#truly one of the most pms ever

[nepolana]

Oh no

Anyway

Besides imagine how the lettuce must have felt

[iiboronii]

okay so i went on a walkie (my body needed to go on one, remember to take care of yourselves and listen to what your body needs btw!!!!) and i'm outside again and. i just. i am so enthralled by the beauty that is all around me. the clouds are slightly tinted yellow as the sun goes down. the leaves are glowing in the evening sun. the contrast of the light and darkness depending on where you look on the tree is so beautiful. i love being alive and experiencing the small joys of nature. i love the warm weather. i'm wearing shorts out here!!!! life is so beautiful.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[malfoys-demigod]

Hiiii. I LOVE ur underrated softie fic ❤️ I was wondering if u could do one kinda similar but it’s friends to lovers and he’s overprotective over little things? U don’t have to use this but I was thinking things like he doesn’t want u to burn ur hand on the stove or like u sneeze and he’s fretting over u and worried ur sick? And everyone can see he’s in love but reader is oblivious lol. Thank uuuu

Little Miss Oblivious

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy this!! I hope you find the fluff quite cute!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

It was a privilege for some to have Logan Howlett as a friend. 

Inside his inner circle, he had quite the humor, he assured you he’d have your back, and among many other things, he always had the best things to say when you needed it. 

Some may call it more than a loyal friendship, but all you could see at the moment was that you and Logan were the closest of friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Of course you were oblivious to the fact that everyone knew he was truly, deeply, madly, in love with you and all you thought was that he was an annoying, overbearing best friend, who constantly treated you like a little child who can’t do things for herself. 

At first, there were the little things that you thought would slide, you know? But the more he did these little things constantly, the bigger they made you feel unqualified to even do anything at all for yourself!

Like two weeks ago. 

It was a Saturday morning. Well, almost the end of the morning. You overslept for the first time in a while as it was almost lunch time. You spent all Friday night till late, checking your students papers and preparing class discussions and topics for the rest of the next week ahead to give way to a restful weekend. 

Because you slept late, you were most likely to wake up late. Like really late. But as soon as 12:00 pm hit, Logan, who was around the whole X Mansion, knew you weren’t around yet. 

Had you eaten yet? Showered? Exercised? Anything at all? These were basic questions that Logan took seriously that one Saturday and wanted to make sure you weren’t, as silly as it sounded, dead or kidnapped! 

As you were heavily sleeping and unaware of how it was lunch time now, Logan now stood by your door, gently knocking it and calling your name. 

No response. 

“Y/N?” He asked again, putting an ear to the door. He listened to shallow snores, relieved to hear you were just sleeping. 

He slowly turned the doorknob around, quietly opening the door with another gentle knock to make his presence known. 

“Darling,” he said, “Did you eat this morning and fall back asleep?”

Upon hearing his voice, you, still with eyes closed, muttered a small no, which earned a huff of disappointment from Logan. 

“Come on, doll,” he said, now sitting by your bed, “I wanna make you some scrambled eggs and orange juice.” 

“M’kay” you groaned, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. You felt Logan’s hands on your wrists, trying to pull your hands away from your face. 

“Stop rubbing your eyes, you know you’re gonna get wrinkles the more you do that.”

”Shut up, Logan,” you groaned, “I just woke up. Please.”

Logan just laughed, and pulled you out of bed to get you on your feet. 

While you were heading towards the door, Logan moved in front of you, opening the door for you as you continued rubbing your eyes from the instant light of the hallway outside. 

Logan’s arm was hung around your shoulder as you slumped towards the kitchen out of sleepiness. You knew you were getting some stares from other students who passed by, seeing Logan cling onto you. Oblivious to the fact that they were thinking about how Logan was being boyfriend material again for the thousandth time, you assumed they thought you were wasted somehow, needing stability support from Logan. 

“You don’t need to walk so close to me, people might think I was drunk or something last night.” 

“Nah, nobody’s ever gonna think that of you, Y/N,” he replied, “Everyone knows you were being a goodie two shoes and probably checking your students’ papers.” He replied, still hanging his arm over you. 

When the both of you arrived at the kitchen, your hand was about to reach over for the stool until Logan quickly pulled it out for you already to sit down. 

You didn’t know if it was the ‘just woke up’ morning feelings you still had or the typical annoyance you had for when Logan treated you like a baby, but you looked at him with a deadpan look. 

“I had that one covered, Lo.”

Logan, already whisking the eggs in a bowl displayed a small smile on his face, “Yeah, me too.”

”Hey, lovebirds!” Storm announced her presence briefly. 

You shook your head in disapproval of that nickname, knowing very well that you and Logan were only best friends. It was a clear fact, right?!

Storm, just pouring herself a cup of coffee, checked up on what Logan was making and smiled at him with a pleased look on her face. “Wanna save some for me or these all for your girl over here?”

”Oh, Ororo, it’s cool, you can have some-“

”These last few eggs from the egg carton are for this child right here,” Logan interrupted you, “She didn’t have anything to eat yet.”

”Oookay,” Storm chuckled to herself. She wasn’t hungry anyways, just in the mood for some light bantering. “I’ve gotta meet Scott now anyways. Bye you two!”

You waved her goodbye as she made her way out. Leaving you and Logan back alone again. 

There was already a carton of orange juice and a glass in front of you, as if Logan had already prepared some stuff before waking you up. So you poured yourself a glass of your favorite breakfast drink and watched Logan cook your eggs. 

You knew your best friend was pretty good at cooking the simple stuff like scrambled eggs, he always made them for you. But you wanted to at least contribute to your own breakfast somehow. Sometimes it just didn’t feel right for Logan to do everything for you no matter how much he insisted. 

“Can I help cook?” You said, tip-toeing from the stool to see Logan’s progress. 

“Just stay there. Let me handle this.”

You pouted, still watching him from your tip-toe position, which he definitely caught without even having to look up from his cooking. “And sit down properly. You’re gonna make a fool outta yourself when you fall, bub.”

You scoffed, feeling like an absolute child. “Fuck off, Logan. I’m not a child.” 

“You sure look like one,” he replied now looking at you with a grin, “An adorable one.” 

Before you could even reply to what you thought was a friendly yet teasing comment from your best friend, he served you a plate of his best scrambled eggs. 

Just by the smell of it, you instantly felt so hungry, getting a spoon and fork and just going at it. 

“So delicious,” you murmured, indulging in lunch, or very late breakfast. 

Logan sat by the stool beside you, “Hey look over here,” he said in focus of your face. 

You turned to him with a confused look as he scanned your mouth. You weren’t sure what he was planning to do until he placed a finger over the corner of your mouth, softly dusting crumbs from there to your cheek while you were still chewing. 

“There we go,” he said, getting a raise of an eyebrow from you. 

“Seriously?” You said, being interrupted from eating. “I could’ve done that later on when I’m done eating.”

Your serious look changed with a surprised chuckle when Logan, who you’ve never seen in a million years do, just stuck his tongue out of ridicule. “Whatever, darl,” he replied, “If the professor sees you ravaging an entire plate of eggs like you’ve never eaten before, I’m not saving you from embarrassment.”

“Please, as if you can’t help yourself from saving me from something somehow.” You teased, making Logan look away from you to cover the pink spots that were growing on his cheeks. 

Now fast forward to today. 

You were invited to a girls night out with Jean and Ororo. But they already went ahead, or actually, on time since you stayed back for an hour or two, catching up with your work and checking your students’ papers. 

Logan had already disliked the idea of you catching up with the girls at a later time. He already offered to check the papers for you, despite not knowing anything about the topic you taught. He just hated to see you call a cab on your own. 

“You’re not really thinking about going out alone, are you?” He already asked you earlier. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He prompted this time, with you shaking your head and assuming he’d follow you inside the bar like a lap dog and drop you off there. “I can at least drive you and I wouldn’t even have to step outta the car!” 

You looked up at the ceiling, expressing defeat, muttering, “Fine!” This of course made Logan happy and relieved, turning around to get, or in other words, steal one of Scott’s cars. 

The ride to the club was merely quiet as you were doing final touches with your makeup. Logan from time to time, would take glances at you, knowing how beautiful you were with and without the use of makeup. 

Once you arrived at the club, Logan took a good look at you and reminded you to call him if you needed a ride home so he could come back as soon as possible, and of course to be careful. 

Over the first hour at the club, you and the girls were starting it steady and still with easy going cocktails, talking about anything and everything. 

Storm, being like the older sister of the group, was hard to be persuaded into drinking a lot later on with you and Jean. But you told her that Logan was gonna pick you up and might as well be picking the two of them up with you as well, she caved in… with the idea of teasing you about you and your watchdog of a friend later on. 

“So when is Logan ever gonna call you his girlfriend!” Storm asked bluntly, after taking one cocktail in. She was definitely a lightweight with all her years of being a designated driver or sister/mom of the group. 

“What?” you replied with a question that carried a silly undertone. “Girlfriend? What the heck are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. What can you say about all the little things he does for you? He’s practically babying you like you’re his world!” Jean explained, taking another sip from her drink. 

“I get that he does that, but it’s only a friendly and annoying thing he does to me. That’s it.. Right?” you trailed as you saw the smirks coming out of both Jean and Storm. 

“Oh honey,” Storm giggles, “He’s smitten for you! And you should reciprocate! You both would be the cutest couple in school, aside from Jean and Scott of course.”

You grinned to yourself as you took another sip of your favorite cocktail, pondering about the possibility of being more than friends with Logan. I mean, let’s be honest. He is ridiculously good looking, he tells the best jokes, and he’s never given you as much focus and affection towards you than anyone else. 

Before you could ponder further, Storm and Jean pulled you out from your seats, heading to the dance floor with shots for the three of you to take. Time flew fast as you were dancing the night away with the girls, taking a couple of more shots from time to time, giggling and twirling around like girls who never had the chance to party this hard. 

Unbeknown to you, Logan had been calling your phone a couple of times, making buzzing noises and vibrations on your phone, which you didn’t feel since it was inside your bag. You were busy going back to the bar to get a plate of more shots.

Once there was a plate of shots on your hand, you waved over to your girl friends who waved back in excitement. 

You were holding the plate with a good grip, walking towards the center of the dance floor where your friends were dancing. It was that final step toward your friends that instantly altered the course of your entire night. 

It all happened so fast when you took a slip onto the floor, banging your head. Somehow the shots didn’t fall on you, but that didn’t matter. Your head was throbbing with instant pain and your friends quickly asking you questions like if you were okay started sounding like mumbles. 

You slowly sat up, placing a hand on the back of your head, wincing at the pain. This time, you were able to feel a buzz coming from your bag and as you stood up with the help of your friends, you took the call. 

“Hello?” you murmured, “Who’s calling?”

“Me, idiot!” It was Logan. “I’ve been trying to reach you three times, why haven’t you been answering?” 

You rubbed your head, trying to ease the pain as there was another pain coming from the end of your phone, “Ugh, not now Logan, I think I’m about to have a migraine.”

There was a short pause on Logan’s end. If you were able to see him right about now, you could see his face turn into a look of deep distress. 

“What happened?” He said the question in the form of what it sounded to be a command. “Who’s ass do I have to kill?”

“Um, nobody?!” You said in discontent. Logan was becoming, or already was in overprotective mode. “I just took a bad fall right before you called and my head hurts and-”

“Are you drunk?” 

“God, no, Logan! Seriously? I wasn’t even finished yet-”

“I’m picking you all up now.” Logan said, sounding in a rush from the sound of the background. It sounded as if he already closed the door and was on his feet.

The phone call ended and the girls rushed you to sit down, with an ice pack on hand already, requested immediately while you were taking the call. 

It felt like only a few minutes of icing your head up when Logan bursted through the doors of the club, appearing in front of you. 

Once he got the story after asking how you were and how bad the fall was, Logan started calming down, turning back to his over caring mode. 

"I told you to be careful! See, this is why I don't want you going out without me!”

Jean and Storm shared understanding smiles as they witnessed Logan go all soft on you. 

“Oh shut up Logan, I just wanna go home,” was all you wanted to say for now. There wasn’t any place like home right now, just being in your pajamas and resting up in your bed. 

“Alright, bub,” he replied, getting a hold of you and clinging your arm around him. 

The ride back to the X Mansion was as quiet as it was going to the club earlier. You were resting your eyes and about to doze off in the front seat while Storm and Jean were looking out of their respective car windows in the back. Logan was just thinking about how he was gonna take care of you tonight and tomorrow while driving back home. 

He felt so guilty and awful for not being around you this evening and wished he was there to save you from that fall. Though at the same time, he was starting to grow tired of doing all these acts of love without you knowing he loved you. He always knew you saw him as a best friend and he was scared you’d only see him as that. 

While Jean and Storm went back to their respective bedrooms, Logan brought you over to yours and you were just ready to jump into bed until he scanned your head, holding you gently by the shoulders. 

“Does your head still hurt?”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, rubbing the back of your head. 

“That isn’t what I asked, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms, getting a little annoyed with the mini interrogation. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, okay? It was just a slip, okay? It wasn’t like I fell off a cliff and somehow survived! Jesus, Logan, it’s like you’ve been treating me like a baby lately and I really can’t understand why! I’m a grown woman!”

“I was just trying to protect you!” he defended himself, placing his hands on your crossed arms. 

“Who gave you that right?!” 

Logan’s hands fell from your arms and found themselves in the pockets of his leather jacket. He shot you a fast heartsick look and started looking at the floor when he started confessing:

“I’ve learned that when you love someone, you protect them with your entire life at stake, and right now, my guts tell me to do the same.” 

“Somehow I thought that if I did all of this, it would finally click for you one day,” he continued, “But God, how blind can you be? I’m in love with you, Y/N.” 

Logan was met with your silence, still being able to process his raw confession, and thinking about what Storm and Jean had mentioned briefly at the bar, tying all of this together into reality. How oblivious and clueless were you really? You felt so ashamed of your snaps and unappreciated gestures now when it came to everything Logan did for you. 

Logan turned sideways, ready to face the door heading out of your bedroom, “Look,” he said, “Why don’t you freshen up and sleep tight, okay? Come back to me tomorrow when you figure things out.”

Logan turned around, facing your door, but out of a whirlwind, you swiftly grabbed him by the wrist to turn him around. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could utter a word, you pulled him closer, your breath mingling with his. Without a moment's hesitation, you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his with an urgency that had been building for what felt like forever.

Logan's initial surprise melted away as he responded, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you in that electric moment. His lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and fervor, as if every emotion he had kept bottled up was pouring out through that kiss.

Time seemed to slow, the intensity of the kiss deepening as you both let go of any reservations. His hands moved to cradle your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, matching the frantic beat of your own.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stayed close, foreheads touching as you caught your breath. His eyes searched yours, filled with the same longing and passion that had fueled the kiss, and you knew that everything had changed in that single, perfect moment.

"You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay." Logan teased with his worst lie ever. 

“Oh yeah? How about another then?” you proposed, wrapping your arms around him again. “I think you deserve it anyways.”

“Prove it, darling.”

[essenteez]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 || 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆

"Such fragile little thing, you are. Yet you managed to enslave me, the death itself."

“I won’t be gentle. I can't.” He warns, breaking away from the dazing kiss. "I waited a whole year. Twelve, long months. Over three hundred, fucking days controlling myself and keeping my hands to myself. No more."

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: A year passed after you were ostracized by everyone for being a fallen woman. You get the news of a tragic murder of your former fiancé, because of whom you were left with no family and friends. You feel no compassion, but pure joy. Now, you can let go of the past and focus on Jongho, a mysterious lord who saved you from a certain demise and took care of you. You're now ready to embrace your new life fully and the dark secret of your savior.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: vampire jongho x f!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, horror

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, unprotected sex, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, fingering (f!recieving), rough sex, oral (f!recieving), creampie, overstimulation, blood mention, mention of revange murder, a little horror.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6.6k

London, September 3rd, 1832, Monday.

11.25 PM.

Today is the first death anniversary of the old you. The old you who was disowned by your family, pushed away by your entourage, betrayed by the man you trusted the most. The person that you once wanted to spend your life with - your fiancé, who was found dead yesterday.

Do you feel grief? Of course not. Are you sad? He wishes you were. Although you have to admit that if ever, any wish of death for him had crossed your mind, it was never that brutal.

The headlines of today’s morning newspaper mention a dismembered body, completely drained of all blood. Shreds of your former fiancé were discovered somewhere in one of Oxford's slums. The incident probably makes people sick to their stomach, but your guts are fine. You only felt disgust while reading those lies about what a wonderful son and noble man he was, and what a loss to his parents and the country. It does hurt to see that no one knows what monster he truly was. Well, it is not your problem anymore. Actually, you could thank him for the chance he gave you to have a better life.

Much better life with your new protector. Your new world. Lord Choi Jongho.

However, the news has ruined your day. You have been feeling restless all day, missing him with all your being. You have barely touched any food or left your room. You also told your maids to not disturb you, letting them in only to prepare you a hot bath. He has not left your thoughts even for a second today, leaving you hoping he comes back as soon as possible.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you put on your white night dress. There is a little aching in your muscles from the lack of entertainment since morning. It makes you groan when you decide to massage your neck. The hot bath helped you feel a little better, so you are grateful to your lovely maids.

Phlegmatically, you start brushing your long locks when the rain outside suddenly grows stronger, now pelting at your window. At first you ignore it but the sound of a quiet thunder makes you turn your face towards the window. Lighting flashes on your face as you strongly pull the heavy blinds to one side, another roar of the storm follows after a few seconds.

"Perfect." You mumble, blinking quickly after the sudden flash of light manages to blind you. The weather only worsens your mood. You hate storms with a burning passion. It also reminds you of him as he always accompanies you when the brutal weather does not let you feel relaxed. But he’s not here right now.

You flinch at a sudden knocking on your door. In the manor you grew up in, you could hear someone approaching your room from meters away, because of the floor creaking. The floor here also isn't quiet, but somehow you never hear the maids, or Jongho coming.

You clear your throat before calling. "Come in!"

You let go of the blinds, reaching for the brush to resume combing your hair, as a short, skinny girl slides inside your bedroom, curtseying before you.

"My lady."

"What is it, Annabelle?” You ask dispassionately but still trying to make your tone sound kind. "I told you and Sybil to leave me alone, didn't I?"

"Yes, my lady, you certainly did. But you also ordered earlier that we inform you about the lord's whereabouts. I come to announce my lord's arrival back to the mansion. He is asking if you would like to join him for a glass of wine before going to bed.” She continues, her pretty face smiling from ear to ear, knowing well she brings good news to you. “The heavy storm is getting closer, so my lord also thought you would feel better if you had company until it calms down."

You stand up rapidly, almost dropping the brush on the ground as you turn to the maid. You can't hide your excitement. He finally came back. Thank God. He left a week ago and everyday was like torture for you. After hearing today's news, you have craved his presence more than ever.

"Alas-" You shout excitedly, quickly realizing how loud it sounded. "I mean... Yes, I would like to join Lord Choi for a glass of wine."

“My lord foresaw that answer.” Annabelle smiles at you, being vividly happy to see your mood change. "He will be waiting for you in ten minutes in the main saloon.”

When she sees your nod at her announcement, she curtseys again before leaving you. "My lady"

The moment the maid closes the door behind her, you run to your vanity. Your hair is already brushed but you notice how gray your skin looks. Still, not as gray as Annabelle or Sybil's, but the whole day of boredom and overthinking indeed seemed to exhaust you. Despite the lack of life on your face, your eyes start to shine with a familiar glow. A glow only he can awake in you. You bite your lips and pinch your cheeks to bring some blood to your face.

At the finish, you slide on a red, silk robe on. His favorite color as he once mentioned.

You already got used to the prevailing rules in this house; no lady and lord calling between you two, no severe etiquette. It was like stepping into a different world. It didn’t take you long to adapt since you hate hierarchy like that. You enjoy life now. If your mother only knew you were walking around in a thin night dress under a robe in the house of a man that you are not related to, she would surely faint. You couldn't care less though.

You no longer have a mother or family. All you have is him.

After ten minutes, you walk down the wide, winding stairs. It is pretty dark as the candles are unable to illuminate such a large, dark space. Fortunately, after a year of living here you already know every inch by heart.

The storm is getting closer with every second now. A glare of a lightning, soon followed by thunder, illuminates the whole mansion making you jump in fear.

While reaching the ground floor you notice a warm, weak light at the end of the main hall which makes you smile subconsciously. The light is leading you to the main saloon where he is supposedly waiting for you.

Your eyes go to him the same moment you enter the room. He is standing with his back facing you, looking at the unraveling storm outside the tall window. His palms are clasped behind his back as he faces the thunders, not bothered by the noise. Jongho is an embodiment of the peace you have craved for all week.

He is here. You do not want to think about what would've happened to you if he didn't find you back then, a year ago.

After your disappointed parents threw you out of your family house, you were wandering the misty streets of Oxford, completely soaked from pouring rain. Your fiancé's grand plan to ruin your family's reputation was a success. Deceived by his promises of mad love, you gave yourself to him before the wedding. And he used it to accuse you of betrayal with some non-existent man. With no way to prove your innocence, you were ostracized and your family immediately cut you off to save the last shreds of dignity. All that to take revenge on your father for some old grudge his family had against yours.

You were miserable, you had given up with no place to go. Since news about the lewd Lady (y/l/n) spread quickly, people passing you by looked at you with disgust on their face.

But suddenly someone stopped in front of you, putting their black umbrella above your head. A mysterious lord. His deep, black eyes and gentle smile helped you survive. Since you had nothing to lose and you needed to vent your pain, you didn't care if it was a stranger listening.

There was something about him that made you tell him your story. You were certain that he would act just like everyone else, but he didn’t. He took care of you, he listened. You could see the anger in his eyes when you uncovered the ugly truth about how you were treated.

Then, Jongho took you to London, gave you a new last name, a new life, far away from those rumors and hateful looks. You could finish your education and do more things than any other woman in England could. Just when you thought you would never trust anyone, there he was.

"Are you going to stare at me like that all night?" His gentle, amused voice interrupted you, drowning in your memories. You straighten your back at his words and gulp softly. A heat burns your cheeks at your own carelessness.

"Forgive me. I did not want to disturb you watching the storm. I know you love this type of..." You gasp quietly as he slowly turns and looks at you with that mysterious gaze that you know so well. After a year you still can't read him which was drawing you to him even more. “...weather.”

His raven black, tidy hair contrasts perfectly with his white colored blouse. A ruby brioche at his neck that shines with red glow.

Sudden lighting illuminates him entirely from behind, showing you the outlines of his perfect body underneath the shirt. His broad shoulders make you breathe faster. It is safe to say Jongho is the most beautiful man your eyes have ever seen.

Graceful in every movement. Eloquent with every word he says. So intimidating, which always makes you blush and loudly swallow. But he is also kind, with a one of a kind sense of humor. Each of your new London friends thinks he is none other than your distant cousin. And they all find him pretty scary but witheringly attractive.

"I have heard that you have not eaten anything today and that you did not leave your room until now.” A sudden change of his tone disturbs your inappropriate thoughts.

You drop your gaze to your feet.

"I presume birds brought you the news." You threw a look at Annabelle and Sybil, who are now preparing two glasses and a bottle of wine at the table. They are avoiding your eyes, feeling uncomfortable with your sharp gaze on them. You only reassure yourself in the conviction that the telegram you saw Sybil writing this morning was indeed for him.

"They really worry about you, (y/n). Especially Annabelle. I tried my best to come home as soon as I could after seeing the news." He lowers his head a little, vividly curious about your reaction.

You feel butterflies form in your stomach, hearing he rushed as fast as he could to you. You look at him with a gentle smile, thanking him.

Lighting flashes again, bringing loud thunder with it as he asks.

"Do you, perhaps, feel saddened?"

Your smile disappears. You look each other in the eyes for a longer second until you break eye contact so he doesn't see what your mind is full of right now. You start moving towards the black wooden table after the girls left you both alone. You pour wine into both glasses.

"No." You smile, licking your lips before taking a big sip of a red liquid.

Jongho observes your every move, visibly surprised with your tone.

"Do you think I should?”

"I do not think he deserves any compassion from you.” He moves closer, not taking his eyes off of you.

"Does it make me an evil person?” You ask, taking another sip of the alcohol. Your tolerance isn’t strong, so you already feel the wine messing with your head. Or maybe it is the effect of his simple existence.

"If all evil people were as evil as you, the world would be a paradise.” He halts right behind you, hoping you won't run away as you always have.

"Paradise…” You echo, surprised and amused at the same time. “I don’t think so. I'm stained after all. Sex before marriage is a big sin. My future lies in a convent anyway.”

You put the wineglass to your lips emptying the glass.

"Future and convent in one sentence.” He chuckles, standing dangerously close to you. “That’s new.”

"Well..." You start slowly, trying so hard to control your breathing. "I've been actually thinking about it. One day I will have to leave this place and since I'm a fallen woman, there is no chance for me to become what I was meant to become - a good wife and one day, a mother. England has no use of me. Convent is my only option, don't you think? You don’t want me to ruin your reputation."

"Can't you tell I don't really care about my reputation, darling?" His lips are right beside your ear, sending shivers down your heated body. "But if people finding out your true identity bothers you so much, we will move to another place. We can do it even tonight. France, Italy, Spain, China. We can leave here and now and be whoever we want to be. In France, I can be your cousin. In Italy, I can be my fiancé and in China... your husband?"

Each word recited with his hot breath teases the skin of your neck, his hard member boldly pressed against your back. When Jongho hears your soft gasp, he grabs your hips, spinning you around to face him.

You stare into his deep eyes, full with a growing fire. You can't help but breathe faster, feeling his body glued to yours. He, noticing that, smirks at you.

"You're not a fallen woman, (y/n). You're a free woman. Can I finally prove that to you?"

You don’t even have a chance to say anything before his long fingers entangle around the back of your neck, bringing you closer so your lips can finally meet. You are surprised at the suddenness and force, but you quickly adjust, equally as hungry. That kiss is long overdue.

The storm gains strength above the mansion, but all you can hear is your pounding heart and both your heated breaths.

You can't help but moan into the kiss you have dreamt of for so long. He pushes you back onto the table behind you, kissing you so passionately that you forget whose air you are breathing His knee suddenly thrusts between your thighs, stopping them from rubbing against each other.

Whimpering at the action, you grab his waist to not lose balance. Moans begin leaving your previously abused mouth, as he’s now mercilessly attacking your neck. The cotton fabric of his pants was rubbing against your core. With every move, Jongho deepens the intensity of his leg between your trembling thighs. You mewl in delight as he pulls you closer to his chest.

"Move your hips for me, darling. The same way you move them so seductively with the pillow between your legs at night when you're all alone." He groans into your ear, sucking on your earlobe.

You slightly open your eyes at his words. How does he know? You always try your best to be quiet and leave no traces of your moments of weakness. Did he hear you, see you?

The thought Jongho might've listened to your quiet whimpers or that he peeked inside while your neediness made you lower your guard adds another wave of arousal to your already weeping pussy.

"Ride my thigh. I want your essence all over my thigh.” He purrs.

You follow the command without hesitation, desperate for more friction. You feel the tension building up in your body as you are grinding at his thigh muscles. He bites his lower lip, watching how you repeat the dance of your hips from all the previous nights when you were pleasuring yourself and he fought hell to not storm in your bedchamber and ravage you sweet holes.

“Yes, just like that.” His groans have you trembling. With an impatient move he pulls your night dress up. “I fantasized about it way too many times. Ride it, darling.”

Jongho pins you even harder to the table, moving fast in an opposite direction which causes your mouth to let out silent moans and loud gasps. His hand never leaves your neck, only tightening the grasp to keep you where he wants to have you. The other impatient arm wraps around your waist to secure you from falling back onto the table.

"Cum as hard as you need, as loud as you want. No one will judge you here.” His burning eyes are now studying your face contorted with immense pleasure and desperation for release. Your eyes closed as you're indulging in the sensation.

"Look at me." He commands from behind his teeth. "I want you to look at me when you fall apart."

You half-open your eyes, but you can barely see him through your hazy sight. You are so close to the edge that the motion of your hips starts to become sloppy and uneven.

Lightning keeps flashing inside the room, and the walls shudder from the thunder that comes with the light.

And then you see it. A moment when two worlds meet. You swear you saw black voids for eyes staring right at you for a short second. You smile, happy that all your suspicions were true.

It finally showed up. Jongho's truth.

Even though the vision is gone, and you are looking Jongho's chocolate pupils again, you know it all now.

You have a creature of the night in front of you, with his thigh rubbing between your legs, making you see the stars. The view of his face watching you intensively with those lustful eyes and his clenching jaw is enough to bring you to your high fast, right on the edge.

"Jongho.. I…" You whine loudly as he pulls you as close to his body as possible, sliding his thigh back and forth.

“Yes, darling. Say my name.” He breathes out, before sucking on your neck’s pulsepoint.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, as the bliss explodes within you. The waves of your overpowering heat hit one after another. You feel the strength leaving your body as the spasms slowly begin to fade. You give up completely, falling into his strong embrace.

Jongho slows down, peacefully rub the last ounces of high out of you while pressing you against his strong chest.

"You sing so sweetly from pleasure.” He whispers into your neck. "I want to hear it over and over again."

Pulling his thigh from underneath you, Jongho hisses in satisfaction at all the juices covering his pants. In gratitude, he reaches for your lips. He pampers your mouth with his eager kiss, his own tongue flicking over the soft flesh, gently caressing the sweet taste of you.

You're too enchanted by his perfect kiss to register that he begins to gently strip you of your robe. Your nightgown gets quickly unbuttoned by his skillful fingers and ends up on the floor in no time. Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss to sit you up onto the table. The coldness of the surface causes you to recover a bit from your high.

"Look at your painting, (y/n)." He looks down at his left thigh. You completely soaked it. Your face heats up. Your juices glistening in the pale candle light, and a series of lightning strikes.

He steals another kiss, finding your embarrassment cute.

"I want the same on my tongue."

Your eyes grow bigger. What does he mean? You have to admit you still have zero experience but tongue? Down there?

"What are you doing?” You panic, still panting as he spreads your quivering legs wider, kneeling between them.

"He never did it for you?" He asks, looking up at you in surprise.

"Umm, no." You can't focus due to his hot breath blowing at your puffy folds. His laugh caused by your answer only adds new waves of sensation. You lick your lips feeling their dryness caused by your excitement. Seeing his handsome face framed by your thighs, it stirs something inside you.

"Please." You whimper quietly.

"Since you're asking so nicely. I could never say no to you.” He teases, raising his brow at your shamelessness. He's visibly satisfied with your sudden change.

You don't mean to beg, you really don't. But every bit of your control goes out the window. Your body is speaking up for you, while your common sense and shame are locked up somewhere deep down.

His wet, lazy kisses make invisible marks on your inner thigh, preparing for the act. The sight, the feeling of him licking and sucking on your skin, cleaning you up from the previous release make you want to go insane. The sounds he makes while doing it, like he's tasting heaven, doesn’t help.

Jonghi lifts your legs, laying them over his shoulders for better access, causing you to fall back a little and support yourself with your hands behind.

He graces your clit with small kisses, receiving little whimpers from you. He smiles against your core before attacking your folds aggressively.

"Oh-"

There was no time for any proper reaction. Every muscle in your body tense up from the circling motions of his tongue. He runs it through your lower lips, pulling and sucking on them with a popping sound. You feel the heat quickly spreading through your whole body from the spot where he had been pleasing you.

“Fuuuck.” He mumbles with his mouth full of you. With his tongue he delves in your entrance, his brows frowning as he can't contain his arousal from the way you taste so good.

“Jongho…” You’re bewitched by the view of his restless mouth, feeding on your needy cunt. This feeling is new with the level of intimacy you have never reached before. You feel lewd, seen, absolutely scandalous. And you love it. All of it. Your hip begins to move to his rhythm, craving for more.

“Pass me the glass." He says suddenly, parting from your throbbing pussy, causing you to groan in disappointment. "Behind you, darling.”

You looked over your shoulder to see your empty glass and the glass with the wine he hasn't drunk yet.

Seeing your confusion, he chuckles, “The full one.”

You carefully hand him the liquor, sure that he wants to quench his thirst. But that is not his plan. He is going to quench his thirst but not with wine.

Out of nowhere he raises the glass in your direction and starts carefully pouring the wine down your chest.

You gasp, stunned, trying not to move and disturb him. You are just looking down at him, completely focused on the red streams that were slowly flowing between your breast, down your stomach and to your womanhood.

His tongue revisiting your pussy, nimbly licking off the wine.

"Oh my…" You moan loudly, as he starts drinking the liquor off your folds.

Satisfied with how the wine easily flows down its path, Jongho begins to pour more, creating a bigger and faster river that he messily slurps along with your juices until the glass is empty.

You can't keep yourself up any longer. Your hands give up on you causing you to fall back onto the table. The pleasure is overwhelming, making your back arch. Although your sight is hazy, you want to see him again, down there, devouring you like it was his last meal. The room is beginning to dim as the candles are on their last burn. Lighting was the only source of light now.

"J-Jongho!" You call to him among your loud moans.

Then you see it again, two black voids fixated on your face. The sight of Jongho's true side that he apparently can't control whilst being filled with lust, gives you greater satisfaction. He sharply throws the glass aside, shattering it on the wall. Then, he wraps his arms behind your thighs, pinning you down to the table. His tongue quickens, flicking across your clit making you see white.

"Jong- Oh!” You slip as a strong orgasm crashes over you, twisting your body with unimaginable pleasure. Your hands grab both sides of the table, feeling your warmth flooding on Jongho's tongue and lips. He sucks on your clit, bringing every last bit of your orgasm out of you and taking his time to clean your pussy of your essence and the rest of the wine.

"Mmmm. You taste too sweet. Too delicious for the covent." He coos, his voice heavy with arousal. He starts tracing his way back up your body with his tongue, slowly following the trails of sticky wine, ending it with hungry kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"So?" He asks as his face aligned with yours. You dare to look into his eyes as he hovers over you.

"So?" You repeat, out of breath.

"Are you feeling free yet?" He smirks with a sinful spark in his eyes.

You know exactly what he's asking about.

You return the smile, "Not yet."

With these words he straightens up and rips open his wine stained blouse, throwing its shreds on the floor. The ruby brooch clatters somewhere on the wooden panels.

You cannot take your eyes off his perfect body. You fantasized about it so many times but it's still more than you could ever imagine.

"Like what you see?" He asks, amused by your awe. He begins to unbelt, then takes off his black pants that were soaked with your cum. “Cause I like my view very much."

You wish to sit up but Jongho stops you, climbing on the table hovering over your body. His enormous frame towering over you makes you feel so small and vulnerable.

He leans down and kisses you incredibly slowly, you melt over the taste of his, yours and the wine that linger on his lips. You feel it with the deepest, darkest corners of your soul, returning the affection with quiet moans. You are his, from the first sight. Maybe it is an illness of falling in love with your savior or maybe it is real. You don't care. You stopped caring about details a long time ago.

"What happened, (y/n)?” He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “You resisted me for so long and today you serve yourself on a golden platter."

You smile and flick your tongue on his lips.

“You killed him for me” You moan out, feeling his warm cock, throbbing against your abdomen. “Didn’t you?”

He pulls himself up, taken aback at your words. His dark eyes study your face, searching for any sign of fear or doubts. But he finds none of it.

“(Y/n), I…?”

“I know everything, Jongho. I’ve known for some time now.” You explain, almost moaning out every word. You’re squirming with neediness underneath him.

You heard Sybil tell the postman to take the telegram to Jongho. To Oxford. You connected everything in an instant. You couldn't help but imagine him covered in your fiancé's blood which made you go insane with lust.

“I’m all yours to take.” You declare.

With every word leaving your mouth his eyes are getting darker. It is his dream come true. You, accepting what he is and what he is able to do for you.

He claims your quivering lips once more. Wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders you let his tongue penetrate your mouth, wrestling with yours while his length found its way to your pussy, rubbing on your dripping folds.

“I won’t be gentle. I can't.” He warns, breaking away from the dazing kiss. "I waited a whole year. Twelve, long months. Over three hundred, fucking days of controlling myself and keeping my hands to myself. No more."

"Take as much as you need. As rough as you want." You say, giving him the allowance, using your version of his own words. You want him to fuck you into that wooden table. "Just take me, Jongho."

Leaning down to your neck, he draws a long breath, inhaling your scent that turned his life upside down the moment he sensed it for the first time. He remembers vividly how you passed him by on one of the streets in Oxford. Despite the crowd, your scent was like vines, climbing up his legs and making them follow after you. As any vampire would, he craved to feed on you. The initial plan was to take you away, seduce you so he could sink his fangs anytime he felt thirsty. But then he heard your story. And to his own surprise, he didn't want to take advantage of it. He wanted to protect you, punish people who had hurt you and keep you under his wings. He dared to dream of having you near until the end of time.

“So delicate.” He hums against your neck and ear. “So fragile, so… human. Yet, your sweet blood has never tempted me to taste it. I want to make it burn your veins with lust, need and love. I want to smell it racing as I kiss you, touch you. I want to hear it pulsating in your thighs while I eat your precious pussy out for hours. I want to listen to it beat in your heart that I want to protect. I will never let a drop of it to shed. I swear it to you.”

You suck in a soft breath at his declaration. You are left speechless as he kisses your pulsepoint as a seal to his words.

Both don't speak as your faces align. Jongho holds your gaze as he starts kissing his way down the valley between your breasts. He places a sweet kiss on the left side of your chest to feel your heartbeat under his lips.

You tangle your fingers into his silky hair and gently tug on it. A breathy moan is ripped from your chords as he begins sucking on your nipple, while the other gets captured between his thumb and index finger. He keeps your gaze as he flicks his tongue on your bud.

Grabbing fistfulls of your bosoms, he scoops both and engulfs them with his mouth, sucking and pulling them. His hard cock keeps grinding against your leaking slit.

“Jongho… please.” You whine, feeling like overheating. “Ease this fire.”

At your plea, he lets go of your breasts with a pop sound. The vampire rises up, finally blessing you with all his grace. His impressive size makes you gasp, having your wetness increase instantly. He's so erect you see every little vein decorating his manhood. The tip glistens with precum that you get a sudden urge to taste, your tongue ghosts your dry lips.

Jongho spreads your trembling legs wider, placing them on his hips. The feeling of his hot skin and hardened muscles on your inner thighs causes your core throb with anticipation.

"You want to be fucked by a monster so bad, don’t you?" He taunts with a sinister smirk, guiding his length up and down your folds, spreading your wetness all over his tip. Your whimpers drive him to groan. He takes his time to prepare your pussy for sweet abuse.

"Jongho, please.” You can't take it anymore, but he seems to enjoy the torture. "Fallen or free, just take me."

These words work on him like magic. You hear his dangerous giggle before he grabs the flesh of your hips with his big, hungry hands and slams himself inside you.

You squeal at the sudden stretch of your tight walls and put your hands on his wrists. You haven't had a man inside you for a whole year. Not to mention, you never had someone that big.

Although he warned you about not being gentle with you, you still are not prepared for the power he starts to penetrate you with. He pounds into you hard without any mercy on your poor body and soul. He has all the control over your hips, pulling them and impaling you on his pulsating cock.

"Oo-h l-ord!” You cry out with pleasure.

"So tight, yes. " He growls out, instantly satisfied. “Ah, you're going to make me come quickly, love of mine.”

He slows down after a few more hard thrusts, lowering himself to hover over you again.

You are loudly gasping for air. It's difficult to breathe due to his previous enormous force. His cock, now torturing your insides with a painfully slow pace.

"That's exactly how I imagined you looking underneath me, darling. So tiny and defenseless. Entirely mine." He whispers, licking a long wet strip between your breast, bringing it up to your jaw.

You arch your back, tangling your fingers in his raven hair again.

He laughs quietly at the sudden swirling movement of your hips on his length.

"Mmmm, you're squeezing me so good."

After a few seconds of enjoying the moment, Jongho grabs your legs, placing them onto his shoulders. His cock sinks even deeper into you, making a new series of moans to leave your mouth.

His thrusts become even stronger, taking you beyond your imagination. Your head is spinning, the haze again falls upon your eyes as you hold tight the table's edges above your head. He fills you completely, his throbbing pride rubbing all the right places.

You can't make any kind of sound. The fire between your thighs starts spreading all over your body.

"I'm.. Jongh… please, please!" You scream repeatedly as waves of indescribable ecstasy start to flood you, making your body spasm again. Loud moans mixed with roars of thunder fills the mansion.

"Fuuck, yes, sweetheart." He joins you in the lewd ritual, feeling your walls closing around his length, squeezing him. Jongho straightens his back, throwing his head back, pushing into you slowly, riding both your highs.

You feel his cock twitch as he unloads his warmth inside you. And it’s followed by a sudden, loud, bloodcurdling laugh that makes you look up at him.

This time you see more than just two black voids instead of the chocolate eyes of your lover. Long fangs glisten in the dark. His whole face, covered in black veins as he's savoring in ecstasy.

"J-Jongho…" You call out breathlessly, feeling like your high grew back intensively, just at the view of his true form that you have fantasized about so many times.

Breathing heavily, he lets his gaze fall down at you. The sinister smile is still painted on his lips. He gives you a few last slow thrusts just so he can watch your face and listen to your adorable whimpers again. You then felt his length slowly sliding out of you followed by his thick seed dripping from your hole. He stared at his masterpiece for a short instant and laid himself on your side.

"You're so beautiful." You caress his cheek, not able to take your eyes off his face. A face that other people would call a monster. You stare at him in awe as his true form starts to fade, being replaced with his human side.

“Beautiful? You find this beautiful.?” He grins with his sharp teeth. You love when the real mischief takes over his lord persona. “And I am here, wondering why you're not having a heart attack. I tried to control my form to not come out but you feel oh so good.”

His finger runs down your body, that's covered and filled with liquids. You still want more, and Jongho can sense it.

“You are beautiful, no matter the form.” You insist, yet your voice sounds weak and shaky as his hand slides between your legs.

He captures your lips, teasing your tongue with his. He swallows your moans, as his hand massages your needy clit.

“You were truly made for me.” He whispers in your lips. “So unsatisfied, desperate for more… Do you want my fingers inside you, darling?”

“Yes…” You feel drunk. He makes you feel more intoxicated than any alcohol ever has.

“You want me to use my cum inside your precious little pussy as a lube and fuck you with my fingers, hm?”

You nod eagerly with no shame whatsoever.

“Say it, sweetness. Use your pretty voice and tell me what you want.”

“I want you… to fuck me… with your fingers, please.” You begged with a pathetic, high-pitched voice.

The confidence his digits slide into you steals the breath from your lungs. The squelching sounds immediately filled the room, disturbing the silence among your moans and the thunder. His fingers are restless as, thanks to his rich filling they go in and out of you like a knife in the most ripe fruit.

You arch your spine as Jongho curls them and his fingertips rub that sweet point that doubles the volume of your cries.

“Ah, yes, yes, right there!”

He uses the opportunity of your exposed neck, and he gently bites the soft skin, not enough to pierce through it, but enough to leave a trace.

“Fuck, (y/n).” He whispers, with a tone of praise. You reacting to everything he does to you, makes his chest swell with pride.

It encourages him.

As a vampire, his strength and never-ending stamina pushes you over the edge the next second after his hand starts racing up and down at a determined, overwhelming speed, playing your whole body like an instrument.

You come once, screaming against the thunder. Then again, but this time you make no sound. You can't, as the pleasure of a thousand suns cages the breath in your lungs.

With his lips glued to your throat, he groans at the way your body trembles as he forces his cum out of you.

“No, no… Jongo, wait… stop…”

He giggles as you push his hand away after his finger starts flicking your core again.

“I would’ve killed him much sooner if I knew it'd cause you to finally scream in pleasure underneath me.” He whispers, placing calming kisses on your marked neck as your hands are roaming all over his back.

You can only smile at his words, tired after the long awaited fulfillment. Seeing your state, Jongho carefully picks you up from the table. You feel him cover you with your robe he had ripped off you.

You don’t remember the trip to his chambers where he carried you in his arms. You don't know where you are until you feel warm water embracing your exhausted body. You open your eyes to see him gently wiping and massaging your skin.

"How delicate, Lord Choi." You give him a tired but content smile. "I clearly remember you saying you wouldn’t be gentle with me."

Jongho grins before saying, "Don't worry. This is only the beginning."

Every nerve in your body wakes up as he leans to your neck and places a gentle kiss.

“I need some time to shape you for me. I don't want to hurt you. Then, I swear there won't be any surface left in this house where I won't take you on, sweetness.”

Then his focus is back on cleaning your body, however the sinister spark never leaves his eyes. You know this night isn't over, wondering what the state the dawn will find you in.

Your eyes wander to the window in front of you. You see the lighting dancing in the distance but you don't hear any thunder accompanying it anymore.

The storm is over. You indulge in the peaceful darkness of the night.

I repost this one shot cause I wasn't satisfied with it. I couldn't even look at it anymore and I like the idea 🥲 Hope you like it! I added some new plot, too!

[romaritimeharbor]

FAMILY, OF SORTS. — in which kafka, blade, and silver wolf are an odd but quite special found family to be a part of.

— trigger & content warnings. mentions of unspecified injury.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. kafka & teen!reader, blade & teen!reader, silver wolf & teen!reader. 1.3k words. reader is a stellaron hunter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used).

— author's notes. the sillies <3 APHE POSTING???? APHELION POSTING REAL AND TRUE????????? i had a request for this on my old blog (from my dear beloved moot @starryshinyskies <3) so i decided to finish it 💪 nd tagging @www-brontide since i know you were excited for this post HEHE anyways how are we feeling about this formatting? if you guys don't like it i'm very open to changing it back. i'm just experimenting with my post format is all 🫶

kafka seems strangely motherly to me. caring and doting in her own unique ways, but also quite strange and odd in those same ways. an enigma of sorts.

she is the kind of person to always send the stellaron hunters' youngest member texts throughout the day; these texts range anywhere from silly and inconsequential to sweet messages letting [name] know that she was thinking about them.

(her doting nature is not dissimilar to how she thinks of and regards the trailblazer... hm.)

KAFKA

My coat got stained again :(

Won't you help me clean it when you get home, little one?

[ 1:22 PM ]

KAFKA

I saw a new movie today.

It made me think of you. It was quite to your tastes.

Perhaps we should go see it together sometime, hm?

Ah, but you're probably asleep by now...

That's fine. You do need it more than the rest of us.

Sleep well, darling.

[ 11:34 PM ]

she thinks of her little one quite frequently and has been known to pick up little trinkets from different planets that reminded her of them. a phone charm, a set of rings, something more practical like a new weapon... she once returned with a nice coat that matches one of hers. her gifts are always unpredictable but nonetheless very thoughtful.

and when or if they get injured, she is the one who treats their wound(s) with a tender hand.

she does chide them, however.

"you are a stellaron hunter, little one," she reminds, pulling the bandages wrapped around their wound a little tighter, making them wince. it is akin to a slap on the wrist—not enough pain to seriously harm them, but enough to force them to take her words to heart. "if it is not a part of the plan, try your best not to get caught or injured, hm? silver wolf doesn't like to see you this way, and it causes a unique stir in bladie. your getting injured causes quite the unrest among us all! do be more careful next time."

if there is ever a night during which they are struggling to sleep, they are more than welcome to seek out kafka's company.

she would be willing to read them to sleep, if that is what they desired.

however... a far easier method that would ensure they would stay asleep? her spirit whisper ability, of course.

they know kafka would not use it to harm them.

kafka finds their earnest trust beyond endearing. the trust of a little one like them is quite an important gift! the least she can do, she thinks, is assist them when her assistance is needed.

and sometimes, that just means lulling them to sleep.

blade is quite a difficult person to read, regardless of whether he intends to be so or not.

some days, he is distant and prefers to keep to himself. others, less so.

this, though, should not be mistaken for a lack of care. in fact, he cares quite deeply. his care is simply very quiet and he desperately, earnestly, truly does not wish to cause [name] harm.

he is also most likely the one who spars with them and trains them in the ways of combat, which... he isn't exactly the gentlest at doing. training sessions can be quite frustrating in that they often emerge sore and with new cuts and bruises (but really, these injuries are small and insignificant; they are confident in saying that blade would never truly hurt them, nobody in their family would). he does mean well in his tough methods, though.

the universe is not kind or gentle. it will never treat them that way. therefore, he does his best to prepare them so that they can effectively handle the universe's cruelty and defend themselves from it.

one of the ways in which his quiet care manifests is through his treatment of the small wounds he gives them during training. kafka has said many times that she can treat them, but blade always insists on doing it himself.

out of all of their coworkers, blade becomes the most restless when they're away. he gets particularly antsy when they've been gone for a long period or when they're out there alone. kafka always giggles and points out to him how utterly restless he becomes when such circumstances occur.

(he should be assured that they can handle themselves, given that he is their mentor—there is surely nobody else who would know their skills as well as he would—but somehow he simply isn't.)

blade is also, generally speaking, the most protective.

should they come back injured... if it is anything other than a shallow scratch on the cheek, a rage hotter than the brightest star burns under his skin. in those moments, he almost does not dare to touch them, for fear that he might harm them unwittingly... but he does. his hands are somewhat rough when he snatches their face and tilts their chin around to get a better look at the blood (is it theirs? he hopes not) and grime dirtying their face. there is a terrifying threat present in his voice when he demands, not asks, "who did this to you?"

(if kafka was not present in these moments, he might worry that his mara would get the best of him. thankfully, kafka is intentional and present in such situations.)

unless the ones responsible for the wound have already been adequately... taken care of, he will do so himself. there is nowhere in the universe that the perpetrators could hide from him.

it's about protecting them, but it is also about sending a message.

something along the lines of "anyone who lays hands on them will suffer a fate worse than death," perhaps.

death is anything but a terrible fate to blade, but he knows that it is the worst imaginable to some. he will be certain to deliver something infinitely worse, something beyond imagination, to those daring to hurt his younger teammate.

silver wolf is perhaps the least enigmatic of their little family. she isn't an open book, per se, but she's easier to read than kafka or blade... at least, for someone like [name], anyway.

she never fails to harrass them to play a few rounds (which tends to spiral into many, many rounds...) of a game or two with her. why them, specifically? she insists that blade isn't good at them and kafka is kafka. really, it may very well just be that she enjoys spending time with them, but she—of course—will not simply say that.

however... she bullies them terribly about how bad they are. it comes from a place of affection!

she is also the type to win them every single prize at carnivals, just because she likes the joy it seems to bring them. when she encounters rigged games, however, she becomes all the more motivated by her unadulterated annoyance to beat them.

what do you mean she of all people can't beat this awful and horrible rigged game? her???? the silver wolf????? seriously????????

unfortunately, it does not always end in her victory, even when she is infinitely motivated by her anger.

...and she really isn't above just taking one of the prizes when the stall's owner isn't looking. she has done so multiple times for [name].

she would definitely try to teach them hacking (keyword: try) if they aren't already familiar with it. since it has come in handy for her, she figures that they might also find use in it. it's her quiet way of looking out for them.

(her more obvious way of looking out for them is often seen when she is on missions with them. most commonly, it manifests as her snatching their arm and pulling them out of the way of an enemy before obliterating said threat.)

silver wolf is totally the sort of person to pinch their cheeks (to different degrees, kafka and blade also do this!). they are very cute to her.

overall they are a weird but very special little family to be a part of <3

please consider supporting your writers by reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment. it really helps me out!

[skiiyoomin]

hello! i’m not sure if you’re taking reqs so if not feel free to skip this! i was wondering if we can get a oneshot of bakugo x reader except reader is a famous jpop idol (or even a global pop star) and bakugo is a pro hero. how the rest plays out can totally be up to you but i thought this would be a unique pairing. :)

ʚCont: pro hero! Bakugou x idol! reader, inspo from the met gala, gn! reader, swearing cause its bakugou

⤑Back to navigation

a/n Hi hi! Yes my reqs are open so feel free to ask as much as you´d like! I looove the idea, its literally one of my fave tropes. It´s a little short but I thought it was a cute way to start a possible relationship between bakugo and reader :>

Bakugou hated attending these events. The constant flashing of camera lights, the stuffiness of his suit, the obnoxious voices of paparazzi begging him to look their way. It was exhausting.

But alas, as one of the top heroes, he had to show his face more often than he´d like to and make small talk with people he could care less about. At least he´d get a few free drinks and food for the night.

As he finished walking down the red carpet and away from the dizzying lights, a figure smaller than his own bumped into him. And Bakugou in his very characteristic fashion, was ready to threat whoever wasn´t watching their step. "Oi, watch where you´re-"

The words died in his throat when his ruby eyes landed on your own. You had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The luxurious fabric of your extravagant clothes complimented your features and sitted on the curves of your body just right. He realizes he was staring more than he should when your silky voice reached his ears.

"I´m so sorry!! It´s just it´s a bit hard to walk in these clothes" You admit with an embarrsed chuckle. He tsks, though there was no real annoyance directed towards you. "Can´t believe they´re making you wear something you can´t even walk in"

You chuckle feeling flattered by the concerns from someone who was so notorious for being abrasive...and devilishly handsome. "Yeah, well, you know, practicality isn´t really on top of their priority list."

To the surprise of the both of you, he holds his arm out. "What table are you assigned in?" God it took everything in him not to sweep you off your feet with the way your doe eyes were marveling up at him. You link your arm around his own. "Table three"

He hums in acknowledgement, though deep down he felt his heart hammering in his chest like a teenage boy. "Good, at least there will be a pretty face sitting with me"

It was embarrassing how quickly heat rose to your cheeks from such a common and simple compliment you heard quite often. Though it felt so different hearing it slip from his tongue. It felt genuine.

The picture you had portrayed of the pro hero Dynamight completely shattered the longer you spent the night engaged in conversation with him. He too, felt any prejudices he may have held against you for being an idol slip away. Conversation rolled easily between you two as if you had been friends for years, and for the first time in a very long time, you both truly enjoyed being there.

Of course, it didn´t make it any less exhausting. The proof being written all over your energy drained face by the time the clock struck 12 PM. Lucky you, Bakugou had a knack for being observant, so it didn´t take long before he realized how fatigued you felt, and truthfully, he wasn´t doing much better than you. He was just better at hiding it.

"Let me drive you home" It wasn´t a question, and it´s not like you had the energy to retaliate. You let him place a warm calloused hand on your waist while he led you to his car. The drive back to your home felt like it went by in a flash, though it must be because you were fast asleep.

His heart clenched when he gazed at your soft features while you were deep in slumber. But alas, the last thing he wanted was to overstep boundaries, so, albeit begrudgingly, he reached out and shook your shoulder.

"Hey, wake up, we´re here"

Your dark lashes fluttered against your cheeks before your eyelids slowly opened. It took you a long moment to gather your surroundings, but once you realized, your lips formed into a small `o´.

Bakugou thought it was a crime to look so adorable, but it´s not like he would ever tell you that. "C´mon, i´ll help you upstairs"

Once again, his hands felt just right against your body when he aided you in walking properly to your home. Everything felt like a fever dream. The way he respectfully removed any excessive fabric of clothing or the way he helped you into your bed in a surprisingly soft manner for someone so rough.

But you realized how real it was when you spotted a little note sticked to your fridge the next morning with beautifully neat handwriting saying:

"Text me xxx-xx-xx-xx"

And if anyone had seen the wide grin that spread across your face, they would have called you a simp. Maybe you were.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time. 

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them. 

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how. 

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living. 

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor. 

Mom and Dad don’t mean it. 

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew. 

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever. 

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers. 

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more. 

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him. 

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins. 

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost. 

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?” 

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?” 

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

[aureatchi]

⛇₊˚ .࿐₊˚✧ BUBBLES IN MY CHAMPAGNE, LET IT BE SOME JAZZ PLAYIN’ . . .OSAMU DAZAI

⟢ SYNOPSIS. the port-mafia was infamous for throwing glamorous holiday parties every year. not only were you attending this time, but you were also finally going to be introduced as the port-mafia boss’ pretty girlfriend! or…that was the plan.

of course, things never go according to plan.

a/n. merry christmas !! adding onto the xmas dazai fics jdjsjwn <3 this one’s vv chaotic.

info. fem!reader. pm boss!dazai. pm exec!reader. fluff, angst, pinch of sugg. there’s DRAMA. mentions of drinking. lil jealousy. dazai is a 💩. the pm is filthy rich lmao. pazenia is a made up country. wc. 3.4k

“Oh my.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

The brunette chuckled as he waltzed towards you. You saw him appear behind you through the sizeable full-body mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as you finished applying your lipstick.

“It looks even better on you.” Dazai’s fingers wandered playfully, tracing the curves the red dress he gifted you hugged so well. The tailoring was so impressive—the dress could fit noone else but you. And indeed, it was made exclusively for you, for the largest and most luxe corporate event of the year.

It was the Port Mafia Christmas party. Everyone was required to attend, and plus-ones were allowed too, stirring even more chaos into the affair. You were a Port Mafia executive—of course you were going, but the night was going to be unique for another reason.

Tonight, the Port Mafia boss would confirm all the rumors…all the gossip circulating the past few months. He was finally making your relationship with him official in front of everyone.

As if everyone still doesn’t know.

Yet you were nervous. Keeping things an enigma actually worked in your favor—besides suspicious stares with muffled voices and jealous women, you didn’t have to worry about much. Dazai would take care of any problem. After all, you trusted him completely.

But now, everyone would know. You and Dazai had gone through all the downsides—you could become a potential target for any enemies, your name would rise even higher on the wanted list, and you could be stalked by frustrated, jealous men…honestly, you two were almost too hot for your own wellbeing.

Just almost, because “I’ll take care of it all. I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you, darling.”

He whispered those words into your ear, sensing your anxiousness as you continued to look at your reflections.

“Please don’t worry.”

He did not speak in his usual teasing, playfully amorous voice. The brunette’s face matched the seriousness of the topic you had both gone over multiple times, making sure that the other wanted to still go through with it. You both didn’t want to force the decision of your relationship upon the other—though it was Dazai who had suggested the idea, the choice rested entirely on you. He ensured you knew you could change your mind anytime you wanted.

And Dazai wished you could see that he truly, would go to the ends of universes to make sure you were safe.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t,” you replied. “I’m only worried about you. I need to be by your side at all times to fight any bad guys that come for you.”

And girls. If you were being honest, you always felt a bit sick thinking about other women wanting him. Maybe this is why your nerves hadn’t backed you out yet…you wanted everyone to know their leader was indeed taken.

Dazai laughed more heartily than he intended to at the comment. He, the now Port Mafia superior commander, known even before as the Demon Prodigy, was being talked to in concern that he needed a sidekick to help him.

Though, he was also the same man whose mind was full of fervor for one girl. You giggled, seeing the apparent blush on Dazai’s face when you fixed his black tie. He was matching with you, of course—his red attire was the ruby scarf.

“Perfect,” you mused when you were done. “Wow, you’re handsome.“

“And you’re ethereal,” Dazai responded, putting on your coat. “Ready to go shock everyone?”

“As if half of the mafia doesn’t already suspect anything between us, Osamu,” you smiled.

“Hmm…you’re right.

“Of course they’d think I’d sought after the prettiest woman in the world.” A coy grin snuck back onto his lips.

…

It was evident your lover had good taste, not only in outfits. He chose to rent out one of the big hotels as the venue for the party—very fitting for the filthy-rich organization.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the limo was the massive Christmas tree in the center of the hall.

“Woah.” There were at least fifty gifts under it already.

You noticed Dazai’s brows suddenly furrow as he, too, inspected the presents.

“Osamu?”

“Bella, remind me who this person is again.”

He picked up a present, showing you a familiar name.

“Oh!” He was the assistant under your wing. You two had worked together for years—you had built up a lot of trust and a friendship to have him in charge of some of your responsibilities.

“I see. Don’t mind that; I forget some of my men sometimes.”

You nodded, though you felt a bit unsure about his response. Regardless, you cast the thought aside.

What you didn’t notice was the way Dazai showed you the package. The present was from your assistant, but the name it was for was entirely covered by the brunette’s hand.

“Well, are you ready to go in?” Dazai asked, holding out a hand towards you.

“Yeah, I’m-”

“Dazai!”

It was Kouyou, another executive. She saw you and greeted you, too.

“My, you’re looking lovely today,” she chirped. “So you and the boss are dating.”

You smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, better tell everyone soon,” she told the both of you. “Dazai, a daughter of a very infamous organization in Europe, is at this party as a plus-one. She wants to discuss a business proposal…‘as soon as possible,’ she said. It’s confidential, too; she only wants you. Do you have a few moments to spare?”

Dazai immediately turned toward you, to which you nodded at him. “It seems important, especially if she’s from Europe.”

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked. You were supposed to walk into the dining hall together to introduce yourselves as the power couple of the evening. “What about…”

“Yeah, the mafia is the priority. I’ll find you soon.” You were an executive, after all. The mafia existed to protect Yokohama City, so work should be an urgency.

“Alright,” he replied. He took another look at you—a singular, amber eye softened once he met your gaze. The other was hidden behind bandages, and so were the emotions of his heart. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment.

“Let’s go, big sis.” He turned towards Kouyou, who led him out of the room.

Now alone, not counting the guards, you glanced at the presents again, picking up the one Dazai had previously questioned you about.

Oh! Your assistant gave you a present. You found it sweet; your assistant hadn’t gifted you anything until this year. Now Dazai’s reaction made sense—perhaps he had thought you had a secret admirer or something. You giggled at his assumed jealousy.

…

You walked inside the dining hall by yourself, a large crowd already entertaining themselves inside. Everyone who saw you stopped to greet you—their executive, and you wished them a merry Christmas back with a friendly smile.

“Huh? So she’s not dating him?”

You turned your head the slightest, pretending to grab a drink while you instead eavesdropped on two employees you hardly knew. Thank goodness they weren’t the ones going out on missions to spy—they were terrible at not being obvious.

“I’m not sure. But that underground aristocrat from Europe that everyone knows has a crush on the boss showed up to meet him. That huge Christmas tree by the staircases is actually a gift from her.”

“Really?! So…maybe she was the boss’ plus-one? Now that’s wild. Everyone really had me believing he was seeing the executive.”

“Yo!” Your attention was suddenly pulled from their conversation.

“You good? You’re overflowing your cup.” You had poured too much drink, so liquid was running all over the floor.

“Shoot, I think she heard us!” you faintly heard behind you as the employees moved away.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry,” you responded to your assistant who had found you. He handed you a few napkins to clean your hands and dropped a few more to mop the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t need to help, and thank you,” you said as you cleaned up, too, feeling bad.

“All good! Merry Christmas, by the way. How’s your evening going so far?”

“Good, thank you,” you responded, half-truthful. You needed to find somewhere to process what you had just heard. Even if they were only rumors…they bothered you.

“I saw you got me a gift in the lobby,” you added, recalling earlier. “I was surprised! You haven’t done that before, so I found it so sweet.”

“Oh yeah!” he replied, and you didn’t miss the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Who knows…I may have had a change of heart this year.”

You chuckled innocently. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you! I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Of course. I do hope you like it! Also, your dress. It looks good on you.” His voice sped up at his last comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks-”

That was really awkward. You gave him mercy, though…you hadn’t even told him you were in a relationship. So, you tried to say to him that it was your boyfriend, Dazai, who had the dress made for you, but you were cut off.

Dazai had finally entered the room, but he was accompanied by that noblewoman everyone was speaking about.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and she wore an emerald green dress that fit her like a glove.

And with each step Dazai and this new woman took into the hall to be regarded by everyone, your heart sank a bit more into your stomach.

What??

“You don’t look so well. Are you okay?” Your assistant paid no mind to the mafia boss’ new commotion. He was wholly concerned for you.

“Yeah. This drink tastes weird, but I can’t put my finger on what.” Yet, you took another sip. What was going on? You had never doubted Dazai’s love or loyalty toward you. Had you been so blind by your own to miss this?

Dazai didn’t even bother trying to search for you. And the way the lady’s arm touchingly clung around his infuriated you.

“He was seeing some foreign princess all along?”

“The boss always has to cause a scene with something new.”

“They’re kind of hot together, though.”

Now you really wanted to puke. You stared until the noblewoman’s eyes finally caught yours and dwelt on your figure briefly before turning toward Dazai and asking him something.

Dazai’s lips read, “Okay!” before a guard approached you.

“The boss is summoning all the executives to him,” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, strolling over to him.

Fuck. You wanted to cry. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

You felt a bit better when the other executives—Kouyou and Chuuya showed up before you.

“Miss, these are the Port Mafia’s three executives.” He introduced you individually, not meeting your eye when he went to you.

You wanted to leave. There was no point in being here anymore. What you thought would be a cheery Christmas Eve turned out to be the worst night ever. It couldn’t have gotten any worse…

“And this is the Lady of Pazenia,” Dazai said, introducing the woman. “Our most important foreign guest tonight.”

“So, uh? I’m kinda confused,” Chuuya commented. “Mackerel boss, ya dating her or something?” He glanced at Dazai, the girl on him, and then you.

She responded for him. “We’re getting acquainted tonight, that’s all,” she replied smugly. Dazai chuckled. “Yes…we’ve communicated online a few times, but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face.”

What the fuck.

“Oh, uh, okay.” For once, Chuuya didn’t pester, didn’t tease anymore. Because he was just as startled as you. He, too, suspected that you were dating the boss.

“I’m sorry, will you please excuse me? It was nice meeting you, m’lady; I hope you enjoy your Christmas with the boss.” You didn’t even wait for a reply. You stormed off in the direction of your assistant. You were going to ask him to drive you home, and then you’d pack your things and then stay at a friend’s house for a few days to figure out what to do next.

Everything was crashing down like an avalanche.

But before you could get to him, the bastard’s subordinate stopped you.

“Akutagawa? Hi, Merry Christmas. Sorry, I’m in a rush-”

“Merry Christmas, miss,” he responded, moving in front of you again when you tried to shift over. “Aren’t you going to rescue the boss? Has your emotion clouded your rationality so much you can’t see things clearly anymore?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turned back towards the scene, and yeah—what you saw was your final straw. Akutagawa misjudged. Not even a glimmer of hope remained in you.

Somehow, they had ended up at the corner of the room. And lo and behold, Dazai and the Lady of Pazenia had ended up under the mistletoe, and many of the upper ranks surrounded them. There was even a Paparazzi.

You tried to push past Akutagawa, but he stopped you.

“Watch.”

Why? Did Dazai place him there to make sure you suffered through it all? This was so cruel. Tears welled up in your eyes as the room went quiet to watch.

“Oh! Silly me…how did I manage to get here?”

“I’m not sure…” the woman replied flirtatiously. “But you can’t break a tradition, boss of the Port Mafia.”

“I guess I can’t,” Dazai replied, leaning in. “But, can we make a deal, Miss?

“You can kiss me, but tell me where the real Lady of Pazenia is. The exact coordinates where you’re keeping her hostage. If there’s anyone kept in place to secure or torture her.”

And the crowd suddenly gasped. She did, too, and a hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit!”

About ten guards ran towards her, restraining her before she could do anything. Dazai calmly backed away, continuing to explain.

“The business proposal was crafty and would’ve led to our doom quite quickly. You’re trying to overthrow your own government. So, you devised a cover-up to get the mafia to help you, with a deal to help us on our end, but just like your original goal, you want our city’s government to fall into anarchy, too.

“An underground noblewoman. You are exactly that—quite literally.” Dazai sighed. “No, I’m not in a relationship with her, I…”

Dazai finally met your eye, and his heart immediately sunk seeing you cry.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered, and he ran towards you, tightly embracing you.

You wanted to punch him, throw him away—something, but you were surrounded by half the corporate. There was already enough scandal tonight, you didn’t need to add any more.

“Hah, it’s okay,” you responded audibly, hastily wiping tears. “You’re a great actor, Osamu, really got me believing you were cheating on me for a second.” Words spurred out of your mouth—you hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

Dazai’s grip on you tightened to silently show you gratitude before he turned to your audience. “Now that the problem is out of the way—Merry Christmas to you all.” A waiter handed him a glass of champagne, who had also gone around with multiple others to hand out drinks to everyone.

“And a special Merry Christmas to my girlfriend, right here.” He gave you a kind smile, and you tried your best to reciprocate your own. There were “awe”’s and “that’s so cute”’s about.

Dazai held his glass up towards everyone else’s before toasting with yours.

…

You stayed away from Dazai for the next hour. He respected your space for that long—in the meantime, you acted fine. You conversed with others, you laughed. Your assistant apologized for his comment on you earlier—“I was completely oblivious to you and the boss! I’m so sorry; I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You laughed it off, telling him it was okay.

“Hey, bella.”

Dazai had finally found you alone. You looked at him, facing the inevitable.

“I’m getting tired. Wanna sneak away with me?”

You hesitated. “Where would we go?”

“The drinks suck here, besides that champagne. I know Chuuya was definitely not in charge of this part.”

You had to agree with that one. You couldn’t even finish the glass you overfilled earlier.

…

Bar Lupin was surprisingly empty that night. The bar was Dazai’s safe place, his getaway. You were constantly reminded of his genuine, complete trust in you whenever he took you here.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai apologized as you waited for your drinks. “What I did was brutal.”

“It really fucking hurt,” you said, finally able to release your true feelings now that nobody else was around.

“I had to keep up the act to expose her. Her vulnerability was that…she had a crush on me? So, the most rapid way to gain her trust was to make her believe she had a chance. She didn’t know I was seeing someone.”

“You take acting too seriously. You’re the Port Mafia boss, not some goddamn movie actor. You couldn’t even…make eye contact with me? Give me a reassuring look or something?”

“You’re right. That’s no excuse.” He took a breath. He had actually messed something up. He could predict and do everything else flawlessly until it came to the people he loved.

He always screwed it up.

“I set aside our relationship for a mission. I’m really sorry, love. And I understand if it takes awhile for you to think through it all. The only thing I ask is for forgiveness.”

“I dunno…it kind of seems like you enjoyed it…”

That was a lie. You were just saying things out of spite now. You had rethought the previous events after recalling what Akutagawa had harshly told you without context—rescue the boss? Yeah, Dazai clearly didn’t enjoy it. He never touched the woman back in any way, and his word choice was very cautious. Except one line.

“Us communicating online? Yeah, I knew she’d just go along with it. I had to say that so Chuuya would stop pushing and blow my cover. Besides, you literally have my email login, darling. You see everything.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Osamu, you know?” you muttered as the bartender finally handed you two your drinks. You took a thirsty sip out of yours. You couldn’t even stay mad anymore.

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me?” he chuckled, knowing the mood was lightening.

“No. You’re just too…attractive. Like, why are you so hot? All the girls want you…I was actually quite relieved when you asked me if we should make things official so everyone could finally know that we belong to each other…”

Hah, if only you knew.

“You don’t assume I think the same? You almost pissed me off by hanging around your little assistant, too, belladonna. He clearly fancies you.”

You gulped, remembering his earlier compliment. “Don’t do anything to him—he didn’t know. He does now.”

“He better,” he simply replied. “And everyone else. There’s no excuse now—you’re the Port Mafia boss’ girlfriend.”

You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. The protectiveness was attractive. You pulled on Dazai’s tie, reeling the rest of him towards you.

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you smiled.

To everyone else, Dazai was known as evil, suicidal, murderer, demon, saint. But to you, he was simply Osamu. Your boyfriend. And perhaps that’s what he loved most of all. Across universes, you would not fail him—not even Odasaku succeeded so highly.

“Are you going to kiss me, bella?” Dazai asked, the signature smile back on his face.

“No,” you teased, pushing him back. “I’m still mad at you. Nothing went according to plan.”

“Nothing did,” the brunette replied. “But isn’t that what’s so exciting about life? Life is unexpected, yet some good things can come out of it, such as…”

He revealed a piece of mistletoe in his hand, holding it above you two.

“Even if you’re mad, you can’t break a tradition,” Dazai spoke, swinging the plant back and forth.

You sighed before you both leaned in to kiss each other. Dazai pulled you onto his lap, and you kissed him even more feverishly. Your hands ran through his hair until the bandage around his head finally came undone, unveiling the rest of his pretty face.

You focused on his dilated, honey-colored eyes. Finally, they revealed what he was feeling. Comfort in having you in his arms again. In your warmth.

Everything felt too intense after that. He had started making out with you again, his hands were wandering you curiously, the dim lighting, the jazz instrumental, how tipsy you felt from the drinks…

“Let’s just go home.”

…

You were swaddled in Dazai’s arms under the bed's covers at home. So sleepy. Dazai promised that the next day would treat the both of you better—a peaceful Christmas gift.

“Let’s stop doing such large parties,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “It just calls for trouble, to be honest.”

“Yeah…we’ll have a small houseparty next time. Everyone else can do what they want.”

You were gently kissed on the forehead before the brunette softly whispered to you. “Merry Christmas, belladonna. I love you.”

“I love you too, Osamu.”

dazai told me he’d kiss u if u rb this. rbs are cherished; they are ur christmas gift to me! <3

tags: @kissesmellow21 @osaemu @ruanais + @lovedazai @chuuyrr @anqelically (i think u guys would like this <3)

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated divider by cafekitsune. heart lights divider by benkeibear. manga header made by me - DO NOT save/use.

[onehoplessromantic]

B. Bradshaw | Masterlist

Top Gun - Maverick

Updated: 8/7/2024 [permanent state of oblivion]

!!authors!! if u want something removed plz pm me 💕 ily

Hi!!! So? This is it! I've been continuously cringing at myself for even making the first search for this the other day but I did. I ended up falling down a rabbit hole full of incredible fics written by some incredible people so I hope you give it a look. No need to judge me, I'm already judging myself T-T.

peace!

PSA: if you want to be kept up to date with the happenings of this list you can sign up for my tag list here so you will be notified when i add fics or chapters and you can choose to keep up with bigger announcements as well

fluff-> 🤍 | smut -> 🍋 | angst -> 🌧️ | major tw -> ‼️

Series

☆ ALTITUDE | @tongue-like-a-razor

13 chapters | on hold | 🌧️🤍

Sydney is not a pilot. But she knows all their tricks. That's why, when she meets the smooth-talking Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, she's not falling for any of them. She's not falling for him, either.

☆ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? | @perpetuallydaydreaming

12 chapters | complete | 🤍🌧️🍋

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw and you have been friends since you can remember, just friends (unfortunately) but when you are called back to Top Gun everything changes...

☆ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | @feralforfrank

3 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

Rooster and you have never liked each other. One night at the Hard Deck is enough to change the dynamic between you.

☆ IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | @bloatedandalone04

4 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

The one where you give Bradley your heart and he breaks it.

☆ FAKING IT | @tongue-like-a-razor

8 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

☆ AT LEAST I LET THE LIGHT IN | @heartsofminds

1 chapter | on hold (?) | 🌧️‼️

Bradley is on a downward spiral and Natasha doesn't know how much more she can take - unofficial sequel to 'cause no one breaks my heart like you (linked here)

☆ DRUNK IN LOVE / DRUNK IN LOVE | @feralforfrank

2 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Rooster brings a drunk!reader to his house. What happens when you wake up in bed with Rooster, your sworn rival?

☆ THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME | @beyondthesefourwalls

13 chapters | complete | 🌧️‼️‼️

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could ever truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him in for a kiss, he thought maybe it was a perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply wanting it.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE read the warnings carefully before reading this story!!

☆ REMEMBER YOU EVEN WHEN I DON'T | @beyondthesefourwalls

10 chapters | complete | 🤍🍋🌧️

A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting right beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement

☆ HOTTER THAN TEXAS | @tongue-like-a-razor

3 chapters | ongoing | 🤍

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Oneshots

☆ BRAD BRAD | @peterparkersnose

wc: 1.9k | 🤍🌧️

teasing, intimidation, situationship coming to a close, ANGST, mentions of death and dealing with death, rooster is in denial of looove, fluff at the end

Rooster gets upset when a harmless joke crosses the line.

☆ "YOU TOLD ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THEM" | @katsu28

wc: 1.3k | request | 🌧️🤍

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x aviator!reader, callsign casper (like the ghost hehe), some swearing

Rooster gets upset when pilot hazing goes too far

☆ LOVE IN THE DARK | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 2.8k | 🌧️

swearing, angst, sad boy bradley, lowkey depressed reader, more angst bc im sick and unhappy about it, new theme

The one where the deployments become too much.

☆ WHEN I PICTURE MYSELF HAPPY, I SEE YOU | @feralforfrank

wc: idk loll | prompt | 🌧️🤍

angst with a happy ending, miscommunication trope (?), nondescriptive reader

Rooster and reader fight, but they make up in their own way.

☆ "THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT" | @katsu28

wc: 1.7k | request | 🌧️

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, some swearing, angst

You miss Bradley so much while he's away, in trying to communicate this to him, lines get crossed and emotions rise.

☆ CRUMBLE | @daddy-bradley

wc: idk | 🌧️🤍

angst, cursing, mentions of parental insecurity, depression, anxiety, has a happy ending

You and Bradley are having your first fight after your baby is born. How will you both come to a solution and learn to cope through this together.

☆ 'CAUSE NO ONE BREAKS MY HEART LIKE YOU | @heartsofminds

wc: 19k | 🌧️‼️

heavy angst, miscommunication, heartbreak, right person wrong universe type shit, slow burn angst, disrespect towards women, drinking, bradley is a dick

Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though its hard to see)

☆ MIDNIGHT RAIN | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 3.6k | 🤍🍋🌧️‼️

fluff, smut, angst, oral (f receiving), mentions/descriptions of bad past relationships, mentions of abuse, past abuse, toxic ex, trauma?, bad coping habits, arguments, crying, swearing

The one where Bradley is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, but even he cant fully erase the bad memories of your last relationship.

☆ THINGS UNSEEN AND HEARD | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 4.1k | 🍋🌧️����

smut, angst, fluff, obvious bradley insecurities, self-deprecating thoughts, unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol consumption, maybe more

The one where you overhear Bradley talk about you to Jake and decide to give him the space he apparently wanted.

☆ THE STACHE INCIDENT | @feralforfrank

wc: no clue | drabble | 🤍

tooth rotting fluff, its honestly tragic

the title says all you need to know

☆ WHO DID THIS TO YOU? | @feralforfrank

wc: i dunno | 🌧️🤍

accidental injury (reader got hit in the face), crying, nondescript reader

It’s a drabble, I cant say much…

☆ THE ZIPPER INCIDENT | @tongue-like-a-razor

wc: i honestly, truly, don’t know | request | 🌧️🤍

fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut, you stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it’s probably worth it

You’re running late and you need help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

☆ SLEEPYHEAD | @roosterbruiser

wc: *shrugs* | blurb | 🤍

tooth-rotting fluff, sleepy bradley

just read it goddamnit 🥹

☆ PERMANENT STATE OF OBLIVION | @topgun-imagines

wc: 3.2k | request | 🌧️🤍

drinking, arguments, angsty feelings

Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the hard deck.

taglist sign up

ⓒ onehopelessromantic, August 2024

[chuunai]

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

[lavenderchqn]

"MULTIPLICATION LENS"

synopsis — you have been stealing pantalone's glasses for a while now... so what happens when the lovely 9th harbinger is down to his last pair? pairing — pantalone x gn!reader warnings — implied murder, slightly suggestive at the end, possible wrong use of Dottore's actual name, overall chaos :D notes — this oneshot was inspired by a headcanon by @teabutmakeitazure on tumblr, as well as some of the comments under her post!

At first… It happened out of love. 

With Pantalone’s tendency to slave away at his desk, doing his work outside his working hours… You once found out that stealing his glasses was the only way to get him some rest. 

It worked amazingly… at first. 

His first attempt at stopping your antics was to have his glasses connected by a chain. Well, it worked great… until you found a workaround for it. 

Your solution was to stand directly behind him, sweet-talking him to have him lose focus… and when the moment came, you’d simply get the glasses with the chain attached and make a run for it. 

To be frank, Pantalone could easily reclaim his property. It was not only due to his office carrying more than enough pairs to not get concerned with one going missing, but also keeping you entertained. 

After all, if your spouse had to resort to stealing your tool for eyesight, there must’ve been a lack of affection on your part. Therefore, he simply did not pay as much attention to whatever you decided to do with his glasses from that point onwards. 

One by one, your racoon self managed to empty his once full drawer.

And yet, at some point, things managed to get even more chaotic. 

Pantalone was now left to his last pair of glasses — beautiful chain intact. 

It’s been months since you began to steal his glasses… and yet no matter what he did, he never managed to retrieve a single pair. Even though he would never suggest that you get involved with the Fatui, your skills have proven more efficient than most agents working under him. 

Thus, he forged a plan. 

From a singular glance, it was obvious that the last pair in his cabinet would be the most prized ones. Truly a trophy for your ever-rising collection. Gaining it would prove that your skills triumphed even over the 9th harbinger. 

Why not play a game of cat and mouse for it then? 

In all the years of you being married, Pantalone had learned your routine to perfection. 

You had the tendency to check on him at 6 PM every single day, aside from weekends. Saturday and Sunday were his strict no-work days, given that everyone — even workaholics of his calibre — should take breaks occasionally. 

There were days when you’d bring a cup of tea for him to enjoy, courtesy of many maids working at the estate. Other times you’d just come and spend some time to talk about your day, taking a seat on your dedicated armchair in his office. 

For those, where exhaustion made him fall asleep at his desk, you’d storm in with a blanket covering his body, usually staying long enough where he’d wake up from his nap. That would signify the end of said day’s work, the two of you spending the rest of it relaxing. 

Just… how did you know exactly what he was doing each day?

6 PM of today came around shortly, you didn't show up even once to check beforehand. 

His plan of motion was now finally being put into place. 

A soft knock on his door caught his attention, beginning his act of “napping”. Perhaps this was your means of figuring out what to do next. Rationally speaking, getting him a blanket after not showing signs of awareness would be obvious given the silence. 

Once you waited long enough, he could hear the sound of you walking away, most likely to get ahold of a comforter. 

You came back soon enough, opening the door slowly — to not startle him awake. 

“Let’s see…” You whispered to yourself, settling something behind his back before peering over his shoulder. “Zandik’s trying to get funding again? Man, he sure never stops.” 

Well, that was most certainly odd. No one used actual names to address other harbingers, let alone Dottore. 

Pantalone had to keep his composure, though… acting as if you’re sleeping was way more difficult than it seemed to be initially. 

Even if you caught his unnatural behaviour, you didn’t mention it — slowly tucking his hair behind his ear. How interesting. 

Pantalone thought you’d take the first possible chance to steal his glasses. Yet, here you were, organising his pens, sorting papers that fell to the floor… Acting like a dainty and adorable darling.  

Well, you did make your attempt soon enough. 

You’ve managed to sweep some dust, group papers based on importance and slowly yet swiftly, akin to a fox, you’ve made a move for his glasses. 

Hell, you would’ve even gotten away with it, if not for Pantalone’s equally fast reaction time. His hand locked around your wrist holding his frame, keeping it in a vice. 

“And what do we have here, Darling?” His coy voice putting a smug grin on your face.

“A loving and caring spouse, dearest Husband.” Despite your movement, you’ve managed to keep up the cheerful and loveable attitude. “Sleeping in glasses gives you headaches.” 

That was most absolutely correct… There were countless days and nights when you had to comfort your husband stuck in the misery of migraines. 

It’s been barely a minute of you stuck in this weird position. Your wrist starting to hurt a lot in the last few seconds, probably due to Pantalone’s nails digging into the skin.

“Could you unhand me?” You ask, gracing him with puppy-like eyes. “It’s starting to hurt.” 

Your husband lets go of you instantly, flashing a worried look and a whispered apology. Playing around was enjoyable at times, but causing you any pain — be it physical or emotional — was an enormous boundary of his. 

Unfortunately for Pantalone, you’re more than a simple spouse. With one last swift move, you grab his frames and make a run of it. 

Your master plan’s completion sets the estate into chaos. Well, it’s a simple commotion between two married people, yet maids can’t turn their eyes away from the situation they're witnessing.

A daring [Y/N] running away from her dear husband, his glasses in hand. To his credit, Pantalone is managing to keep up with your surprising speed. And Pierro has him reduced to a simple act of a Regrator? 

You have been doing your best to gain some speed advantage, just to get to your trophy cabinet as soon as possible… Why can’t Pantalone just give up and let you boast about your accomplishment...  

With how long of a game of cat and mouse this has been, you’re quickly losing steam. There is one last light of hope soon making itself known. 

The door to your study. 

You pull on the doorknob as precisely as possible, opening the door. Unfortunately for you, Pantalone managed to keep up and is just a step behind you.

 It seems playtime has now come to an end. 

“Darling, my glasses.” Based on his voice, he’s not even remotely tired after the chase that just happened. Well, neither are you, but the point still stands! 

“I have won them fair and square.” You go into the room, standing in front of a locked cabinet. 

Pantalone is beside you, his body language signalising he’s not as excited as you are. At the same time, he’s not trying to get his frames back by force… Maybe he now realises that there’s simply no use. 

“Beloved,” You open the cabinet. “Behold my collection.” 

There they are… all the other pairs that you had successfully stolen. Displayed alongside a tiny description, listing the date of the robbery. 

Pantalone sighs, extending his hand to ask again for his frames.

“I will give you them ‘back’ shortly,” He says, noticing your hesitance. “At least allow me to marvel at your accomplishment without having to squint.” 

There’s no harm in doing that, you think. Well, you close and lock the study’s door… just as an additional measure. 

With his glasses back on it’s rightful and yet wrong at the same time, place Pantalone is allowed to take in your past deeds. A collection spanning dates from almost a year, every pair presented with magnificence and beauty. 

However, just as Pantalone is about to comment, he notices something reflecting on one of the bottom shelves. 

“Treasure, what’s kept in that drawer?” He points to a drawer, unrecognisable at first glance. Made with tempered glass, there’s difficulty in trying to gauge its content.

You get visibly nervous at the sole thought of showing Pantalone your other… collection.

“Surely it cannot be that bad, Darling.” 

“Oh, you might divorce me once you see it…” 

“I’d rather work full-time with Tartaglia than divorce you, Love.” 

Filled with newfound confidence, you get the drawer open. Then follows the second and third one.

They’re filled to the brim with… Fatui insignias.

At a simple glance, there must be more than a thousand… from recruits to lieutenants, you have them all. 

Pantalone stares at them in utmost shock. Just, how did you manage to get your hands on so many? 

“Care… to elaborate, Darling?”

“Oh, I was just bored.” Your husband is floored at your answer. 

“This is not the time and place for jokes, Love.” 

“I mean, I was bored for like… two years straight?” 

Pantalone blinked, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of your confession. Two years? He couldn't fathom how, in his meticulously guarded world, you had managed such an astonishing feat without him noticing.

“Bored?” His voice, usually so composed, held an edge of incredulity. “Two years of boredom led to... this?” He gestured to the overflowing drawers of Fatui insignias, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you were always busy with work, and I had to find something to keep myself entertained. It started as a little game—seeing how far I could go before anyone noticed. And then, it became a sort of... hobby.”

“A hobby,” Pantalone repeats, shaking his head as he examines one of the insignias more closely. “Do you realise how dangerous this could have been? How many agents must have been in a frenzy trying to find these?

“Well, they are probably not in the health… to look for them,” you reply with a wink, clearly unbothered by the potential ramifications. “Besides, not a singular harbinger has noticed. I made sure of it.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease an impending headache. “You truly are something else, Darling. How many agents have you gotten killed?—and for what? A collection?”

“A very impressive collection,” you correct him, your grin widening. “And one that took a lot of effort and skill to amass, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh yeah, and the numbers are somewhere in the tens of thousands.”

Pantalone sighs, deciding not to pry any further. It’s for the best not to know the details of your spouse going on… murder sprees… on your employees.

With a slow move, he takes off his glasses, moving them into your palms. It’s followed by a slow dip, just so that he can be as close to you as possible. 

“Well then, Darling.” He whispers into your ear. “As the victor of our little game, how about I congratulate you in ways other than words.” 

date of posting — august 15th 2024

[scoonsalicious]

10.4 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, brief mentions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 3.6k

Previously On...: Bucky ran to Lily for comfort after running out on you. Despite her best efforts, Bucky realized he done fucked up, A-aron.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Everything but this and all of you is shit right now, lol.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

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After Bucky had stormed out of The WarZone that evening, you had tried to call him. Dozens of times. At first, he’d declined the calls, but soon, they went straight to voicemail, and you knew he had turned off his phone. Either that, or he’d blocked you. 

You knew he would be upset when he saw the contents of that envelope, but for him to make those accusations of you, and then to run away without even giving you an opportunity to speak or explain yourself? To say you were pissed off would be an understatement. So, you did the one thing that came to your mind as a way of dealing with the pain and frustration you were feeling: you went home and drank.

You’d been obsessively staring at her phone screen as you put back glass after glass of wine, willing Bucky to call you and apologize, to text asking for your side of the story, for anything, really, but after hours of his silence, you finally had enough and composed a single message to him:

>> When you’re done with your temper tantrum and want to talk like a grown up, you know where to find me.

Probably not the most mature thing you could have done, but you had been drinking, after all. Besides, it’s not like it had mattered; he’d never answered, anyway. You’d probably never hear from him again. That thought, amplified by the alcohol, had sent you down a dark tunnel of tears and ugly sobs. You honestly couldn’t remember ever crying this much over a man– not even when you’d found out about Connor’s affair, and you’d been married for nearly a decade; no, that had felt more like a relief, like finally having an answer to a question that had been stumping you for ages. But now, here you were, a blubbering mess over a man you hadn’t even known for a full week. 

You weren’t sure what hurt the most about it: the fact that he thought you went looking for that information, the words he’d said to you, or the way he ran out without even hearing your side of things. You didn’t even have the bandwidth to consider the betrayal of him going through your private papers.

There had just been so much potential with Bucky. So much promise. It could have been something beautiful and amazing, and now, it was over before it had even had a chance to really begin. And that just made you sad. Sad, and lonely. Maybe you’d finally get yourself a cat. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea. Perhaps it was finally time to embrace your destiny as a spinster cat lady, just like your mother had always threatened since your divorce. Why fight the inevitable?

A soft knock at your door took you out of your depression spiral. You quickly glanced at your clock– 10:45 pm. Far too late for a social call. Most likely, your nextdoor neighbor, Jeremy, had locked himself out of his apartment and wanted to hang out at yours until maintenance came by with the master key, again. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you made a move to stand, but the alcohol sent a wave of dizziness through your system and you almost fell stumbling back down to the couch. This time, you moved more slowly, holding on to furniture for support as you shuffled toward the front door. When you made it about half way, you heard a voice from the hallway that definitely did not belong to Jeremy. You froze.

“Sugar? Are you there? Will you open up, please?” 

Shit. What the fuck was Bucky doing here? You couldn’t possibly talk to him right now– your face was an absolute mess from crying and you were still so drunk. And what if he was still angry? 

You considered your next course of action. Opening the door was a no go– any conversation could only end in disaster. For the same reason, you couldn’t try to talk to him through the door. Knowing the effect he had on you, it would probably only be a few minutes before you were letting him in, begging him to fuck you. No, the best thing to do would be to retreat to your bedroom and hide until he went away. Maybe he would just assume you weren’t home.

Yes, that was the way to do it. To your wine-soaked brain, this seemed entirely logical.  You turned to head back into your bedroom, but you missed-stepped and banged your shin into one of your end tables.

“Fuck,” you hissed in pain, trying to keep your voice down as you rubbed what would no doubt become a spectacular bruise.

“Doll?” Bucky called from the hallway. “I know you’re in there. I just heard you. Please let me in. I just want to talk to you.”

Damn it. 

Without another thought, you hightailed it back into your bedroom, throwing yourself under the covers. Just hearing the sound of his voice through the door brought back the memory of his tirade from earlier in the day, and the words he’d spoken to you:

“You wanna know how many people I killed that didn’t make it into those files, because I promise you, sugar, there’s a hell of a lot. You want to know about the time Hydra sent me to kill an ambassador, told me to leave no witnesses, and I took out his wife and his two kids, too? ‘Cause they couldn’t have been more than ten years old. That kind of thing get you off, doll?”

The rage in his voice had been palpable, and if you were being honest, it had scared you. Not the rage, itself. You knew he was capable of it. No, what had frightened you was how quickly he had turned that rage on to you.

The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and before you knew it, you were crying yourself into a fitful, restless slumber.

*

There was an incessant pounding coming from the living room that echoed the pounding in your skull. Moaning, you rolled over and picked up your phone to glance at the time. 1:47am. The pounding persisted, and it took your now hungover brain a moment to realize someone was knocking on your front door. 

With a groan, you shoved your head under your pillow, hoping whoever was there would go the fuck away and leave you to die in peace. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), it’s the NYPD; please open your door.” Well. That got your attention. Sitting bolt upright, you jumped out of bed and nearly tripped trying to get to the door in a hurry. 

You checked the peep hole, making sure it actually was one of New York’s finest, and opened the door. 

“Can I help you, officer?” you asked, leaning against the door frame.

The officer gave you the once over and smirked, and it was then you remembered you’d chosen a pair of boyshort panties and an off-the shoulder cropped Army t-shirt for your pajamas that night. With a scowl, you crossed your arms over  your chest. 

“Are you “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” the officer asked, obviously amused by your discomfort. 

“I am,” you nodded. “What is this about?”

“Do you know this man?” the officer stepped aside, revealing Bucky, who was standing sheepishly off to the side of the door where you hadn’t been able to see him at first.

“Hey, doll,” he said with a shameful half smile and small wave.

“One of your neighbors found him sleeping against your door and called us. He claims he’s your boyfriend and he was just waiting for you to let him in. Since he’s an Avenger, I figured I’d give him a chance to prove his story before I booked him for trespassing.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You were far too hungover to be dealing with this right now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you clarified, and you didn’t miss Bucky’s face falling at your words. “But we are dating.” You stood back from the doorframe, making some space. “Come inside,” you told him with an exasperated sigh.

Bucky gave the officer an “I told you so” smirk and shoulder checked him before going inside your condo. You rolled your eyes at the childish display of machismo. You thanked the officer and moved to close the door, but he put a hand out, preventing you from closing it.

“Are you going to be safe if I leave you alone with him?” he asked you in a low voice, all trace of his earlier smirk gone. “Do you have any reason to fear for your life?”

You couldn’t help it– you snorted in laughter. “God, no,” you said. Yes, Bucky’s anger had frightened you, but you couldn’t believe he would ever go so far as to actually hurt you. He just wasn’t that kind of man, right? “I promise you, officer, I’m perfectly safe with Mr. Barnes. I mean, he’s an Avenger.”

The officer nodded. “Just making sure, miss. My partner and I will stay in the area; if there’s any trouble, call 911 and we’ll be nearby.” You thanked him for his concern, but assured him it wouldn’t be needed. He tipped his cap to you and headed for the elevator. 

You closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. You needed to get some liquid in you. Immediately. 

Without sparing a glance at Bucky, who was standing by your coffee table, studiously avoiding looking at you,  you made your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you said eventually, keeping your back to him as you ran the glass under your refrigerator’s water dispenser.

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what to say to him to get him to let me stay,” he said, and his voice was closer now; you could tell he’d followed you to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” you asked. You took a couple of sips from your glass before finally turning to face him. He looked… rough. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes were red-rimmed, as though he, too, had spent some of the last several hours crying. 

Bucky swallowed thickly. “I came to apologize if you’ll let me,” he said, looking intently at your face. “Shit, sugar– have you been crying? Did I– fuck– I made you cry, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, doll.”

You let out a short bark of a laugh. Part of you wanted to throw your arms around him, bury your face into his shoulder, and never let him go, but what he had said to you earlier in the day was… well, it was horrendous and uncalled for, and you couldn’t, out of respect for yourself, just let it slide without some kind of explanation, and some real groveling.

“Explain yourself,” you said shortly, crossing your arms over your chest once again, as though putting a physical barrier between the two of you. 

Bucky swallowed and moved back toward your living room and began to pace. You followed, keeping a decent amount of distance between the two of you.

“I freaked out when I saw what was in that envelope,” he said. “As you no doubt know by now, I did a lot of shit, back when Hydra had me, that I’m not proud of. I’m… well, I guess you could say ‘sensitive about it’ would be an understatement. I carry a lot of guilt for what they made me do, and a lot of shame. Ever since I…” he paused, mulling over his word choice, “came back to myself, for good, I’ve been trying to make amends for all the harm I caused. To make things right. I know I can never erase all the pain I inflicted, bring back the people I killed, but I try to… to make things better. Where I can.”

He slumped down into one of your armchairs, a look of defeat crossing his handsome features. “It’s never going to be enough,” he sighed. “I know that. There are always going to be people who look at me, and only see the Soldier. No matter what I do, how much I atone, or how many lives I save, they’ll never see Bucky Barnes.”

“I told you from the beginning, Bucky,” you said, leaning against the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen, “it was obvious to me that you were blameless. A victim. And so, for you to accuse me of getting off on—”

“I know, sugar,” Bucky interrupted. He was looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “I never should have accused you of that; I was an ass. I was…” he averted his eyes, embarrassed to admit this next part to you. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid.” You rolled the word around on your tongue. “Bucky, you’re a super soldier. A fucking Avenger. What the hell do you have to be afraid of?”

“I was afraid that if you saw the real me, what I had done, you’d run screaming in the other direction,” he admitted without looking back at you. “Or, that the only reason a dame like you could be interested in a guy like me was because you were attracted to the darkness. To the monster. That it wasn’t actually me you were into, but the Soldier.” He finally looked up at you in time to see the puzzled look you gave him.

“It happened before,” he said, voice low and shamed. “There was this girl– her name was Jessica– and I thought I was in love with her, you know? Thought maybe I’d finally found my person. Was gonna ask her to move in with me but, turns out she just had a thing for the Soldier. She got off on the violence of it.” He looked down at his vibranium hand, flexing and unflexing his fist. “The old one did so much damage. They had me use it to hurt so many innocent people, and then I found out she searched for Winter Soldier choke porn on my computer. This thing that had caused so much pain, brought me nightmares, that woke me up screaming at night, and it was her fucking kink.” 

He looked back up at you, eyes desperate and pleading. “I couldn’t stand to go through something like that again. Not with you, Major. Especially not with you. So, I panicked, and I was an ass, and I hurt you before you could explain, because I didn’t want to give you a chance to hurt me.”

You sighed and moved away from the wall. He was weakening your resolve to be pissed at him by the second. In fact, your heart was breaking for him. 

“And now I’ve ruined things between us,” he said, “before they even really had a chance to begin.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. I was awful. I just… I just want you to know that I’ll always look back on the time we spent together as some of the best days of my life.” He made a move to stand up, but you took a step toward him.

“Oh my god, sit down, you idiot.” You walked closer, putting both your hands on his shoulders and slowly moving down to straddle his lap, his hands slipping almost subconsciously to your waist. “I don’t know if this is going to come back to bite me in the ass or not, but I forgive you.” You draped your arms around his neck and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. “Were you dumb? Yes. Did you overreact and behave like a child? Yes.” He narrowed his eyes at you, but you just playfully wrinkled your nose at him. 

“But are your concerns understandable, after everything you’ve been through? Also, yes.” You began to toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Next time you find yourself feeling like that, or questioning my motives, please promise me that you’ll talk to me instead of yelling at me and icing me out, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding profusely, “I can do that. I promise.”

“Good. Now, I feel this goes without saying, but I want to make sure we’re both on the same page, here,” you said to him. “ I did not seek out those documents. Someone sent them to me, anonymously. I didn’t tell you about them when I got them because I didn’t want to offend you or remind you of a past I know you don’t enjoy reminiscing about. I meant it when I said that I only want you to tell me if and when you’re ready, so I hadn’t done more than peruse the documents to get an idea of what they were and see if there were any hints as to where they came from. The only clue I have to the sender’s identity is a note where they wrote “Do you know who you’re fucking?” in black marker, but the letters are all blocky, so it’s not even like I can compare handwriting samples or something.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, shit. Sugar, I’m so sorry. If someone is targeting you because of me…”

You blew out a raspberry and waved your hand dismissively. “I’m a big girl,” you told him. “I can take care of myself. I have a ton of guns and awards for marksmanship, so don’t worry about me.”

A corner of Bucky’s mouth tugged up. “That’s actually really hot,” he admitted. “Remind me to take you on a date to the shooting range sometime.”

You tried to bite back your grin, but failed miserably. “Cheeky of you to assume there’ll be more dates,” you teased him.

Bucky tightened his grip around your waist. “Are you saying there won’t be?” He looked genuinely concerned, and you didn’t want to tease him.

“That’s gonna depend on you, Bucky,” you told him. “I’m not Jessica, and I’m not going stand by and let you punish me for the ways she mistreated you. I can tell you right now: if you ever talk to me again the way you talked to me in my office, it will be the last time you ever talk to me, at all, do you understand?”

Bucky nodded. “I don’t want to lose you, Major,” he said, and you could feel the sincerity in every word; and you hoped that he would be true to his word. “I promise to never let my anger get the best of me and speak so disrespectfully to you ever again.”

You nodded, satisfied for now. “Good,” you said, standing up from his lap. “Then we can call it a night.”

Bucky rubbed his hands on his knees and stood up. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’ll, uh, just be heading back to the Compound, so…”

You tilted your head. “No. It’s late, Bucky. Come to bed.” You reached out a hand, and Bucky’s entire demeanor changed, his face lighting up with surprised, but cautious delight.

“Really?” he asked, as though he almost expected you to pull your hand away from him and tell him you were just joking. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I missed you,” you said simply. And it was true– it had only been a few hours, really, since your fight, but you had missed him. You had seriously considered that the two of you might be over for good, and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to be close to him. 

Bucky reached for your hand, pulling you into him in the process. You let out an ‘oof’ as you collided with his chest, but soon his arms were around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair. 

“I missed you, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, and you felt yourself melt into his hold, the rough skin of his calloused right hand dragging along the exposed skin of your hip, the cold metal of the left tracing delicate patterns up and down your side. You could forgive him practically anything when he kissed you like this.

“We should go to sleep,” you said, breathlessly pulling away from his lips, “before we get ourselves worked up into a situation.”

He followed you into your bedroom, and you did your best to not ogle him as he stripped down to his boxer briefs. The second he joined you under the covers, you scooted over to snuggle yourself against him.

“You said we can’t get each other off,” you reminded him as you burrowed your head against his hard chest and rested a hand on his ass. “You didn’t say I couldn’t cop a feel.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and you could hear the rumble of it through his skin. “Yeah, that’s definitely a loop hole, sugar,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek against it. Slotting his knee between your thighs, the two of you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, trying to fight off a yawn.

“Goodnight, doll,” he replied, running his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

As you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, you couldn’t help but hope he was right.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[mononijikayu]

no more sad songs for my broken heart — gojo satoru.

Swallowing back the bitter taste rising in your throat, you steadied yourself and turned your gaze to Satoru, watching him sleep peacefully. The room was hushed, filled only with the soft rustling of fabric and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"You're the most important to me, Satoru." you whispered, your voice a fragile whisper in the quiet night. The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a love that defied death itself. "And you always will be."

Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Warning/s: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, An Pining, Emotional Hurt, Depression, Ghost, Trauma, PTSD, Depiction of Funeral, Depiction of Trauma, Mentions of Alcohol, Depiction of Alcoholism, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Ghost, Depiction of PTSD illusions, Gojo Satoru deserves a Hug™

masterlist

song: no more sad song for my broken heart by k.will

note: the fact that we waited years and years for a sequel to please dont mv and k.will decided to give us a heartbreak on PRIDE MONTH??? but i shouldnt be speaking because i saw that mv and thought holy shit, satoru definitely went through it and held my breath for a whole week until i could write it on my free time. anyway, ill be disappearing again cause exams !!! but i will be back soon ~ i love you all <3

HE NEVER EXPECTED THIS TO END THIS WAY. Gojo Satoru stood silently in front of the floral arrangement, the vibrant colors contrasting starkly with the somberness of the ihai before him. He lowered himself gracefully, bowing deeply in a gesture of respect and remembrance. Carefully, he lit three incense sticks, their thin spirals of smoke curling upwards, filling the air with a calming fragrance. 

The silence, the lonesomeness of the room — he’d never expected it before. If he was being honest, Satoru never liked the quiet. It was hard to be alone in the realm of thoughts that burden him. But there’s nothing he could do about it. No one was here other than the funerary staff. And even then, they were all scattered around this dingy property. 

As he stood up, his gaze fell momentarily on his watch, the cracked glass dial. He doesn’t think he’d ever have it fixed. He wanted to let it be, let it rest at that moment. It was better, a reminder for him about a time that had long been frozen in time. The hands were stuck at 19:42 pm, a constant reminder of a past event he couldn't change. His cerulean blues was intense against the broken clock from the darkness of those round rim frames. 

Everyone else had already come, he supposed. But it was perhaps most poignant that he was going to be the last person here. He was away on missions, as he always has. Yaga–sensei was going to go as early as he could, Shoko would get it done and over with. Nanami was here, judging from the fact that the bread rolls from that corner store all those years ago were here. He sighed, trying to think if Suguru had come here at all. If he had the audacity to bring condolences and grief in hand. But Satoru thinks that all the incense had erased the scent of all his cursed energy. And perhaps that was for the best. 

He looked at the black armband on his arm. Ever since he arrived yesterday, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave. Not even to sleep or to eat. The moment he arrived, he was told that he was the chief mourner. He never expected that to be someone’s final request, not ever. But he supposed that it was just how fate is, with someone like him. A conundrum of irony, one that could not ever be prevented. One that could never truly stop. 

Satoru left the room quietly, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallways. You watched him from your hiding spot, leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't want to face him, not now, not here. But as fate would have it, Gojo Satoru could not help but notice you as he grabbed his energy drink from the vending machine. You recognized the drink from all those years ago. It was the one you hated — because it was too overly sweet. But you drank it anyway, when Satoru got it for you. 

"Hey!" he called out, his voice filled with a blend of surprise and familiarity. He rushed to your side, his tall frame towering over you, but his presence was somehow comforting.

You tried to compose yourself, managing a weak smile. "Satoru..."

He grinned at you, his usual playful demeanor tinged with genuine warmth. "I haven't seen you in a while. How about we grab a bite to eat?"

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm not hungry."

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, indulge me. It's not every day I get to catch up with an old friend."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to flee and the comfort of his company. But something in his eyes, a blend of understanding and insistence, made you relent.

"Okay," you sighed, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "But just this once."

Gojo's grin softened into a genuine smile, and he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's go then."

In no time, you and Satoru sat across from each other in the small cafeteria, the ambient chatter echoes between the two of you in the silence of the empty cafeteria. He was intently looking at you as he started making conversation and you listened, nodding along with what he was saying as you ate. He was like this too when you were younger in Jujutsu High and nearly ten years later, he somehow hasn’t changed. You could only smile at that. 

Satoru starts stuffing his face with the already cold tonkatsu. You could only sigh fondly at him, watching him put the rice bowl down and take the miso soup’s bowl in hand and drink the  cold broth. You picked up your chopsticks and, absentmindedly, stuck them upright into your rice meal. Satoru's cerulean eyes widened slightly, and he leaned forward, his tone playful yet chiding.

"Hey, you know you're not supposed to do that, right? It's bad luck. Reminds me of funeral rites."

You snorted, rolling your eyes at his scolding. "Oh, please, Satoru. Don’t tell me what to do." 

“It’s still bad luck, use them properly!”

You smirked, pulling the chopsticks out and resuming your meal properly. "Besides, it's not like the spirits are going to come after me just for this."

Satoru laughed, shaking his head. "You always were stubborn. Some things never change."

You smiled, a hint of nostalgia in your eyes. "You know, Sugu-chan and Nana-chan were always sticklers for the rules. But you? I can’t believe you’re lecturing me about rules.”

He pouts at you. “I can follow rules too! You’re so mean to me, y’know?”

“It’s very rare to see you follow rules, Sato-chan.”

“But you admit that I follow rules?” The glint in his bright eyes was shining at you like a star in the cloudless sky. So clearly. “You do, don’t you?”

You grinned at him mischievously. “Well, at least the ones that suited you."

“Oh don’t patronize me!”

“Well, you asked!”

The two of you continued eating, the conversation flowing easily. You talked about the current state of affairs, your work, and shared memories from your past. The atmosphere was light, filled with genuine warmth. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Not since you left Jujutsu behind and had gotten married abroad. But from what Satoru heard, you returned recently. 

And he wasn’t sure what happened in all that time. But it was good for him, to see you smiling at him again. It was as if time hadn’t moved at all between the two of you. It was as if it was still like yesterday. He could feel his heart tender as you put your matcha mochi on his plate. You smiled at him, even wider than before as you told him to take it and eat it for you. He looked at you, but you just kept nodding. You watched him eat the mochi and make a satisfied groan as he ate it. You laughed, seeing that he hasn’t changed much. 

Satoru leaned back in his chair, a contented look on his face. "You know, it's really good to see you. I missed this. Just talking and being ourselves."

You nodded, feeling a similar sense of contentment. "Yeah, me too. It's nice to just... be, without any of the usual chaos."

Satoru's eyes softened as he looked at you, a rare moment of vulnerability. "You've been through a lot, I imagine. It’s been….a while.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay the weight of his words. "We all have our battles, Satoru. Some just leave more scars than others."

He reached across the table, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, if you ever need someone in your corner, you know where to find me."

You smiled, squeezing his hand back. "Thanks, Satoru. That means a lot."

The conversation tapered off, and a comfortable silence settled between you and Satoru. Both of you watched the birds outside the window, one bird leaving the other behind, fluttering away into the open sky. The scene was tranquil, a stark contrast to the turbulent lives you both led.

Breaking the silence, you reached for your phone. The chair squeaked softly as you shifted, pulling out an outdated flip phone from your pocket. You handed it to Satoru, causing his eyebrows to rise in curiosity.

"Can you put your number in?" you asked.

Satoru took the flip phone, chuckling softly. "You still have this old thing? Why not upgrade to something more modern?"

You shrugged, a faint smile on your lips. "The new ones overstimulate me. I prefer something simple."

Nodding in understanding, Satoru quickly input his number into your flip phone and handed it back to you. Then, he pulled out his sleek, modern smartphone, offering it to you.

"Alright, fair is fair. Put your number in mine too," he said with a grin.

You took his phone, marveling for a moment at the advanced technology before carefully entering your number. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed lightly against his, a brief but comforting connection.

"Thanks," Satoru said, pocketing his phone. "Now I have no excuse not to stay in touch."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Exactly. No excuses."

Another comfortable silence fell between you as you both returned to watching the birds outside, feeling a sense of calm and connection. Despite everything, moments like these reminded you that some bonds were unbreakable, no matter the distance or time that passed. Satoru took a sip of his drink once more and looked at your contentment. He hadn’t expected to have met you today, not at a funeral. He wished it was a better time. But he knew, it was better than not having met you again at all.

“Are you good on Thursday?” Satoru asks, breaking the comfortable silence and causing you to turn your gaze back to him.

“For what?” you reply, raising a curious eyebrow.

“To hang out...like the old days?” he says, a hopeful grin spreading across his face.

You ponder for a moment, the idea of reconnecting with him sounding appealing. "What did you have in mind?"

Satoru leans back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I was thinking we could visit that ramen place we used to love. You know, the one with the best miso ramen in town. And maybe after that, we could catch a movie or just walk around the old neighborhood."

A nostalgic smile creeps onto your face as you remember the countless times you’d both gone to that ramen place, laughing and talking for hours. "That sounds nice. I could use a break from everything."

"Great!" he exclaims, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's a date, then."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "It's not a date, Satoru."

"Sure, sure," he says, waving his hand dismissively but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Just two old friends hanging out."

"Exactly," you agree, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of spending time with him. 

“Exactly.” He repeated, with that grin on his face. 

You shake your head. “You always have to have the last word, huh?”

He laughs. “Of course!”

For a moment, Gojo Satoru didn’t feel sad anymore.

In this moment, hearing you laugh, he escapes it all.

He escapes the misery of the world in your warmth.

WHEN YOU LEFT, SATORU WAS SHATTERED. He still remembered the details of that moment, when you told him you were leaving. The unruly pile of clothes lying around the room, the ripped pieces of paper scattered across the floor, and the bedsheet that hadn’t been replaced in days—all of it seemed like a chaotic reflection of his inner turmoil. You stood by the door, suitcase in hand, your expression a mix of sadness and determination.

"I can't stay here anymore, Satoru." you had said, your voice trembling yet resolute. "I need to find my own path, away from all of this….I’m tired.”

Satoru's heart had shattered in that instant. The room had felt colder, emptier, as if the very air was being sucked out of it. The dorm already lost its life. Everything about it was just silent. Nanami’s moved out even before graduation, Shoko’s gone off and taken to medical school. It was only him that’s left. Him and you. He clung to you, for all this time. He would push you to join him on his food trips during missions, even if you weren’t here. 

You and him stayed up watching movies together when he had those rare days off. The emptiness Suguru left behind would never go away, but you filled some tenderness in his life. A tenderness that he had enjoyed.  A tenderness he could not live without. And now you planned to leave him too. Now that he couldn't comprehend a world where you weren't a part of his daily life. The thought of you walking out that door and never coming back was too painful to bear. And he hated how it hurt, it hated how it made him return to that time, when Suguru turned his back to him forever.

Thinking of it now that you both were older, Satoru realizes that all of it must have been hard on you too. You were a year below them, in a team with Haibara and Nanami. You were close to Suguru and Shoko too. And now you lost them too, you were all alone too, left with echoes that Satoru did not know. You were left with ghosts and grief and lonesomeness. 

And he didn’t see that, he didn’t want to. You were close to breaking and he didn’t see it. And choosing your peace, it hurt him. It hurt him beyond words could express. It was a horrible thought for certain. But Satoru thought at the time, that if two miserable people were together, maybe the happiness that could come would be enough to overcome that misery. But he was wrong. He was all too wrong. Misery will never keep people together.

"Please," he had pleaded, his voice breaking. "Don't go. We can figure this out together."

But you had only shaken your head, tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry, Sato-chan…I know it's going to hurt you. But….I can’t stay here.  I need to do this for myself."

The memory of you closing the door behind you haunted him for days, weeks, even months. He couldn’t stop crying for days after Suguru left. He had tried to fill the void with anything he could—training, missions, even attempting to drown his sorrows in alcohol—but nothing worked. The pain of losing both of you was too much to bear. The apartment became a constant reminder of the life he once had, now reduced to a hollow shell.

Every time he looked at the bed, he remembered the late-night conversations, the laughter, and the warmth of your presence. The ripped pieces of paper were drafts of letters he had tried to write to you, words that never seemed adequate to express the depth of his feelings. The clothes strewn about were remnants of happier times, now just silent witnesses to his grief. Even now, years later, the memory was as vivid as ever, a wound that never truly healed.

As Satoru sat across from you, his mind drifted back to the years following your departure. At first, he didn't want to hear anything about you. The pain was too raw, too immediate. Every mention of your name felt like a knife twisting in his chest. It hurt to know that, just like everyone else, you moved on with your life without him.

He remembered the first time he heard you'd left the country. It was Shoko who told him, her voice gentle as she broke the news. You had found a new passion, something that took you far away from the world you both had known. It was supposed to be a casual conversation, but it left him reeling. The idea of you building a new life, so distant from the memories you had shared, was almost unbearable.

Then came the news that you had married. He remembered the hollow feeling in his chest when he heard. It was as if a part of him had died all over again. Shoko had shown him a picture of you and your spouse, smiling and happy. In a fit of rage and heartbreak, he ripped the picture apart, unable to bear the sight of you with someone else.

Each memory hurt him badly. Nights were the worst, filled with imagined scenarios where you were still with him, where he could reach out and feel your warmth next to him. He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what could have been if you had stayed.

Despite his attempts to move on, the memories lingered. Every accomplishment, every smile, every moment of happiness he found was tinged with the bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The thought of you, happy and loved by someone else, was a constant ache.

Yet, as he looked at you now, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. The pain was still there, but so was the undeniable bond you shared. It was as if no time had passed, and in this small café, surrounded by the remnants of your shared past, he found a small measure of peace. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to rebuild what had been lost.

You and Satoru began meeting up more often than ever. Each encounter breathed new life into the corners of his world that had long been shadowed by loneliness and regret. For the first time in a long while, besides the joy he found in teaching his students, Satoru felt a genuine happiness blooming within him, one that he had almost forgotten could exist.

Your meet-ups started simply, with visits to quaint cafés where you’d talk over coffee and pastries, reminiscing about old times and sharing stories about your current lives. At times, he brought you along with him when he would see Megumi and Tsumiki. They seemed fond enough of you, and it was a privilege for Satoru to see how tender you are with them. 

You became his daily routine, everything he said revolved around your daily vernacular. Your home cooked meals became his sustenance. He realized too that he smiled more. That he was always in a good mood when you texted him something about your day. He didn’t want this to stop and he knew that you also didn’t want to leave him. Satoru realized that you found solace in each other's presence. The more you met, the more the walls of time and distance crumbled away, leaving only the essence of your bond, untouched and untainted.

At times, Gojo Satoru would come over to your place, bringing groceries or a bottle of sake. These evenings were filled with laughter, shared meals, and a sense of comfort that was rare in his life. It was one of those days to be together again. As you both sat on the porch, the sky painted in hues of twilight, you revealed something you had been holding back. Satoru already knew you were married, but you didn’t know that. But he just listened, when you talked all about it. He just let you lift the weight of your chest. He just let you give yourself to him little by little.

“I’m divorced.” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “It happened a while ago.”

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. “I didn’t know how. It’s not something I talk about easily. But I thought you should know.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry you went through that. But thank you for telling me.”

As the weeks turned into months, Satoru realized something profound. He loved you. It was a love that had never truly faded, only hidden beneath layers of time and circumstance. Each moment spent with you reaffirmed this truth. And each moment, he was even more terrified. Terrified of telling you the truth. Terrified of letting you see the pits of him that he doesn’t like. 

The monster that lingers in the strongest, he does not want you to see that. The danger that comes with the world that he dwells in, the world you’d long abandoned. You laughed together, drank together, and enjoyed each other's company in a way that felt both new and comfortingly familiar. The nights, like tonight, continued to be joyous evenings filled with stories and laughter. 

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” you said softly.

“Me too, y’know?” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ve missed you. More than I can say.”

Your fingers brushed against his, “I always thought about you, all those years.”

His cerulean blue tenderly met your own orbs. “I always thought about you too."

“Do you mean it?” You responded in a whisper.

“Why would I lie to you, after all this time?”

After a delightful meal shared on your porch, you found yourselves enjoying dessert. You had bought some sweets to bring over. You didn’t like sweets all that much, but you always thought about enjoying them with Satoru. Because it made him happy. And when he was happy, you were too. You could feel the night air breezing in consistent cool kisses, and the distant sound of cicadas filled the silence between your laughter and conversation. You picked up a piece of the dessert, holding it out to Satoru with a playful grin. You supposed you had drunk much already.

“Here, try this. It’s delicious, Sato-chan.” you said, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours as he took the bite. “Mmm, you’re right. It’s amazing.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he took a piece and held it out to you. “Your turn.”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden rush of warmth to your cheeks. “Satoru, I can feed myself, you know?” you laughed nervously.

“Come on, indulge me, sweets!” he teased, his tone light but his eyes serious.

You opened your mouth, letting him feed you. The intimacy of the gesture made your heart race, and you quickly looked away, trying to hide your flustered expression. Satoru chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

As the evening wore on, Satoru, a notorious lightweight when it came to drinking, began to feel the effects of the sake you’d shared. He leaned back, his eyelids drooping. “I think I’m going to pass out, sweets.” he mumbled, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Then go and sleep.”

“Hm….night.”

‘.....G’d night.”

You watched as his eyes closed, his breathing evening out. For a long moment, you stared at him, your heart aching with unspoken feelings. You had always been in love with him, but you knew deep down that you could never compete with Suguru. That bond, that history, was something you could never touch.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was not entirely asleep. He was keenly aware of his feelings for you, feelings that had grown stronger with each passing day. But rather than confront them, he chose to feign sleep, his mind whirling with thoughts he wasn’t ready to address. Not just yet. Not when it was too hard to face the truth.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Satoru's forehead. Your touch was tender, filled with a longing that transcended the boundaries between this world and the next.

"I... I... I lov..." you began, your voice faltering as if caught between the weight of your emotions and the limits of your spectral form. Frustration and exhaustion etched across your ethereal features, and you brought your hands to your face, overcome by the inability to express what lay heavy on your heart.

Swallowing back the bitter taste rising in your throat, you steadied yourself and turned your gaze to Satoru, watching him sleep peacefully. The room was hushed, filled only with the soft rustling of fabric and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"You're the most important to me, Satoru," you whispered, your voice a fragile whisper in the quiet night. The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a love that defied death itself. "And you always will be."

He heard your words, each one piercing through his heart, but he remained still, his breathing steady. He wasn’t ready to face the complexities of your relationship, the unresolved emotions that lay between you.

As you sat there, watching over him, you wondered if there would ever be a time when you could be honest with each other. For now, you were content to cherish these moments, fleeting as they might be, and hope that someday, the barriers between you would fall away, leaving only the love that had always been there.

A few moments later, you realized Satoru groggily opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. He watched you with a mix of concern and amusement as you clumsily attempted to put your shoes on, fumbling with the laces and nearly losing your balance. The room was dim, and the aftereffects of the night’s drinks were evident in your unsteady movements.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asked, his voice laced with confusion and sleepiness.

“I need to go home,” you whispered to him, your voice soft but tinged with a hint of desperation. You hiccuped, the sound breaking the silence of the room. “My dog needs me.”

Satoru sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to make sense of your words. He reached out to steady you, his touch gentle yet firm. “You’re not going anywhere in this state, sweets.” he said, concern etched across his face. “Let’s get you some water and figure this out.”

But you shook your head, your thoughts already miles away. “No, I have to go. She’s waiting for me. Please, I need to get home.” The urgency in your voice was palpable, and despite his better judgment, Satoru knew there was no stopping you. 

“Alright….Let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to.” You tell him, shaking your head. “You…don’t you have a mission tomorrow?”

“It’s fine.” Satoru insisted to you. “Don’t worry.”

Walking through the train tunnel, the air was thick with the musty scent of concrete and dampness, punctuated by the distant echo of footsteps reverberating off the tunnel walls. The dim, flickering lights cast long, eerie shadows that danced around you and Satoru as you stumbled forward, your movements unsteady and guided more by instinct than clarity.

You were particularly drunk, your senses dulled and your thoughts muddled. Every step felt like a small victory as you navigated the uneven ground and avoided stumbling over the occasional debris littering the tunnel floor. Beside you, Satoru walked with a surprising steadiness, his normally calm demeanor now tinged with a quiet concern. His eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings with a vigilance that contrasted sharply with your intoxicated haze.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on endlessly, the occasional flickering light offering brief glimpses of the graffiti-covered walls and rusted tracks that lay beyond. The sound of your footsteps echoed loudly in the confined space, creating an unsettling symphony with the distant sounds of passing trains and the occasional drip of water from above.

“Be careful now.” he cautioned, glancing at you as you stumbled slightly. His tone was light, but the concern in his eyes was evident.

You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Satoru,” you began, your voice wavering. “There’s something I’ve never been able to tell you.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “What is it?” he asked, his expression curious and a little concerned.

You looked at him, your eyes almost broken, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy on your shoulders. “Can I… can I hug you? Just once?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can you turn off Infinity around me? Just for a moment?”

Satoru’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer. “My Infinity is always down with you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a gentle sincerity.

Without another word, you stepped forward and embraced him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of his body against yours was both comforting and overwhelming. Satoru stood still, his arms at his sides, too shocked to respond immediately.

For a moment, you held him tightly, your face buried in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’ve always loved you, Satoru.” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I wished….I wished I told you, before I left. Maybe……maybe it would have saved me a decade of pain. Of heartbreak.”

His body tensed slightly, and you could feel his breath hitch. Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, his arms began to lift. Tentatively, he placed them around you, his embrace becoming firmer as the reality of your confession sank in.

You stood there in the train tunnel, holding onto each other as if the world around you had ceased to exist. The distant echoes and the cold air were forgotten, replaced by the warmth of the moment and the raw, unfiltered emotions that had finally been laid bare.

Satoru pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His eyes were filled with a mix of shock, confusion, and something else—something deeper. “Why now?” he asked, his voice barely audible, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Because I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” you replied, your voice trembling. “Because I need you to know, even if it changes nothing.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “For telling me.”

“I know we can’t be together.” You ramble to him, tears falling all over your face. “I wish we could have had more time. I wish….”

“We will have more time.” He tells you in a mumble. “We have all the time in the world.”

“We don’t.” You whispered to him, looking into his eyes with your own tear stained face. “We don’t.”

In that moment, he could see it in your eyes.

You were telling him the truth, the whole of it.

As the sound of the train echoed through the tunnel,

You burst into tears as those words echoed in his head.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” You whispered. “I’m going to hurt you.”

YOU CHOSE THE PICTURE YOURSELF.  You looked at him, a sad smile playing on your lips, a bittersweet expression that conveyed both regret and acceptance. Your gaze was gentle yet haunting, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the photograph he held in his trembling hands — a portrait of you, captured in a moment of serene beauty that seemed to transcend the confines of the photograph itself.

As he stared at your image, framed by the soft glow of candlelight, he felt a pang of disbelief and sorrow grip his heart. How could someone so vibrant, so full of life, now be reduced to this still, silent image before him? The photograph seemed to capture not just your physical likeness, but also the essence of your spirit — a spirit that had once danced with such vitality and now lingered only in memories.

He remembered that day in the tunnel, your words echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain. You had warned him, confessed your impending departure with a sorrow that mirrored his own. In that moment, he had felt a deep ache, a foreboding sense of loss that now seemed inevitable and crushing.

Now, holding your funeral photo, he felt as if he were suspended in that tunnel once more, caught between the reality of your absence and the vividness of your memory. You had prepared for this moment, for your departure from his life, long before fate had delivered its cruel blow. The photo captured a version of you that he knew was only a fraction of the person he had loved — a mere reflection of the complexities and contradictions that made you who you were.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the illusion of your ghostly presence that seemed to linger in the room. This spectral image, so painfully beautiful, could never truly encapsulate the vibrant soul he had cherished. Everything that defined you now rested in the small urn before him, the echoes of the fleeting nature of life itself. He had promised to protect you, to hold you close, but now all he could do was hold onto your memory, etched into his heart with a sorrow that would never fade.

Gojo Satoru sat in silence, the photo trembling in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to look away from your serene face, captured forever in that moment of calm. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows around the room, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and surreal.

"You told me……" Satoru finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "that you were going to hurt me. But I never thought it would end like this."

Your ghostly presence seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, a wistful echo of the person he had loved so deeply. Your eyes, even in the photo, held a depth of sadness that mirrored his own

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice carrying a weight of regret that pierced through the silence. "I never wanted this for us."

He looked up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I should have done everything." he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "I should have done something."

You shook your head gently, a gesture that seemed to encompass both forgiveness and understanding. "It wasn't your fault," you reassured him softly. "We couldn't change what was meant to be."

"But I miss you, my love." Satoru confessed, his voice choking with grief. "Every day feels like a struggle without you."

Your ghostly form seemed to draw closer, as if reaching out to comfort him. "I know, I know…." you murmured, your presence a fleeting warmth in the cold emptiness of the room. "I miss you too."

He reached out a trembling hand towards where your image lay, desperate for some tangible connection to the love that had defined his world. "Why did you have to leave me?" he asked, his voice filled with anguish. “Why now when we had everything?”

You looked at him with infinite sadness, your ethereal presence flickering faintly. "I didn't want to," you replied, your voice barely audible. "But my time was up. Some things... we can't control it."

He closed his cerulean eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. The ache in his chest felt unbearable, a gaping void that no amount of time could ever heal. "I wish I could have saved you, my love." he whispered, his words a desperate plea to the universe. “I wished I….”

In the silence that followed, your ghostly form seemed to fade gradually, leaving behind only the faint echo of your presence. "You gave me everything I ever wanted." you whispered softly, your voice drifting like a gentle breeze. "And I will always be with you, in every memory, in every heartbeat."

He closed his cerulean eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks like silent rivers of grief. The ache in his chest felt unbearable, a gaping void that no amount of time could ever hope to heal. "I don't want anything else, my love," he whispered brokenly, his words a desperate plea to the universe. "I just want you. I need you."

His voice faltered, choked by sorrow too deep for words. In the deafening silence that followed, your ghostly form seemed to fade gradually, leaving behind only the faint echo of your presence. The room feels emptier without you, devoid of the warmth and light that had once filled his life.

"I know." You choked as you tried not to falter. Not when he needed your smile more than your tears. "I know."

"I wished we had more time.....so I could have....." You shook your head at him.

"You gave me everything I ever wanted," your voice echoed softly, ethereal and distant like a whisper carried in the wind. "And I have no regrets. Neither should you, Satoru. Hm?"

He clutched the photograph to his chest, feeling the weight of your absence press against him like a physical force. The candle flickered, casting fleeting shadows on the walls as if dancing to the rhythm of his heartache. Memories flooded his mind — moments shared, laughter exchanged, dreams woven together — now a tapestry of what-ifs and regrets.

"I don't know how to go on without you, my love." he admitted quietly, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "Everything reminds me of you. What is life without who makes life have sense?"

"You are stronger than you know, you always were." your voice whispered gently, a soothing melody in the midst of his storm. He could feel you touch his cheek. He leans against the ghostly weight, wishing he could feel your warmth in his. "You'll always get by, Satoru. You always will. You're the best I know, after all."

"Because I'm the strongest?"

You smiled, softly shaking your head again. "Because you love too well."

He opened his pale blue eyes, searching for a glimpse of you in the shadows, in the flickering candlelight. Though your physical presence had slipped away, he could still feel your love wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon. It was a love that had weathered storms, endured trials, and now lingered as fragile hope in his shattered heart.

"I love you, my love." he whispered into the stillness, his words a solemn vow to carry your memory forward. "Always."

As he sat there, cradling the photograph that held your smile frozen in time, he knew that while he had lost you in body, your spirit would forever remain intertwined with his own. And in the quiet moments of solitude, he would find solace in the memories of a love that had transcended mortality itself. 

He knew that time would be the bridge between now and when he would see you again. Even in his deepest despair, the thought of reuniting with you brought a bittersweet comfort. Yet, he also knew that to join you prematurely would betray the promise he had made to you in those final moments — to live a life worthy of your love, to carry on and make a difference.

The scent of incense filled the room, a solemn reminder of the rituals and prayers offered for your departed soul. Satoru let out a long exhale, his lips pursed into a determined line. He would fulfill his promises, no matter how difficult or daunting the path ahead seemed.

"I'll change the Jujutsu society," he vowed quietly to himself, the words carrying a weight of determination. "I'll guide the next generation, help them grow strong and wise."

As a sad melody filled the air, a song that once brought joy and laughter to both of you, he closed his eyes and allowed the memories to wash over him. You had loved to dance to this song, your laughter echoing in his ears as you twirled around the room together. It was a memory etched in his heart, a fragment of a life he cherished and longed to live again.

"I'll do everything you believed I could," he whispered softly, his voice tinged with both sadness and resolve. "And then, I'll find you again."

In the solitude of that moment, amidst the flickering candlelight and the haunting melody, he made a silent promise to himself and to you. He would continue to carry your love in his heart, through every trial and triumph, knowing that one day, their souls would reunite in a dance again.

And so Gojo Satoru waits as he lay on that cold operating table.

Those sad sing along songs repeated in his head over and over.

But as he lay there, all that he could think to do was smile at pain.

He was going to meet you soon, he thinks to himself in such peace.

Then, there would be no more sad songs for his broken heart to hear.

some facts about the fic

in the first part, satoru is struggling through his grief for you to the point that he is suffering traumatic illusions that you were there, eating with him. in that whole scene, satoru was actually alone and he's repressing that for the vision of being together, eating.

when you were eating, the chopsticks  were stuck upright. this should not be the case especially rice. chopsticks are only stuck upright into rice in the bowl on the altar at a funeral or when paying respects to the deceased. this is called hotokebashi.

in the funerary flower arrangement, there's something called an ihai. an ihai is a placard that people used to designate the seat of a deity or past ancestor as well as to enclose it. the name of the deity or the past ancestor is usually inscribed onto the tablet.

an ihai is usually used in the funerary rights and then afterwards, put in a butsudan which is often an ornate platform or simply a wooden cabinet sometimes crafted with doors that enclose it. families often put their ihai into their butsudan at home.

since i thought that in this story, you don't have parents - i like to think that satoru put your ihai in the butsudan in his house, so that you could be there with him always.

your ashes in the story are with satoru. but i like to believe he already had a spot reserved for him as clan leader in the future - so he buried you beside his future spot so he just made sure both of you are together in the afterlife too.

the watch belonged to haibara and his parents gave you and nanami something of his to keep. you kept the watch he wore during the mission and kept using it all your life. it stopped working when you died.

the time in the story was 19:42. in japanese superstition,

in the first part, satoru is struggling through his grief for you to the point that he is suffering traumatic illusions that you were there, eating with him. in that whole scene, satoru was actually alone and he's repressing that for the vision of being together, eating.

when you were eating, the chopsticks  were stuck upright. this should not be the case especially rice. chopsticks are only stuck upright into rice in the bowl on the altar at a funeral or when paying respects to the deceased. this is called hotokebashi.

in the funerary flower arrangement, there's something called an ihai. an ihai is a placard that people used to designate the seat of a deity or past ancestor as well as to enclose it. the name of the deity or the past ancestor is usually inscribed onto the tablet.

an ihai is usually used in the funerary rights and then afterwards, put in a butsudan which is often an ornate platform or simply a wooden cabinet sometimes crafted with doors that enclose it. families often put their ihai into their butsudan at home.

since i thought that in this story, you don't have parents - i like to think that satoru put your ihai in the butsudan in his house, so that you could be there with him always.

your ashes in the story are with satoru. but i like to believe he already had a spot reserved for him as clan leader in the future - so he buried you beside his future spot so he just made sure both of you are together in the afterlife too.

the watch belonged to haibara and his parents gave you and nanami something of his to keep. you kept the watch he wore during the mission and kept using it all your life. it stopped working when you died.

the time in the story was 19:42. in japanese superstition, you have to switch it to have meaning. 42-19, together sounds like shini iku (死に行く – to go and die).

your story ex-spouse and you divorced because they found out that you were a jujutsu sorcerer - after you saved them from a cursed spirit that was about to kill them.

you found out that you were very ill a month after you met satoru again and were given a year or two to live, with medication. its a rare disease, so there was only maintenance medication.

originally, i thought to write that you die from a mission after returning to jujutsu to be with satoru. but i realized that it's just not gonna hit as hard. so i changed my mind and got to this ending.

i also thought that you dying in this story because of cursed spirits was going to rile satoru up against the higher ups. but i felt like the fact that you left him because you were traumatized too, and needed a room enough to breathe was enough for him to be angry. if you hadn't left, you and satoru would have had a life together and you wouldn't have been ripped away from him by fate so quickly.

[flwrkisses]

for the birthday boy — sim jaeyun.

happy jake day! this might be a little late but hey better belated than nothing at all! hope you guys enjoy :)

genre: fluff, established relationship au.

word count: 1.3k (english)

warning: a teeny bit suggestive.

ever since you and jake had started dating, you always made birthdays a big deal. regardless of the age being turned or who it was, you always emphasized the importance of celebrating birthdays and making sure those close to you got their one day a year to feel special.

jake had gotten used to waiting until midnight for your long and cheesy love filled text wishing him a happy birthday and boasting about how you were the first person to say it to him on the day of his birthday. regardless of the time zone he was in, you somehow always got it right, even if you had to stay up for it. it made him feel special, warm inside knowing how much joy it brought you to do such things. they were so simple and yet it meant the world to him. so when this year came around, 11:59 pm the day before, he was sat in his plane seat finally on his way back home to you, waiting for the text pop up on his screen exactly at 12 am.

however this time, 12:01 passes... then 12:05, and nothing from you. it was strange, you couldn't have forgotten his birthday. jake knew you always marked your calendar with his name surrounded in hearts on the 15th of november. so where was his long heart filled message he always excitedly waited for?

well, on your phone, in your hand.. half written. yes, thats right. for the first time in the 3 years of your relationship, you had fallen asleep mid birthday text. however, jake truly had no way of knowing that.

your sweet birthday boy of a boyfriend panicked, what if there was something wrong? what if you had been kidnapped? what if you didn't love him anymore? of course these were insane exaggerations of the truth but jake was dramatic in situations like these. his plane was going to take off soon and still no birthday text from the one person who means the most to him? he would be anxious all flight.

"ayy, stop freaking out- i'm sure they just forgot." said sunghoon whom had been sitting next to him and watching him freak out in his seat. of course sunghoon didn't see the big deal, he didn't know you like jake did. he didn't know the little texting habits jake had picked up about you. so when he waved it off as forgetfulness jake couldn't take it as a solid answer. it just wasn't like you. "or maybe they fell asleep, either way it'll be okay just relax." his best friend commented once more before laying his head back and getting comfortable in his seat. and with a sigh, jake decided to try and calm down and sleep a little on his flight. even with his mind jumping to the most terrible conclusions he forced himself to think about finally being able to see you after being gone for the past week. it helped... kinda.

...

6 anxious hours later, jake had gotten out of the company car and hurried into your apartment building. the sky was still dark and the street was still for once. checking his phone, his digital clock read 2:47 in the morning. surely at this time you'd be in your apartment tucked away and sleeping. so when jake quietly entered into your shared apartment, he couldn't help but dart directly into your bedroom to see you. however, the bed was empty, perfectly neatly made the way you had always left it in the morning. his heart sank, where the hell could you have gone at this hour? and why hadn't you been in bed? why hadn't you texted him? that was when he turned around and frantically looked for a his phone which he had place on the kitchen counter.

just as he entered the kitchen something told him to look on the sofa, and there you were. curled up on the sofa with your phone in your hand and your mouth hanging open in exhaustion. he felt slightly embarrassed, considering he had walked past the furniture twice without noticing you on it. all he wanted to do was engulf you into his arms and hold you close after such a long flight of wondering if you were okay. he just didn't have the heart to wake you.

looking around, he noticed the birthday decorations hung up throughout the living room. streamers, tinsel, balloons and banners hung up just for him. he couldn't help but smile like a child when he saw all the work you had put in to celebrate his birthday for him. you most definitely did not forget.

jake looked at the time, 3 am. before it had gotten any later he figured moving you over to your bed to be much more comfortable. gently, he pulled you into his arms and walked you into your shared bedroom. just before he placed you down on your side of the plush bed, you mumbled. "happy birthday jake-" your boyfriend couldn't help but smile wide and lay you down, hoping you'd go back to sleep at his lack of response. however when you looked up at him with sleepy eyes, he knew he had awoken you from your slumber. "ah... i didn't want to wake you." he admitted sheepishly, while moving your legs over a little bit so he could sit next to you.

"i wanted to be awake when you came home." you pouted slightly and reached for him. to which he just laughed softly and moved closer. jake grabbed your hand and held it gently as he looked into your sleep ridden eyes. "your sleep is more important than staying up for me." he reassured you with his warm box like smile.

"but it's your birthday and i had things planned! but i got out of work late and i spent hours decorating and when i finally sat down to text you-" the explanation you attempted to give your boyfriend was cut short by his lips meeting yours. he couldn't help but steal a soft, passionate kiss from your lips as you spoke. you looked so genuinely sad, he couldn't hold it in him. "i promise you, we'll do everything you wanted to do in the morning... or when the suns finally out." he chuckled sweetly. using his hand to caress your side lovingly as he spoke. "being with you right now is the best birthday gift i could ask for right now." he admitted.

he didn't just say that to make your heart melt, he truly meant it. he honestly thought his schedules would cause him to once again be apart from you for his birthday. luckily, he was home, with you, in your arms. "fine, but special birthday breakfast was not included in my original plans." you point out making your puppy like boyfriend laugh before gently throwing his body over yours. "i thought you were my special birthday breakfast~" he said in a playfully flirty tone which made you blush as you hit his chest lightly. "jake!" you warned making him laugh between sweet apologies and kisses.

"but what if that's what i want for breakfast?!"

"starve jaeyun!"

"starve?! ... on my birthday?" he responded, enjoying the playful banter you both had going on. his over dramatic nature took over his body as he laid in bed, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out like a cartoon character that had just been knocked out. "you're such a drama queen." you laugh and shake him slightly. he continued his act until you pulled your shared blanket over your body and turned your back to him to get comfortable. "i'm going back to sleep, the birthday boy should too... yknow... if he wants his super special birthday breakfast." you teased him, feeling his arms wrap around you and his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

"ayyye~" he pleated softly, slightly admitting his defeat. "good night baby~" he mumbled as he left soft quick kisses to your neck.

"night birthday boy~"

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

masterlist. — requests are open!

[borathae]

"PMSing is hard. Thankfully you have a boyfriend who is the most patient and understanding person on earth, even if he is currently the target of your mood swings."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: she is pmsing really hard, mood swings, a little unnecessary fight, Yoongi being the most loving and understanding person ever, he's also a cutie, she can't be mad at him for long <3

Wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: where are my fellow PMS-sufferer? we're really out there fighting battles. istfg boongie <3 i miss him so much :( he'd be such a patient booboo 😔

You were mad at him. And it was his fault because he messed up. You are currently renovating one of the greenhouse flower beds and realised in the middle of renovating that you didn’t have enough plants to fill the bed. So you asked Yoongi to go to the plant store for more and he returned with the wrong plants. Okay fair enough, maybe you are a little overreacting as well. As a matter of fact, you are very much overreacting. But it’s only a few days till your period starts and your hormones seem to hate you this month. You are constantly upset about the silliest of things and everything seems so very difficult to handle. Yoongi coming home with the wrong plants felt like the greatest betrayal in history to you. You accused him of not listening to you while he pouted at you and told you that he mixed up the names at the store, which you obviously didn’t believe because he “is a stinky liar”. Truly the fight was very unnecessary and way too dramatic for something as silly as plants, but you were upset nonetheless and so Yoongi left to allow you to cool down.

Speaking of Yoongi, he is back in the greenhouse again after leaving you to calm down. It has been a little over an hour since he left.

“Princess?”

You tense up at his voice, feeling weirdly tingly in the stomach. Not in a good way, but in a guilty yet also very annoyed way. You weren’t ready to face him yet. You still had to get over the embarrassment of acting like a child, but also the annoyance of having the wrong plants.

Maybe if you pretend that you can’t hear him, he will leave again. 

“My flower princess?”

You furrow your brows. Damn him and his stupid, cute nicknames. They work too well.

“What?” you grumble. 

Shuffling of feet, then the sound of something being put down next to you. You sneak a glance at it. There is a basket of the correct plants next to you. Yoongi must have gone back to the store to get them. Your heart flutters, your eyes burn in the desire to cry. He is so sweet and lovely and amazing and you are such a bitch.

“Look at what I got”, he says.

“Mhm.”

Yoongi squats down next to you.

“Are these the correct ones?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

You nod your head, turning away from him slightly. You are aware that you’re being childish right now, but if you look at him for too long you will start crying uncontrollably.

A defeated sigh from him, then you feel arms around you and lips on your cheek.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks in a whisper, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“Yes, you’re stinky.”

“No princess, don’t say that. I’m not stinky.”

“Yeah you are, you stinky meanie.”

“___”, he whines, pulling you into his chest, “I already said I’m sorry and I got the right plants, please don’t make it so hard.”

“Well, I heard you but decided that I’m still mad.”

“And there is nothing I can do to make it better?”

“Don’t know.”

“I could make you a snack.”

“No, don’t want to eat.”

“Well then how about I give you head scratches?” he offers, nuzzling his nose into your hair as best as possible. 

You shiver at the feeling, but decide to stay strong.

You huff out air and pout.

“I could eat your pussy”, he whispers, letting his lips brush against your ear.

It sounds tempting and makes you tingle. 

“Yoongi”, you whine, “stop.”

He chuckles lazily, “was that a yes?”

“No, you’re being unfair and mean.”

He laughs, placing a soft kiss to your ear, “I’m not. I’m fighting for my life here.”

You roll your eyes and wiggle yourself out of the hug, abandoning Yoongi on the ground as you stand up. He looks up at you with pouty lips and sad eyes.

“Thanks for the plants”, you mumble and kick a small imaginary pebble.

“Am I forgiven?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet”, you say and turn to leave the greenhouse.

“Princess please”, Yoongi begs, scrambling to his feet. He trots after you, “princess love, please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

“Go away, you stinky”, you tell him. 

Yoongi pouts, following you outside. 

The garden is coming along greatly. The flowers and grasses are growing, bees and insects are buzzing and your herbs drench the air in amazing scents. 

You lead the way along the narrow nature paths. Yoongi follows until the once narrow paths break up into a lowly cut meadow. Crossing it and one would reach the vegetable garden. You are strutting to it confidently. 

Yoongi jogs to catch up with you and goes in for his move. He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours tightly. 

You continue your walk, but slow down a little. Slower. Slower. Slower.

Stop.

Two steps and you would be by the vegetable beds. 

The wind tickles your shins, the sun is shining. 

You turn, looking at your intertwined hands then at Yoongi.

He is squinting his eyes because of the sunlight. 

“I won’t let go until you stop being angry at me”, he tells you, squeezing your hand. 

You’re not really mad at him anymore. As a matter of fact, you think that it is incredibly cute of him to hold hands as a way of making up. 

You take a deep breath and release it as a sigh through your nose. Damn him and his cute methods. You’re being a meanie. You take out your sunglasses from your dungaree front pocket and slip them on his face as best as possible. Yoongi helps you with it, snatching your other hand as well once finished. 

“Really?” you ask him, holding back a smile.

“Yeah. Really”, he says, swaying your hands gently, “I could do this all day.”

“What if I have to pee?”

“You can’t pee if you can’t drink. I can do this all day.” 

Fine, he’s got you. You laugh, lowering your head.

“You’re stinky”, you murmur.

“What?” he insist with a smile.

“You’re stupid!” you blurt out, meeting his eyes, “stop making me laugh.” 

“Why? Cause it’s hard being mad at me when you gotta laugh?” 

“Yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles. He steps closer, caressing your knuckles. 

“Does that mean you’re ready to forgive me?”

You pout, “you’re unfair, you know? I tell you to leave me alone and you go and make me hold hands.”

He smiles, “it’s the best way to make up.”

“No, the best way’s kisses.”

Yoongi takes the opportunity and smooches your cheek. Then your other. And one last right on your lips. 

He moves back, meeting your playful, coy gaze. 

“Like this?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes and grin, swaying your shoulders from side to side. 

“Yeah, I guess”, you murmur.

Yoongi scrunches his nose. You lower your eyes, swinging your hands from left to right gently.

“Soo am I forgiven?” he asks quietly.

You nod your head.

“God, you stubborn baby, you. Making it so hard for me. Com’ere”, he says, pulling you into a hug.

You fall into it gladly, hugging him as tightly as possible with your eyes closed. He smells so good and pets your head just perfectly.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble into him, “I don’t feel good lately. PMS is hitting me hard this month. I’m sorry, I try not to be so upset about everything, but everything feels like the worst thing ever.”

“Mhm, I know”, he speaks softly, rubbing your back, “I’m here, princess love. Okay?”

You nod your head, smiling softly when he kisses your head. You love hugging him so much.

“Oh god, Yoongi now I’m crying”, you confess, sniffling into him sadly.

“God princess, don’t cry”, he gasps, hugging you tighter.

“It’s just that you’re so cute and perfect and, and I’m always so mean to you, oh god I’m the worst girlfriend ever”, you say and let out a little sob.

“No you’re not. God princess love, it’s okay. It was one time and we made up. God, come here”, he chuckles, swooping you off your feet to bounce you in his arms, “let’s get you some tea to drink, yeah?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you sob over the silliest of reasons.

“Fuck princess, I’m letting you drink something, which means you’re gonna have to go pee. I’m breaking my own promises here”, he jokes in hopes of making you laugh. It works perfectly, you are giggling and snickering into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like the cuddliest koala. He laughs softly, patting your butt, “you’re cute. Even with your mood swings.”

“Noo Yoongi, don't say that. I’m sensitive today. I’ll cry again”, you whine.

“Okay, okay sorry”, Yoongi laughs, making you snicker as well.