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buckets-and-trees · 2 days ago

Note

Aspen I am once again emotionally destroyed by your newest installment of your exiled nomad series (in the best way possible)! This series is soooo vivid I feel like I'm actually living the events–your writing is truly incredible.

Will we ever see Steve get protective over her in public? Like see someone harassing her and just happen to be nearby to intervene? Idk if her heart could handle the whiplash (and maybe neither could mine but oh well)

You're the best! Your work brings me so much joy!

Dear lovely nonnie! You are sooooo sweet to gush so much, I'm positively trilling every time I come back and check this! (was sent after the sick with a cold chapter)

This prompt/thought fit quite well into things I had intended for this encounter, so thanks for the inspo and... hope this one continues to bring joy, despite... y'know...

Should've Known It Was a Matter of Time [Exiled Nomad Series]

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 6.9k Summary: June 1-3, 2018. Just the new normal of a weekend of "shore leave" for Steve, getting to spend the time with you, no questions asked.

Content/Warnings: "fluffy" angst; typical entitled misogyny from a side character; domesticity in droves; explicit smut (oral: female and male receiving, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex/ejaculation); likely beard burn; celiacs beware of sandwiches innocently being consumed in a non-dirty way - or just assume that it's gluten-free bread and you're good

Author Note: Yep. We're here.

Previous Part | Series

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Friday, June 1

"I'm sorry, I'm just not interested," you repeated, clutching the books you’d selected closer to your chest as if they might shield you from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation.

The guy—Brad, as he'd introduced himself five minutes ago—leaned against the bookshelf, effectively blocking your path out of this section of the bookstore. His cologne was too strong, and his smile hadn't reached his eyes since you'd first declined his invitation for coffee.

"Come on, just one cup," he pressed, voice low but insistent. "I promise I'm not like other guys."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In your experience, men who said they weren't like other guys were exactly like other guys—especially the entitled ones who couldn't take no for an answer.

"I appreciate the offer, but I’m just trying to get some books after work," you said, gesturing to the books in your arms.

Brad's smile tightened. "Playing hard to get, huh? I respect that." He shifted even closer, his arm now resting on the bookshelf just above your shoulder. "But seriously, what's the harm in one coffee? I'm a good listener, and you look like you have interesting things to say."

You took a small step back, bumping into the bookshelf behind you. "I'm really not interested. Please respect that."

He was proving to be a good listener who couldn’t help but ignore the actual words coming out of your mouth.

"Look," Brad said, his voice dropping to what he probably thought was a seductive tone, "I don't usually have to work this hard. Most women would jump at the chance—"

"She said she's not interested."

The deep, familiar voice behind you sent an immediate wave of relief through your body. You whipped your head around to see Steve standing there, his broad shoulders filling the narrow aisle, expression serious beneath his baseball cap.

"Steve!" The surprise and genuine pleasure in your voice was unmistakable.

Brad straightened up immediately, his demeanor shifting as he assessed the newcomer. Steve moved to stand beside you, resting his hand protectively at the small of your back. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable.

"Hey," Brad said, backing up slightly and raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry man, I didn't realize she had a boyfriend. No harm intended."

Steve's jaw tightened, his eyes cold as they locked onto Brad. "She shouldn't need to have a boyfriend to be afforded the basic decency of being left alone when she says no." His voice was quiet but carried an unmistakable edge of authority that seemed to fill the narrow aisle.

Brad's face flushed red. "I was just being friendly—"

"No, you were ignoring her boundaries," Steve cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. "When someone says they're not interested, that's the end of the conversation."

You could feel the tension radiating from Steve's body, the controlled power in his stance. The temperature in the aisle seemed to drop several degrees.

But it also made something in your core absolutely purr over his dominant actions.

Brad shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between you and Steve. "Look, I didn't mean to cause trouble. I'm sorry, man."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Steve replied firmly, his hand still steady at your back. "If you're genuinely sorry, you'll direct that apology to her."

Brad's eyes finally met yours, his expression a mix of embarrassment and lingering defensiveness. "Sorry for bothering you," he muttered, the words barely audible.

"Thank you," you replied with a curt nod, eager to end this interaction.

Brad gave one last glance at Steve before turning and disappearing around the corner of the bookshelf, his footsteps fading quickly among the quiet hum of the bookstore.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension dissipated.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

You could hold your own, you were used to it, but not having to in this moment? Your chest was warm and full, and you nodded and then tugged him close for a kiss.

"Thank you," you murmured against his lips as you pulled back from the kiss, your heart still racing from both the confrontation and his unexpected appearance. "Perfect timing."

Steve's eyes searched your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. "I was already on my way over when I heard him pressing you. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," you assured him, meaning it now that he was here. "Just another guy who thinks persistence is romantic instead of creepy."

"How long was he bothering you?" Steve's voice carried that edge again, and you could see him glancing in the direction Brad had disappeared.

"Not long. Maybe five minutes?" You shifted the books in your arms. "I was browsing the new releases when he approached and couldn’t shake him despite moving to two more sections. Classic 'I couldn't help but notice you' opening."

Steve frowned, brow furrowed.

"Just persistent and pushy. The usual." You managed a small smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out of town for at least another week."

Steve's expression softened, the protective tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Plans changed. We wrapped up something this morning a few days earlier than we anticipated, and thought I’d surprise you." His hand found yours, fingers interlacing naturally.

You squeezed his hand, warmth blooming in your chest. "Best surprise ever."

"Seems like I had good timing," he added, glancing once more in the direction Brad had gone.

You didn’t ask how he knew you were at the bookstore. It didn’t bother you, and clearly this only worked in your favor.

"My hero," you teased, though there was genuine gratitude in your voice.

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He nodded toward the books in your arms. "Find what you were looking for?"

"I think so," you replied, shifting the small stack. "That new thriller everyone's been talking about, a couple of rom com-y books, plus a cookbook I've had my eye on."

Steve reached for the titles you were holding, a small smile tugging at his lips as he tucked them under his arm. "Cooking something special?"

"Maybe," you said with a playful shrug. "Depends on whether a certain someone is planning to stick around long enough to be my taste tester."

"Plan on it," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. The simple gesture sent warmth radiating through you, a reminder of how much had changed between you these past weeks.

You made your way toward the front of the store together, Steve's hand still firmly clasped in yours. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the large windows cast everything in a golden glow, and you found yourself stealing glances at him as you walked. Even in his casual clothes and baseball cap, there was something commanding about his presence that made other customers unconsciously step aside.

"How long can you stay this time?"

“All weekend,” he answered, “maybe a little longer. We have intel about a meeting we want to monitor happening in Costa Rica either Tuesday or Wednesday.”

Your heart did a little skip at the promise of several days together. "All weekend sounds perfect."

At the checkout counter, Steve stepped forward to pay before you could protest, sliding cash across to the cashier with an easy smile. The teenage girl behind the register did a double-take when she looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly looked away, cheeks flushing pink.

"Thank you," you said as Steve picked up the bag of books.

"My pleasure," he replied, his hand finding yours again before leading you to the exit.

Saturday, June 2

Steve's hands gripped your hips firmly as he drove into you, the edge of the counter digging into your stomach with each powerful thrust. The afternoon sun streamed through your kitchen window, warming your bare skin as sweat beaded between your shoulder blades.

"Mmm," Steve growled, one hand sliding up your spine and then to your shoulder. "You feel so good around me."

You'd been innocently chopping vegetables for dinner when his arms had encircled you from behind, his lips finding that sensitive spot below your ear. The knife and half-cut bell pepper had been quickly abandoned as his hands slipped beneath your shirt, caressing your skin with increasing urgency.

Now your pants and underwear were pooled around your ankles, your shirt pushed up to expose your back. Steve's jeans were barely shoved down his thighs, just enough to free his cock. The urgency of the moment left no time for proper undressing—just desperate need and the primal satisfaction of being filled by him.

"Steve," you gasped, your palms flat against the cool marble as he set a swift rhythm. The angle had his cock hitting deep in you, making your toes curl against the kitchen tiles.

His breathing was ragged against your neck, beard scraping deliciously against your skin. "Couldn't wait," he panted between thrusts. "Watching you cook, being so domestic drove me crazy."

You pushed back against him, meeting each thrust with equal fervor. The domesticity he mentioned sent a thrill through you—this is what having him in your life looks like now. Stolen moments between the mundane, passion ignited in the middle of meal prep.

"Got a housewife kink, Rogers?” you managed a little taunt.

He huffed a laugh. "Maybe I do," he admitted, his voice rough with desire as his pace increased. "Seeing you in our space, making it a home..." His words trailed off into a groan as you clenched around him.

The possessive way he said our space sent heat spiraling through you. When had your apartment become ours in his mind? The thought made your heart skitter, and you pushed back harder against him.

"Our space?" you breathed, turning your head to catch his eye.

Steve's hand slid around to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "Fuck, yes. Mine and yours." His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding. "Want nothing more than to come home to you every night."

The confession broke something open in your chest even as your body coiled tighter with approaching release.

"Want to wake up next to you,” he continued both thrusting and talking, “want to watch you make coffee in the morning wearing nothing but my shirt."

His words paint vivid pictures that made your pulse race almost as fast as your approaching climax. The fantasy of normal domesticity with him—something you'd never dared to hope for even a month ago—mingled with the physical pleasure until you couldn’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

"Steve," you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on the edge as the combination of his cock driving into you and his rough promises worked to overwhelm you.

His hand slid down your body to find your clit, fingers circling with practiced precision. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice strained. "Want to feel you fall apart."

And you did.

Sunday, June 3

You grinned an insanely happy but sleepy grin as you listened to Steve talk to your cat Juniper, who’d followed him into the bathroom, and was apparently curling around his calves as he took his morning piss.

"Yes, you're a very good girl, Junie," Steve's voice carried through the bathroom door, low and affectionate. "Making sure I don't get lost in here, huh?"

You could hear Juniper's responding trill, followed by what sounded like Steve chuckling softly.

You stretched luxuriously in bed, every muscle deliciously sore from the weekend's activities. The sheets smelled like him now.

The mundane intimacy of it—him talking to your cat like they're already old friends, the easy way he'd claimed space in your morning routine—made your chest feel impossibly full.

"Your mom's still sleeping," Steve continued conversationally. "Think we wore her out yesterday."

Heat bloomed across your cheeks at the memory. After the kitchen counter, there had been the shower, then later on the living room couch when an innocent movie had devolved into wandering hands and desperate kisses. Steve's stamina was both a blessing and a challenge.

The flush of the toilet was followed by the sound of running water as he washed his hands. You closed your eyes and burrowed deeper into the pillows, still warm from where his body had been pressed against yours all night.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened wider and he appeared in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, wearing only his boxer briefs. Juniper trotted past him into the bedroom and immediately leapt onto the bed to claim the warm spot Steve had vacated.

"Morning," he said softly, noting your open eyes. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," you murmured, stretching languidly beneath the sheets. "Junie's morning routine did. She's been getting more vocal lately."

Steve slid back into bed beside you, shifting Juniper a bit to make room for him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he settles his big body against you. Juniper abandons the spot, unhappy with needing to move even an inch, but she doesn’t go far. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close so your back is flush against his chest. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin against yours.

"She's very comfortable here," he observed, watching as Juniper kneads the blanket before curling into a tight ball near your feet. "It’s clear she feels safe."

Something in his tone made you turn in his arms to face him. His blue eyes were soft in the morning light that filtered in through your curtains, but there was a depth there that spoke to more than just the cat's adjustment.

"What about you?" you asked quietly, your fingers brushing idly over the hair on his chest. "Do you feel safe here?"

Steve brought his hand up to brush his thumb over your cheek. "Safer than I have anywhere in a couple of years.” His voice was soft but certain. "It's not just the space. It's you."

The honesty in his words warmed you from the inside out. You leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"I love waking up with you," you admitted when you pulled back. "Even if you do steal the covers."

Steve laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I do not steal covers."

"You absolutely do," you countered, poking his chest playfully. "Super soldier metabolism means you run hot, yet somehow you still manage to hog all the blankets."

"Slander," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. "Complete slander."

Juniper stretched and repositioned herself closer to your intertwined legs, purring loudly as she settled again.

Everything in this moment was perfect.

You tilted your head up slightly to you can kiss him, morning breath be damned. His lips were soft against yours, the kiss unhurried and tender.

When you pulled back, Steve's eyes were closed, his expression peaceful in a way that made your heart ache. It was such a stark contrast to the vigilant, tense man who first appeared in your life.

The morning unfolded slowly, comfortably. Steve made coffee while you took care of your weekly cleaning of Juniper’s fountain for water and checked the level of food on her automatic feeder.

After a late breakfast, you sat at your small kitchen table flipping through the new cookbook, marking pages with colorful sticky notes while Steve read news on his phone. You realized you were missing several key ingredients for the recipes you want to try, and the two of you made plans to head to the grocery store.

You shared the bathroom mirror as you brushed your teeth side by side, his large frame dwarfing yours in the reflection.

Steve drove to and from the store, and you enjoyed the ride, the easy conversation, the easy silences, and his warm hand on your jeans-clad thigh as you drove home. It felt so normal, so right, to be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping together.

Back at your apartment, you unpacked groceries together, his hands occasionally brushing yours as you worked in tandem. The domesticity of it all made your chest ache with happiness.

"What?" Steve asked, catching you staring at him as he arranged vegetables in your refrigerator drawer.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head with a small smile. "Just... this is nice."

His expression softened. "Yeah, it is."

“You hungry for lunch yet?”

“No,” he said, “but I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes darkened as he closed the refrigerator door with a gentle push of his hip. The look he gave you made your stomach flip, familiar and thrilling all at once.

"Oh?" you asked, aiming for innocent and falling short as your voice hitched. "And what might that be?"

Steve closed the distance between you in two strides, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. "I think you know exactly what I'm hungry for," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze. "Maybe I need you to be more specific, Captain."

His eyes darkened at the title, and in one fluid motion, he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he secured you against him. Your arms looped around his neck, a small gasp escaping your lips at the sudden movement and the strength with which he handled you.

"I will show you exactly what I'm hungry for," he growled, kicking the bedroom door wider with his foot.

The midday sun filtered through your curtains, casting golden light across the still-rumpled sheets from this morning. Steve laid you on the bed with surprising gentleness, his large body immediately covering yours as he settled between your thighs.

"This will never get old," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair as he nuzzled your neck.

"What's that?" he murmured against your skin, his beard creating delicious friction.

"You. Us. This feeling of being wanted so completely," you finished softly.

Steve lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes intense and searching. "You are wanted," he said firmly, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "More than you know."

His mouth found yours in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. The taste of him, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the way his hands roamed your curves with reverent familiarity—it all combined to make your head spin.

"Too many clothes," you gasped against his lips, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Steve sat back on his heels, pulling the fabric over his head in one smooth motion. You thought you’d get a nice look at him, but the man was too eager to get the two of you into proper states of undress, and you laughed as he stripped the rest of your clothes with eager efficiency. You helped him discard your t-shirt and unhooked your bra, sighing as his large hands immediately cupped your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other.

Your hands roamed the broad expanse of his back, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath your fingertips. No matter how many times you touched him, the sheer magnificence of his body still took your breath away.

"Jeans," you gasped, reaching for his belt. Steve obliged, shifting to remove his remaining clothes while you shimmied out of your pants and underwear.

When you were both finally naked, Steve surprised you by moving back up the bed, lying flat on his back. His hands caught your hips before you could straddle him in the way you'd expected.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice husky with desire as he guided you forward. "I want your thighs around my face."

Your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted. "Steve, I don't know if—"

"Trust me," he interrupted, his hands already urging you to move up his body. "I need to taste you like this."

You hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious despite all the intimacy you'd shared.

"I—" you started, but Steve was already shifting beneath you, positioning his head between your thighs with ease.

"Perfect," he finished, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "Now lower yourself down. Let me have you."

He was more eager than you anticipated. His strong arms curled up around your thighs, pulling you down decidedly to his mouth. The heat of his mouth on your quivering cunt was almost too much because though he’d feasted on you before, he’d never done it like this.

"Oh god," you gasped, trembling as his beard scraped deliciously against your inner thighs.

Steve hummed his approval, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he devoured you with single-minded focus. The angle was intense, allowing him deeper access than ever before. His tongue circled your entrance before dipping inside, then moved to flick against your swollen clit with devastating precision.

Your thighs quivered on either side of his head as pleasure built rapidly. The vulnerability of the position heightened every sensation. Your hands went down to grip his forearms where they remained holding your thighs, trying to steady yourself.

His tongue flattened against your clit, applying perfect pressure that had you crying out. Your hips bucked involuntarily, but Steve's grip held you steady as he continued his relentless assault. The wet sounds of his mouth on you filled the room, mixing with your increasingly desperate moans.

"Steve," you gasped, throwing your head back as he sucked your clit between his lips. "Oh my god, Steve!"

The tension in your core wound tighter with each expert stroke of his tongue. His beard scraped deliciously against your sensitive flesh as he angled his head to taste more of you. One of his hands left your thigh to slide up your torso, finding your breast and pinching your nipple just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

When he moaned against you, the vibration pushed you over the edge. You arched your back as the orgasm crashed through you. Your thighs clamped around his head, but his grip remained firm, holding you in place as he worked you through the waves of pleasure.

As the initial shock of your climax began to recede, you blinked your eyes open again, and then fixated on the sight before you. His cock was thick and hard, precum leaking from the tip. The position suddenly presented an enticing opportunity. You shifted slightly, moving your hips forward while still keeping contact with his mouth.

"Don't stop," you breathed, leaning down to grasp his cock in your hand. You lowered your head and ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein before swirling around the sensitive head.

Steve groaned against your flesh, his hips bucking upward at the unexpected pleasure. The vibration of his moan against your sensitive core made you gasp around his thickness, creating a feedback loop of sensation.

"Fuck," he muttered against your folds, his hot breath making you shiver. "That's too good."

You took him deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat to accommodate his impressive size. The angle was challenging but exhilarating, allowing you to taste him while he continued to feast on you. His hands gripped your thighs more firmly, adjusting your position so he could better access your sensitive bud while you worked his length.

The room filled with the obscene sounds of mutual pleasure – wet kisses, muffled moans, and the rhythmic movements of bodies lost in sensation. You bobbed your head in time with the movements of Steve's tongue, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy that had both of you trembling.

Steve's hips thrust upward involuntarily as you hollowed your cheeks around him, taking him as deep as the angle would allow. The taste of him, salty and distinctly masculine, flooded your senses as you worked him with increasing fervor. Meanwhile, his mouth never ceased its relentless assault on your most sensitive flesh, tongue dancing patterns that had you gasping around his length.

"Can't last like this," he growled against you, his voice muffled but strained with control. The vibration of his words sent another shockwave through your core, making you moan around his cock.

You redoubled your efforts, swirling your tongue around his head before taking him deeper again. The sensation of giving and receiving pleasure was intoxicating, your body still sensitive from your first orgasm but building rapidly toward another.

Steve's hands moved to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly as he pulled you even closer to his hungry mouth. His tongue delved deeper, alternating between circling your entrance and flicking against your clit with devastating precision. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath you, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he approached his own release.

Determined to make him lose control first, you took him as deep as you could, swallowing around his length while your hand worked what you couldn't fit in your mouth. The groan that tore from his throat vibrated against your core, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Fuck—I'm going to—"

His warning came just as his hips jerked upward, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed what you could, working him through his climax as his body shuddered beneath you.

But the intensity of his orgasm seemed to fuel his determination to return the favor. His tongue worked your swollen flesh with renewed vigor, the combination of his beard and lips creating friction that had you spiraling toward your second release. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

When his lips closed around your clit and sucked hard, your second orgasm crashed through you even more intensely than the first. Steve didn't let up, his mouth working you through every aftershock until you were gasping and oversensitive.

Finally, you lifted yourself off him, both of you breathing heavily in the afternoon light. Steve's face was flushed, his beard glistening with evidence of your pleasure, while you could still taste him on your tongue.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice rough.

Both of you were breathing heavily, skin flushed and damp with sweat.

"Jesus," Steve breathed, throwing one arm over his eyes while the other wrapped around you. "That was..."

"Intense," you finished, curling against his side. Your legs still felt shaky from the experience, and you tangled one up over his thigh.

“Too much?” he asked, looking pointedly at you to check in.

You bit your lip and shook your head, “God, no.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “Good, I—"

You put a finger to his lips to stop him.

"Actually," you said softly, dropping your hand from his lips, "it’s something we should probably talk about." You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him directly. "I love how you are with me in bed. How you don't handle me like I might break."

Steve's expression shifted to curiosity, listening intently. "What do you mean?"

"The way you take charge, the intensity..." I traced patterns on his chest, gathering my thoughts. "Before you, I was always afraid to ask for what I really wanted. The few times I tried telling partners I wanted it rougher or... different, they either looked at me like I'd grown a second head or just ignored me completely."

Steve's brow furrowed slightly. "They didn't listen to what you wanted?"

I shook my head. "There was no room to explore. One guy actually told me it wasn't normal for women to want that stuff.”

Steve's expression darkened as he listened, his fingers gently stroking your arm.

"They made me feel like there was something wrong with me," you continued, your voice quieter now. "Like I should be satisfied with what they were comfortable giving. After a while, I just stopped trying to explore and settled for whatever they offered."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Steve said firmly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Nothing at all."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your skin reassuring. "With you, I don't feel judged. You push boundaries I didn't know could be explored. I didn’t know how much release and intimacy could be found in surrendering control," you finished softly, watching as something shifted in Steve's expression. "I trust you completely, and that's not something I’ve felt with anyone else before.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone as he processed your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.

"You have no idea what it means to hear you say that," he murmured. "Trust isn't something I take lightly, especially not from you."

You shifted closer, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "I know your world doesn't allow for much trust."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed quietly. "But with you, even though I know there were times I kept some of the walls up, I learned very quickly that I could let my guard down completely. I can be exactly who I am, not the symbol everyone expects me to be."

The weight of his confession settled between you, adding another layer to the intimacy you'd just shared. You understood now that you were both chasing things that you found in each other. The stolen moments or days that you’d shared over the last year had been dots connecting to get to this place.

"And who is that?" you asked, genuinely curious. "Who is Steve Rogers when he's not being Captain America or a fugitive?"

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment he seemed to be considering the question deeply, as if no one had ever asked him that before.

"I'm still figuring that out," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "For so long, I was defined by what I could do rather than who I was. First as a sickly kid from Brooklyn, then as a science experiment, then as a symbol." He paused, his gaze growing distant. "After I came out of the ice, I tried to be what everyone needed me to be."

You watched the emotions play across his face, giving him the space to find his words.

"I like who I am with you,” he finished thoughtfully.

You trailed your fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest, contemplating his words. "I never saw you as the symbol, you know. Even that first day at the fair. You were just a man. An incredibly attractive man with who could hold a captivating conversation, who saw me, made me laugh, and had stunning blue eyes.”

Steve's lips quirked up at one corner. "Stunning blue eyes, huh?"

"Among other assets," you grinned, letting your hand drift lower over his abs.

He caught your wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm. "I think that's why I kept coming back. You never expected Captain America. You just took Steve Rogers as he was."

"Even when that Steve Rogers was picking my locks and showing up unannounced."

"Especially then," he admitted with a roguish smile. "Anyone else would have called the police."

"I considered it,” you teased.

“You probably should have done it,” he said, suddenly shifting your positions, rolling to pin you beneath him.

“Too late now!”

A playful glint flashed in Steve's eyes and he suddenly grips both your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand. "You know what happens to people who harbor fugitives?" His voice dropped to a mock-threatening growl.

"What?" you asked, playing along despite the flutter in your stomach.

"Interrogation." Without warning, his free hand attacked your ribs, fingers dancing mercilessly along your most ticklish spots.

You shrieked with laughter, bucking beneath him as he mounted his merciless assault. "Steve! Stop!" you gasped between fits of giggles, twisting desperately to escape his grip.

"Not until you confess," he demanded, his fingers finding a spot just below your ribcage that made you howl.

"Confess to what?!"

"Confess that you're taken with a certain super soldier," he said, his fingers continuing their torturous dance across your ribs. “So much so you’re aiding and abetting a fugitive. Providing comfort to the enemy."

"You're not the enemy!" you protested through your laughter, squirming against his hold. "And I refuse to confess!"

Steve's grin turned predatory as he shifted his attack to your sides, rotating and revisiting every sensitive spot with relentless precision. "I can do this all day. Super soldier stamina, remember?"

"Okay, okay!" you finally cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks from laughing so hard. "I confess! I'm completely gone for you!"

His tickling stopped immediately, but he didn’t release your wrists. Instead, he leaned down until his face was inches from yours, his expression shifting from playful to something much more intense.

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that makes your core clench.

You swallowed hard, caught in his intense gaze. The playfulness hadn't entirely disappeared, but there was something deeper in his eyes.

"I'm completely gone for you, Steve Rogers," you whispered. "Have been from almost the beginning."

His expression softened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he releases your wrists to cup your face. "That makes two of us," he admitted before capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless, Steve rested his forehead against yours. "Never thought I'd find this," he whispered quietly.

"This?" you prompt, running your fingers through his hair.

"A home," he said simply. "Not a place. You."

The weight of his confession settled around you, the newness of your honesty about being together - even if you didn’t know how the future of that would look yet - was still so tender, precious, thrilling.

You felt tears prick your eyes at the raw honesty in his voice. Your heart swelled until it felt too big for your chest. You brought your hands up to frame his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

"You are home," you whispered back. "Whatever comes next, wherever this goes—you're home here with me."

Steve's eyes closed briefly, as if absorbing your words. When he opened them, they were bright with unshed emotion. He kissed you again, slower this time, reverent. You could taste the salt of his tears mixing with yours. For a man who had tried to hold back so much emotion for nearly a year, you felt the significance of this gift of unrestrained emotion.

The rest of Sunday afternoon unfolded in lazy contentment, with more time spent entwined in bed before eventually cleaning up and getting some lunch ready. Dinner would have the two of you attempting the inaugural recipe from your new cookbook, but lunch was simple sandwiches, fruit, and chips shared together on your little balcony, feet propped up, enjoying the view.

You were just about to reach for another strawberry when a small vibrating buzz cut through the peaceful afternoon. Steve tensed slightly beside you, his relaxed posture immediately shifting as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out an old flip phone—the kind that hadn't been in regular circulation for years. His expression turned serious as he flipped it open and read the message displayed on the tiny screen.

You watched as his shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly, his jaw setting in that way that told you Captain America was resurfacing from beneath the relaxed facade of just-Steve.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

Steve tucked the phone back into his pocket. "It’s from Sam. He's confirmed our timeline for tomorrow is still on schedule."

Your heart sank a little, but you kept your expression neutral. You'd known this peaceful interlude was limited in time. "Costa Rica?"

He nodded, reaching over to take your hand. "I have to leave early tomorrow morning. Around 4am."

You nodded and tried to give a half smile. A 4am departure meant he intended to stay one more night, and that was something.

“Sam also said to tell you hello.

Your eyebrows shot up. "He knows about me?"

Steve barked a laugh. “Are you kidding? I work with a super spy and a busybody who ran support groups for the VA. They’ve known about you for months, and there’s not a day that goes by without one or both of them bringing you up now.”

You blinked in surprise. "What do they say?"

Steve's cheeks flushed slightly, a boyish embarrassment creeping across his features.

"Sam likes to remind me that I smile more when I've seen you recently. Says it's obvious when I've been here versus when it's been too long."

"And Natasha?"

"She's more direct," Steve said with a rueful shake of his head. "Keeps asking when I'm going to stop being an idiot and make things official with you. Apparently she's been waiting for me to 'pull my head out of my ass' for months."

You laughed despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Smart woman."

"The smartest," he agreed. Steve's thumb traced circles on your palm. "She also may have mentioned that if I hurt you, she'll find creative ways to make me regret it."

A laugh bubbled up from your chest and a lump formed in your throat in its wake, touched over their support.

"She also said she wants to meet you properly sometime. When things are... safer."

The implication hung between you—that there might be a future around the corner where the two of you could be together indefinitely.

“What about Wanda?” you asked.

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Wanda doesn’t hassle me, but she has no incentive to deter them because if they’re not needling me about you, then the focus shifts to her and Vision. That’s where she is now.”

You smiled at that bit of information. Steve hadn’t told you much, but he had spoken a bit about his comrades and confidants a bit last summer and fall.

“Although,” Steve added after another bite of his sandwich, “maybe now that Wanda and I are paired off properly, Nat and Sam will finally have to stop ignoring what they should have together.”

“Really?” you grinned even wider at this further morsel.

Steve shrugged, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Let's just say there's a lot of tension there that neither of them wants to acknowledge. It's been that way since D.C."

"So you're playing matchmaker now?" you teased.

"Not actively," he admitted, "but I wouldn't mind if they figured it out. I can’t shake this suspicious I’ve always had that they knew each other before they met through me - like a chance meeting that yielded some one night stand.”

“No!”

"Yes! I don't have evidence, but sometimes the way they look at each other... there's history there," Steve insisted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And Sam gets this particular expression when Nat enters a room—like he's trying too hard to act normal."

You leaned forward, completely invested in this gossip. "And Natasha? Does she give anything away?"

"Nat? Hardly ever," Steve chuckled. "But there are moments, small things. The way she'll touch his shoulder when passing by. How she brings him coffee exactly how he likes it without asking." He shrugged. "She doesn't do that for the rest of us."

"You're quite the observer," you noted with a smile.

"Had to be. Before the serum, I spent a lot of time watching people from the sidelines." His expression softened. "Some habits stick."

You couldn't help but feel a strange sense of normalcy in this conversation—discussing the love lives of friends, sharing gossip over lunch. It was so ordinary, yet extraordinary given who those friends were.

“They're good for each other. They’re good now, but they’d be better together."

The buzz of Steve's phone cut through your conversation again, but this time it was longer, more urgent—the distinctive pattern of an incoming call rather than a text. Steve's easy smile melted away, and he sighed, pulling the device from his pocket.

But when he looked at the identifier on the screen of the flip phone, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. Something chilled in your veins at the abrupt change in his demeanor.

Steve stood and moved to the far corner of the balcony, his broad shoulders rigid as he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Tony?" he answered cautiously.

Your breath caught in your throat. You could just pick up the voice of the person on the other end of the line.

“No, Cap, it’s Bruce. Tony’s… Tony’s gone.”

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x yn #female reader #curvy reader #aspen wrote something #exiled nomad series

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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 12 hours ago

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Bedtime Books and Brews

Teen Wolf | Sterek | General | 3,160 words

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Derek wrote an entire book because of a crush and will now win the cutes getting together story ever. He would agree to if he didn’t have to recount the story on a popular talk show while trying not to turn a million shades of read.

It all felt so cliche. How many times could you hear about how someone’s neighbors were being too loud so they went to work at a coffee shop/book store/library and ended up falling for the cute employee? Well, you’d have to hear it at least one more time is you wanted to know how Derek fell in love with Stiles.

His apartment was so loud. The couple next door just had a baby. They also either adopted a poltergeist or a cat, he wasn’t sure which, that liked to yowl at random and knocked thing off shelves constantly. It made Derek feel very thankful for his own cat, even if he would glare at Derek as if the noise were his fault.

Derek remember the frist time he told Stiles the cat’s name and how scandalized he was by it.

“You named your cat Darcy,” Stiles asked in object horror.

“What’s wrong with his name? It’s from—”

“Ya, ya. From Pride and Prejudice, which is the correct name to pick from that book, by the way, but that’s not a cat’s name!” Stiles was never still, even standing in place, he was waving and gesturing as he talked. “Cat names are– like– Cardboard or Salami or Shit Head or Cornelius.”

“Do you have a cat,” Derek asked and Stiles whipped out his phone.

“I have two,” he showed Derek a picture. “The grey one is Porkchop and the orange one is Abraham de Lacy Giuseppe Casey Thomas O'Malley,” Stiles said proudly.

Derek just stared at Stiles, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “The cat from Aristocats?”

“He is Thomas O’Malley the alley cat! Respect his title,” Stiles joked.

See, the trouble was, Derek did his best writing at night, meaning there weren’t that many places he could escape to for peace and quiet at nine in the evening. Maybe that was for the best, thought, because when he looked up open coffee shops, he found a little hideaway by the name of ‘Bedtime Books and Brews’.

It was a small, cluttered store but it made it feel inviting rather than hectic. With floor to ceiling book shelves, vining plants, and little reading nooks that were cut into the book shelves themselves, there were plenty of places to sit in the quiet and write. The dark green of the walls continued up to the ceiling where the usual harsh LED lights had been replaced with something softer.

Derek found himself sitting among the classics where a high, locked shelf held special editions. The small table he settled at had a lamp that was meant to look like a candle but was just bright enough to see. He set his laptop on the table and set his notebook to the right. He carefully set out a pencil, a black pen, and an eraser. He looked to make sure he had each color of pen in his pencil pocket, each color corresponding to a different draft. Once everything was set, he only needed to write.

Clicking through ideas and drafts, he tried to find something that drew him in, something he wanted to write. Even if it was just a line or two or a random scene he’d fit in later but nothing came.

Really, he needed to keep working on the next book in his mystery series, the series’s fanbase was up in arms about the cliffhanger of the last book– his main character had come home to find their entire house had be emptied while they were gone and their best friend missing. The trouble was, he wasn’t even sure how the cliffhanger should be sated.

Sure, he knew what was supposed to happen and he’d been dropping small hints about it in previous books– the best friend was planted in the character’s life by the same organization that had ruined the character’s family business and framed his mother for it. He just… he couldn’t get the words out of his head other than to jot down the plot. So, there he was, looking for inspiration.

“Hey, welcome in,” a voice said and Derek looked up from his computer.

Standing at the end of the isle of shelves was a tall man in a baggy, worn band-t with a flannel over shirt, jeans and beat-up sneakers. He had a pair of wired earbuds with only one in. He looked to be around Derek’s age, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, with messy brown hair and a bright smile even in the dim light.

“Sorry, if I startled you. I’m Stiles and, uh, if you want coffee or want to know where anything is, I’ll be in the back at the counter,” He said, pointing at the register deeper into the store, and Derek nodded. “I, uh, also have hot tea and hot chocolate if that’s more your speed. And I just picked up some decaf coffee too, so I can make that. There’s also some cookies and brownies and banana bread too. If you like bananas, you’ll have to tell me how it tastes because it’s a new recipe…” He twisted his loose earbud between two fingers, fidgeting as he stood. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Ya, I’m Stiles so just let me know if I can do anything for you.”

Stiles wandered away, mumbling something that Derek couldn't hear.

With the brief interruption gone, Derek was once again left looking at a blank document. If he could just write something– one sentence– he’d feel better. Just something.

He closed his laptop and sighed. Looking around him again, his eyes caught on a large set of vines hanging down the shelves to his right. All of the hanging vines were coming from a single plant. He carefully touched the leaf, surprised that it was real. There were plants scattered amongst the shelves and he wondered if they were all real and how they survived in the dark space.

Derek stood, looking at the different editions of the stories he loved. He smiled when he found a copy of The Prince and the Pauper. His mother had read it to him when he was younger. She was a college English professor and had raised each of her kids with a love of reading.

Derek had loved books for as long as he could remember. He’d never quite fit in as a kid so he found his greatest escape in the other worlds people created and dreamed of creating his own. In a book, he didn’t have to figure out what other people were thinking or how things he said would effect them. He could find patterns and foreshadowing to know what was next.

He wandered into the mystery section, curious to see if he could find his own name in the rows. He was still surprised and excited to find his own books in stores, even if his series had seen its five minutes of fame on social media– his friend Erica had sent him a video of people in a book recommendation group she was a part of ranting and raving about the first book. Sure enough, he came across his books on the shelf.

He was surprised to see not just his series but a few of his stand alone novels. His face and ears turned pink at the discovery. Someone had purposely ordered his work, not just picking the popular releases.

“Are you a fan?”

Derek jumped, face burning red when he turned and saw Stiles next to him.

This close, he could see Stiles’s face better. He could see the littered freckles and moles, the way the light cough in his brown eyes, his thick eyelashes, his fill lips. Derek’s heart jumped, doing nothing to help the red of his face. God, he felt like a stupid teenager.

Stiles laughed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, staring to put away the books in his arms. “Just putting some new arrivals away and I noticed you looking. The Fortune Lost series is one of my friends’ favorites at the moment. What did you think of the second book’s cliffhanger?”

“Have you read them,” Derek asked nervously. He really didn't like people in his day to day life knowing he'd written the series. He’d only told a few of his close friends and his family.

“Well, not exactly,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got the double-whammy of ADHD and Dyslexia so I usually wait for an audio book but Lydia, she's totally hooked and she'll explain what happens so she can rant to me.

“But you have a bookstore?”

“Ya and there’s a whole section of books with that font that’s meant to help dyslexic people. It’s crazy that they don’t print every book in like that. The first time I saw it in an actual print book was Percy Jackson and it’s so cool the difference it makes. If only there was a font that would help with my inability to finish a series cause, you know, you finish it and it’s like losing the characters but I guess that’s what fanfiction’s for, right?”

Derek nodded, “it is. So you can tell your own version.”

“Man, I wish I could write stories like that,” Stiles said, putting away the last few books he was holding. “I always end up in a mess of words and bad explanations and nothings in the right place. I think a toddler could tell a story better. It really sucks, too, because– you know how people will, like tell themself a story to get to bed– I’ve been making up stories and details about the same world in my head since I was, like, five. I mean, I made up detailed magic systems and what money they use and the way people look and how they talk and their jobs and the creatures they keep and—” Stiles glanced at Derek and cut himself off. “Sorry, I know you don’t really care. I tend to ramble. Do you want coffee or tea or…”

But Derek did care. He did want to know more, but how could he ask with out seeming weird? “What kind of tea do you have?”

Stiles smiled and waved for Derek to follow him up to the counter.

“I like that you don’t play music,” Derek said as he followed Stiles to the coffee bar.

“Huh? Oh, ya. I think must people prefer to listen to their own music anyway, especially if they’re working in the shelves so It just ends up getting distracting. Plus, not everyone likes the same music and my music doesn’t really fit the chill, cozy vibe,” Stiles explain, rounding the counter. “Anything specific you like? Or don’t like? Or are allergic too?”

“I don’t like green tea.”

“Oh, I’m totally with you there,” Stiles agreed with a laugh. “Actually, I think I have one you’ll like.” He opened a cabinet and started to move boxes of tea. He finally grabbed a bag of loose leaf tea and showed it to Derek. “They named it ‘The Fox and the Wolf’ but it’s a cinnamon and raspberry black tea. Interested?”

“Sure,” Derek said and Stiles turned to start fixing his cup.

Derek tried to find the right way to ask about the fantasy world Stiles had been talking about but it sounded weird however he worded it. He repeated the question in different ways in his head, trying to find one that sounded better.

“I really like this tea,” Stiles said, scooping some of the leaves into a bag and starting the kettle. “I got it a ren fair the first time and now I order it off their website. I actually get emails from them every time they restock because they know it’s one of my favorites. I usually end up buying, like, three bags at a time because I’ll get on these kicks where I won’t drink anything else and water is water, you know?”

Derek nodded. “Sometimes I’ll go days where the only thing I can eat are arepas.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. “I do too! But, like, with fettuccine alfredo from this awesome pasta place off tenth street. They know my order as soon as they read my name!”

“I go to the same bakery every Saturday for breakfast and get the same thing every time.”

“I love being a regular at places like that because they know you and then they start to care and it’s a fun little conversation every time you go in.” the kettle beeped and Stiles poured Derek’s tea and set it in front of him. “Hey, maybe this can be a regular thing,” he said. “Ah, but not worries if not! Do you want some banana bread?”

“No, this is good,” Derek said. “My name’s Derek.”

“Like the author,” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. Had Stiles figured out he was the author Derek Hale?

“That’s pretty funny. Is that why you started reading his books?”

“I guess,” Derek mumbled. “Do you… Do you want to tell me about your fantasy world? Since you can’t write it…”

Stiles paused, his smile growing bigger. “Really? You want to know about it?” Derek nodded and and Stiles laughed. “Wow, uh, ya. Where to start? So there’s a bunch of character in the story and they all have really detailed backstories about how they end up meeting. My favorite backstory is definitely Henrik because his family are all able to understand animals and they became the more prolific magical animal trainers– I mean, duh, they can communicate with them– but he can’t do that. He has, like, no magical ability and it totally ended up causing him to be seen as less capable so he decides to train a dragon because even his family won’t attempt to train dragons out of fear.”

Derek sat and listened to Stiles. He asked questions and picked out his favorite parts. Derek found himself wanting to hear more. He wanted to know everything. He sat and listened for so long that someone came in to take Stiles’s place.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, patting Stiles on the shoulder as he rounded the counter. “Shift change time.”

“It’s two already,” Stiles asked and Derek was just as surprised.

“Ya, bro. Two in the morning, meaning it’s time for you to leave,” the other guy said. “Go home and get some sleep or you’re going to die later.”

It only took once for Derek to get hooked– on the story, on the store, on the tea, on Stiles– and he started coming back. After a few days, He figured out that Stiles worked from seven pm to two am Tuesday through Saturday and the shop was closed on Monday nights.

Every night, Stiles would tell Derek about a character or a backstory or some hyper specific detail he’d made up in the years he’d spent daydreaming about this world. Derek wasn’t sure when it happened but he started making notes after Stiles would leave.

He would use his forest green pen and writing down everything he remembered as he sat in the classic literature section with the candle-lamp on.

Then his notes turned into stories. The first one he wrote was Henrik’s backstory. If he ran into a detail he wasn’t sure about, Derek would make a note of it, highlight it in the document in green and would ask Stiles. He wanted to put Stiles’s story into words for him. He wanted to bring everything Stiles fantasized about to life. Derek was sure by the time he was done, even Tolkien would be impressed by the detail given to the world.

Derek really hadn’t intended for it to become a book– he was a mystery writer, not a fantasy writer– but it had. Each chapter switched between Stiles’s characters, telling each of their stories until they met.

He put Stiles’s name before his as the author. In the preface, he explained how the book had come to be, that Stiles gave him every detail and he just made it readable. Then he printed it out.

He printed out eight hundred seventy two pages and then he had it bound.

Derek didn’t know how much time he’d spent on it, how long he’d talked to Stiles in the year since they met, how long he’d spent figuring out with fonts were best for dyslexia, or why he’d gone so far with it. What he did know is that he put Stiles’s fantasy world on paper in a way he’d be able to read it.

He knew he wanted to make Stiles happy and that was enough.

The next day that Stiles worked, Derek changed his routine. He didn’t go to the classics section. He didn’t put out his computer or his notebook. He didn’t set out his pens or spent an hour writing. No, he walked right to the counter where Stiles was labeling books.

“Hey Der!” Stiles smiled at him, checking the time to see if he’d lost track, but he hadn’t. Derek was changing his routine, the one he’d set in stone over the past year. “Something’s different. Care to share,” he asked, noticing how nervous Derek looked.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his backpack and pulled out the manuscript, setting it in front of Stiles.

“What’s this,” he asked, looking at the book. His smile fell as he read the authors’ names. “This is crazy, I’ve never written anything and I’ve definitely never written anything with Derek Hale!”

Derek took a breath. “You didn’t write it but I did.” He reached over, flipping the book to the preface. “These are your stories, the ones you’ve been telling me. You told me how they should go, down to the smallest detail, and I wrote them out.” He took a breath. “I’m Derek Hale. I wrote Foggy grave, Coriander and Lye, and the fortune lost series. When you found me looking at my books on the shelf, I just wanted to see if they were there. And I may have written this but they’re your stories.”

Stiles flipped through the book, looking at his stories. He read his thought out to paper. Every word, every detail, every random detail had been fit in. Things that couldn’t be worked into the body of the story were written as epigraphs st the start of chapters.

“This is— this may be the best thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, this is proposal level shit. Like, I’d be an idiot not to— Date me? Marry me? You made my literal dream into a book!”

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qardenofeden · 2 months ago

Text

contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.

this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.

“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”

you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”

“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.

...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?

“fine.”

“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.

osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.

“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”

“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.

osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.

atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.

and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.

and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.

until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.

“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.

“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.

“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.

your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”

“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.

@deardoelle mwah

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jinwoosbabyboo · 4 months ago

Text

The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb

Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food.

↢ previous ... continue ↣

“Just give me some time….”

What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.

Apples.

“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”

Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.

‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’

Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.

“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"

The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.

You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.

The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.

“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”

He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.

Say something. Say something!

“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.

“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”

You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”

Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.

Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.

Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.

“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.

You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.

You kissed him back with the same fervor.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest “If we keep going I’ll be late for work”

“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.

“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.

“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.

“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”

The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

No he didn’t.

You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.

The windows!

You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”

↢ previous ... continue ↣

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mochinomnoms · 2 months ago

Text

April Fools Part Two, Electric Boogaloo: telling them you're pregnant (but it's not a joke this time)

It's April Fools again! Last year you pulled a (in your opinion) harmless prank and made your boyfriend think you were pregnant by using a fake pregnancy test, which didn't go exactly as you planned.

But this time, you were actually pregnant. It just so happens that you discover this news the day of April Fool's, and with the prank you tried to pull last year, you doubt he will believe you so easily this time. Luckily, you have a brain in your head, and irrefutable evidence to prove you right. But....you know....you still have those fake tests lying around...why not have some fun?

"Hey sweetheart, I have some important news." Withholding a grin from your lips, you announced, "I'm pregnant."

multi x gn!reader

[tw/cw} - sexual humor, crack, dumbassery afoot, some softer vibes, takes place post-graduation

[note] - idk i had a lot of fun with the first part so I thought I'd write a quick sequel to it! the same seven as the last post as well! also silver ended up being longer but like i had to include mal and lilia soooooo

Deuce

Your sweetest boyfriend (fiancé now actually) was staring at you with suspicion, eyeing the test in your hands as he folded the laundry, separating it into piles.

"Riiiight...and that's not the same exact 'test' you used last year." Deuce scoffed as he turned his back to you, picking up his and your clothes to put away.

"I'm not falling for that one again! Especially not on April's Fools, I'm not that dumb!"

You let out a laugh, coming up behind Deuce as you reached into your back pocket to pull out the other three (real) tests.

"Aw baby, I know you're not that dumb." Wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his neck, you smiled as you felt Deuce hum and melt into your touch.

"So, you don't believe me?" You whined into the back of his neck, making your fiance shiver. "So mean."

"Hmph, n-no, I don't!" Deuce gave you a shaky reply as he turned in your hold, his cheeks and ears red. "You won't get me this time, I'll need more than just a test as proof!"

"Oh? Well it's a good thing then,"

A grin grew on your face as you triumphantly pulled up your hands between you two, holding up the three tests like a stack of cards right up to his face.

"That I have these!"

Watching as Deuce's bright blue eyes widened, you continued to explain.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me at first, so I went and got three different brands! I hope you know that it took me drinking a lot of water so I could get these results."

You replied deadpan, though your smile returned as you saw how Deuce's eyes sparkled and brightly smile at you.

"Wait, for real!? We're having a baby?"

"Yes! We're gonna be parents!" The two of you laughed as Deuce wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into a spinning hug.

"Oh gods, this is so exciting! I can't believe—" Deuce gasped, setting you back down on your feet as he asked, "I can tell Mom, right?"

You snorted, nodding your head and pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss.

"Yes, you can tell Dylla! Let's call her right now!"

Ruggie

You know that Ruggie wouldn't believe you or the test lying on the kitchen counter, his skeptical face as he inspected it right this moment said so well enough.

You also knew that he probably wouldn't believe the second on you left on the coffee table, though he was starting to look confused.

By the time he found the third one on the bed, he was started to understand. By the time he got to the fourth one in the bathroom, Ruggie knew that this wasn't just a joke anymore.

Poor guy almost slipped and fell on his ass as he slid into the living room, where you'd been lounging and reading a book.

"Ya ain't pulling my tail this time right?" Ruggie was eyeing you, though his tail was wagging and his lips were wobbly. "Cause if you're tryin' to pull one on me it won't work, I saved baby money this time."

You snorted at that, looking at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Ooooh, look at Mister Prepared over here." You teased, making Ruggie rush over and pinch your nose as he grinned back, poking at your ticklish spots. "Eeeek! Stop that! Stopstopstopstopstop! It tickles! Hahaha—AH!"

You fell backwards on your small futon, cackling as Ruggie continued poking at your sides, crawling over you to dig his fingers in to tickle.

"You sure? You better be sure! Say it out loud! Come on~" He finally relented as you smacked his hands off you with snorts and giggles, opting instead to gently smack his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Saaaay it~"

"Okay, okay! No more tickling though!" You held up a finger and jammed it into his cheek, though you still were smiling. "Deal?"

"Mmm, just for today.

"Fine. Ruggie?"

"Yes?"

"We having a baby."

The two of you exploded into more laughter as Ruggie buried you in his arms, squeezing you tight as you squeezed right back.

Jade

You knew that Jade knew that this test was a fake one. Mostly because you deliberately grabbed the one of the ones that he used against you last year.

So while he studied the test in his hands with a smile after your announcement, you knew that your now darling husband was doubting you.

Which is why you also went through the effort of getting a blood test done with the doctor, and had the results in an envelope mixed with the rest of your mail for him to check.

"Oh? What a surprise, and on April 1st too." Jade let out a chuckle, reaching down to press a kiss at the top of your head as you continued working on your laptop. "I must say, I expected better from you. Pulling the same prank?"

You remained silent, sticking your tongue out at him as Jade simply smiled and winked at you, opting to let you be as he went to sort through the mail. Perfect.

It took him a few minutes, but he noticed the letter from the doctor quickly, letting out a concerned hum.

"My pearl, you have a letter from your physician, is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, I went a bit ago and they had me draw some blood. Should just be a regular panel. Check it for me hun?"

You couldn't help the smile from growing as you waiting in anticipation, listening to Jade tear into paper and unfold your results.

Jade took in a sharp breath, going quiet as you finally closed your laptop. Taking a deep breath and doing your best to put on concerned face, you turned over on the couch to look at Jade, who'd been staring down at the paper with wide eyes.

"What's it say Jade?" You feign ignorance as he snapped his head to look at you, batting your eyelashes. "Everything normal?"

Before you even had the chance to react, Jade had practically lunged himself across the room to grab you, holding you tight as kissed you as if it would be the last one you'd ever share.

"Mmph!" You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he lifted you up into his arms. Finally, after swatting him in the back to beg for a chance to breathe, Jade pulled away with a grin.

"So much for pulling the same prank, huh Jade?"

"You sly little human, what fantastic news!" You two shared another kiss. And another. And one more as he cooed to you, "You're going to look beautiful as you grow our little ones."

"Ones? Just the one Jade. Twins aren't that common for humans."

"One can hope." He gave you a sly grin. "Though, nothing prevents us from stopping at the one."

Jamil

In the spirit of your previous fuck up, you decided to order another round of fake pregnancy tests through your shared shopping account. But you bought some real ones from the store too, so there was no way for Jamil to know now what you were actually doing.

He seemed to roll his eyes at your announcement, clicking in tongue at you as he started undressing from his work clothes.

"Uh-huh, habibi did you forget what happened last time? Didn't you learn your lesson?"

Jamil pinched your cheek as he passed you to get his lounge clothes, only to pause and sigh has he noticed the second test you placed in the drawer.

"Aaaah, how funny...but seriously? You got baby fever?" Jamil questioned you, equally curious and concerned. "I feel like you're trying to tell me something."

You hummed, grinning as he went to the bathroom, loosening his braids.

"Well~ I am trying to tell you something honey..." Hearing him drop his brush over as he noticed the third on the counter made you snort and giggle.

"(Name), seriously, are you messing with me or are you actually—"

As he rushed back into the bedroom to you, Jamil froze and gaped at the two new tests you were holding in glee.

"Ha! Tricked you, I actually am pregnant Jamil! April Fool's!"

You were so thrilled to actually have pulled a successful prank on Jamil, that you didn't see the way he started tearing up. And you definitely didn't expect him to throw himself at you, arms wrapping around you tightly as he shakenly breathed into your neck.

"Habibi! You're awful for playing around with me like that!" Jamil looked up, giving you a halfhearted glare as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand and chastised you.

"Don't joke around about things like this," He cursed under his breath before relenting into a soft smile. "You're a brat."

You grinned back at him, throwing your arms around him as you laughed.

"Yeah, I'm your brat, and we're gonna get another brat in a couple of months!"

Vil

As you held out the test to Vil, like holding a platter of ambrosia to a god, he simply glanced at it, and gave you a smile.

"I know."

You blanked, frozen in your spot as Vil kissed your cheek, walking past you into the bedroom as he started removing his jewelry.

"Eh?"

A soft chuckle left your fiancé's mouth as you heard him shuffle around the room. It must have been at least a few minutes, as he returned back into his lounge clothes and wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I said, I know." Looking down at the test in your still frozen hands, Vil plucked it and studied it with a critical gaze.

"This isn't real though, I recognize it from last year. Were you trying to pull another ridiculous joke?"

Vil sighed, rolling his eyes as he tossed the test onto the dresser and instead brought you tighter against him. You relaxed into his touch, though you squirmed a bit to look him in the face.

"Wait! How did you even know? I made sure to not toss anything in the trash this time for the housekeeper, I even told her the news ahead of time so that she wouldn't accidently find all the actual tests around the place and tell you and your father again!"

Turning in Vil's arms, he actually looked impressed, though amused, at your efforts.

"Oh, you actually put thought into it this time? How cute."

"Quit making fun! Tell me how you knew!"

"Tell me first how many tests you hid."

"Like 6! She helped me hide some too!" You grabbed Vil by the shoulders and theatrically, though humorously, shook him as you demanded answers. "Now tell meeeeee!"

"Oh calm down now, there's only room for one dramatic in this relationship." Vil cupped your cheek and gave you a chaste kiss, making your calm down.

"I noticed you were rather late this month and that you've been nauseous when waking up. I put it together and figured that you were having early morning sickness."

You let out a sound of realization, though you furrowed your brows.

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted the pleasure of seeing what you'd do to surprise your queen." Vil scoffed and pinched your cheek. "Though, if I'd known you were going to try to pull another prank, I would've just taken you to the doctor instead."

"Let me have my fun!"

"No."

Idia

You didn't miss the way Idia squinted his eyes at you in suspicion, darting back and forth between you and the test. He even held up his tablet like a shield.

"Suuuure. Yeah, and why would I believe you?"

Gasping, you held a hand to your heart in mock offense.

"You calling me a liar, Idia Shroud? Me? Your partner?"

"Hey, you're the one who—"

"Your one and only?"

"I'm not saying that—"

"The love of your life?"

"It's just that last time you—"

"The only person who can ever tolerate your bad tastes in anime?"

"HEY!"

You tossed your head back in mock devastation, 'collapsing' into the couch behind you as you pretended to sob into your hands.

"My own boyfriend, doubting me! I can't believe it..."

Peaking through your fingers, you watched as Idia walked over, still holding up his tablet, though also glaring at you from the top of it.

"I'd be a total noob if I believed you again. Even got Ortho in it too...if you think you can trick me again..."

"Even if I show this to you?!"

Like a trump card, you reached into your jacket and pulled out an ultrasound jumping up to shove it into his face with a giant smile.

"Haaaah...what?"

Idia's eyes grew big and as he almost dropped his tablet, a shaky hand reaching for the piece of paper and bringing it close.

"You—this—we—when—"

"If you're going to faint again, faint into the couch please."

"Okay."

Thump.

Silver

You weren't a fool this time. This time, you knew exactly what to expect and how to make this prank successful this time.

"Oh...uh. Darling?" Silver held the test in his hands as you kissed his cheek walking past him into the kitchen to make you two a cup of tea.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to doubt you, but isn't this the same test as last year? From your prank?"

Shrugging, you busied yourself with the kettle and stove, grabbing your favorite mugs (and a third one), and humming as you looked through the teas.

"Maybe. Do you want ginger tea?"

"Ginger is fine. But dear, you do remember that last year I told you—"

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"No, do you want honey? And lemon."

"Oh, yes that would be nice, but can you answer me—"

A knock at the door interrupted Silver, though you perked up as if you expected the sudden visitor. Silver, startled, blinked at the door and furrowed his eyebrows, as if offended.

Walking over as you continued making the tea, Silver checked the window next to the door and relaxed, opening it to the guest.

"Oh, hello Malleus. I didn't know you would be coming over."

You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, taking a deep breath as you peeked through the doorway and waved happily.

"Hi Hornton! I invited him over for some tea! Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

Malleus had a soft smile, nodding his head at you, then at Silver, patting the top of his head. Silver blinked again, still confused, as he followed Malleus into the kitchen.

"That's alright, but can we talk about—"

You already had set the table with the cups and a few pastries alongside them, giggling as Malleus leaned in to ruffle your hair.

"Hello my Child of Man, how are you faring? You smell rather sweet, you are with child? Shouldn't you be resting?"

Silver froze, eyes wide and a breathless gasp leaving him as you nodded, making eye contact with him as you answered.

"Oh, I'll be alright! I have the father right here to help me every step of the way, right Silver—eep!"

You yelped as Silver hugged you tight, breathlessly laughing as he picked you up and twirled, making you laugh.

"I can't believe it! This is wonderful!" Finally putting you back down on your feet, Silver pressed your foreheads together and nuzzled you. "You had me confused for a moment there."

Giggling, you gestured your head to your friend sitting at the table, who smiled happily back.

"That's what Hornton was for, wanted to make that everyone in the family would be here to hear the news!"

"Everyone? But isn't Father still—"

The sudden drop of a small fae's face between you too as he floated down to grin at Silver make your partner stumble back in surprise.

"Boo!"

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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 months ago

Text

Sergei Kravinoff x virgin!fem!reader

Summary: The handsome mysterious man you just met disapproves of your idea to lose your virginity for money.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of weed, sex work, virgin!reader, mentions of selling your virginity, p in v, fingering, passionate, hints of dom!Sergei and sub!reader, nipple play, one night stand vibes, aftercare <3

~ i hope you like this anon! ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

"Dima!"

A boisterous voice echoes across the room and you jump, almost spilling the champagne Dimitri Kravinoff had generously poured for you all over your cocktail dress. Dimitri looks alarmed, his cheeks becoming crimson as he stands and tries to intercept the irate-looking man from coming any closer.

"Брат— (Brother—)"

One of the girls, the one who is dressed in only a pair of lavish maroon panties and a sheer dress giggles and leans her arm on the table as her lips press against your ear: "That's Dimitri's older brother," she introduces the newcomer, who seems upset with Dimitri as he speaks to the younger man in quick Russian.

"Sergei Kravinoff likes to pretend he's better than girls like us, but really, he quite likes being under us like all the others—"

You watch them. The brothers couldn't look more different. Sergei is much taller, and he has dark brown hair that beautifully contrasts with the deep ocean blue of his eyes. His shoulders are broad and the muscles on his arms make your lower stomach ache. Your mouth becomes dry. Sergei looks up, catching your gaze as he berates his brother.

He's probably pissed that Dimitri spent his birthday without him, inviting whores into his club white he's hammered. You look away, fumbling with the hem of your dress on your lap.

The second girl, the one opposite you, speaks up, "You're the virgin, right?"

You look at her and your eyebrows knit together. You nod slowly and the girl laughs. "Stay away from him then," she warns and motions to Sergei. "Little Dima's a fine client for your first time, but you're much too inexperienced for someone like Sergei. He doesn't like unpopped cherries," her voice is smooth like velvet but it hides a venom beneath.

"He'd break you. You better leave him to me," she continues with a wink and stands, sauntering over and offering Sergei her drink. The rim of her wine glass is stained red from her lips and she sends him a sultry smile.

The previous girl smirks at the interaction. She pulls out a joint from her purse and nonchalantly dangles it in front of you.

"Wanna smoke?"

You shake your head, suddenly feeling very ill, and you stand. You squeeze past her and down from the booth. Your ankle twists awkwardly in the unfamiliar stilettos and you groan, grasping the end of the table.

This had been a horrible mistake.

You pull down the hem of your dress, which has ridden up your knee, as you walk by the brothers.

"Hey!" Dimitri calls after you, still extremely drunk, and you turn to see Sergei holding him back. You look away and the last thing you hear is a whine—"I paid extra for the virgin. Come back!"

Once the cold London air hits your skin, you let out a shaky breath, and slump down on the sidewalk. You have no money for a cab and you have a feeling the others won't want to leave so soon.

"Fuck me," you grumble into your hands.

"Hm, that is why you're here, right?" A low, dark voice chuckles from behind you, and you quickly stand and spin around.

Sergei Kravinoff stands in front of you. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles straining against the white shirt he's wearing. His suit jacket has been long forgotten somewhere. He looks relaxed enough. "My apologies, I did not mean to scare you—or insult you. I just assumed you would be cold."

Your gaze flickers to your bare arms and your cheeks burn. "O-oh, yes, right," you say sounding as calm as you can, considering he's the most attractive man you've spoken to in years, and follow him as he gestures for the inside of the lounge again.

Inside, Dimitri has happily found himself in between the two hookers you came with and your stomach sinks.

From beside you, Sergei chuckles again and he looks at you. "Would you like to join them? Dima did say he paid a lot of money upfront for you."

You're frozen for a moment; watching the roughness of their lips meet and hearing the obscene sounds they make. You shake your head no and so Sergei leads you into a quieter room without another word.

There is an empty bar, the lounge being closed at this hour, and you suddenly feel stupid sitting on that stool as Sergei makes you a drink.

When he hands you the clear liquid, you take a sip expecting some form of vodka and you're pleasantly surprised to realize it's only lemon water. The straw falls from your lips as Sergei walks over and sits on the stool beside yours.

He watches you intensely and your heart thumps rhythmically against your chest.

"You don't look like a hooker," he states, his blue eyes locked onto yours. A smirk curls his lips. "Hookers usually aren't virgins."

You fiddle nervously with your straw. "I'm not a hooker—I mean, not really? This is my first time—" You pause, catching yourself and you look away from Sergei's intense gaze. "Well, I- I suppose I just wanted the pesky thing gone, " you laugh dryly, "and the extra cash can't hurt—"

"You foolish girl," Sergei interrupts and you meet his gaze. Embarrassment burns in your stomach.

"Excuse me?"

Composing himself, Sergei's smirk disappears and his hand slides over to rest on your knee, using his thumb to gently slide up the small slit in your dress.

Using his polished shoe, he hooks it under the stool and effortlessly pulls you closer to him. His hand settles on the underside of the stool as you stumble forward.

You inhale, his touch on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Sergei's hand moves closer to your inner thigh as he leans in, his breath hot on your neck. "You're shaking," he observes as his teeth threaten to nip the skin on your throat. "I can tell you aren't cut out for this, little bunny. Anyone could devour you."

His words ring in your ears and you feel anger stir in your stomach. You know deep down he's right but hearing him read you so well is humiliating. You don't know this man, you shouldn't want to prove yourself to him but you do. He's pushing all the right buttons and he knows it.

You don't think when you lean forward and kiss him. You don't stop to wonder why he came out to talk with you when the other girl wanted him so badly. It doesn't matter because his hand finds itself in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

Without a word, he's standing and lifting you up and onto the bar. You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head to taste him better. He hasn't drank and you're now thankful for the lemon water because whatever slight buzz you had from the champagne is long gone.

Sergei's lips trail down to your neck again as his hands tighten around your waist. He pulls away for a moment, a golden twinkle in his gaze as he laughs. "Ну, ты сюрприз. (Well, you're a surprise)."

You gasp when he holds onto your hair again and leaves love bites above the neckline of your dress right above your breasts. This is as far as you've ever gotten with men, and the realization that things could escalate looms over you.

Sergei kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear. "I won't fuck you like this." His voice sends a shiver up your spine. "If you would like, come home with me. We'll do this right," he promises and there is an intensity in his gaze you don't dare refuse.

The entire taxi ride to his penthouse, you feel like you're on a cloud. Sergei is kissing you softly in the backseat, his calloused hands touching you so reverently as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

You moan, eyelids fluttering shut as you hold him close, your arms wrapped around his shoulders now. "Tryin' to sell this beautiful body, tsk," he grumbles, squeezing your hips. "What a waste that would have been. You're mine," Sergei nips posessively at your earlobe and you grind your hips into his.

It's intoxicating, hearing him call you his as if you hadn't just met.

"Sergei," you whimper, tugging at the baby hairs on his nape.

"Shh, Принцесса (Princess). Don't you worry. I'll take good care of you."

His bed is warm and supple and the minute you're laying on the plush blankets and soft furs, you sink into them as his weight hovers over you. His beard scratches against your neck as he hikes up your dress, his large palm splayed across your thigh. You buck your hips, attempting to chase the hint of pleasure he had awarded you in the taxi.

Slowly, his fingers curl under your panties and suddenly, you're panicking and you sit up. Your head slams into his chin and he springs up as well, his eyes wide and confused.

"What is it?" he grumbles, lifting a hand and gently rubbing your head where you hit him, soothing any pain you could be feeling. He removes his other hand and settles it on your hip instead.

He can see the fear in your gaze and he lifts his other hand to cup your cheek. "Breathe," he strokes his thumb across your cheekbone. "I won't hurt you, little bunny. You're okay. We'll go as slow as you need and you can tell me to stop anytime."

He sounds so serious and you nod, taking in his words. Sergei's lips find yours again and he kisses you deeply, using his tongue to explore your mouth. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head as he gently guides you down again, still kissing you as his knee slots in between your thighs. He gently rocks himself against you, applying pressure to your core and when you moan against his lips, he smirks.

Sergei pulls away and his hands dip down to your hips again. He looks at you expectantly before he pulls away your panties. Once you nod, he quickly throws your panties across the room and leaves you bare as he bunches up your dress around your waist.

"So beautiful," he mutters, his voice hoarse and thick, as he kisses between your shoulder and neck. With one hand, he begins to circle your sensitive clit and with the other he pulls down the strap of your dress and bra, exposing your nipple—which he happily takes into his mouth.

The sensation is overwhelming and you shut your eyes, letting moans of pleasure escape your lips. His weight feels heavy over you but he keeps himself up, careful not to crush you underneath him. He works you open with his fingers, his lips moving from your breasts to your throat.

You feel like you're on fire.

"More," you whimper breathlessly, arching up into him as he curls his fingers.

Sergei hums, satisfied with how wet and open you are for him. Once his touch leaves you, you sink further into the mattress as you catch your breath.

You barely register the shuffling of clothes or movement as your eyelids flutter. His large hand resting on your cheeks pulls you back into reality and you feel his cock touch your thigh.

Your eyes widen at the sensation.

"Tell me this is what you want," he mutters, looking you dead in the eye. "I want to hear you say it."

"I want you," you whisper. You mean every word. "Please."

The heat in your stomach worsens when you feel the pressure and you whine. You jerk your hips away from the slight pain, but Sergei holds you still. He presses gentle kisses to your shoulder, whispering sweet words as he continues to push.

He feels large inside you and you bite down on your lip, dulling the slight pain by focusing on the new pain in your lip. Sergei senses the tension in your body and he looks up. His hair falls over his eyes but you can see him frowning. The hand that isn't holding himself up, the one that was on your hip, moves to pull your lip from your teeth.

Instead, he pushes his thumb into your mouth. "Bite down if it hurts. Don't hurt yourself because of me."

You nod, eyes a little glassy. He's stopped moving inside you, giving you some time to adjust. Your teeth sink into his skin, keeping eye contact as your lips close around his thumb.

You think back to the warning you'd received earlier. You'd been told to stay away from him, that he would break you. And while you have no doubt he could break you, he's being so gentle you would almost guess he doesn't want to.

Slowly, he pulls out and you gasp around his thumb. He leans down, adjusting his weight on his arm, and kisses your forehead as he drags back in. This time, the pain is replaced by an intense pleasure and you feel lightheaded.

It feels so good. It's like nothing you could have imagined and you can't help but wonder if it's like this all the time, or only with him.

Sergei leans down, his thumb leaving your mouth with a soft pop and kisses you sweetly as he fucks you. He's being careful and gentle and you're a mess underneath him. You've lost track of all time and place as he kisses your lips and neck.

"S-Sergei?" you moan.

"Yes, Принцесса (Princess)," he mutters into your ear, his movements becoming a bit more frantic as he chases his release.

"I- I think I'm close."

He kisses your cheek, smirking as he thrusts particularly hard. "Hm? Are you?" he teases.

You nod, clutching his arm as he fucks you harder.

Sergei leans in, tilting his head as he pretends he can't hear you. "What's that?"

You moan, legs shaky. "I'm close," you whimper louder. "Please can I come?"

With a final kiss to your temple, Sergei bottoms out and he presses his mouth to your ear. "Come for me, little bunny," he says, and the cord snaps. You groan, clenching around him. Your stomach tightens and you feel Sergei's dick twitch as he fills the condom you hadn't even realize he'd put on. You'd been so overwhelmed by every little sensation. Your head falls back into the pillows, exhaustion overtaking you.

"Shh, good girl," his voice pulls you back into reality again and you suddenly feel empty. Strong arms hook under your legs and back, holding you to a hard chest as he walks into the bathroom and you hear running water. "You're okay."

You blink, fully coming to as you smell lemons and vanilla and feel the warmth of the water on your sweaty skin. The window outside shows the pink sky.

The sun is rising, which makes you wonder how long have you been fucking? Sergei's hand caresses your cheek as he holds you to his chest in the tub. He's smoothing his hand on your knee as he pours water from his hand onto your skin. When his other hand comes up to massage your scalp, your hair intertwining with his fingers, you hum in pleasure.

"If you had let some random dick take your virginity, I guarantee he wouldn't have run you a bath," Sergei whispers, a hint of jealousy and possessiveness in his voice that you don't mind.

You let your eyelids flutter closed again, simply enjoying the moment. It had been everything and more.

You wake up surrounded by familiar furs and blankets, your skin smooth and hair washed as you lay on your side. Blinking, you adjust to the sunlight and realize that Sergei's arm is draped across your side, holding you close to him. Smiling a little, you gently pry his arm away and sit up. You gather your clothes, quickly changing into them.

Holding your heels, you walk down the stairs of the penthouse towards the door. An unfamiliar longing bubbles in your stomach and your hand pauses on the handle. You turn, looking for a pen and paper. Once you find some, you scribble your name and number. Balls in his court, you think, chewing on your lip as you slip out into the hall.

As the door shuts, Sergei's eyes open instantly. He'd heard everything. A small smirk curls his lips as he can only imagine what you'd written on the note.

He didn't mind letting you go for now, after all, he loves the chase.

#sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff x fem!reader #sergei kravinoff x you #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x fem!reader #sergei kravinoff smut #kraven the hunter smut #kraven x reader #kraven marvel #kraven the hunter marvel #aaron taylor johnson

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chosolar · 4 months ago

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ wanna be yours!

gojo satoru x shy!femreader

THIS IS A REPOST

part 1

mdni please! there are sexual themes.

flirty!satoru did his best to respect your wishes but he was losing his mind. with each day passing where he didn't hear from you, his overthinking got worse. what happened for you to distance yourself from him seemingly out of nowhere?

flirty!satoru refused to go out of his penthouse unless it was severely urgent. he would get his groceries delivered or ask either suguru or shoko to buy it for it. The two tried their best to get him to at least walk around his complex but satoru would drag his body weight, making it difficult to even get him up. it got to a point where shoko threatened him that she was going to tell you how disgusting he was being. (as mean as it was, it sure got the job done)

flirty!satoru had his phone basically glued to his hand. constantly refreshing his feeds and checking everyone's stories to see if you would be there in the background. it was his only solace, seeing you happy even if he did feel like he was there was a boulder on his chest that made him feel suffocated.

flirty!satoru who sat up instantly the millisecond he got your text. it didn't matter that it was 2 in the morning, he was responding to your message ASAP.

hey satoru I hope you're doing well. is it alright if I call you? 2:33 am

he replied with a quick "yes of course", and he didn't care if he sounded desperate, because well, he was. he's been waiting for you to reach out ever since he got that text a few weeks ago.

his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest, each heartbeat thumps harder than the previous. he watches as his phone lights up with your contact photo and name, the ringtone blasting. within the second ring, he picks up, greeting you with a shaky voice.

"hi satoru," he hears your nervousness through the phone. your voice is nasally and he can make out the soft sniffling, but he stays quiet. "how have you been?"

satoru contemplated on what to say. should he be honest, or should he lie and say that he was doing well without you?

"better now that I can hear your voice." his heart rate sped up as he hears you soft laugh, "how about you?"

you sigh before you answer. "I'm in a dilemma to be honest."

"wanna tell me what it's about?" he urges, hoping he'll get the answer he's been looking for. satoru puts you on speaker and lets his phone drop onto his bed, his full undivided attention on you.

"well it's about you... kinda," you drift off before you continue. "the night before I sent you that text, I was working and someone asked me out."

satoru pleads in silence that this was not going where he thinks it's going. with this anxious feeling creeping up on him again, he doesn't say anything.

his uncommon reticence worries you but you carried on with the story.

"I didn't go out with him if that's what you're thinking of. I like you too much to do that. it just had me thinking because we spent months being more than friends, but am I the only one who feels that way?"

"no of course not!" satoru retorts, "I promise that it's not one-sided. why do you feel this way?"

it took you a few minutes to gather your thoughts, but satoru doesn't rush you. he hears a shaky exhale before you speak up, "I've noticed that you're flirty with everyone. you're not shy with touching other people and it just makes me feel like maybe it's wrong of me to feel special when I'm not the only one you've done these things with..."

flirty!satoru doesn't invalidate your feelings. he acknowledges each and every reason why you feel the way you do. satoru takes his time explaining that yes, he may be flirty and he's quite touchy, but it's different when it comes to you. the things he's done with you, he's never done with anyone else despite him having exes. although it's almost been a year since he's met you, the butterflies have never gone away and that each day his feelings grow.

flirty!satoru continues listing all the reasons why he loves likes you. he assures you that he may look like a fuckboy, he's far from it. he reminisces the time he had suguru psych him up to get your number because he's never had to ask for anyone's number (humble brag from him). he exhales a sigh of relief that the story earned a giggle from you.

flirty!satoru debates on telling you, but decided on keeping his plans of asking you out a secret. he wanted to prove to you that you're it for him and that there's no one else but you. satoru's big on actions speaking a lot more than words, so before he asks you out, he wants you to feel secure.

flirty!satoru posts you on his story constantly!!! whether you're out on a grocery run or a mini road trip for the long weekend, you can always count on satoru posting a soft launch story that has you in it. you don't know it, but satoru also has a secret instagram account, and the only thing he posts on it are pictures of you with the dates on it and a small paragraph of what you guys did that day. he likes to think it's modern-day scrapbooking.

flirty!satoru is obsessed with calling you nicknames, and as much as he loves saying your name - he will never not love calling you sweet nicknames like pretty girl, honey, or baby. satoru's fond of how your cheeks turn red and how you try to cover your face when he calls you any nicknames. it gives him cuteness aggression so bad, he ends up pinching your cheeks!

flirty!satoru can see how your eyes drift to look at his lips when you're talking to him face to face. you think you're so slick with it but satoru's quicker. whenever you do that little triangle trick you saw on tiktok, he leans in so he catches you by surprise. he observes with gleaming eyes as you back up to give yourself distance from him, but he just wraps his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he says, "hmm what was that baby?"

flirty!satoru has to hold himself back whenever he sees a customer come up to you and try to flirt with you. first and foremost, flirting is his thing! and second, he gets so jealous that sometimes he can't contain himself and ends up intervening. he'd make some stupid excuse to get you to leave like "hey I think someone clogged the toilet, can you check it please?" or something like that. you have to clean the stinky toilet but seeing satoru jealous is always a plus.

flirty!satoru is shocked when you made the first move and kissed him one night. it was the fact that you were sober too that surprised him even further. with you on top of him as he's sitting relaxed on the couch, his attention on the tv screen is stolen when you press your lips against his. the kiss, a seemingly innocent peck on the lips, turned into a heated make out session when satoru let go of his inhibitions. his hands roamed all over your body as his lips continue peppering kisses onto your cheeks, your jaw, and even down to your neck. satoru trails his hands from your body to hold your face gently so he can give you a final kiss before hugging you tightly.

flirty!satoru throws out all his ideas of asking you out, and opts for an intimate moment. on a cool wednesday night, he takes you back to his penthouse as per usual. he opens the door and waits to see your surprised face. he boasts that he decorated the place all by himself and even burned himself a few times with the hot glue gun to make the giant heart sign asking for you to be officially his (ngl it sounds like he's proposing but I mean who doesn't wanna marry satoru). obviously you said yes! let's just say that the heart balloons that were hanging and the flower petals scattered all over his living room were everywhere the morning after and cleaning it all up was tedious...... (but at least it was a fun night!)

flirtybf!satoru immediately changes all his profile pictures on every social media he has to pictures with you. his bio? your initials. his stories? all of you. he does not gaf he wants to show you off! the best part is satoru only follows a couple of people — you, suguru, shoko, and a few of his close relatives. satoru wants you to know that he only cares about you and only you. he never wants to and never will make you feel like you're in competition with anyone.

flirtybf!satoru is a no bs type of guy. now that your relationship was out in the open, you've gotten so many dms from other people trying to sabotage your relationship. satoru did not spend almost half a year proving his love to you for some jealous losers to try and break it, so he blocked the people who dmed you from his account and privated it.

flirtybf!satoru loves going on vacations with you, especially if it's a destination you've been telling him about. he'll almost always keep it a secret so that you don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything. costs, booking it off, transportation, he takes care of everything so the only thing you need to do is pack your bags. satoru loves how carefree you are when you're away from everyone else, and it's just the two of you in your own little world.

flirtybf!satoru is insatiable. his sex drive is so incredibly high, you wonder where his stamina comes from since he rarely did any sports. the first time you had sex, he wanted to take it slow because he wanted to savour the time with you. even though you were close when you two were just friends, having sex was a different level of intimacy. satoru wanted to show you that to him, this was not just a fuck that a one night stand will give you, no. it was making love, and he'll spend the whole night — dusk to dawn — just to show you how much he loves each and every part of you.

flirtybf!satoru started working out during his free time. he overheard you telling your friends that you love a man with a sleeper build, and well whatever his love wants, you will get. it doesn't take long until he starts seeing the fruits of his labor. he seldoms wear a shirt when he's home with just you, choosing to just wear a pair of sweatpants that he doesn't bother tying up so you can see the waistband of his calvin klein boxers. even though you two fuck often, he thinks it's so captivating that you still get bashful whenever he's being coy with you.

flirtybf!satoru loves talking about the future with you. he'll often ask you what kind of house you see yourself living in with him, and he'll make sure to get every little detail you're telling him. you've already moved into his penthouse after he begged for days for you to leave your apartment and just live with him. he takes notice of how you decorate and makes a mental note of it. satoru will make sure to say "when we have kids" or "when we're married", because he knows you're his endgame and he just can't wait for the day he's been looking forward to since he fell in love with you.

flirtybf!satoru surprises you with a trip to your dream vacation that you guys didn't get to go to before. the weather was horrendous, so the flight was cancelled but satoru booked another one closer to your birthday. he didn't tell you about it because he had a plan to make your birthday extra special. after you were done packing, he tells you that he'll meet you in the car. before satoru leaves the penthouse and locks the door, he double checks that the engagement ring is packed securely in his bag.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi everyone! I hope this satisfies everyone's request for a part 2 ◡̈ ngl I had to use some moments with my boyfriend because my mind was blanking out and I am prayinggggg that this one is not a disappointment to you guys! again not proofread <3

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

taglist:

@lvrndkoo @sorenflyinn @realalpacorn @ninani-nanina @msun1c0rn @ourfinalisation @rio-reid-whoreee @staarflowerr @leonesimp @okayiamkassandra @starpachinko @atashiboba @blueemochii @hawkswifie @secrtjncoblog @esperssox @smiling-16 @gojocumslut @apriyada @brethebomb2 @slutoru1207

a few of them did not show up so please let me know if you didn't get a notification ◡̈

#gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fics #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fics #jujutsu kaisen drabbles

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gothicfied · 5 months ago

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Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 Headcanons

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff

જ⁀➴ Considering the nature of this environment and the people you're surrounded by, you didn't speak up or made yourself noticeable at all. You kept your thoughts and worries to yourself, pretending like it didn't bother you that the players around you were being killed off left and right. And, it worked: no one seemed to bother you or notice you in the first place. Except for one guy.

જ⁀➴ Your bed was directly under Dae-ho's. After being so rattled up by Red-Light-Green-Light, you just sat there on the thin mattress, staring down at your food. The commotion next to you about Gi-hun, a previous winner of these games, didn't interest you at all. Your attention was drawn to Dae-ho though, when he dropped down from his bed with a loud thud.

"Oh," he looked at you with a concerned look, "hey there. Are you okay?"

જ⁀➴ Kickstarting your 'friendship', if a friendship is even possible in this place, you were kindly accepted into Gi-hun's little group, alongside In-ho, Dae-ho and Jung-bae. From the beginning, it seemed like Dae-ho was more concerned with your wellbeing than his own. He'd often share his meals with you, as a general act of kindness. And, it warmed your heart, considering he kept nagging Jung-bae for his milk or water or whatever it was.

જ⁀➴ He'd always keep you an arms length away from him at most, feeling responsible for your survival during the games. He was a marine after all, he needed to protect you, no matter what was to come. You'd show your appreciation with hugs and endless thank-you's when saved from literal death. Dae-ho would just laugh it off, claiming that you'd do the same for him. And you definitely would.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho's a sweet guy with a good heart, refusing to continue the games in the next voting, even if it meant he couldn't pay off his debt completely. Not only did he hate to see other players die (obviously), but he was genuinely scared to lose one of his friends. Especially you. He developed an undeniable adoration for you and he was determined to get you out of here, so that he actually has a chance of living a normal life with you.

જ⁀➴ Your presence alone made him nervous, in the good way, of course. While the others started to notice, you seemed to be oblivious. You'd accept every little compliment with a smile, say something nice back and then go on with your task, completely missing the fact that Dae-ho's cheeks were turning a bright pink. And, to be honest, he was really glad you didn't seem to notice at first.

જ⁀➴ Before lights out, he'd lean down and whisper a quiet "Good night." and after you wake up, you'd be greeted by a fairly cheery "Good morning!". Dae-ho just needed to reassure himself that you were safe and alive, wanting to be the last thing you see when you go to sleep and the first thing you see in the morning, too.

જ⁀➴ When it was your turn to guard the makeshift safety spot that Gi-hun made you guys set up, Dae-ho would stay up alongside you. He'd tell you to go back to sleep and that he could handle doing a double shift, but you refused, wanting to have some alone time with him. His voice was soothing in a stressful time like this and he, somehow, always found the right words to say to calm you down.

"Look, I know we didn't meet under the right circumstances by any means," he started, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, "but I'm still glad we did. You're really brave, you know?" You just chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I'm really glad we met, too."

જ⁀➴ Whenever Dae-ho was showing signs of distress or discomfort, you'd try to distract him or comfort him by side-hugging him and speaking reassuring words. You noticed that, while he did his best to protect everyone, he definitely needed that as well from time to time.

જ⁀➴ When not being able to sleep at night, you'd sit up and look if Dae-ho was awake as well. For some reason, as if he had developed a sixth sense for you, he'd wake up, feeling your eyes on him. If you try to apologize he'd wave it off, inviting you up to his bed to talk.

જ⁀➴ Even if these beds were small for two people, you'd manage to lay down comfortably, his one arm wrapped around your waist, to keep you from falling off. Your head rests against his chest while you talked his ears off about something Dae-ho couldn't focus on. His mind was just filled with you and the feeling of your body against his.

જ⁀➴ You guys definitely fell asleep like that.

જ⁀➴ And Jung-bae definitely made everyone look before waking you up.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #kang dae ho #player 388 #player 388 x reader #kang dae ho x reader

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chris-prank · 7 months ago

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A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 2 : Surprise visitor

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, collar, praise kink, masturbating in secret, handjob, voyeurism, teasing, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking, reader is horny too and L bomb

Word count: Over 2K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

You sat on your bed, putting headphones in your ears. It had been a truly tiresome day, so you figured that a little alone time was well deserved before doing any house chores. Setting comfortably against your pillows, you selected one of those “man moaning and whimpering” audios. You closed your eyes as the delectable sounds filled your surrendering.

You were starting to get into it, when suddenly, a moan seemed to have been louder than the others. They were also small whimpers…Weird…You decided to not pay much attention to this as your body relaxed. Your hand creeped down your pants when you went in the mood again.

You were making rhythmic movements, trying to imagine a pathetic man in front of you making all these slutty moans. Even in your while enwrapped in your fantasy, you swore some noises were always too loud to be coming from your headphones. You used your clean hand to pause the audio and there it was again! A small whimper!

You checked your phone and no, the audio hadn’t started again. It was so faint that it was difficult for you to pinpoint where it was coming from. You took out your headphones and really tried to concentrate on the source of the noises. It almost sounded like an injured animal, maybe a cat had gotten into your apartment ? You knew that one of your neighbors had one, so it wasn’t impossible. You sigh in defeat, knowing that you wouldn't be able to finish what you started. You took a blanket and got off your bed. You roamed around the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to alarm the poor unknown creature. As you got closer to your closet you could feel your heart pulsating in your ears, the whimpers were coming from there. You raised the blanket, ready to throw it if the animal showed any sign of aggressivity.

In one swift motion you opened the closet door. And there was… Jacce sitting on the ground, pumping his cock forcefully. He was so engrossed by the smell of your shirt covering his face, that he had failed to remember to keep it down. You didn't even scream or move. You felt like you dissociated from your body, as if you were watching this surreal outcome from a second point of view.

The man opened his eyes when he was just about to cum, finally noticing you standing in full height before him— just like he had fantasized on so many occasions, but this time it was real.

“F—ngahh—uck.” His eyes rolled back for a second, his body shuddering while he ejaculated. Ropes of cum shooting unintentionally in your direction.

His sudden climax reactivated your nerve system. You dropped the blanket on him, ran out of the room and into the living room. Not only was there a man that broke into your house to masturbate, this intruder was JACCE! The barista you liked! This was the most horrifying situation you've ever been in. You regretted dreading that it could have been a wild animal, because it would have been better than whatever this was.

You could hear shuffling noises behind you, certainly him trying to put his junk back into his pants as fast as possible.

“Hey w-wait.”

When you turned to face him, his expression was still stuck in this dazed state of the aftermath of cumming. Like clockwork every time he took a step forward you would step back.

“Y-you weren’t… supposed to see th-this.” He breathed out like he ran a marathon, “let me ex-explain before doing anything… p-please.”

Jacce looked down at your hands before looking back at you. You didn’t answer but didn’t make a move either. The man took that as a sign to continue.

“I… I know what it looks like… A guy that you barely know, touching himself in your closet… in your house…” He hesitated at the last part, “but I’m not a creep! I-I did this because I love you!”

Love me?! You had noticed before that he gave you more special treatment compared to other clients… but you never expected this! You felt your body getting weaker, as if you were about to faint from the stress.

“Are you… going to hurt me?”

Jacce's expression seemed to drop at the question, as if he was heartbroken that you thought he would do such a thing. This was not going as planned and he hated himself for it. You weren’t supposed to find him in your closet. You weren’t supposed to see him like this.

“I could n-never hurt you! I love you!” He was speaking with conviction, “I just want to be there for you! To serve you like you deserve… If anything you should be the one hurting m—”

“What are you talking about?!” You cutted him short in a panic, “I don’t want t-that!”

“What!? B—But I can be so good for you!” His voice raised slightly in desperation, “most guys are too stupid to even split the house chores! I'm ready to do everything for you!”

You stepped back while he kept walking forward. He was so absorbed in waves of emotions to notice the fear in your eyes. He gripped his shirt, his hands trembling and tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“I would NEVER take you for granted! I would be the most attentive and obedient person in your entire life!” His entire body was now shaking violently, “I don’t even have to be your boyfriend, I can be your pet!”

You didn’t know what to do. Your brain was going thousand miles an hour, making it near impossible to settle on something. While trying to think clearly, you also had to focus on what he was saying. He kept going on and on about the fact the he wanted to… serve you. What if it was true and not just excuses to make himself look less bad?

You decided to test your luck. It's not like you had another choice. Jacce was taller than you and getting him more agitated was not a good idea. You builded up all the energy you had left and talked over him in an authoritarian tone.

“Sit down against the wall.”

And he did.

All the panic that contortionned his face had completely disappeared, replaced by an expression of anticipation. He looked sincere about his intentions… but you couldn’t totally believe him just yet. The fear in your guts was still present, but it was slowly being overshadowed by something else. Your mind kept wandering back to the whimpers he cried out while touching himself and how cute he looked all desperate. You could sense the familiar sensation creeping between your legs the longer you looked down at him. Jacce seemed to be also stimulated by the turn of events, because he quickly placed his hands between his legs, not wanting to blow up his small chance with you. This pose gave him an even more submissive look, which made you go crazy.

What if… maybe we could both take advantage of this situation.

You were indeed craving for someone like this. Until now you could only find them in fiction and even then it was hard to dig them out in the sea of dominant love interests. Jacce would get your attention and you would be able to feast upon the site of his patheticness. You were definitely twisted to consider this outcome about a man who broke into your house, but it’s not like you would be doing anything wrong. It's your house so your rules on how to deal with intruders.

“Let me see what's happening between your legs.” You tried to keep the confident facade as you spoke.

Jacce's shoulders jolted a bit in embarrassment, but he did reveal the tent in his pants. He looked so disheveled with his flushed face and his coat lazily falling off one his shoulders. So hot.

“Do you want me to make it better?” Your voice was dripping with such honey, that you were even shocked by it.

He nodded frantically. Consent was something crucial and he had just gave it to you with indisputable enthusiasm.

You got down on your knees to get better access to him. You reached your hand out for his bulge, caressing it, which made his body tremble in anticipation. You unzipped his pants and slightly pulled at the rim of his boxers. His erection sprong out, finally letting you have a good look at it. His dick was 6.5 inches, the foreskin pulled back to reveal his pink gland, now on the verge of turning red. The tip was crowned with little pearls of precum, some of them sliding down his shaft like water drops on a car window. It made your mouth salivate just by thinking of wrapping your lips around it and admire his face contorted in pleasure.

Jacce was clearly trying to stay quiet, but when you spat in your hand, he couldn’t help but whimper at the thought of what was going to happen. You rubbed your palm on his tip, which made him buck his hips, before wrapping your fingers around it. Your thumb was barely reaching your index finger and that warmed your lower half even more. The idea of something like this stretching your inside was so enticing.

“T–thank y–you… Haah… I’ll be so so good to you, I promise.”

Jacce leaned in, clinging to the front of your shirt. At last he was feeling your divine touch. A part of him still couldn’t believe the turn of events. He imagined that you would have at least tried to hit him or something. But no, there you were, willingly giving him a handjob like a merciful master. You squeezed the base of his shaft, admiring the precum oozing out of the tip. You started to stroke him at a medium pace. Surprisingly, his voice was more soft spoken than what you expected. He was murmuring needingly into your ear while his drool stains your clothes. Jacce was still sensitive, since he had already cum not too long ago, causing him to swallow back cries multiple times.

“If you want me to continue you’ll have to answer some questions, ok?”

You felt like you were babying this grown man, talking to him like that. But he didn’t seem to mind, since he nodded without a complaint. Your grip started to loosen up tho, since that wasn’t a satisfying answer.

“Use your words or I’ll stop making you feel good.”

“I’ll–I’ll answer!” He whined.

“Good job.”

He shivered at the praise. That’s what he had dreamed of hearing from you for months. You picked up the paste again, pumping him harder. His head fell back as he unconsciously reached one hand out to his hidden collar. You were taken aback at the sight of it. How depraved is this guy!? Without thinking, you placed your index and middle fingers in the loop and tugged at it, making him moan like never before while jerking his head back up. You were pretty sure he almost came just from that.

“First question… How long have you been stalking me?”

“I st–started five months ago Mmm-Ahh… ” He sobbed, it was so hard for him to speak, “Y-you were always so n–nice to me when you N-gh came into the coffee shop. I wanted to kn-know more.”

You’ve been going to that place for about a year, so at least he hasn’t been doing it for that long. You were a bit taken aback that you never suspected anything though. This guy has been either really good or very lucky until now.

“Do you break into my house often?”

“N-no.”

You abruptly stop touching him, forcing him to speak again.

“I–I swear! I only did it six times!”

He arched his back and whimpered, urging you to stroke him again, which you happily obliged. It was hard not too!

“P-please u-use me, use me, use me! I want to be your dumb ngAhhh little puppy…”

The words were spilling out of his mouth with pure urgency and he bucked his hips against your palm uncontrollably. All clear signs that he was close to release. You couldn’t count the number of times you fantasized about turning someone into such a mess, but now that you were experiencing it, your simple imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Your own self control started to waver the more it went on. Jacce knew that he was about to cross his limit as well, closing his eyes shut, preparing himself. But the grip around his cock loosened, until it completely disappeared. He whined and moved his hips, searching for the touch of your warm hand again.

“W–why did you stop? I–I told you what you wanted to k-know!”

You didn’t answer, only looking at him with an indecipherable expression. All the moans, whimpers and other noises he let out, made you so horny that it was becoming too much to bear, but you knew it would make him way too happy to be used to make you cum. You couldn’t let him release either. He didn’t deserve it, not yet anyway.

“I’m not letting you cum.”

“Wh-what!? W-why?!” He complained again.

“You broke into my house and stalked me for five months.” You swiftly got on your feet, “bad boys don’t deserve to ejaculate.”

Bad boy was like the last nail into the coffin for the pathetic mess. In Jacce’s top ten of the worst things you could say to him this one was pretty high. Small tears rolled down his cheeks as a result.

“You… you’re right… I’m sorry.” He sniffed.

You did feel a little bit bad for making him cry and wanted to fuck him dumb too. No, not tonight. You had to hammer that in your brain to resist your desires. You decided to at least help him a bit before kicking him out.

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

“N-no! I–I’m supposed to be the one to–to take care of you.” he whined.

You gave him a stern glance, which shut him up instantly. You came back with a bottle and a wet towel in hand, crouched down in front of him and handed out the water. He took it, chugging it halfway in one go.

“T-thanks, you’re so nice to me… even when I don’t deserve it.” He whispered, looking away with a subtle smile on his lips. You could sense that, despite his guilty look, he was celebrating this whole situation on the inside.

With the towel you cleaned off his cock, still covered in a mixture of your spit and his cum. Jacce was looking at you like a puppy who made a mess and was watching his master taking care of it. His breath was getting heavy again and you could feel his cock twitching through the towel. He was totally getting turned on at how gentle and attentive you were to him. This had transformed into the perfect domestic fantasy in Jacce’s twisted mind.

“I’ll help you to the door if you think your legs aren’t strong enough yet.”

“I thought you accepted me! Can’t I stay!?”

“I haven’t made my final decision yet.” You crossed your arms,“if you really are a good boy you will let me think about it.”

Hanging over his head the possibility of being yours was enough for him to accept your request. He didn’t even consider the fact that you could call the police the second he leaves. Besides, the fact that you decided to touch him, instead of all the other decisions possible, was making him a bit more confident. After helping him up, you opened the front door and waited for him to leave. Jacce stopped, now the roles were reversed with his figure overtowering you.

“You promise to think about it?” He whispered anxiously.

“Yes, now please get out.”

He nodded and you watched Jacce for a bit to make sure he was really leaving, before closing the door. You looked down at the spot where the desperate man was previously sitting. You could feel your guts twist again, urging you to satisfy the heat between your legs. You sighed as you went into your room. The dirty audios you used to listen to were definitely not going to be enough to satisfy you anymore.

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I love nothing more then making a reader who is horny for the yandere too 😌

Link for the chapter on Ao3

Here is an other old sketch I made for this chapter back in 2023!

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #sub!yandere #sub yandere #gn reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #My oc-Jacce #dom reader #pathetic yandere #male yandere #desperate yandere #yandere x you #my art

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band--psycho · 23 hours ago

Text

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 3)

Thank you all so much for the love you're giving this story! It honestly means so much to me! 💛

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here, Part 1 / Part 2 /Part 4

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

Y/f/n - your friends name

Warnings: Pettines, hurt, mentions of breakups, feelings of anger, jealousy and regret

Did Simon believe that going to the coffee shop that you worked in was a good idea?

No.

He thought the exact opposite; that it was an awful idea, which is why he’d tried to persuade Johnny from going there at all.

But Johnny was headstrong and determined that he wanted to see you; and Simon knew Johnny was going to go there with or without him, which was the only reason Simon agreed to go.

At least, that’s what he told Johnny.

He knew how hurt and angry the Scotsman was about the news of you getting married; and even if he wasn’t as vocal as Johnny, Simon was feeling a similar hurt, too.

He missed you.

He couldn’t bear it; thinking about you being with somebody else…when you should’ve been with them.

He knew why John decided what he did; believing that ending their relationship with you was for the best.

To protect you.

Simon believed it, too.

That’s why he agreed to it, why he persuaded Johnny to get on board with the idea; but that didn’t make this situation easier.

Seeing you in pain was like a bullet to the heart.

He knew you’d move on, told himself that he’d be able to handle it, but he couldn’t.

That's why he agreed with Johnny that they needed to stop this wedding from happening.

Jonny bolted out of the car and practically ran to the coffee shop, eager to see you, but when he opened the door, Simon noticed him freeze in the doorway.

He quickly came to his partner’s side, following his gaze directly to you.

Your apron was wrapped around your waist, your black shirt sleeves rolled up, as you cleaned the table in front of you with a focused attention.

You still looked the same as you did two and a half years ago, except now you weren’t fighting back tears that were clearly building in your beautiful y/e/c eyes, like you had been the last time they’d seen you.

They both watched as one of your colleagues came up behind you, distracting you from the cleaning trance you’d been in.

“Hey, I’m just gonna take a quick smoke break before you leave; can you just serve those two guys for me?”

They heard your colleague say to you.

Simon thought about walking away for a fleeting moment, but before he could decide anything; Johnny decided for him and began walking over to the counter.

The counter that you were now behind.

Simon followed Johnny over the counter; mentally preparing for the shit show that was about to play out, knowing that you probably didn’t want to see either of them.

~~~~~~

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ you thought to yourself, watching as two more of your exes, Simon Riley and Johnny McTavish, made their way over to the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here, Bon,” Johnny smiled, his eyes locked on you; Simon was staring at you too, though his face remained neutral, avoidant of any emotion.

You wished you could say that their visit surprised you; but unlike John’s visit earlier this afternoon, you were relatively prepared for this.

You’d messaged your friend Y/f/n, as soon as John had left, ranting about the audacity he had to show up the way he did and continuously call you sweetheart like you were still together and simply had a fight.

Of course Y/f/n replied promptly with a message of, “What the fuck!! That’s so weird! I saw the Scottish guy earlier, too.”

Followed up with another message saying, “I told him how happy you are now and that you’re getting married!”

Your friends’ messages explained John’s sudden appearance at your workplace; and part of you expected the others to be visiting imminently…but you had to admit, seeing them after such a long time made you feel weird, like you were stuck in a Déjà vu loop.

“Well, I do work here,” you quipped back; the same forced smile you’d given John earlier was on your lips; but there was a bluntness to your voice now.

Johnny blinked a few times, clearly shocked by the tone of your voice; his shock seemed to disappear quickly though, replaced with an all too familiar smile on his lips.

The same smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

“What can I get for you today?” You continued, reminding yourself mentally to remain calm and professional.

You only had a few more minutes left of your shift and then you had the next few days off; meaning that all you had to do was serve them and then you’d be able to spend time with your Fiance.

“Tea for him, you know how he likes it,” Johnny began nodding over to Simon briefly before turning his eyes back to you, “And for me, surprise me, I trust ye, Bon”

You told Johnny the total; biting back a smile at the pure shock on his face as he pulled out of his wallet, paying for the drinks and then you got to work on making them.

It was true, just like you knew how to make John’s coffee, you also knew how to make Simon’s tea.

He liked a simple tea.

None of the flavoured ones like raspberry or mint, just normal English Breakfast tea, black with two sugar cubes.

Is that what you gave him?

No.

Of course not.

You instead gave him the extremely popular berry infused tea, and you did so with a smile on your face and a little wicked glint in your eyes.

Simon unbeknownst to you; noticed the look in your eyes; and sipped the drink without hesitation, saying nothing in response to the incorrectly made drink.

You did, however, notice the small smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, suggesting that he was impressed with what you had just done.

You tried to ignore the heat that was rising to your cheeks at such a small action; turning your attention to making Johnny’s drink.

He did say to surprise him.

So you did exactly that; with a drink, you he hated.

A matcha latte.

You remember when you were dating, and you brought one back from work and he nearly spat it out when he tried it.

“There you go,” you said, the smile on your lips no longer fake, instead smug as hell, “Enjoy,”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but thankfully, your colleague arrived back from her smoke break before he could.

“Is mister lover man picking you up today?” She asked with a light giggle in her voice.

“He is,” you beamed, before walking away from the counter and Simon and Johnny and towards the door labelled ‘STAFF ONLY’, quickly disappearing on the other side of it.

You grabbed your hoodie and bag from your locker, blurting goodbye to your colleague as you walked out of the coffee shop.

You knew Simon and Johnny were watching you; you could feel their eyes locked onto you as you made your way past them, purposefully ignoring them.

You didn’t care if they watched.

Especially not when you noticed your finances car parked outside.

You knew that, at least for the next few days; that you wouldn’t be seeing any of your exes again.

No, for the next few days all you were going to be focusing on was spending some much needed quality time with your Fiancé and wedding preparations.

That was your priority.

Thinking about the man you were going to be spending the rest of your life with.

Instead of thinking about the people that broke your heart. But you couldn’t help the brief thought that flashed through your mind; the one had haunted you for months after the breakup.

What did you do wrong for John to break up with you on behalf of himself and the others…

You quickly pushed the thought from your mind, as you got into your finances car; you’d barely even left the car park before you felt the familiar and reassuring presence of his hand resting on your thigh.

“How was your day, honey?” He asked warmly, his south Texan accent filling your ears, making you feel at ease instantly as you placed your hand over his, interlocking your fingers.

“Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over,”

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @mermaniaa @fangirlsfandomss @book-dragon03 @sunrise-willarive @amniotic115 @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @littlejoyfulthings @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @mrstelford @rabbittmoons @bookworm1767 @salemlovespies @amongthe141 @sleepybarnesbby @z-wantstowrite @maryrhodalouandted @uraeus @skipping-throughlife @echo9821 @nanamisfootrest @tribbisweetdear @backalleytimetravel @fruitymoonbeams-blog @alejandro-vargass-wife @moon-on-the-crest @lanaaameowyy

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no1blacksapphirefan · 2 months ago

Note

What if we mix up a few of the previous asks about the Self Aware CookieRun Kingdom AU, Hmm? And by this I mean: What if instead of the player being jealous of the cookies, the cookies are jealous of us with whatever media we're paying attention to while we idly play their game?

Example: I keep putting CRK in the background while I play other games on my Nintendo Switch b/c I hate waiting for things to produce in this game. I just wanna make enough resources to feed into the Wish Tree and Bear Train, but noooooo... Every item that they need takes a minimum of like, four hours to produce. And yes, I know I could just close the app and wait, but I like collecting other resources while I wait. So as the things that take multiple hours to literal days to craft are cooking, I play Hello Kitty Island Adventure, ignoring all of my little cookies and only occasionally looking down to refill my cue for sugar cubes and cake logs and jellies and all that other nonsense before getting right back to what really matters to my gaming life at the moment: becoming best friends with Sanrio characters.

So I would like to imagine all of my favorite cookies are trapped in mines and factories crafting enough resources so I can continue playing THEIR game stress free just to look up beyond the screen to see me having the time of my life becoming besties with a bunch of cutesy mascot characters on an island of fun and adventure. You can't tell me they wouldn't be at least a little jealous.

I do this a bit too, usually when Im farming like bounties or such. Let them auto as I concentrate on something else. I can tots see some being jealous though, especially if they're just stuck doing their victory pose till you realise they finished their job

Shadow Milk Hey! HEY!! Look at him, pay attention to him. He is so much better than whatever you're playing, you can't just leave him to cut wood for you and only pay attention when he needs to do more.

He wants your attention, almost craves it. He won't fully admit that though. He won't even admit he's jealous that you're happily playing a different game, oh he could keep you better entertained if you just looked at him. Let someone else cut the wood and he'll put on such a fantastic performance for you that any other would look like jokes...just look at him for more then a second please or else he'll be sulking once you finally log off the the day.

Black Sapphire He’s annoyed, but he has ideas on how to get up ur attention back, I mean being a radio show host he needs to be entertaining after all. But if those attempts don’t work he might make a loud sound come from your phone, something that’ll draw your attention to even for a moment but not let you realise it was him.

Like a screech of sorts as if your audio is distorting. He doesn’t mind making whatever you wish but at least give him some attention, especially since he’s been working so hard

Burning Spice Oh how he wants to throw his axe at that other device. You’ve been paying such happy attention to him, why stop now?? Just because you need some sugar cubes??? You’re lucky he likes you and wants to see you smile. He knows breaking that other device will surely upset you but than again…

He can make you happier, he promises!! Just lay off it for a few seconds and let him fight in the arena, let him hear the sweet praises you give him as he does the finishing move after you thought it was a loosing battle. He could never disappoint you. Just have your eyes on him. Though he wants to he won’t break the other device even if he figured out how…not yet anyways…don’t make it a habit

Black Forest She loves you so much please look at her. You’re who she wanted to marry, the witch she chose. Even if you’re technically not. She’s been doing a good job you know!! Tending to those sheep so you have such nice fluffy clouds.

At least praise her as she gets back to work but oh she doesn’t mind…well she does, shd feels the growing jealousy as your eyes and attention is on a different game. You really like befriending those sweet animals don’t you? Maybe if she convinces the other cookies, she can make it similar!! Surely you’ll stay longer though right? She doesn’t want to feel like you care more for that game.

Pure Vanilla he knows it’s nothing, that you still love the game and you just need to pay attention to something else but he can’t help the growing jealousy as he works tirelessly during Alliance, only having your attention briefly when you’re moving onto the next difficulty, or when you need him to farm that level again.

He feels bad, especially when he realises he wants you to stop play on that game. He tries to remind himself you still love him but seeing you giggle as you play your other game makes him upset, not at you specifically, he doesn’t even know who he’s mad at. He just wants your attention back on him. He’ll be happy for days when you turn back and happily tap on him like you usually do though

#✦ Zeros Self-Aware AU #cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #crk x you #black sapphire x reader #pure vanilla x reader #shadow milk x reader #Black Forest x reader #burning spice x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom x you #black sapphire cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #Black Forest cookie x reader #burning spice cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader

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joemama-2 · 6 months ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

↳ yep for almost two years now

↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay.

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative.

i bet she just did it for the child support

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane.

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken.

And you still don’t know who took it.

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family.

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them.

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway?

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried. “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right?

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing.

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn’t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him.

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp.

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best.

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow.

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing.

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again.

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.”

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal.

Oh.

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy.

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru.

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head.

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently.

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed.

By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away.

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice.

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night.

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side.

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming.

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!”

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily.

"Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way.

Finally, she scoffs out.

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

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rin-may-1103 · 15 days ago

Text

The Eyes of Death. Pt 3.

Previous | Master Post | Next(to be written)

Danny groaned, the sound of a heart monitor grating on his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Danny," someone called, sounding concerned.

Cracking open one of his eyes, Danny tilted his head and glanced at the person. It was Damian, sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking chair. His hair was disheveled, and he had light eyebags.

"Dami?" Danny asked, his voice weak and gruff for some reason.

That's when it hit him, the memories; Nacy and Wyatt trying to drag him to a party, cultists mobbing them on the streets, voluntering to be the sacrifice because he couldn't let anyone else get hurt even if it was Wyatt, the ritual working (although not how it probably should have), gaslighting the bat crew with one of the worst concussions he's ever had to deal with.

Damian leaned forward, stopping him from trying to sit up, "hey, hey!" he quickly cut in, "it's ok, you're at the hospital. Don't strain yourself. You were stabbed; you shouldn't aggravate your wound even if it's not likely to open again. The bats showed up, no one died."

Danny blinked, then huffed in annoyance. Sure, his body felt like it was on fire, but that wasn't too worrying. probably even normal after whatever that ritual was. It should be fine for him to sit up, but if it'll make Dami happy, then fine. He'll just tilt the bed up then.

Glancing around the bed and grabbing the remote (with his left arm, which was bandaged for some reason), Danny moved the bed until he was comfortably sitting up. Damian sat down with a sigh, shaking his head.

They sat silently for a moment before Danny turned to look at Damian with a frown.

"I dropped your jacket."

Damian stared at him for a moment before pinching his nose and closing his eyes.

"And my textbooks," Danny added, absently picking at the blanket.

He'd have to see if anyone was nice enough to bring his stuff to the cops. The cultists had just left it out in the streets, so Damian's jacket is probably long gone.

With the textbooks, though, there was a 5% chance someone actually dropped them off at the school or with the police (though the likelihood of them being returned to him was very, very low). 30% chance of another college student taking them for themselves, and 65% chance of someone picking them up and selling them off to some other college students for a quick couple of bucks or a few hundred.

Gotham was known for all the crime and stuff, but it was surprisingly nice for college students. (probably because literally almost all the rouges had college degrees. probably a smart idea to be nice to the potential new rouges, maybe they'll spare you in the future! or something like that.)

The point is, Danny's probably not going to see his textbooks anytime soon. So, he'll have to try and find new ones or rent them from the school.

"You were just kidnapped and used in a ritual to summon some demonic demon ghost king, and you're worried about your textbooks?" Damian asked, finally opening his eyes and looking at Danny.

"First of all," Danny started, pointing one of his fingers at Damian, "those were expensive; it took me months to save up for all of them. Second," Danny waved his arm in the air to gesture around the room, "I'm here, alive, and you said the bats got them, so no point in worrying about what happened."

Damian opened his mouth to cut in, but Danny continued, "And C, did they find my bag? I kind of really don't want to have to restart all of my homework again."

Damian sighed in defeat, resting his head on his hands as he leaned forward. "Danny," he breathed, his voice sounding pained, "you almost died. How can you just brush that off?"

Danny studied his boyfriend for a moment, actually taking in what he saw; his shoulders were tense, and he looked like a mess. His hair wasn't styled, instead, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it. His button-up shirt wasn't tucked in and was wrinkled in places, like he had collapsed into the chair and stayed like that for hours.

"It's not the first time," Danny admitted.

Damian's head shot up, his eyes wide as he stared at Danny. Glancing away, Danny continued, "My parents were... they loved us, they really did."

Damian didn't move, didn't even breath. Like if he moved even a single muscle, Danny would stop talking and run away. He was probably right, this was the first time Danny had ever spoken about them. He'd usually nervously brush off any questions and avoided the topic like the plague.

"But they probably shouldn't have ever been allowed to care for children." Danny loved his parents, and he knew they loved him. But there was no denying that jazz and he would have been better off raised somewhere else. "Mom's an experimental chemist. freelance. works on her own terms; said rules held back scientific potential."

The curtains were drawn, but sunlight still lit up the room. How long was he out? It couldn't have been longer than a few hours, considering Damian's eyebags, he probably pulled an all-nighter.

"The first time I died was a month after being born. She had been working all through her pregnancy, ignoring all the safety procedures. I was born with weak lungs, and my immune system was practically nonexistent." his parents hadn't taken the nurses seriously and brought him home, let Jazz play with him. It wasn't Jazz's fault that she had caught the cold and given it to him.

"They brought me back, but the doctors said I wouldn't make it long. My parents didn't worry too much. Dad claimed all Fentons were born a little weak. said I'd grow out of it." had even pulled out all the baby pictures from his family to show him, though Danny obviously didn't remember any of this. He'd seen the pictures again, after cleaning the house and snooping out of boredom.

"There were a few more close calls; honestly, CPS should have stepped in at this point, let alone the first time. Then there was the Accident." Funny how he hadn't been afraid of the risks, not afraid of death even when he stared it in the face. How could he? When he had known it his whole life.

"My parents had brilliant minds, inventing and creating all these amazing things. They'd been working on this project ever since they met in college. Only putting it down to explore other things that caught their attention, but always going back to it."

"They were obsessed."

Danny finally turned and looked back at Damian, watching as he clasped his hands together, his knuckles turning white.

"obsessed with proving they were right. You see, they'd always believed ghosts were real." Danny rolled his eyes, glancing down and picking at his nails. "They'd been ridiculed by others for this belief, so they had set out to prove it. To prove to the world that they weren't just wasting their time. So they built a portal. After hundreds of research papers, thousands of tests of concept, and twenty years of calculations and engineering. They had finished it."

"But it didn't work." Danny didn't glance up, but stopped picking his nails and instead focused on studying the blanket.

"They had been working on this thing my whole life; they had even locked themselves down in the basement and skipped my birthday party just to finish it. All just to find out it didn't work. They had been so disappointed, so frustrated at it and themselves, they had dropped everything and walked out the door."

He might not fear death, but Ancients did he hate remembering it.

"I was upset and frustrated. I hadn't seen my parents in weeks, and then this stupid thing they had been so focused on didn't even work. I wanted nothing more than to lock that door and never look at it again. Maybe my parents would give up and actually spend time with us, their living, breathing kids."

"My friends had a different idea. I had been complaining to them for months about how busy my parent were and they wanted to see exactly what they'd been working on. So, against my better judgment, we went down into the basement."

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had stood his ground, if he hadn't let his friends push him down those stairs.

"It was just supposed to be a quick look around, but Sam wanted a picture inside the portal. Said it would be so cool. She even went so far as to march over to get inside before I stopped her. I'd been in the basement plenty of times to know how dangerous my parents' work could be, especially when you're not being careful."

He could still remember how she had rolled her eyes, how Tucker had snorted and continued looking around. how neither of them had been careful of where they stepped.

"I suggested I be the one to go in, since she wasn't going to leave without at least something. She agreed, so I put on one of the spare protective suits just as a precaution and stepped inside. It was unnaturally silent and went farther than what my parents had been permitted to dig."

He still wasn't sure if the neighbors knew his parents had blocked off some of their basement as well or if they just assumed it had always been that small.

"I went about halfway back and turned to let Sam take her picture. She did, but said she wanted one further back. So I turned and continued walking, until my other friend Tucker shouted in surprise. it startled me and I tripped, catching myself on the wall to try and stop from face planting. I hit a button."

"My parents are geniuses, some of the smartest people I know. But they could get distracted, forgetting stuff they had just done or needed to do. There's no question where I got my Adhd from." Danny laughed, it sounded more like a huff, but he didn't care.

"They'd put an on button on the inside and completely forgot about it. It's not even in the blueprints, I checked." Danny grimaced, fiddling with his fingers, twisting them until they started to hurt and then letting go, just to do it again.

"They'd forgotten to unplug it; they had left it just waiting to be turned on. And I had pressed the button." Danny stared at his left hand, his death scar still visible after all these years. "Humans aren't supposed to survive that much electricity, let alone have a portal to a different dimension open right on top of them."

Humming, Danny glanced back at the window, frowning when he still couldn't tell what time it was. "You know the funny part?" he asked, still looking out the window. "They didn't even notice that I had died and rushed to the hospital. Too focused on the fact that their life's work had actually turned on. That they had proven the world wrong."

"I was in the hospital for weeks, the only ones visiting me were my friends and sister. No one knew how I survived." Danny turned and looked at Damian, a small smile on his face. "There have been more close calls after the accident, too many to count, really. But the point, Damian, is that at some point I had to get used to the fact that I could die. I've known death my whole life, and at this point I can accept it or break, and I've chosen to accept it and move on."

Damian stared at him, his eyes shiny as he closed them, "Alright."

"ok," he continued.

"ok," Danny echoed.

They sat in silence for a moment, befor someone knocked on the door. It swung open before either of them could respond, a familiar head of black hair coming into view.

"Hey, Dami, I got some coffee. I wasn't sure if you wanted anything to eat, but I grabbed some snacks just in case. How's-" Dick finally looked up, his eyes first landing on Damian who had silent tears running down his face and then over to Danny who was squinting at the sudden brightness.

"Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling? Any pain? Has a nurse been by yet?" Dick quickly recovered, smiling at Danny and shutting the door as he made his way to sit next to Damian.

Damian sat up like someone had dumped cold water down his back, turning his head to face Danny with intense worry. "I completely forgot to ask, are you ok? Don't lie, we can get a nurse to give you something for the pain."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I don't need more pain meds. What I need to know is what time it is. And if someone found my bag."

Dick blinked, lifting his eyebrow as he glanced at his watch, "it's nine in the morning. You've been out for ten hours."

"And your bag is right here," Damian added, lifting the mentioned bag up and then putting it back.

"Alright, cool. Now, when can I get out of here?" Danny asked, glaring at the IV on the back of his hand.

"I wouldn't recommend anytime soon, we still don't know what exactly happened to your wounds, and some of the bats want to talk to you about what happened." Dick cut in, raising his hands like he wanted calm danny down.

Danny frowned at him, rolling his eyes went he man only shrugged.

"Fine," Danny huffed, "I'll answer their questions, but that's it. I'm not staying after that."

"Danny," Damian tried, "I really don't think-"

"I was kidnapped and used in a ritual, somehow healed, have been sleeping for the past ten hours, and now I have to deal with a bat interrogation. I'm leaving. The only reason I haven't left yet is because you were obviously worried about me."

"I," Damian hesitated, sharing a glance with his brother before just nodding his head, "Ok. We'll leave, but I'd really prefer it if you stayed with someone. Just so we can make sure nothing went wrong with the healing."

Danny frowned again. Damian had been very non-confrontational this whole time. It was very unlike him. Usually, they'd have argued about five different things by now, yet he hasn't opposed Danny at all, not even about his textbooks (though he still made a comment on them). It was weird, but maybe not that weird. Danny had just died after all. Even if they didn't think he did, he'd still been stabbed on live video. Maybe Damian just needed some time. Yeah, that's probably it.

"I'll let them know your awake," Dick muttered, standing up and passing Damian the things he'd brought in.

Dick glanced at Danny before sending a sharp glance at Damian's phone.

nodding his head, Damian sipped his coffee and set it aside. making sure his boyfriends was distracted, he entered his password. Danny watched as Dick walked out and into the hallway, the door left open just enough to brighten the room. his boyfriends continued watching, obviously straining his ears to try and hear dick's conversation, just like he knew he would.

Tim: Still can't find anything on the ghost king. Dark is still offline. Barbera: The Cult leader's name is Gregory Johnson; he's been missing for over a year now. Only lead beforehand was some cryptic emails and some books on the afetrlife. Stephane: checked out their hideout, it looks like this was Johnson's first time running a ritual without a higher members guidance. they've done this ritual thirty seven times at this point, if the calader is accurate. Human sacrifices started a week after Johnson's joining. Jason: So the cult had been relatively harmless before he joined? Stephane: Looks like it. I'll have Duke go back and double-check, but I'm pretty sure he's the instigator. Tim: So what's different this time? Why did the ritual work? Damian: Because they actually had someone who checked all the boxes. Tim: is he awake? we still need to get his statement. Stephane: what boxes? Damian: Based on the other victims' statements, we know they had been looking for someone specific. A male with black hair, pale skin, who has encountered death multiple times in his life. Damian: We can infer that the cult had been choosing people based on their appearances, but they had no way of knowing if they had encountered death before. Danny has, therefore, the ritual worked. Stephane: well, shit. that sucks. Barbera: When has he encountered death? There's nothing mentioned in his medical file. An encounter with death would imply that he was close to dying, not just close calls.

Damian glanced up, then back at his phone. Danny had just told him he'd been to the hospital multiple times. His accident should be listed, let alone his hospitalisation soon after birth. Danny wouldn't lie about something like this.

Damian: Then the files were wrong, Danny had to be hospitalized multiple times. One of which he ended up staying for weeks on end. Barbera: the only way the files are wrong is if someone hacked into them and changed them. and since there's no evidence from what I can see, it's unlikely they've been hacked. Tim: yeah, why would someone even hack his file anyways? just to hide the fact he's been hospitalized? Damian: I don't know, they're just wrong. Barbera: Are you sure Danny wasn't just lying?

Damian glared down at his phone. He couldn't get mad at them; they're just doing what they've been taught. But Damian knows Danny, he wouldn't lie about something like this. he just wouldn't. Sure, he'd tell white lies about things, but never anything important.

"Damian?" Danny asked, drawing Damian's attention. Glancing up, he found his boyfriend watching him with worry. "Are you ok, you seem upset," he asked, his eyes tracing something Damian couldn't see. It's something Danny's done for as long as Damian has known him. He'd watch the air around people, like he could just see something they couldn't. Like if he watched long enough, something would happen.

Danny's eyes trailed slightly to the left, then up over his head and down again, subconsciously following something even he couldn't explain.

"I'm fine, just arguing with my siblings," Damian replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket so he could focus on Danny. He wasn't Robin right now, he was Damian, and his boyfriend needed him.

"Oh," Danny blinked, his eyes flashing green again just like they had earlier. Damian frowned, trying to figure out what caused it. they had flashed green when he mentioned his parents, and then green again when they tried to convince him to stay after Father's questions.

The door swung open before he could question it, his father's silent figure marching in, followed by Tim's.

Danny blinked at them, before gesturing at the chairs next to Damian, "Sure, barge right in without knocking. Just make yourselves at home, why don't cha?"

Despite everything, Damian couldn't help but smile. It was just like him to not be bothered by his father, to the point of giving disparaging remarks right to his face.

Next (to be written)

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #batman #dp x dc crossover #part three #the eyes of death au #are there spelling mistakes? most definitly

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palskippah · 7 months ago

Text

Hi! Nimona told him to do a thumbs up (also I hope you get the reference image because I couldn't find it ajkdsad)

There's some mpreg headcanons and drawings under the cut! :D

By the way the limit of images is 30 so I had to make some longer images with comics to save space and put more drawings 😭

-Also, small continuation from the previous drawing:

(I wrote baby album but maybe it should be those albums that people keep of the pregnancy process ajskd)

-When Ballister first started showing, he was a bit insecure about it, but Ambrosius helped with that, in the romantic sense of worshipping and whatever, but also like this:

Translation (did my best to see how to translate it sorry sdjksd it works better in spanish)

1 Ballister: I think it's too soon to be getting fat- Ambrosius: You know what else is getting fat? 2 Ambrosius: Who said that

-Ballister goes through the denial of needing new clothes, so imagine him still wearing the stuff he usually wears and Nimona coming from behind and picking at the clothes by his shoulder and going in a high-pitched voice, as if the shirt was talking - I'm tired, boss while Ballister swats her away and say, leave me alone, it still fits me >:(

(it doesn't)

>Also Ballister absolutely refusing to wear maternity clothes, the only one he got he was like, wearing it and looking very unimpressed, and Ambrosius' like, you don't like it? :( and Ballister says, No. It's ugly as fuck >:(

>So, he just gets bigger shirts and stretch-ier pants and that's it. Also he gets an oversized hoodie and he says that's gonna be his best friend the rest of the pregnancy, and both Nimona and Ambrosius gasp offendedly at that.

So-

Ambrosius (turning to look at Nimona): What the- hey, I am his best friend. Nimona: Course not! You lost that privilege with what happened that one time (she means the movie events, more than five years ago) Ballister: Ambrosius' my best friend, Nimona. Ambrosius: HAH >:D Nimona: Aw :( Ballister: Because you're my sidekick :) Nimona: :D Ambrosius: Hey, what now- that sounds better than best friend :(

-Ballister during most of the pregnancy is like, woo baby :) but at the very last months he's at least half of the time pissed off, tired and done with being pregnant.

(my incredible math skills in the next point)

>70% of that time he's mad at Ambrosius (who made him pregnant), 20% mad at Nimona (who consciously (and sometimes unconsciously) gets on his nerves) and the remaining 10 he's pissed off at Baby (and he gets sad about that one, because he's just a baby, so he redirects it at Ambrosius instead 😔)

>Ambrosius does his best to be of help but usually there's nothing he can do aside from being there (and sometimes getting out of Ballister's sight, if he's really angry- in the sense of 'I don't even want to see you now')

>Most of the time Ballister just cools off.

-Also Ambrosius giving him massages, sometimes randomly on his shoulders or his feet, and sometimes something more elaborated, like Ballister laying down and him using body oil, setting the ambient and all to massage his back (and Ballister almost always falls asleep in those).

>Sometimes tho he just does a 'chop chop chop' at his shoulders (it doesn't do anything besides amusing Ballister and keeping him company)

>Also Nimona said that of course he'd just randomly start chopping Ballister while Ballister does nothing about it, so Ambrosius starts chopping her instead

(made these two drawings with like three weeks of difference ajdkad)

(N/SFW thingies on the next four points and the next four images)

-Also with that previous point imagine Ballister waking up all angry, and Ambrosius just not knowing what he can do for him to stop being mad, but it turns out that Ballister had just woken up horny and pent-up.

>And once he realizes, he's like Ambrosius... (with intentions of getting some), and Ambrosius is like 🧍? because a second ago Ballister wasn't even looking at him.

-Also with this, Ballister is just very much hornier now (after the first trimester which was the worst) and Ambrosius doesn't mind at all - except when his jaw gets sore or he's running late for work because they lost track of time and also other situations ajsdks but usually he's delighted.

>(In the drawing Ballister just crossed one leg over the other once he heard Ambrosius coming in, because he can't maintain the position too long without getting uncomfortable sdjksj)

-Whenever Ballister is like >:c and looking in Ambrosius' direction, he immediately assumes that his husband is angry at him.

>Y'know when you look intensely at someone so they feel your gaze and look at you back? Ballister here is trying to apply that, but it doesn't work bc of the previous point askdad

-I had written sometime (I think) about them blaming Baby on literally anything that has more or less to do with him. If Ballister's crying, if he forgets stuff, if Nimona coddles Ballister too much and pisses him off, if Ambrosius wastes all the cleaning product in two weeks because he had been cleaning too much (he's nesting and realizes that sometime later), if Nimona and Ballister eat the weirdest stuff that at least he wouldn't eat in normal circumstances- and a long etc.

-During Ballister's pregnancy, Nimona works the most she had ever worked in her existence (in the biscuit factory):

-Both Nimona and Ambrosius are the most supportive c: yippie. Supportive husband/best friend and supportive sidekick/friend/sibling/etc

>An example would be of Ballister being tired, and if the time allows, the other two will immediately suggest a nap.

>Their collective naps usually last hours and they wake up disoriented, sweaty, with drool and the sheets marked on their faces.

>Also they wake up almost always stacked, Nimona always under the other two.

Translation

Nimona and Ballister: (snoring) Ambrosius: Fuck- what year is it? (tries to lift himself up)

-Also Nimona is the self-assigned pregnancy pillow, and at first Ballister had refused to let her do that, but as a sidekick she took it upon herself to make sure that her boss was comfy and could sleep well - and Ballister reminded her that that's not what sidekicks are for. She said, fuck off I'll do it anyways >:c

>Anyways he sleeps great with her help and earns himself a huge told you so from Nimona.

>I had written a thingy where just when she woke up she was like good morning boss :D while Ballister also said good morning and she hugged him while pushing Ambrosius away, even out of bed. I can't remember where I left it but once I find it, I'll see if it's good for posting pipipi Also Ballister and Ambrosius are corny husbands

>Also here I drew my vague idea of a bear bc I was too lazy to look for Nimona bear references sowwy

-Nimona sometimes shapeshifts into Ballister to make fun of him.

(This one joke gets lost in translation which is a shame but I'm gonna share the comic anyways sdjs)

>(She's messing around about names, doing a play in words using Gloreth's name while Ballister is already warning her to stop)

>Nimona urges them to get a name soon because Baby is almost born, and they're like yeah chill we're on it - and they're both sitting on the sofa, with Ballister's legs over Ambrosius' lap, while Ballister goes through their list on his tablet and Ambrosius focuses on giving him a massage on his feet.

They're like-

Ballister: So, Cyril? Ambrosius: No, my horse at the Institute was called that. Ballister: Right, then not that one... What about Casper? Ambrosius: Hmm... no. Ballister: Why not? Ambrosius: I don't know, I just don't really like it. Do you? Ballister: Eh, it's alright, I guess. I don't think Baby looks like a Casper, though Nimona: You don't even know how he looks yet! Ballister: You shut up, kid >:v Ballister: So, what about…

And they're making nearly to none progress but yeah sjdsd

>Also imagine Nimona (as Ballister) imitating what he does now that he's pregnant but x10 times more.

Translations

1 AUGHH- MY BACK 2 FUCKING AMBROSIUS! 3 Ambrosito? Can you get me a sweet treat? 🥺 4 I'M HUGE WAAA

>And while Ballister is like wtf I don't act like that, he turns to Ambrosius like, do I act like that? 😥 And Ambrosius, who was laughing to himself, goes, well... not so intensely, which is good enough for Ballister.

>But Nimona points out to what Ballister is eating with a mocking smile (and it is weird to be mocked by a version of himself that has a pink strand on his hair, but whatever), and he's like ? what? and realizes that he did ask for a sweet treat almost like Nimona depicted he does, because he did pull the big sparkly eyes and he did call Ambrosius Ambrosito while at it.

>Then he's wondering if he really complains about his back like that (he does, but as Ambrosius said, he isn't so intense about it, usually just holding his lower back and throwing his head back as he winces. Normal)

>(the yelling insults at Ambrosius is definitely not true. But he does throw daggers at him with his eyes when he's angry, he has to admit to himself)

>Now, about crying because he feels huge- yes. Very much true, but he doesn't wail. Just sobs and cries a river like the sensible, serious adult he is.

-Also that thing of knights don't cry and whatever. This one knight does cry, and he cries a lot (at least while he's pregnant).

>He cried once because he dreamt that Nimona was a little spider and even though he warned Ambrosius to be careful, he accidentally crushed her and he woke up not only incredibly sad but also upset with Ambrosius, even though he was aware that it was silly to get mad with him over a dream.

>Nimona was like boss :( while hugging him, and Ambrosius had to scoot a bit away because Ballister didn't even want to look at him as he wept. Ambrosius said a lot of reassuring words of I'm sorry, I think I didn't see her :( while Ballister was like, but I warned you so many times :'[

>Then he was like, I promise you, I'd never hurt Nimona. And Nimona herself said, yeah boss, I'd crush him first, don't you worry about it :) and Ballister said, but I couldn't protect you :''[ while hugging her harder.

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are (internally) like, ohh, so that's what it's about.

>Anyways, just a bunch of hugging and comforting gets him to feel a little less sad and also Nimona saying, but you're great at protecting me now :D so, there's all that sdjksd

-Sometimes Ballister just breaks down over seemingly the most trivial stuff too (which is usually just the last straw over a bunch of other stuff going on)

Translation

1 Ambrosius: Balli? What happened? D: Ballister (with one eyeline going up and the other going down): Ambrosito, my eyeline's crooked* *the straw that broke the camel's back (his hair isn't cooperating) (his back hurts) (done) (clothes feel uncomfortable) (the baby won't stay still) 2 Ambrosius (doing Ballister's eyeline): Stay very still, love (focused) 3 (they're in front of the mirror) Ballister (laughing his ass off): BUT HOW DID YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE CROOKED?! Ambrosius (embarrassed): Aw Ballister (holding his belly): Ow, Baby, don't kick me, sorry, sorry! I'll stay still now-

>(Y'know when a pregnant person laughs the baby inside gets all shaken skdsd I find it funny, so imagine Baby being like ??!! because Ballister keeps laughing too hard and shaking him all around and his kicks are like him going, stay the fuck still D:<) (Ballister's still weepy but now he's crying with laughter, which is better than him crying from being overwhelmed)

-Also Ballister's very scared of giving birth but he's very good at pretending that Baby will simply materialize in his arms rather than him having to push him out.

(Drawings based over this)

Translation

1 Ballister happy because his baby is almost born 2 (Remembers that he has to give birth to him)

-The day that he was in labor and all, imagine the water just breaking and stuff and Nimona being like 'okay everyone DON'T PANIC' while panicking and also Ballister's panicking too (Ambrosius' at work and when he's told he also panics and arrives at the hospital in record time still wearing his armor. The power of first-time father panic)

(But someone gotta be not panicking in the situation, so Ambrosius calms the fuck down and becomes the calming presence that Ballister can rely on c: also Nimona calms down too and goes back to being herself and is very good at distracting Ballister while he goes through contractions and the hours before pushing.)

>Also y'know how in TV sometimes someone else imitates the pregnant person's breathing exercises by going huff huff huff quickly ajsdkjd

>Also Ballister going Nimona what about the bags and also don't carry me there?! and her going shit right and ignoring the second half, then returning for the bags and grabbing them, all while holding Ballister like a doll (a doll with a little doll inside SJDS pregnant barbie)

En español pensaba que fuera = AYÚDENLO, SE LE SALE LA WAWA - NIMONA DEJA DE HACER SHOW

-Wrote a lil something about Baby's birth and Ballister going through kinda a rollercoaster of emotions because at the very beginning of the pushing stage he almost had a panic attack, but then everyone in the room helped him calm down, and when he thought everything was going great, the doctor offered Ambrosius to receive their baby, and of course his husband was very excited about it and said yes, getting dressed up in the medical gown, the facemask, the gloves and all that.

(Initially everything after that was supposed to go swiftly, but I thought, no, what if Ambrosius faints like some dads do? and after watching a TikTok of a woman whose partner did faint and they had to pause her birth to hold him up because he was like over 6 feet tall, I was like hell yeah that's it)

>When Ambrosius finally got between Ballister's legs to look, his blood pressure went the fuck down. And since he's pretty tall and the nurse that tried to catch him was pretty short, the other one had to join in and then the doctor too to avoid him slamming on the ground. The thing was that Ambrosius was clearly fighting very hard against unconsciousness, giving the three people holding him false hope about him finally holding his own weight, making them almost drop him multiple times.

>Sensibly, the situation was kinda scary, because the three people assisting his baby's birth were busy trying to hold his husband from fainting. Said husband was clearly fighting with everything he got to keep himself conscious, and Ballister could very much feel his baby crowning.

>But seeing three short people trying to hold Ambrosius up and yelping when they almost dropped him several times, and remembering that Ambrosius had been so excited about it but hadn't been able to even stand the view, and feeling pretty nervous because his main emotional support couldn't even keep himself awake-, made him crack up.

>So, he's laughing out loud and going every once in a while, owfuck- because it still hurts like a bitch, while the other three keep going, YOU'LL DROP HIM. BE CAREFUL, SIR?? SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME? and Ambrosius' like, yea- (faints again)

>(they're well aware that they gotta deliver the baby, so they're doing their best to hurry Ambrosius to get out of the way)

>The whole thing had made Ballister's body feel weak from the laughter, and he had to try and calm down to have strength again and push the baby out.

>As you'd guess, Ambrosius didn't receive their baby, and had to sit down and eat something sweet to not faint again, but he managed to stay on his feet well enough to cut the umbilical cord yippie.

>So anyways, Baby out, wrapped and all that, Ballister kept laughing more quietly about it and saying that they should mark the date in the calendar to celebrate Ambrosius fainting over almost delivering their baby. And Ambrosius' like hmm, I don't know Balli, maybe we could use this date for our son's birthday, don't you think? and Ballister's like OH RIGHT and now started laughing at himself.

I keep thinking of new stuff that contradicts what I already have posted, sowwy

>Imagine Ambrosius practically begging Ballister to not tell Nimona, while the other says she'd love to know but also is aware that she'd never let Ambrosius live it down, so he agrees on not telling her. Both eventually tell both Nimona and Baby when the latter is older and inquired about his birth, and indeed, Nimona loved the anecdote, and never let Ambrosius live it down, since then.

-Ideas about Nimona infiltrating the room in the form of a nurse after Baby is born and blowing up her cover when she commented on the baby's nose being just like Gol- Mr. Goldenheart's. And also, his hair being black like Bo- Mr. Goldenheart's.

>At the beginning when they had been admiring their baby, Ambrosius had said, he got your hair D': pipipi (he cried the second Baby got placed in his arms, got a drawing of that but I don't like how it came out wah, Ambrosius' wearing a facemask and being all tear-eyed pipipi) and Ballister had said, he got your nose :D but Ambrosius had said no? that's just a baby's nose, how can you even tell. But after Nimona commented on it, Ballister's saying told you so, it's your nose, while Ambrosius' like, Mr. Goldenheart could be either of us (both smiling amusedly because Nimona's too silly and they clearly know it's her, but she's all idk who's Nimona?)

-Also, I don't know how to make that work with the idea that when she got kicked out to the hall for the pushing bit, she went to steal some flowers and balloons with 'it's a boy!' on them for Ballister. But anyways, I'll write that bit too.

-Also this is Goldenheart with their baby, and I drew it a while back but realized that I don't like it anymore, so I'll do a redrawing someday sdjksd

>Imagine that Ambrosius was in the hospital bed with Baby while Ballister was getting ready so they could leave to their home, and Nimona said pictures timeee and then took that pic, with Ballister pointing at Baby and being all :D Also, Ambrosius looked pretty good and all, and Ballister was all unshaven face, kinda messy hair, the hospital band with his name still wrapped on his wrist as he pointed at Baby, and yet there were some people online that were like ??! Ambrosius Goldenloin Goldenheart was pregnant??

>And the people that knew even if a little bit about the Goldenheart's life, and also because they still went out and whatever, were like ? no? didn't you see Ballister like, a week ago? (Where he was very obviously pregnant and Ambrosius clearly wasn't sdjkdj)

>Every once in a while, Nimona would remember about this and repost it again, even after Baby is much older.

And that's it! If you read till here, bless you ajsdkadj

I've got more stuff about mpreg, both written and drawn, so I hope to make another post like this sometime, they're very fun to make :D

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #my art #mpreg #i love them so much #giving Ballister the biggest honor I can as an artist -> making him pregnant #that's what he gets for being my favorite #se pone bien papi chulo #I reached the image limit again pipipi #they should let me put 238493 images not just 30 #also notice that bathroom I drew that barely looks like a bathroom jsdsd #apologies I was too lazy to look for references pipipi

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fawnnlvr · 7 days ago

Text

a very purple beginning | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x purplehaired!reader

summary: in which a new agent joins the bau as their secretary and her dark purple hair and cold, reserved nature has piqued the interest of the bau, especially a special doctor.

word count: 2.1k (originally more but i decided to turn this into a series ♥︎)

masterlist

author's note: i am in love with this series i created in my head and in my notes app. reader is inspired by captain holt from brooklyn 99 bc i believe he is iconic. maybe adoptive daughter. anyways, hope you enjoy since i am making more parts ♥︎

"Is she even human?" Emily Prentiss asked, her mouth slightly parted in awe as her eyes followed your figure.

Her fellow colleagues shared the same expression as their eyes followed your every move. The way you walked, the way you spoke, the way you fixed a stray strand of your hair that was blocking your vision— it all seemed too perfect.

"It's like watching a robot in the body of a model." Morgan added as he watched you speak to Hotch regarding the matters in the open file the two of you were reading.

Spencer Reid stayed quiet in his seat, listening to the murmurs around him as he too found it hard to tear his eyes away from the new addition to the team. You had joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit only eight days ago as a secretary once their previous communication liason had left. Within those eight days, you were already the talk of the office with many claiming you as their so called 'work crush' and 'hopefully future work wife'. However, most of those dreams quickly fell through when people interacted with you and realized your beauty my only be for looking and not interacting with.

Although your job requires you to work closely with the team, Spencer and you have only interacted three times within that time frame.

The first was when Hotch had introduced you to everybody and Spencer gave you a nervous smile to which you replied back with the same stone expression on your face. The second time was when he apologized for getting in your way when you nearly bumped into him while turning the corner. You simply nodded your head before continuing your stride. The third and hopefully not final time was when you asked him a question about his germaphobia and how you could accommodate him while planning for the trips. You called him into the office that day and he had stammered as he told you that what you were currently doing was fine. Your eyes simply narrowed at his anxious figure before releasing him from your office.

"What hair dye do you think she uses because it hasn't faded not once and that is one of the hardest colors to maintain?" Penelope added, eyebrows furrowed as she knew the question would bug her until she asked. However, even the chirpy, extroverted Penelope could sometimes find certain people a bit scary. Hotch being one for the first few weeks she worked with him, and you being second.

"I know right? It's the perfect dark plum purple shade." Emily commented, shifting her weight to the other side as her eyes trailed from the roots of your hairs to the ends. Then, her dark brown eyes glanced to Spencer, "Hey Reid, your shirt is the same color as her hair. You're matching."

All three agents turned to Spencer who was sitting at his desk, just four feet away. He quickly averted his eyes from you and looked at them. "What's that?"

"Looks like he was staring at Miss Perfect too. I'm sure he loves her hair since it's basically his favorite color." Morgan teased, the same playful smile on his face that appeared whenever he mentions a potential romantic partners for the young prodigy of the FBI.

"I-It's a nice color. I wear it all the time and it's nice to see others appreciate it as well. There was a poll conducted in California that stated that purple was one of the most underappreciated colors when it came to choosing a favorite." Spencer rambled, fidgeting with his fingers.

Your purple hair was really what caught his attention in the beginning. It was this deep, rich shade of purple, the same shade that was littered in the forms of small trinkets or blankets in his home. The same shade that he thought looked the best on him when he looked into the mirror, making him more confident, so he bought more clothing in that shade. The same color that gave him this sense of comfort, as if when he looked at it, he was being embraced by a cold warmth. So in conclusion, he very much did love your hair simply because he already loved the color. At least, that is what he told himself to justify the unusual amounts of time he found his eyes wandering towards you.

"Yeah, cherry red is very in right now so I can't blame them." Penelope agreed.

"She seems so cool. Has anyone here actually spoken to her though?" Emily looked around to see if anyone could give her an answer she wanted to hear about the mysterious enigma that is you.

Morgan stated his experience first, "At the coffee bar, I once told her how I thought it was such a good morning and she told me it was expected to rain at noon. Then she walked off with her coffee."

They looked at Penelope next. "Well, I tried to talk to her— I really did. I was about to knock on her office door then I noticed the door was a tad bit open and I could hear her conversation on the phone. She was being really mean to the guy on the other side of the line so I got scared. Plus, she has that same stone cold look Hotch gives us when we turn in our paperwork late."

"So horror stories so far." the Prentiss girl winced at the thought that the new girl didn't have the warmest reputation.

"I don't think I have ever seen her smile." Rossi stated, joining the conversation and scaring the living life out of Morgan who didn't hear or sense him coming, "Sorry Morgan. Anyways, she is probably the same age as Spencer yet has the attitude of commander chief Hotch. Even I feel scared to talk to her."

"Great. Even the man with the most experience in dealing with psychopath serial killers hasn't even talked to her." Emily sighed as she crossed her arms. Rossi opened his mouth to testify against that statement since he did try to speak to you, but the original story was far too embarassing and he would rather keep that to himself.

"Didn't she call Reid up to her office a few days ago?" Rossi asked and everybody turned to Reid who was trying to finish writing his paperwork so he isn't subjected to the chilling stare of Hotch.

He looked towards them, putting down his pen, "She asked me if there was anything she could do to accommodate my germaphobia while traveling or in general."

The entire group swiftly moved as a whole towards Spencer's desk to interrogate him.

"How did she say it? Was she mean?" Penelope asked.

"Did a crow fly by the window?" Morgan laughed.

"Did she run out of battery and you had to change out her motherboard?" Rossi added, chuckling a little as well.

"No to Morgan and Rossi— Rossi especially since that isn't even technically correct— but she was nice." They looked at him weirdly before he added, "I guess?"

"Nice? You guess? Spencer we need every single detail. How exactly did she say it? What words did she use? I need to now the connotations of her words and how she structured it." The tech analysis was known for making friends with everybody under the roof of Quantico. She couldn't let her streak be broken because she was too scared. She needed to prepare herself before going into war.

"That was basically it. There was nothing too it. She wasn't mean or rude, she just asked a simple question as to how she can make me feel more comfortable— so in my opinion, she was nice." He defended your honor in a way, making it known that you were not a mean person at all.

You had went out of your way in order to ask him how you can improve his comfortability. No one had ever asked him that or acknowledged his needs that may have seemed simple and little to those on the outside, but huge to him. It was an aspect in his life that constantly controlled his every action and it was nice to know that somebody cared enough to help him after reading it in his case file.

"Maybe she's one of those cold people on the outside but a secret sweetheart." Emily suggested and Penelope gasped as if she just realized life-changing information.

"Oh my goodness, if that's true and I have been avoiding her this entire time— I am a terrible person. I, Penelope Garcia, had judged a person by their cover. I need to make it up to her. I need to —"

"She's coming." Spencer warned. This was probably the only time he thanked his eyes' little habit of trying to find you wherever you were in the room because he wouldn't want you to find out they were all huddled together to discuss what type of person you were.

The group all composed themselves as they directed their attention to you and Hotch making your ways to the group. Wow, it was like watching a father and daughter duo. The sharp gazes and the tight lines of the lips that never threatened to curl.

Hotch looked down towards you and you caught his eye before stepping forward, barely an inch. Almost as if you did not want to, but Hotch previously instructed you to do so.

"We have a case." you stated and Hotch nodded from behind your figure. Your voice was quiet yet monotone as you faced the group of people.

"Briefing room in ten. [Surname] will present the case. Garcia, assist her."

"Yes sir." Garcia immediately stepped forward as you took a step back, almost taken aback by her enthusiasm to be near you, an act that only Spencer seemed to notice as Garcia briskly walked to take a place by your side.

You stiffly walked by Penelope's side, almost as if the dark confidence you held in your walk was shaken by the mere presence of a bright individual beside you.

Spencer Reid arrived in the briefing room and sat in his usual seat. This was the first case you would be presenting and joining after Hotch decided that the first week of your job should be spent organizing the work left by the previous communication liason and getting a feel for the work.

Hotch gave you and Penelope a nod, signaling that it was time to start. The tech analysis had passed out files as you stood right beside the projector, prim and poised.

The briefing room was quiet, so quiet that Spencer was sure that you could hear his breathing pattern doing its best to return back to normal after pacing back and forth before he entered due to not wanting to be the first person in the room along with you and Penelope.

Your voice echoed through the room. It wasn't loud and projecting, nor was it soft and quiet, it was just right. Your spoke as if the entire report was memorized and rehearsed, definitely not giving you a chance to beat the robot allegations.

Your eyes really flickered off of either the projector or Hotch, but when it did, Spencer tried to offer a nice smile of support. Whenever he presented in front of large crowds, he was told to try and get a feeling for the crowd and so he thought you would appreciate knowing you were doing good.

Blink. You had blinked at him before averting your gaze someplace else and finishing the report. That was better than no reaction, he reasoned.

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch stated, gathering the files as he stood up and made his way out. Following closely behind him was you. The clacks of your high heels quietly echoed in the room as the rest of the agents watched as you walked out— more like strutted out.

The door had closed and the remaining agents had turned to Penelope to tell them all that happened while they were alone for approximately eight minutes and ten seconds.

"Oh my goodness. Once you get over the monotone stern voice, she really is nice. Her expression did not change once and she didn't smile, but I can see it in her eyes— I think she likes me." Penelope proudly proclaimed, her nose tilted up as she retold her accomplishment.

"Looks like she's not so scary after all." Rossi stated, content, now that he knows he can have a conversation with you without worrying that you will be mean. He once had to deal with a group of cool teenagers for a case back in the day and you reminded him of them. Somebody who can ruin his self esteem and confidence with a small snicker and comment.

"Slowly but surely, I think she'll open up." Derek stated.

Spencer looked down on his lap. That's what he's been trying to say.

#fawnnlvr writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff

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