents was important, and I should've made more of an effort to be there for you."

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a wave of understanding washing over you. "It's okay, Max. I appreciate you saying that."

He sighed, his gaze earnest as he continued. "I've rescheduled my day at the factory so I can make it to the meeting with your parents. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us. I know racing won't last forever, but you... you're my forever. And I need to treat you better"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you listened to Max's heartfelt words. Despite the challenges you faced, his unwavering love and commitment never faltered, and you felt a surge of gratitude for having him in your life.

"I love you, Max," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling you into a tender embrace.

As you melted into his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his love and the promise of a brighter future together, you couldn’t help but be thankful to have somebody who loved you so much in your life

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

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azaharinflames · 21 days ago

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Okay, I come here for my weekly post-ep delulu. It usually comes on Thursday, but I was in a state of shock and, honestly, I was feeling emotionally drained, so. Now it is when I can finally verbalise something I've been suspecting for a while, but that I saw a bit more possible after yesterday's ep.

I think (heavily on something I think, I'm not saying it's a definitive thing) that the show is gearing up to, potentially, have Buck be the new Captain.

Now, per Tim's words, we know the captaincy question won't be answered this season. We'll have an interim Captain (Gerard, this we know), but he'll be there temporarily. The new Captain will be something we'll see come Season 9. So. From here on.

I know a lot of us also wanted to see Hen in this position. And if they go with Hen, please know I will be fucking ecstatic, because I think she deserves it and has worked so incredibly hard for it. But I also think that the incidents from 805, and her NDE in 815, and even the way that almost losing Mara was tied to her job... well, that might make her step down, or decide that captaincy is not what is best for her family. And if the show chooses this path for her, I will only be able to respect that and her choice. Because she deserves to finally be happy with her family, and I get that she does not want to jeopardize it. Even more so after Bobby's sudden passing. I think living through that might put her off the desire for captaincy, and it would ultimately make sense.

However... this past ep also let us see a glimpse of the opposite. Of how this tragedy might motivate someone to step up, take care of everyone, and be a leader. To fight for his people the same way Bobby did. Not only because that's just inherently who he is, but because we have Bobby using their last moments together to tell him he's gonna be okay, that their people will need him.

And that person is Buck.

Buck, who took control of the situation quickly, who has been taking control more and more lately, and who has been shown to be increasingly more comfortable with that. Buck, who has, quite obviously, taken the role of caretaker during this season. I will revisit this a bit later, but the important point to make here is that the foundation is there. Buck immediately went to Athena and started fighting for his team, and they didn't stop until (almost) all of them were out. Buck, who in the preview has already been shown to go and check on Chimney, make sure he can help him.

(I know Oliver mentioned something changing for Buck professionally, but personally, I think that was a reference to losing Bobby, and not to becoming Captain just yet)

Truth of the matter is that I've always believed the end of the series would see Buck as Captain (whether that was in the 118 or, if Hen was Captain there, starting over in a different house). I think that, narratively, that makes the most sense, given that we start the show during his probationary period. Granted, I had not imagined it going down like this, but I've been seeing the potential for a long while, and last night's episode kinda cemented that for me.

They had Bobby quite literally passing down the torch to Buck. Whether that is purely on a moral level or whether that will also bleed into the firehouse, we'll see. But I think it's quite possible that Season 9 will see Captain Buckley, and that his big storyline of the season will be adapting to that. It will also make sense to have this happen to mark the start of a new era, one without Bobby.

Now, as for my guess on how this would work in general:

I think that by making Buck captain, they would also be giving him more mature storylines (which, I think, would feel natural with his character's progression). I think there would be sort of two categories in the firehouse; the OGs (Hen, Chim, Buck and Eddie if he comes back), and then the newest additions (I will include Ravi here because if he becomes a main, it also means a new start for his character. I also think there is a big possibility of having a Grant kid join the firehouse). I think this would feel like a sort of natural progression (by the start of Season 9, Buck will have been at the 118 for almost ten years. He cannot be the puppy-dog of the station much longer).

On a personal level, I personally believe Tim very much intends to settle Buck down with Tommy. Of course, they will have their issues, as every couple in this show does, but I think the intention to have Buck settle in his personal life and be in an unknown world in his professional life might be the move Tim is making. Especially because, as I mentioned before, we've constantly seen Buck feeding and taking care of his team. But the show is making a point of highlighting how Tommy is the only one doing that for Buck.

Also, a small addition to back this up, having Tommy be the sole witness of Buck breaking down is very interesting and very intentional. Because (unless I'm wrong) it speaks of Tommy being the only one able to see through Buck's bs. It also gives Buck someone safe, someone he can break apart with, and someone who he doesn't have to be strong for. The show starting to establish that in 815 feels very important to me.

I don't know. Please feel free to tell me if I'm being too delulu but like, I think this has some potential of eventually happening.

#bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 discourse #911 spec

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almostempty · 6 months ago

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dieter's party (dieter x f!reader)

Dieter’s party (dieter bravo x f!reader) | wc: 3k | other fics

summary: after fighting with your bf and reluctantly attending a party, you find yourself complaining to the host who offers to let you sleep off your emotional hangover headache in the pool house. when your boyfriend finally shows up, it’s a welcome surprise and you accept his apology in the form of sex. but, when you wake up in the morning you’re faced with another surprise.

note: this is my other version of the accidental adultery trope, only it’s the involuntary cheating/wrong bed trope bc that’s what i thought the prompt was originally! other version is here with stalker!frankie. (this is like a month late for the actual challenge but time is an illusion idc; it’s for u bb @auteurdelabre)

warnings/tags: explicit mdni, smut, this IS noncon– but it’s not dark vibes (like how the wrong bed trope in media is somehow played off as a ~hehe whoops~ ???), infidelity/cheating, oral sex, piv, prone bone, drugs mentioned at the party but reader and dieter are sober, boyfriend frankie, again, i repeat, this is noncon- but they’re not real and also they’re into it, REAL LOOSEY GOOSEY flimsy plot pls don’t poke at it there are already enough holes to drain ur pasta, kind of ooc dieter tbh

standard warnings for me at this point: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes aka no beta and limited editing on this bish

You sit sideways on the lounge chair, digging your toes into the sand and massaging your temples. The voices from the party behind you are easier to tune out as you look out over the water. The adrenaline rush of your anger has passed, and now you’re just left with a throbbing headache.

It’s not a bad view. But you resent it anyway. You’ve been abandoned by your friend who dragged you to the party in the first place. She’d assured you that it would be low key, just some people on mushrooms having a bonfire on a private beach. The names and the drugs didn’t sell you on it, but the free night at a fancy beach house was appealing

You didn’t know anyone else, and she’d assured you she’d stick with you until your boyfriend showed up. But so far nothing had gone to plan. The cute little beach house is actually more like a mansion. There is technically a fire on the beach and people on some kind of hallucinogenics, but there’s also a party by the pool, and rooms filled with people on the main floor of the house.

Your friend folded immediately–swooped up by the hot production assistant that told her about the party. You weren’t keen to follow them as they disappeared in search of a quieter room in the house to play tonsil hockey.

You don’t really blame her. Your boyfriend was supposed to be meeting you anyway. Or, at least, he was before you’d got in another argument before he went to work. You’re miserable when the two of you are on bad terms.

Frankie and you are both stubborn and can dig your heels in over the smallest arguments. Currently, you don’t actually know if he’s giving you the silent treatment or if he’s just working late. Either way, you figure you’re allowed to be a little pathetic over the situation.

Yet, you can’t even slink off to have your moody moment watching the waves and the stars. Someone is walking up behind you causing you to sigh. Stiffening, you turn to address none other than the life of the party himself, Dieter Bravo.

He’s undeniably nice to look at, but you’re still moping. Emotionally hungover and irritable. And stuck at loaded jagoff’s party full of nobody you particularly want to get to know.

“Party is that way,” you point past him towards the pool surrounded by drunk people with shiny white veneers and ugly jewelry. He’s unfazed by your snark and sits down next to you.

“Thought you could use some company.” His voice is low and sexy in a stupid movie star way that makes you roll your eyes.

“That’s not even a clever line,” you chastise him.

He flashes a grin at you that makes it hard to keep up the glum aura.

Whatever they say about actors looking better in person rather than on camera is true, and even more so when they’re sitting so close you can smell their expensive cologne. He’s dressed more casually than the rest of the party, but you wonder if it’s part of the quiet luxury mystique with the four hundred dollar t-shirts or if you’re overestimating his net worth.

Dieter likes a challenge. The more you try to shut him down, the more he turns on the charm and flirts with you brazenly. You aren’t immune. He’s fucking hot, and that builds up your ego. You figure it’s harmless to flirt. You’re busy complaining about the social climbers in attendance and how they must be inflating the ego of whichever rich asshole is throwing the party, when he cuts you off.

“And which one are you? Social climber or rich asshole?” He asks, squinting at you like he’s going to take a guess. You play into it, making a few exaggerated model poses–framing your face with your hands and batting your lashes–for him to base his decision off of.

He grins at you with a dazzling smile that makes you break character and laugh. But he doesn’t laugh with you. He just keeps his eyes on you, his sparkling dark brown eyes. Suddenly the moment feels charged, you didn’t realize you were so close, face to face.

“Time’s up,” you say, “I’m neither.” But he’s looking at your lips now and you’re hyper aware of your heart beating faster. Until his hand slips onto your knee and you balk, turning away with a sharp inhale to recenter yourself.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you give him a glare and he frowns briefly.

“Like that’s real,” he scoffs and turns to watch his pseudo-girlfriend flirting with someone by the pool whose hair gel shines under the string lights.

“Oh.” You didn’t realize. “Sorry.”

For a moment, there’s a vulnerability between the two of you that draws you in, wondering what’s behind the curtain with Dieter. His hand, still resting on your knee, squeezes you slightly, and you snap out of his spell. “Well, my boyfriend most certainly is real,” you say. “Unless he doesn’t show up tonight,” you mutter, “then maybe he won’t be much longer.”

Dieter hesitates as if he might have something to add, but you grimace. You don’t want to answer any follow-up questions. He’s too close for you to think clearly. You stand, brushing off his hand, and give him a smile. “I’m going to do a lap. Maybe find my friend or my boyfriend before the sun comes up,” you sigh and give him a final look before you walk back towards the house.

Eventually, Dieter follows.

You go through the motions, introducing yourself to people, laughing along with whoever you find yourself standing next to, and always staying aware of Dieter’s presence. You avoid his path as the two of you mingle and socialize with different clusters of people. But you keep finding yourself catching his eye in every room you enter.

You weave through the house, pilfering some snacks and avoiding anyone’s attempts to talk one on one. You catch a glimpse of your friend, still entangled with her work crush, and continue on your path.

The later it gets, the less tolerance you have for the other partygoers. You find yourself back on the chair on the beach. Alternating between staring at your phone, debating composing a text to Frankie, and watching the waves break along the shore.

It’s not long before your suitor returns, joining you on the lounge chair again. Just as close, if not closer, than earlier in the evening.

“No luck?” he asks.

“Avoiding you?” you quip, and he shakes his head.

“Finding your friends.”

“Friend or boyfriend,” you emphasize for both of your sake, but he only smiles in return. “What about you? No luck with… whatever your goal was?” you ask.

He sighs deeply at that. “There’s no goal. I’m just the host.”

“Oh,” you blink. “I didn’t know this was your…thing,” you wave your hand towards the party.

“Would you have treated me differently if you knew?”

“Worse, maybe?” you laugh genuinely. “I’ve got a few complaints to lodge. Too many people, too loud, nobody is any fun,” you list them off on your fingers, “honestly–”

“Why are you here?” he cuts you off.

“I don’t know,” you pause to think about the real answer. “Thought it would be better than being miserable at home, a friend convinced me, thought it would be fun to stay at a fancy beach house with my boyfriend. Some combination of those?”

You pick at something invisible on your dress. Avoiding the heat of Dieter’s gaze. “Now, I’m just stuck outside with a headache. Why are you here?” you counter.

“I just told you. Did you take something from the guy in the studded jacket?”

“No. I mean, why are you outside with me? Aren’t there drugs you could be doing? Or there was that guy begging you to do body shots in the kitchen?”

“Kind of bored of it all,” he muses, scratching thoughtfully at his bearded jaw.

“Maybe you need a more intellectually stimulating scene,” you suggest. It was more a grumpy dig at the belligerent attendees, but he seems to be genuinely considering your suggestion. You let yourself ogle his handsome features as he thinks. Then his eyes light up and he snaps his head towards you.

“Do you want to go to the pool house?” he asks.

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare and he raises his hands in surrender. “No, I mean there’s a bed. You said you have a headache. If you want to lie down.”

“That’s not where the orgy is happening?”

“No,” he snorts, “I think there’s a sex party across the street, though, if you’re interested,” he smirks at you. You roll your eyes at him exaggeratedly and give him a playful shove. “You wish, Bravo.”

You take him up on the offer to lie down, though. There’s a code to unlock the pool house, giving you a private little escape.

You decide to send the code to Frankie, letting him know you’ll be here all night. Hoping he still decides to show up. You enlist Dieter’s help. He repeats after you, “Broad, brooding, brown hair, brown eyes?”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “If you see him, tell him where he can find me?”

“Of course,” he agrees with a chuckle.

You spring to your feet, eagerly seeking out your solitude. Halfway across the yard you look back over your shoulder to mouth thank you at your generous host. He gives you a nod and a wink that is criminally hot.

You let yourself in and explore the space. It’s bigger than your apartment. You pass the living space and mini kitchen, down the hall to find the bedroom. It’s like a luxury hotel suite. You slip out of your shoes and crawl directly into the bed.

Dieter is still dumbstruck by you. Your our smile, your prickly yet playful aura, your sexy confidence. He lingers outside, caught up in his daydream of you, before he resigns himself to circling back through the house. He shares a few stories, laughs at some jokes, and does his best to enjoy the rest of the night. But his eyes constantly wander back to the the pool house.

He’s drawn to it like a moth. Except–it’s dark. The lights are off.

You’re wrapped up in a down duvet and crisp, clean linens. The noise from outside is significantly dulled, most people filtered back into the main house or down to the beach.

You drift into a hazy slumber, fading in and out. Unsure of the time, too stubborn to check your phone afraid of being disappointed the sun rises before you hear from your boyfriend. It’s still dark out whenever you peek at the windows though, so you keep drifting back off, hoping to wake up to your man. You’re rolling over to stretch, once again, when you hear a soft knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you reply, not fully awake.

The door swings open, and he can see you in the glow of the light from the hall.

You’re luminous even in the near dark, and he pauses before the critical thinking skills come to life and he can see the scowl on your face. “Sorry,” he starts.

Dieter had been wavering since you walked away from him. Wondering if he was reading the right signals. If you looked back hoping he was following. If he was the brown eyed prince you were really waiting for. Now he worries that he waited too long in his indecision.

You squint, eyes aching from the bright light in the hallway, only able to make out the silhouette of the broad shoulders in the doorway.

“Sorry, I thought you might still be up,” he trails off, in that familiar gravelly voice.

“Fucking finally,” you groan. “I thought you were going to just leave me here.”

Finally? He was right.

“Just get in here, please.” You toss the corner of the duvet back, inviting him in.

He’s still smiling in the doorway, thinking of something perfect to say when you lose patience.

“Look, you can either get in here and show me how sorry you are for making me wait for you all night, or you can fuck off–but don’t just stand in the doorway blinding me. Please.” You huff, covering your eyes and rolling onto your side to bury your face in the covers.

You hear the door shut before you feel the familiar weight of his body slipping into the bed behind you, and it’s comforting to finally have Frankie here. You thought you’d be left tossing and turning until the sun came up. Wondering if he was upset or just late.

He rests his hand on you, feather light but deliberate. You melt into his touch, stubborn words forgotten at the familiarity of his body heat. He moves slowly, tentatively caressing your shoulders as his nose grazes the back of your neck.

“Finally,” you murmur sleepily, arching you back to press closer into him, moving on instinct.

“Yeah?” his voice is low, husky and rich. Your favorite thing about him.

“Mmhm,” you mumble, pushing back against him. “So late…” Your body responds to his presence, a heat stirring that’s impossible to ignore.

Dieter’s ego flares. He knew there was something simmering behind your jabs.

“You sure about this?” he whispers against your warm skin, hand sliding up your side.

You assume he’s worried you’re still mad at him. Or maybe he thinks you’re too tired. You reassure him with whispered affirmations and a soft moan as your back arches instinctually, pressing closer to him, drawn to his warmth.

It’s the breathy please that spears hot down his spine. Hearing you beg for him, it’s more permission than he needs. He kisses your neck, unhurried, letting his lips linger on your skin as his hands move along the dips and curves of your body. There’s a tenderness in his touch that surprises even him.

He doesn’t rush, savoring the sounds you make, the way your body responds, and hoe pliant you are for him. Encouraged, he moves lower, rolling you onto your back, and settling between your legs. The sensations are overwhelming. Blurring the lines between dream and reality as he goes down on you with expert precision.

He always knows how to make it up to you without needing words. You run a hand through his hair and when he groans against your soft, wet cunt it draws you to the edge. He’s greedy as you shudder and wriggle beneath him, eagerly sucking at your clit until it’s all too much. Lost in the moment, you’re floaty, murmuring praise between moans as you come undone beneath his skilled mouth.

When you tell him to fuck you, he doesn’t hesitate. He rolls you onto your stomach, sliding his cock through your sopping folds, coating himself in the mix of your arousal and his saliva.

“Oh, fuck,” his raw desire for you makes your tongue go numb. Unable to respond, until he starts to ease into you and the stretch, the angle, the intimacy of his body covering yours–it makes you both groan loudly. He fits against you so perfectly. You’re too drunk with the pleasure to question any unusual differences.

Too lost in the heat of it all. He presses kisses into your spine while thrusting slowly, languidly, and deeply inside of you. When he lowers his chest against your back you can feel his heart beating loudly, like it’s calling to yours. With the heightened sensations and his velvety rich voice in your ear, he urges you closer and closer to a hypnotically intense, rolling orgasm.

When your thighs tremble beneath him and you beg him to come for you, his body responds like he’s under your spell. Throbbing and pulsing inside of you until his weight collapses on you. He rolls you to you side with him, staying connected, limbs tangled like vines and he’s mesmerized by you. Listening to your breathing as you fall asleep in his arms, sated and secure.

When you wake up in the morning, groggy and confused, the first thing you notice is the wrong smell. It’s not your boyfriend’s–it’s Dieter’s. Cold panic floods your body as you realize you’re in the wrong man’s arms. You try to pull away but Dieter’s still asleep, trapping you under his heavy arm.

A dense, searing mix of guilt and arousal swirls within you like lava as you register his hard cock pressed against you and your recollection of the night starts to clarify. It makes you hesitate.

Dieter, feeling your movement, tightens his grip around you and shifts. He’s hard and leaking against you and your traitorish pussy is slick between your legs, throbbing like a siren song for him to fill you up again.

His body unconsciously grinds against you. Your heart races, mind scrambling to make sense of everything. Every kiss, every touch, the way he’d been so gentle and tender. It wasn’t your boyfriend at all. But he made you feel so desired, cherished. Things you haven’t felt in a long time.

Your breath catches in your throat. The shock is dizzying, but there’s a quiet moment of mutual awareness as his breathing changes. You know he’s awake. Waiting on you before he dares to move again.

Without thinking you press back against him, heart fluttering in your chest. It’s instantaneous. He flips you around and you’re finally facing him in the soft light. Barely able to take in his besotted expression before your lips are drawn together in an impassioned kiss.

Your mutual arousal reignites like a blazing fire in the quiet early morning. It’s wrong. But in that moment, the connection between you feels inevitable. It’s as if it had always been building, a force of nature you couldn’t stop.

The shock and guilt fall to the side. Regret doesn’t get enough light to grow. The anger at your boyfriend’s absence whispers convincingly in your ear.

None of it matters when you lower yourself onto his cock, eyes fluttering shut, as his hands knead your thighs. None of it matters when you watch the lust cloud his eyes and his plush lips part as you start to move. None of it matters until you’re startled by the jarring sound of your phone buzzing on the night stand.

You’re frozen in place as the buzzing continues. Dieter grabs the phone, reading the name on the screen. His other hand trails over your hip moving with purpose until his thumb draws a slow, firm circle around your clit.

“You better answer,” he says, handing the phone to you, “think it’s your boyfriend.”

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter x reader #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #dieter x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal fanfiction

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