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moonlinos · 2 months

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It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉

Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field.

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again.

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head.

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

#stray kids #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #skz #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you

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edwardslvrr · 27 days

Text

GIRLDAD MAX 𐙚 max verstappen

౨ৎ max verstappen x single mum!reader

the one where reader had been invited by red bull racing to the silverstone grand prix and max takes an interest towards her.

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хохо

main masterlist 𐙚 max masterlist

━━ 𝓙ULY 9TH, 2023

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by yourbestfriend and 10.378 others

౨ৎ maxverstappen1 silverstone

liked by danielricciardo and 372.792 others

maxverstappen1 thank you silverstone 🇬🇧

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username the living legend fr

username bro’s playing angry birds in the car atp, he’s got all the time in the world

username easy win

username “lando norris leads the british grand prix!”

username bro got my smiling goofy at the tv screen every time

౨ৎ messages daniel/max

౨ৎ yourinstagram silverstone

liked by maxverstappen1 and 5.849 others

yourinstagram went matching with Julie to the Silverstone grand prix, thank you for the invite @/redbullracing 💙

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username the matching shirts omg so adorable

username what’s max doing in the likes-

username he probs met her in the garage ig

yourbestfriend how adorable, still jealous but hope you had the best time!🤍

yourinstagram we definitely did, think Julie missed her auntie today tho

yourbestfriend stop it, immediately coming to your place rn for some julie hugs

yourinstagram she can’t wait

username wish i could just be casually invited by red bull to go to a gp life is so unfair

━━ 𝓙ULY 10TH, 2023

౨ৎ instagram DM maxverstappen1/yourinstagram

౨ৎ yourinstagram london, united kingdom

liked by maxverstappen1 and 6.108 others

yourinstagram day in @ home with julie 💞

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username julie is the cutest omg

username what’s max doing here again

username he follows her?

maxverstappen1 new upcoming artist?

yourinstagram julie’s paintings in a museum near you soon!

username um hi?

username i’m interrupting, right?

username i love your sweater omg

username wish max would casually reply to my posts

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by maxverstappen1 and 11.628 others

replies to your story

yourbestfriend missing my julie cuddles

yourinstagram julie said come over

maxverstappen1 how adorable ☺️

yourinstagram i’ll be your tour guide soon ;)

━━ 𝓙ULY 12TH, 2023

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

౨ৎ f1fan twitter

౨ৎ messages max/yn

━━ 𝓙ULY 30TH, 2023

౨ৎ maxverstappen1 circuit de spa-francorchamps

liked by yourinstagram and 501.792 others

maxverstappen1 A perfect weekend in Spa 🇧🇪 #belgiangp

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username i just always love a lestappen podium

username we’re just gonna ignore the kiss?

username no bcs the way i screamed

username i’ve never gasped so loud

username what kiss?

username go on twitter

yourinstagram 😍 ⋅ ♡ 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋

username giggling abt you two

౨ৎ f1fan twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram circuit de spa-francorchamps

liked by maxverstappen1 and 29.793 others

yourinstagram got himself a win and a girlfriend in spa

view all 5.938 comments

username caption is iconic

username your daughter is adorable

maxverstappen1 the girlfriend part is more important

yourinstagram you big sap

danielricciardo credits to me

maxverstappen1 never

౨ৎ maxverstappen1 posted on their stories

taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @privatemythss @lightdragonrayne @namgification @aquangxl @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando

#formula one #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #red bull racing #f1 x reader #f1 #mv1 x reader

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icyminghao · 3 days

Text

why didn’t you tell me?

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: (some) angst, fluff, drabble, idol!minghao, established relationship warning(s): mentions of eating, fainting word count: 0.8k

summary: minghao sends you some alarming texts in the middle of the night, and you’re left to speculate the abundance of reasons why he would have sent them.

a/n: inspired by 21:20 of this video with minghao and park myungsoo! the ‘mala story’ segment really fueled my delusions omg

xu baobei ♡ [21:23]: We need to talk.

xu baobei ♡ [21:24]: Call me when you see this.

Those two text messages glare at you every time you pick up your phone, waves of dread coursing through your body as you start speculating the reason as to why your boyfriend had sent the texts so out of the blue.

Is he angry at you? For what reason? Is he going to break up with you? For what reason? You don’t think you’ve done anything to upset him lately, so what could be the issue?

Countless thoughts are flooding your mind as you pace around the living room of your apartment, debating whether to call him or not. If he really wanted to break up with you, wouldn’t you be sending yourself to death’s door by calling him?

Sighing, you bite your lip and decide to text him instead.

you [22:12]: talk about what?

Almost immediately, your ringtone blares through the speakers of your phone, and you nearly drop the phone in shock. Sure enough, the caller ID reads your boyfriend’s contact name, and you sigh in dread, taking a seat on the couch and mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.

“Hello?” you say as soon as you pick up, your heart rate picking up.

“y/n,” Minghao replies, his voice stern yet soft, like he can’t bring himself to be fully angry at you.

There’s silence for a short while, and you feel like you’re going to explode any second.

“Are you…” you break the silence, nearly trembling, “are you breaking up with me?”

On the other end of the line, you hear something drop. “What? No, y/n, I’m not breaking up with you. What made you think that way?”

“You- you sounded really scary in your texts,” you mumble, internally relieved that your boyfriend isn’t planning on breaking up with you.

“Text messages don’t carry tone in them, silly,” Minghao chuckles.

“I heard you went to the hospital. From Mingyu,” Minghao pipes up after a moment of silence, and everything clicks in your head.

You had indeed been to the hospital the day before upon suddenly passing out while hanging out with Mingyu’s sister, who’d sent you to the emergency room immediately out of fear that something serious had happened to you. Thankfully, the reason why you’d passed out had been due to fatigue, and you subsequently begged her not to tell anyone about it, despite her objections.

You’re guessing that she had told Mingyu about it, which you don’t blame her for, and that’s how you’ve ended up in this situation now.

“I did,” you reply simply, looking down at your feet.

“Are you feeling better now? What happened?” Minghao asks immediately after your reply.

“I’m okay now, it wasn’t serious,” you assure your boyfriend, “The doctor said it was due to fatigue.”

“Are you not eating and sleeping well?” Minghao replies with yet another question, worry laced in his voice. “Should I move back in?”

You start to panic a little at the idea of Minghao coming back to live in your shared home, seeing as to how he had moved to the dorm temporarily to prepare for their upcoming comeback, quickly refuting, “It’s okay, Hao, I’m okay! I think I just skipped a few meals because of work, I’ll make sure to have my meals regularly!”

Minghao pauses, then hums in response, seemingly not satisfied with your answer.

“Why… didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there,” Minghao’s voice becomes softer, and you sense a bit of hurt in his tone, breaking your heart a little.

“I— I didn’t want to worry you, Hao,” you began, eyes downturned, “You have a concert and a comeback coming up that’s more important.”

“Nothing’s more important than you, y/n.” Minghao replies without missing a beat, catching you by surprise. “I’m your boyfriend, y/n, you can talk to me if anything happens. What if- what if something serious had happened, and I wasn’t there?”

Minghao’s vulnerable tone breaks your heart, and you frown at his words. Throughout your relationship, such a situation had never happened before, and thinking in his perspective, you completely understand why he’s upset, making you all the more upset at your actions.

“I know, Hao, I- I would want you to let me know if anything happened to you, too. I’m really sorry.” you apologise, wishing he were physically beside you so you could hug him.

Minghao sighs, clearly not wanting to escalate the issue for no reason. “It’s okay, darling, just let me know in the future, hm? I love you.”

“I will, Hao. I love you too,” you reply like it’s second nature, because it is.

A comfortable silence ensues for a while, the two of you at ease knowing that your hearts beat for each other despite the physical distance.

“Also, I’m moving back in. Comeback preparations are more or less done, anyway, and I believe making sure a certain someone eats regularly is much more important,” Minghao jests, and you hear some rustling in the background. “I’m on the way.”

You chuckle. You really don’t know what you did to deserve this man, but you know you won’t be letting him go anytime soon.

a/n 2: i’ve come to a realisation that i’m an absolute horror at writing endings LOL

taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

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daosies · 2 days

Text

l(over)

when someone else flirts with you in front of them.

heizou, wanderer, neuvillette ♡ gn!reader

warnings: not proofread, neuvillette may be ooc, wanderer is a little crazy 😊

notes: i played heizous hangout quest and he got me 😭😭

frankly, heizou is amused.

"you're beautiful," some random stranger states, "do you happen to be free this weekend?"

you blink in confusion, glancing back and forth between the detective and the strange person. does he not see the way heizou's hand is linked with yours?

"well, someone clearly isn't a detective," heizou states, not bothering to lower the volume of his voice. when the person still doesn't quite understand what heizou means, he lifts your laced hands up to eye-level, emphasizing the fact that he's not letting go anytime soon.

"please don't interrupt," the stranger states, suddenly feigning ignorance to heizou's presence.

"oh!" heizou exclaims, unbothered. "sorry about that!" you can tell by the look on his face and the tone of his voice that shikanoin heizou is, in fact, not sorry. he's not sorry at all.

heizou brings the back of your hand up to his lips, staring directly at the stranger whilst doing so. still, the random man does not budge.

"what's up with this guy?" heizou mumbles, loud enough for just you to hear. you laugh, and heizou can't seem to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze belonging wholly to your existence.

when the stranger glares at him, heizou merely shrugs, a smirk fixed onto his face. the oblivious person then turns to you, a gentle smile on his face.

"might i have the honor of knowing your name? i am kenzaburou kadenokouji, and seeing you has blessed me with the inspiration to write my greatest upcoming novel: 'i was reincarnated as the raiden shogun's plane of euthymia, where i did nothing for 500 years before finally meeting the love of my life in the middle of the city?!'"

your mouth hangs agape, flabbergasted at this surreal experience.

heizou, however, is not fazed in the slightest. "is this based off of true events?"

"do not interrupt an artist's craft," kadenokouji replies, before extending a hand towards your free one.

so he knows i'm holding their hand, is all heizou thinks. without another thought, the detective pushes the writer's palm away, tugging you towards him.

"you're going to need to find inspiration from someone else! my intuition tells me that this isn't going to work out," heizou declares, his thumb coming to rub the back of your hand, as if he's trying to reassure you.

(you think that it's more for him, though. because although heizou is a self-assured, confident man, he is sometimes shrouded deeply in fear, swayed by the same emotions that make him so human, so lovely.)

(it also doesn't help that you adore novels. a majority of heizou's worries are attributed to how you devour those absurd reincarnation stories.)

"no, no... together," kadenokouji trails off, dismissing heizou with the flick of his hand. "together, we will defy fate! and with you, beautiful stranger, i will publish the greatest novel known to inazuma!"

"he's delusional," heizou mutters, but it sounds as if he's more impressed than incredulous.

"i have a boyfriend," you reply, still recovering from shock. "he's right next to me."

kadenokouji takes it the wrong way. "wow, you move pretty fast! although we just met, and i still don't know your name, i am completely fine with this sudden turn of events!"

"wow," heizou mutters to himself, almost amazed, "this guy's pretty good."

"he's like the opposite of you," you whisper, leaning closer towards heizou, "completely oblivious."

that gives heizou an idea.

"sorry pal, but they only like detectives," he declares.

"that's okay! i've been meaning to write a detective novel, you know, i am always switching things up!" kadenokouji exclaims, not taking the hint (but it's not even a hint, it's a full blown answer).

"oh, really? have you ever heard of shikanoin heizou?"

you and heizou exchange not-so-discreet glances (it's not like kadenokouji notices, anyway). heizou winks at you, as if urging you to stay quiet so he can get the spotlight in a novel that he's always been dreaming of.

"yes, yes! i love doushin shikanoin's work—in fact, i've been meaning to ask him for some information regarding his famous intuition! i plan on basing the main character of that novel off of him, really!"

"that sounds great! you know, doushin shikanoin believes that he needs the publicity, so your novel would be the perfect match!"

"is that really so? that's incredible! i must reach out to him immediately!" kadenokouji says, his attention belonging wholly to this newfound idea.

"i can relay the message to him," heizou replies, "what would you like to ask?"

"yes, thank you! please ask him if he's willing to meet me outside the tenryou commission for an hour or two for me to ask questions! and if he's willing to tell me about his intuition and how it works! my novel's main character will also have something akin to his intuition, but not exactly because i am always original and meaningful with my work—"

"alright, i will!" heizou declares proudly, "he'll hear of it by today!"

"thank you, kind sir! if i might be so bold to inquire, what is your name?" kadenokouji asks, suddenly becoming heizou's biggest fan whilst forgetting about your presence. how the tables have turned.

"shikanoin heizou," he states, the smile on his face never wavering. "my intuition tells me you're going to fall to the floor in utter shock!"

his intuition, as always, is correct. kadenokouji collapses to the floor as if he had just witnessed the most terrible thing, all the color draining from his face while his jaw hangs wide open.

"d-doushin shikanoin?!"

"that's me! also, could you include me in the novel's credits? you know, being a detective isn't always just about skill. in this day and age, we need publicity! we need a name for ourselves!"

kadenokouji faints.

"did you come from another world?" someone asks. "'cause you look otherworldly."

"that was ridiculous," wanderer mutters, "and redundant."

"is he bothering you, your highness?" the person queries, taking a step towards you. their hand reaches out for yours, as if they're trying to take you away, but wanderer is quick to intervene.

he blocks you with his figure, the vision on his chest beginning to glow vividly as a gust of wind rushes through the akademiya's library, sending papers and books flying. scholars panic as their research projects flutter all across the marble floor, and usually, that'd be enough to deter a sane man.

unfortunately for you, your admirer (the other one) is no sane man. you suppose that you attract a certain group of people.

"so you think you're a big shot 'cause you have a vision, huh?" the stranger asks, unimpressed.

"hah! you don't even know who you're talking to," wanderer replies, clenching his fists. he takes a step toward your admirer, the air around him becoming tense and unwelcoming as it begins to manifest into something grim, something violent.

you're not in the mood for a suspension right now.

"wanderer!" you exclaim, tugging at his sleeve. "let's go somewhere else. this guy's just weird."

"you go first. i have things to deal with," wanderer replies, irritated. but the way he looks at you doesn't quite match the tone in his voice, because when the wanderer's cornflower pupils fixate on you, they melt. you mold him into something quiet, something lovely, when you do so much as exist.

briefly, the wind brushes past your face, kissing you with its tender touch.

(all you have to do is exist, and that'll be more than enough for him.)

"he's not worth your time," you say, not releasing your hold on the puppet's wrist. even though wanderer could easily escape your grip, he chooses not to—instead, he basks in your touch, inching closer towards you, letting you hold the strings of his artificial limbs to move him as you please.

wanderer relinquishes himself to you. wholly. and he trusts you with his fate, with his severed strings.

"whatever."

his severed string manifests anew, wrapping around his pinky and yours, turning red—not red from blood, but rather, from love—and knotting.

you are bound to him.

and then he gives in.

(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)

"surrendering already, huh?" the stranger asks, clearly not knowing his place. "i knew you were nothing but bark."

oh, you think, sighing, this guy's an idiot!

"does the akademiya accept anyone who applies?" wanderer asks, contemplating murder. still, he doesn't release himself from your hold.

"that's what i was thinking when i saw you. leave us alone!"

a category 5 hurricane begins to brew in the akademiya library at the word "us." scholars begin to evacuate the premises whilst the insane man stands amidst it all, still trying his best to court you despite getting blown away.

i tried my best, you tell yourself, glancing away.

you let go of wanderer's hand, and then you close your eyes.

"let me know when you're done," you mutter, voice drowned by the whistle of the winds and the screams of scholars whose projects are getting engulfed by the storm.

wanderer, of course, hears you. he can always hear you, picking out your voice from the cacophony, taking the sound and placing it deep within his empty chest, letting it resonate and replay there. instead of a heartbeat, wanderer has your voice echoing throughout his torso, fusing into his artificial ribs.

he is bound to you.

a breeze wisps past your nose. even with the whirling winds and the threat of suspension lingering around your figure, no harm ever comes your way.

you are in the eye of the hurricane.

the eye of the beholder. it melts.

neuvillette is flabbergasted.

back in fontaine, he had the luxury of comfort. everyone knew that the two of you were together, so he never had to deal with someone trying to court you, much less in front of him.

this is how he experiences culture shock. not by the customs of other nations, but rather, by the sheer audacity that some people have. especially when your hand is laced tightly with his.

"i think... i think..." the stranger trails off, his voice filled with an adoration that makes neuvillette's stomach churn. "... i'm getting lost in your eyes, beautiful."

the stranger reaches his hand out to give you a rose, a dashing grin on his face. you smile awkwardly.

"sorry, i'm taken."

"taken... by my good looks?" the stranger asks, putting a hand under his face to emphasize his features. neuvillette squeezes your hand.

"no, they are taken by me. we are partners," neuvillette explains, his tone remaining polite.

"partners in work?"

"yes, but—" neuvillette starts, but is quickly interrupted. you spare him an endearing glance, charmed by his honesty.

the tips of his pointed ears begin to blossom red. again, he squeezes your hand.

"no, we are married," you state blandly, and the stranger's gaze flickers over to your hands, searching for a ring. neuvillette doesn't like the look on the stranger's face; it's evident in the way the iudex narrows his eyes, the way he steps forward a little even though he'd usually try to avoid confrontation.

"i could get you a ring," the stranger says, clearly not getting the hint, "and you wouldn't have to lie about being married."

"there is nothing we owe to you that requires us to prove our marriage. we are married, and that is all you need to know," neuvillette declares firmly, his tone becoming harsh.

"but words alone don't mean anything," the stranger replies with a shrug.

neuvillette furrows his brows, clearly stumped by the stranger's statement. he disagrees—words don't mean everything, but they are definitely worth something.

"just back off," you suddenly chime in, tugging neuvillette closer to you. he lets you string him along to your whims, allowing his figure to inch towards yours, finding its place by your side.

"i'm not interested in you. i already have a lover."

the stranger rolls his eyes.

"ugh. i didn't even like you anyway."

neuvillette frowns. "now that is completely incorrect. just moments prior, you were—"

"just shut up!" the stranger yells, not even bothering to listen to neuvillette's explanation.

clouds begin to form.

"let's go, neuvillette," you say, rubbing the back of the iudex's hand with your thumb. "don't worry too much about that guy."

he looks at you, and the sun emerges.

"you're right. thank you, [name]."

a ring dangles from the silver chain on your neck; it's a vibrant shade of blue.

it glows.

"and you wanted to try this land's water, right?"

he lets you string him along, a gentle smile on his face.

"yes," he vows, "i do."

his hand slots perfectly into yours, and the world is engulfed by a radiant glow.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin #heizou x reader #heizou x you #shikanoin heizou #genshin heizou #neuvillette x you #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin

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anantaru · 26 days

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. reminiscing about the start of your relationship // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. mentions of guns, tw guns, fluff & established relationship, a/n. this is just a random idea that came to me, not proofread, gn! reader ♡

the unfolding of a relationship can truly be something magical.

with a warm contentment, you settle yourself against boothill's chest as you indulge the drifting thoughts in your mind, humming lightly into your chest as you felt a large palm cradle your hip.

you cannot lie to yourself, can you? but you're rather nostalgic about the early stages of your relationship with your boyfriend and how the two of you got to know each other.

at that, you realise it's a fun story, a great one even.

to boothill, you were the first person he's had a genuine interest in having a relationship with, and remembering how he thought he should tackle it— well, it was almost tragic, in a humorous way.

people who saw him as a dangerous individual weren't necessarily new to him. he'd be naive believing that he wouldn't be scary to look at.

the man understood that his risky occupation, aside from his outside demeanor could come across as unsafe and frightening to the outside spectator.

what boothill didn't realise, however, was that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide yourself.

you see, boothill doesn't lie— although frankly, he did try to make himself seem a little less intense to you. especially on your first dates.

it all began with his job and how it doesn't fit with your usual cookie cutter profession. in order to appear a lot softer and less frightening to you, he wasn't the most honest about what he's been doing for a living, nor did he actually plan to reveal it to you right away.

reflecting back on it, his cheeks instantly burn of embarrassment— the sheer confidence he must've experienced when he believed, for a single second, that he could be able to claim and sell the lie of him having a bakery would actually fool you in the slightest bit.

quoting his exact type of wording; a renowned bakery owner with a strong liking towards lemon cake.

well, perhaps you bringing it up from time to time and teasing him with it was a consequence of his own actions now. yet, his sweet sense of humor made you fall in love with him the most.

it's adorable, he is, yet it ended up being slightly dangerous— with such words shrouded in your mind, you're thinking back at one specific moment where you accidentally found one of hid guns.

naturally, he's tried to downplay it immediately, hands turning sweaty as he couldn't keep eye contact with you while working himself through a story of claiming that, well, it's not a real one silly, see? but a fake one, okay? that he's been using for an upcoming, top secret, performance he's been planning for a while now.

for his bakery. you know.

little did he realize you accidentally pulled the trigger right when you were about to hand over the weapon and shot a bullet through the wall, right into the living room— you were fortunate enough that the knock back didn't hurt your shoulder too much, it stung a little, yes, but you were able to recover from the shock quickly.

yeah, it's safe to assume that this was a clear awakening to boothill, that he most likely needs to let you in on a couple of silly, little details about his life.

well now at least, after being in a loving relationship for a good couple of years already, you tilt your face and prop yourself up by your chin as your boyfriend shakes his head the moment you mention it to him again, "don't remind me of that," he begins to panic, a big and embarrassing smile plastering across his mouth as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, "hey! we promised not to talk about this again,"

he's shrouded with a sudden feeling of helplessness, scratching the back of his neck before you slant yourself closer with an airy laugh brushing against his lips, "but it's our origin story," you smile and hoist your body up so you could be on his eye level.

you continue to affirm, knowing it makes your boyfriend weak in the knees, "and you're so sweet when you're embarrassed," before applying a sultry kiss on his cheek, breath holding, mind numbing, as boothill quirks up the sides of his mouth softly at your plush lips touching him.

truly, how beautiful it was that no matter what, he knows that you are one and if anything, a story such as yours only brought one closer.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #boothill x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #boothill fluff #tw gun mention #tw guns

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slu7formen · 24 days

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luke castellan x fem!reader

You knew that your friend, Luke, was a tease. What you didn’t expect, was that he was going to be a tease to you.

while I finish writing part two of this story (btw, thank u so much for all the love it’s getting) , I drop this one out here for the wait <3

warnings: teasing, praising, drinking, kinda s3xual tension

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The bonfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the demigods huddled around it. The air thrummed with the low beat of stolen music from a borrowed radio, a symphony of laughter and easy conversation punctuated by the clinking of ice inside your plastic cups. Exhaustion from a particularly harrowing week of monster attacks had finally settled in, driving the older campers to this clandestine revelry deep within the safe haven of the camp's woods.

Across from you, Clarisse was emerged in a play-fight with his brothers, not truly a good idea based on the drunken state they were in, but who would tell them otherwise? Travis and Connor were huddled together, their whispers punctuated by bursts of laughter that hinted at some upcoming evil plan or prank. You could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Silena leaned towards Katie’s ear, whispering some secret that boys couldn’t know about, her voice barely a murmur.

And Luke Castellan sat next to you, his presence warm and familiar. His profile bathed in the golden glow. You'd known him for years, a bond forged in shared battles and late-night training sessions. But lately, you'd begun to see him in a different light. The way his muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he tossed another log onto the fire, the glint in his dark eyes - it all sent a delicious flutter to your stomach.

Reaching for your empty plastic cup, you realized with a groan that you'd polished off your cranberry juice and vodka concoction. Glancing sideways at Luke, you noticed his cup held a suspicious-looking red liquid that gave off a pungent, almost medicinal smell. "Let me have a sip of yours" you declared, leaning towards him without even questioning.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. Your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the fire, were undeniably red. Your lips, slightly puffy and wet, was not something his eyes would miss either. But he'd never admit the effect you had on him, not here, not amongst their friends.

"Not sure that's your thing, doll" he pointed out, looking down at his drink for a second. "You won´t like it"

You knew you were pushing your luck, but the defiance simmering in your blood, thanks to the vodka, wouldn't be ignored. "Come on, Luke" you pout, placing your chin on his shoulder. “If you can drink it, why can´t I?”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I don't think you can handle it" he said with a little smirk on his face, the playful challenge in his eyes impossible to miss. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but a spark of competitive spirit ignited within you.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged. “Just watch me, then” you declared, snatching the cup from his hand before he could protest. You were so sure of yourself. The liquid was a fiery red, the strong scent even more potent up close. You took a tentative sip.

It was horrible.

It was like drinking liquid fire infused with cough syrup. A strangled cough escaped your lips and you sputtered, your eyes watering. Luke chuckled slightly. You sputtered, almost spitting the liquid out in disgust.

Before you could fully react, Luke's hand cupped your chin, surprisingly gentle despite the rough calluses that adorned his palm. His eyes held a mischievous sparkle. "Take it all down now, you told me you could handle it"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way his words sent a thrill down your spine, but you were determined not to back down, especially not in front of him. Fueled by a mix of pride, the burn of the liquid fire, and a strange flutter in your stomach thanks to Luke's closeness, you took another swig, then another, determined to finish it. You ignored the way your throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper and the fire that seemed to erupt in your gut.

Suddenly, a loud "Chug! Chug! Chug!" broke the silence. Travis and Connor, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, started a rhythmic chant. Silena and Katie soon joined in, their cheers echoing through the clearing. You choked down the rest of the concoction, gasping for air as it burned its fiery path down your throat.

The cheers reached a crescendo as you slumped back, eyes squeezed shut, your head swimming. As the commotion subsided, you dropped the plastic cup with a clatter. You felt dizzy, and your throat felt like someone had lined it with sandpaper, but a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You'd done it.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on your chin startled you. You blinked your eyes open to see Luke leaning in, his gaze holding a playful spark. With his thumb, he brushed away a stray droplet of the red liquid that had escaped your lips during your valiant chugging endeavor.

The simple gesture sent a jolt through you. It was so unexpected that your breath hitched in your throat. Then, in a move that stole the air from your lungs completely, he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked off the red droplet. Eyes on yours, the whole time.

"Good girl" he murmured.

He turned away then, casually rejoining the conversation with Chris about their upcoming training session. But you couldn't tear your gaze from him. The playful glint in his eyes, the lingering warmth on your chin from his touch – it all played on repeat in your mind.

Gods, you thought, your head swimming from a potent mix of alcohol and newfound desire. You really wanted to be anywhere else right now. Anywhere with him, away from the prying eyes and teasing laughter of your friends. You felt crazy in the matter of just a few seconds. You couldn´t let this slide, you just couldn´t.

You couldn´t deny the wet patch on your panties either.

You stood up, maybe a little too fast for the state you were in, but you managed to look down to Luke, who was already looking into your eyes the moment you stood up.

“I´m going for a walk. Care to join me?”

inspired by this right here, with a little change <3

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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plentyoffandoms · 8 months

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Love at First Sight

Straw Hat Pirates x reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous TV Shows

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

I have never seen the anime or read the manga. I never heard of this until the show, but I love the show & have started to watch the anime.

Warnings: none. Maybe too much fluff?

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. Luffy @vinlandsky, Nami @goodsirs, Sanji @pedritosdarling, Zoro @valkubusqueen, Usopp @rrandomtthings

Summary: The first time they saw you with Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Zoro, & Usopp.

Luffy was looking around The Baratie with a massive smile on his face, like usual. This isn't the first time he has been here, nor will it be his last.

Him and the rest of his crew were waiting for their order to be taken as they talked amongst themselves.

"Hello, welcome to The Baratie, may I start with your drink orders, please?" He looked up at the sound of your voice, and the moment he saw you, he couldn't talk.

For the first time in his life, Monkey D. Luffy was speechless.

You took Zoro's order and worked your way around the table, and when your kind smile and eyes finally landed on Luffy, he opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound that came out was a squeak.

Usopp nudged him in the ribs, but nothing was coming out. "He will take a glass of milk." Nami spoke up for him.

"Thank you. I will be right back with your drinks and then I will take your order." Luffy watched as you walked away,

The moment you were out of ear shot, Nami and Usopp started to ask what was wrong with him, but Sanji spoke up.

"Good eye, Luffy." He said your name, and the whole crew watched as Luffy said your name to himself

"I am going to marry them!" Luffy proclaimed.

"Oh, for the love of," Nami complained, putting her head in her hands. Zoro rolled his eyes and sighed.

Sanji just smirked, and Usopp clapped Luffy on the shoulder, congratulating him on his upcoming marriage.

Nami was lagging behind the rest of the crew as they listened to Luffy talk about where they were, which is where he is from Foosha Village.

There were only so many windmills one could see, and they were all starting to look the same, but according to Luffy, each one had something different about them.

Nami was growing bored and was ready to say something to end this boring tour when they finally stopped in front of, no it can't be? Who knew this place had anything exciting?

A bar

Partys Bar was the name. "Are you guys thirsty? Hungry? Makino is an old friend of mine. Isn't that right, Makino?" Luffy said as he strolled into the bar, with the rest of us behind him.

"Luffy, is that you?" I am guessing Makino is the woman coming from around the counter to hug our Captain.

"And who are they?" She asked, but someone came out of the backroom, that caught my eye.

"This is my crew." Luffy said proudly. He said each of our names, and we acknowledged the woman.

"Makino?" We were interrupted by the same person that came from the back.

"Yes?" She said their name, and I repeated the name in my head a few times to hopefully remember it.

"Luffy, let me introduce you to my cousin." The three of them got talking as Usopp got distracted by a group of small children that wanted to hear our tales.

So Sanji, Zoro, and I were left to entertain ourselves. I listened to the two of them bicker over the same old crap, but my focus slowly went onto the Marino's cousin.

I didn't notice that I was being watched by the two men until I heard a whistle that brought me out of my trance. I saw them walk towards our table.

"Excuse me. I hope you do not mind if you can answer a few questions our good friend Nami has of this place." I wanted to slap the look off of Sanji's smug face.

"No, I do not mind. What is your question?" They turned their focus on me. "Have a seat. The two of us were about to go and see what we need to stock up before we leave. Come now Zoro." I could just kill the two of them for leaving me here alone.

I expected the cousin to turn around and walk away when I didn't say anything, but they didn't. They sat down and waited for me to talk.

"Luffy has never mentioned you before. Are you from here?"

◆

The two of us talked until I had to leave, but they gave me their number. I walked onto the ship, and Sanji and Zoro looked at me. One with a smile across his face, the other one looking bored, but I knew he was interested in what happened.

"So, are they the love your life?" Sanji questioned.

"I just met them." I said as I walked past the two.

"That wasn't a no, Nami." Zoro said.

"Who touched my sauce?" I yelled as I saw that someone added a bit of salt to my sauce. I was looking right at Zoro.

"Why would I touch your sauce?" He asked me. I was growing angrier, knowing he had something to do with it.

"I know you did it." I sneered. This was the third time this had happened this week, and I was growing tired of him not admitting it.

"For the last time, I didn't touch your sauce. Why don't you ask the new person? I see them coming in and out of your kitchen."

"New person?" I was confused. I looked around and didn't see anyone.

"Yes, new person. Nami knew them from her days when she was with Arlong. They used to team up."

"Are you talking about me?" A voice came from the left of me, and I jumped as no one was there.

"Who said that?"

"I did." There was a small burst of light that had me covering my eyes, and to my suprise, there was a person standing there.

"You must be Sanji. Luffy has been talking about you nonstop. Oh, where are my manners." They introduced themselves.

"You ruined my sauce." I wasn't going to let up on this.

"Did I? Or did I make it better?"

"You added too much salt."

"Add some garlic, maybe a smidge of sugar, and it will balance it out." They said to me.

"Maybe add oregano." Zoro said from his spot. The two of us looked at him and said at the exact same time, "Oregano is for savages."

I looked over at our new crew member, seeing them now for the first time. "Maybe you didn't add too much salt. Please come and show me what you were making."

They walked towards my kitchen, and as I walked past Zoro, I heard him say, "You are welcome."

I stopped and was going to say something when my new sous chef just looked at me and smiled, making me forget all about the swordsman.

I couldn't take my eyes off of the one person in the crowd. For some strange reason they have caught my attention.

"I see that our teacher had caught your attention." Nami said as she sat down next to me. We were celebrating our massive win against Arlong.

"Teacher?" I turned my head slightly towards her.

"Yes, they teach the younger kids." She went on to tell me their name.

"I can see that. The young ones haven't left them alone." I watched as another child ran up to them to show what looked to be a rock.

"Why don't you go say hi?"

"We will be leaving soon. There is no need to get too acquainted with the locals." I told her.

"Okay then." Nami left me alone at that point, my attention now drawn towards whatever the hell Luffy was doing.

I am now in line once more, begrudgingly getting a second helping of Sanji's food, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I placed my free hand on a sword.

"Zoro." I relaxed slightly and turned around to see what Nami wanted, but not to my suprise, there was, with the Village teacher.

"I would like for you to meet Roronoa Zoro. Zoro, please meet." Nami was interrupted as the teacher told me their name.

Nami left the two of us alone after that. We walked a bit away from the prying eyes of the rest of the villagers.

"I have always heard stories about you, Zoro, the great pirate hunter. I never imagined you becoming a pirate yourself."

"Neither did, but Luffy has this way about him."

"Yes, I can see that. He seems like a peculiar fellow, but nice none the less."

"Peculiar?" I asked.

"Yes, I have never seen someone smile so much. You must understand that our village has been under the control and fear of Arlong for so long, that many of us, including myself, forgot to know what happiness is."

"I hope you can now find happiness now that you are free from their terror." I was very serious about that.

"Maybe just for this night, I will." They said as they stepped closer to me. I took a step closer to them.

◆

I didn't know this until much later, but Nami was standing to the side, her sister handing her some Berry.

The first time I saw them was at The Baratie. I was outside at the bar, enjoying the sea air while I drank my drink that tasted a heck of a lot like candy.

I bumped into them as I was trying to keep myself steady on the rocking ship. Or was it just me who was unsteady? Never mind.

"I am so very sorry." I said as I tried to steady them before they fell over.

"That is all right, Usopp." They know my name?

"You know my name?" I asked them as I looked into their eyes, and it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. It was like they were staring into my soul.

"Of course. I was here when you and your crew saved us. I have always wanted to thank the man who pulled me out of the water that day. I do not swim all that well."

"And here I am, almost knocking you into the water tonight. Please forgive me."

"All is forgiven, may I buy you a drink? As a thank you. I was hoping you would come back so I could thank you properly."

"I will have what you are having." I hope I sounded not so drunk.

"I am just having some water. It is a bit too warm to be drinking I find."

"Water is fine with me. It is about time I sober up."

I also didn't want to have a massive hangover in the morning and throw up like I did last time. That was horrible.

I heard them call out two waters, and we took a seat not far from where the bar was.

"I never asked. What is your name?" My mother would have been appalled at the fact that I never asked for their name.

They gave me their name, and then we started to ask questions to get to know one another.

I tried not to lie, but some of the tales kept spilling out of me. "No, it was you who took down Arlong? Well, another class of water is needed."

We talked all night until the sun came up. "Oh, look at the time. I must be going." They stood up and I did as well.

"Will I see you again?" I asked them.

"Probably sooner than you think Usopp." And they walked off, leaving me confused.

I walked back to the ship, almost in a fog.

"Usopp! They you are. I want you to meet the new member of our crew." Luffy called out once he saw me.

"Hello, Usopp."

"So this is what you meant?" I asked.

"Of course."

Luffy looked between the two of us, "I have no idea what is going on, but we must leave."

I chuckled as he turned to go and talk to Sanji about something.

"You coming Usopp?" They said as they walked towards the rest of the crew.

"Of course."

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lostfracturess · 4 months

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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 02

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 6.1 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

Your eyes burned.

The words on the pages before you began to blur.

The library was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages and the occasional distant footsteps. The stillness only amplified the dull ache throbbing behind your temples.

It was late, well past the time when most students had left, but you were still there, surrounded by anatomy textbooks and notes.

"First-year."

You were so engrossed in your studies that you didn't notice Gojo until he was standing right in front of you—a startling display of arrogance against the muted library backdrop. You didn't bother looking up.

"I've been looking for you," he announced. "You weren't in the lab today. I'd needed you."

"Back on the research project?" You flipped a page, your tone deliberately flat.

"More or less. I'm preparing my method, in case yours fails."

Now, you looked up. "It won't fail."

"Yeah, yeah, so why weren't you in the lab today?" He eyed the lukewarm cup of coffee beside your stack of books. Without asking, he grabbed the cup and took a sip.

You sighed, exhaustion washing over you. "Geto pulled me off the project until I retake my anatomy test and pass—"

Mid-sentence, Gojo abruptly spat the coffee back into the cup with a grimace. "What the hell is that?" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Five shots of espresso and a red bull."

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

Neither spoke.

He finally set the cup back down, shaking his head. "How can you drink that?"

"Unless you give me some ritalin, that's my drink of choice."

"You really are something," he said, his face still contorted into a grimace as he tried to process your—drink of choice.

You shifted your focus back to your textbook, desperate to regain your concentration. But Gojo wasn't done. He sat down on the edge of your desk and closed the textbook, urging you to give him your attention.

"So, you failed your anatomy exam?"

"Yeah," you admitted reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't tell me, you think you don't need to know where all the bones are when you're operating on the brain."

You pressed your lips together, knowing that was exactly what you wanted to say.

"For someone as smart as you, sometimes you're really dumb," he added.

Wow. Thanks.

You shoved his hand off your textbook. "Thanks for the pep talk, Gojo. I'll see you around."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really do have to teach you everything, don't I?" With that, he stood up and started walking towards the exit of the library. "Follow me."

You hesitated for a moment, then gathered your things and followed him. He led you straight to his office, the click of the lock behind you feeling startlingly loud in the silence.

You stood in the middle of the room. Gojo moved to lean against his desk, his piercing gaze settling on you. You could almost feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were examining every inch of your being with his stupidly handsome blue eyes.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Your shirt. Take it off," he repeated, his tone dropping an octave.

A lump formed in your throat. Your heart raced as you held his gaze, somehow feeling less like a student and more like prey in that moment.

Yet somehow the intensity of his eyes made you forget all reason. So you obeyed. With trembling fingers, you lifted the shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

Shirt off, you stood exposed, vulnerable under his scrutinizing eyes. His lips twitched into a wry smile.

"Turn around." He pushed off the desk and turned to search for something.

You followed his command. You turned around, only to confront your own reflection in a full-length mirror. Your pulse roared in your ears as you watched him through the glass.

"Anatomy isn't just about memorizing diagrams and terms." He flipped open a case, revealing a glint of surgical steel. His hand hovered, then selected a single instrument.

He approached you with a scalpel balanced delicately on one finger. The metal gleamed ominously in the dim light of the room. Your eyes met his through the mirror. "It's about understanding the body as a whole, in a raw, physical way."

He stood directly behind you, his eyes fixed on your reflection. He placed the dull side of the scalpel against your neck and gently tilted your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable side of your throat.

Your breath hitched as the cold metal touched your skin, your heart racing even faster now.

"What are you doing, Gojo?" you managed to say, your voice trembling.

"Relax, sweetheart." His other hand curled around your waist. You were yanked back, flush against him, the hard bulge in his pants hard to ignore. His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror. "I'm teaching you a lesson."

"Here's the clavicle," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in, his warm breath grazing the strands of your hair. He traced the delicate curve of your collarbone with the scalpel. "It's more than just a bone, it's a vital landmark for surgeons. You must know its precise location for procedures like subclavian vein catheterization."

His lips brushed the back of your neck as he shifted, gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. "The humerus connects here," he continued, guiding the scalpel along your arm. "Understanding the intricacies of joints is crucial, not just in surgery but also in diagnosis and treatment. Nerve injuries often occur near these joints, so you need to know their anatomy."

The scalpel then lightly brushed along your forearm. "And here, the radius and ulna," he continued. "Fractures in this area can have a significant impact on radial nerve function, something neurosurgeons must always be aware of—even bold ones like you," he added with a playful smile.

He then moved the scalpel along the exposed skin in the center of your chest. "The sternum," he continued, his gaze locked on yours through the mirror. The scalpel found the bone instantly, tracing its contours with an ease as if he knew your anatomy by heart. "The brachial plexus runs just below. Damage here can have significant neurological consequences."

His touch ignited a slow burn within you, making your knees weak. You leaned into him, your back arching slightly, your senses overwhelmed by the heat coursing through your body.

Your eyelids drooped. It was obvious that you were no longer paying full attention to his words.

He then moved the scalpel up, pressing the tip lightly against the back of your head. "This is the occipital bone, part of the skull that protects the brain."

His hand then moved to the side of your neck, the scalpel lightly tracing where the spine meets the skull. "And here, the cervical vertebrae. Crucial for movement and support, but also dangerously close to the spinal cord and vertebral arteries. Missteps here during surgery can have serious consequences."

His hand reached out and grasped your hair in the back, forcing your head back to expose more skin to him. You inhaled sharply.

"And no one wants to play with fire during surgery, right?" he whispered, his breath a warm tease at your ear. His closeness was intoxicating, a teasing heat that threatened to melt all your defenses. "But perhaps you find a certain thrill in playing with danger."

"It's exhilarating, isn't it? The high stakes, the adrenaline rush of being on the edge," he mused, his eyes momentarily fixating on the scalpel in his hand. "It's almost addictive."

Then, with a deft twist, he reversed the scalpel, its sharp edge now grazing the front of your throat, tracing a torturous line across your skin. You couldn't help but tense slightly as the cool metal met your flesh.

"This is where the hyoid bone is." His lips brushed lightly against the side of your head, his breath warm in your hair. "Understanding its location and its relation to the carotid artery is vital, especially in surgery involving the throat."

He brushed the hair from your shoulder and leaned in. A soft moan slipped from your parted lips as his hot breath touched the sensitive skin of your neck. You couldn't help but twitch slightly, taken aback by the involuntary sound that slipped from your mouth. The scalpel cut into skin. You flinched.

In an instant, Gojo's tongue was on the spot where he'd cut, licking away the blood that emerged. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin. His tongue traced along your throat and up to your jaw, igniting a tingling rush of sensation that made you crave more.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your skin. "If my breath alone made you quiver, can you imagine what my tongue will do to you?"

He released his grip on your hair and tucked the scalpel into the back pocket of his trousers. The dangerous glint in his eyes gave way to a sly smile that played on his lips.

"Lecture is over," he said as he tossed you your shirt.

"I hope you pass, first-year."

─── ·✧· ───

You passed.

Was it thanks to Gojo or whatever.

You passed. That was all you needed to know.

The next day was the surgery. You didn't have much time to prepare. But it had to be enough. You drowned yourself in your notes, replaying every aspect of the procedure in your head. You may have even dreamed about it that night. Everything was right. Everything will work out.

It must.

You scrubbed your hands methodically as Geto and you prepared for surgery. As you peered through the small observation window into the operating room, your eyes were drawn to the gallery. It was unusually crowded today—filled with observers and cameras.

"Nervous?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the sterile mask against your face. "It's not every day you have an audience like this."

"Remember, they're here to witness history, but we're here to make it," he said with a reassuring smile. "We've prepared for this. We're ready."

Somehow that didn't make you any less nervous—more like the opposite.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked after a second, his gaze landing on the bandaid on your neck.

You flinched slightly. "Just a scratch."

You followed him into the operating room, the buzz of the observers fading into the background. Your focus narrowed to the task at hand.

You took your place beside the operating table, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through you. Geto gave you a final, reassuring glance before beginning the surgery. Your gaze wandered over to the gallery once more. Your heart stopped.

There he was—Satoru Gojo, smiling at you. Somehow, your breath caught for a moment as your eyes met his. You had to look away, unable to hold his gaze. You took in a deep breath, trying to suppress the sudden heat that rose in your core.

But the heat quickly gave way to a crushing feeling in your chest.

Your worst nightmare had become a harsh reality.

Geto had tried everything—god, he had tried fucking everything. But every attempt to establish a signal between the neural device and the prosthetic remained unsuccessful. Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as you tried different techniques. The tension in the room was palpable. Every ticking second added to the pressure.

The patient's skull had been open for too long, and the risks were increasing by the minute. Panic clawed at your throat, your hands slick with sweat and trembling.

Another attempt, another failure.

Still no signal. No goddamn signal.

Geto made the decision to close the patient. But it was too late. The patient had been open too long. He went into a seizure. The whole operating room was in chaos.

No.

This can't be happening.

This was the save approach. It should have worked. Why didn't it work?

The walls are closing in.

You couldn't breathe.

You needed to breathe.

You spun around, your heart racing, and fled out of the operating room in a blind, chaotic rush. Geto's distant voice no longer reached you. You heard nothing. The harsh light of the corridor stung your eyes, blinding and disorienting, turning the world into a dizzying blur.

Gasping, choking for air that won't fill your lungs, you stagger down the hallway. Your hands claw at your scrub and mask, tearing them off in desperation. The world narrows to a tunnel of muffled sounds and the relentless, piercing ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chaos. "Come with me." Gojo stepped directly into your path, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrist. He dragged you into a nearby room, away from prying eyes. Once inside, he locked the door behind him.

The room spun, the walls seemed to pulsate. Gojo's face blurred in and out of your vision as he pulled you close to him. "Breathe," he said as he cupped your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Tears streamed down your face, sobs wracked your body. You wanted to throw up.

"I—I can't," you choked out between gasps for air.

"You can, sweetheart. Please breathe for me. I'm here."

"I killed him... I killed that patient," you gasp, the confession slicing through you like a blade, each word a fresh wound.

"No, you didn't. It's not your fault," Gojo insisted, but his voice was distant, hollow against the backdrop of your inner chaos.

"I killed him... I'm a murderer," you repeated.

Without warning, Gojo enveloped you in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth flowed through his touch. "No, you're not," he whispered, his hand caressing the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "You did everything you could. It wasn't your fault."

But his words felt like they came from another world, a world where logic and reason still rule. In your world, there's only the crushing weight of guilt, the relentless echo of a life that has slipped away under your hands.

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest. "We never should have done this, we weren't ready."

"Don't say that. It's not your fault. You've done nothing wrong."

"You don't understand, I should have... I could have..." your voice broke, sobs wracked your body. Guilt was a suffocating blanket. It smothered reason, smothered the reassurances that tried to seep through.

Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes searched for yours. "Look at me," he urged gently. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your doing."

But the guilt was a relentless tide, washing over you again. "I was responsible... I should have seen this coming," you whispered.

Gojo's hug tightened, as if he was trying to shield you from your own torment. "Stop it, sweetheart, please," he pleaded softly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. But I'm here. Every step of the way. We'll get through this together."

As your sobs continued to wrack your body, his hold remained unwavering. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, offering a silent promise that he would stand by your side, even in ugly times.

─── ·✧· ───

The weight of the day still hung heavily in the air.

Gojo's hand rested gently on the small of your back as the two of you made your way down the long, sterile hospital corridors toward the exit. In his other hand, he carried your belongings.

The hallway was filled with hushed tones of hospital staff and the distant hum of medical equipment—a stark contrast to the chaotic events that had unfolded in the operating room earlier. You desperately need a break from the hospital environment for a while.

As you turned a corner, you noticed a faint wisp of smoke wafting from a nearby balcony.

"Wait," you said, halting Gojo with a gentle tug on his arm.

On the balcony stood Geto, leaning against the railing with a lit cigarette in hand. He appeared lost in thought, his gaze distant and fixed on some distant point.

"I'll wait for you," Gojo offered before you could even ask him.

Stepping outside, a gentle breeze brushed against your cheek. Geto turned as he noticed your presence. He looked tired and somber, but you couldn't help but feel that you looked even more fucked up.

"Did you cry?" he asked gently.

You didn't need to confirm it, did you? He could clearly see it.

You moved to stand beside him, the wisps of smoke from his cigarette curling around you as he took a drag and exhaled a cloud of gray. Your eyes flickered to his hands, noting the faint tremor in his fingers, before dropping to the floor where at least fifteen cigarette butts lay scattered.

"How much did you smoke?" you asked.

He turned his gaze to you, sidestepping your question. "You want one?"

"They're no good for you."

A weary chuckle escaped him. "Everyone has their vices, right?"

You watched him quietly as he took another long drag from his cigarette, the glowing ember briefly illuminating his face before he stubbed it out against the railing.

"I wanted it to work so badly," you admitted.

"I know. Me too. But that's our job, isn't it? Sometimes we lose, and sometimes we win," Geto said, leaning back against the railing. "Just do me a favor and don't dwell too much on the surgery. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things in the OR don't go the way you want."

"How do you cope with that?"

He flicked the last bit of his cigarette over the railing, watching it fall. "Some days it's easier, some days it's harder. But you'll find your way. We all do." He reached for another cigarette, his movements methodical, almost automatic.

Yeah, he clearly found a way to deal with it.

"You good?"

"Better than ever," he replied, offering you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

He wasn't very convincing.

He reached for a new cigarette and placed it between his lips, then brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. His thumb flicked the flame to life. His hands trembled slightly as he took a deep inhale. The smoke curled around him like a shroud, masking whatever emotions he was holding back.

"You know, he'll want to try his approach," Geto continued.

"Hm?"

"Satoru, will you help him?"

"I don't know," you answered.

Geto ran a hand through his hair, loosening strands that had escaped his usually neat bun. "He was here today too—watching you." He let out a huff. "He's really bad at hiding it. Doesn't even seem like he's trying."

You watched Geto in silence, unsure of what he was getting at.

"He will want you to help him," he continued as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"You don't want me to help him?"

"I want you to stay away from him," Geto's response was immediate.

"Why so?"

"He'll get you in trouble, I know that."

"Isn't he your best friend?"

"That's how I know," he said, exhaling a stream of smoke directly in your direction, the familiar acrid scent filling your nostrils.

Silence fell between you for a few moments. His gaze was suddenly so cold.

"It's late. You should head home," Geto finally said, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth. He then shifted away from you, leaning against the balcony's railing. His eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon, lost in whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

Without a word, you turned and walked back towards where Satoru was waiting. His hand immediately found its place on your back again as he guided you towards the exit.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Geto's eyes continued to follow your figures until you were out of sight. In a sudden movement, his hand twitched, crushing the remains of the cigarette he held. The crumbling embers fell from his fingers.

─── ·✧· ───

Your eyes burned again.

You sat at a large wooden table with Maki, Yuta and Toge, each of them absorbed in their exam preparations. Books and notes were spread out before them. The library was quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional turning of a page or a soft whisper.

Maki was leafing through a thick medical textbook, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Yuta, sitting next to her, jotted down notes on his laptop, pausing occasionally to reread a section or ask Maki a question. Toge quietly muttered words from his notes.

You, however, found it hard to focus on the study material in front of you. Your mind was elsewhere, still caught up in the surgery. The question of why the surgical approach had failed haunted you, gnawing at your thoughts. You were so engrossed in your search for answers that the words in your textbook seemed to blur together, meaningless.

From time to time, one of your friends would cast a concerned glance your way. "You okay?" Maki mouthed silently across the table.

You nodded, offering a small, unconvincing smile, and returned your gaze back to your textbook. But your eyes weren't reading the words; they were seeing surgical diagrams, replaying the operation, desperately searching for a clue, a misstep, anything that could explain the failure.

Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if you want to talk about it..." he began softly.

Talking about it was the least thing you wanted to do.

You needed answers.

Not talks.

Abruptly, you stood up. "Just need another textbook."

Wandering through the aisles of the library, you found yourself in a quiet corner. The book you needed was on a high shelf, just out of your reach. You stretched on your tiptoes, fingers grazing the spine of the book, but it remained stubbornly beyond your grasp.

Suddenly, you sensed a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, a hand reached over your shoulder, effortlessly retrieving the book.

"Funny, and I thought if someone had a pharmacology exam coming up, they would need a pharmacology book. Yet here you are, gathering the next neuroanatomy book."

You didn't need to turn to know that it was Gojo. His presence was unmistakable.

"Stalking me now, Gojo?"

For a moment, you both remained frozen, his hand still above your head. He was close, closer than you would wish he was.

"Just keeping an eye on you," he replied, reaching for the book on the shelf. As you turned to face him, you found Gojo standing close, the textbook in his hand. "This won't give you the answers you seek," he said, offering the book to you.

"But I sure will try." You took the book from him. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, sending an unexpected shiver through you that you tried to ignore.

"Don't do that."

You clutched the book to your chest. "Do what?"

"Blame yourself for the surgery. You weren't wrong in your approach. I would've done the same based on the data."

"Yet, you didn't. You wanted to take a different approach with this patient."

He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "It was more intuition than data," he said, scratching the back of his neck."Sometimes, data and statistics only tell us part of the story. The human body isn't a machine. It's unpredictable."

You looked at him. "So, you're saying I should screw data?"

He shrugged lightly, the hint of a smile returning to his face. "I'm saying that being a good surgeon isn't just about knowledge. You're young. You'll learn."

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes searching yours as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, exposing the bandaid still adhering to your neck. His thumb gently stroked along it. He parted his lips, the question in his eyes clear even before he voiced it.

"Help me with my neuroprosthetics approach," he proposed.

You tensed, your mind racing. "I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"I have exams."

"And here I thought I was your best study partner," he countered with a light, teasing tone.

You quickly added, "And I need to unpack at my new place." It was true, but even as you said it, it sounded like another excuse.

Gojo's response was immediate. "I can lend a hand with that."

"Geto will hate me."

"He's already upset. What difference does it make now?"

"I also have this really important thing..." you started, but Gojo cut you off.

"Come on, you're just finding excuses here," he said with a huff.

There was a brief silence before he continued, softer now. "I need you on this."

"I don't think you do."

His gaze intensified. "Believe me, I do."

You averted your gaze, unable to hold it. "I'm afraid—afraid of making another mistake."

"You're with me. You won't. I'll make sure of that."

He moved even closer. His hand came to rest against the shelf above your head. With his other hand, he gently cradled your chin, lifting it so your eyes met his. "You don't need to fear anything when you're with me."

In that moment, with his hand so gently holding your chin and his eyes locked onto yours, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The library, the books, the worry about exams—all of it faded into the background. There was only Gojo, his closeness, and the sincerity in his eyes that you wanted to believe.

"If anyone sees us like this, you're really fucked," you breathed out.

"Lucky for me, you have a thing for unpopular, heavy neuro textbooks hidden in the very far corner of the library," Gojo quipped, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Seems like a safe bet."

Your lips twitched into a light smile, and you rolled your eyes.

"Come on," he pressed. "Say yes."

You could tell he wasn't going to back down—Gojo had that determined look in his eyes, the one that said he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You let out a weary sigh. "Okay."

Satisfied, Gojo released your chin and leaned back. "Give me your phone," he said.

Raising an eyebrow, you hesitated for a moment before understanding his intention. You handed over your phone, watching as his fingers moved over the screen, adding his number.

"There," he said, handing the phone back to you. "Call me if you need anything."

─── ·✧· ───

It was late at night in your small apartment.

The only sounds were the occasional hum of traffic from the streets below and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat at your desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus on studying. But no matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn't sink in. Your mind kept drifting.

With a sigh of frustration, you closed the textbook and got up. You paced around the room for a moment before finally throwing yourself onto the bed. Lying there, you stared at the ceiling.

Maybe it was the stress or maybe it was curiosity, but you reached for your phone. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you finally worked up the courage to type a message. You hit send before you could change your mind.

[1:24 AM] You: Haven't had the chance to thank you yet.

[1:24 AM] Gojo: That's quite an anonymous start. Who's this?

[1:25 AM] You: You get a lot of late-night texts from unknown numbers?

[1:25 AM] Gojo: Oh, I might have been expecting one in particular. How's the studying going?

[1:26 AM] You: Can't seem to focus tonight.

[1:26 AM] Gojo: Stop it. I can tell you that you are dwelling on things again without having to see it.

[1:27 AM] You: Hard not to.

[1:27 AM] Gojo: Need a distraction?

The message pops up, almost too quickly. Yeah, you needed a distraction, but more from him than anything else. You pause before answering.

[1:30 AM] You: It's late.

[1:31 AM] Gojo: Since when has that stopped you? Must have been imagining all those late nights in the lab.

Another pause as you consider his words.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Send me your address.

[1:33 AM] You: Planning to come over?

You sent the message before you really thought about it. The payback was immediate.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Oh, sweetheart, quite bold of you to ask your own professor to come over at this hour, don't you think? What would people say?

[1:34 AM] Gojo: I'll pick you up with my car and we can get coffee, my treat. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need.

[1:36 AM] You: Just a drive, nothing more?

[1:36 AM] Gojo: Just a drive, nothing more.

[1:37 AM] You: Okay.

You send your address.

─── ·✧· ───

Lost in thought, you scrolled through social media. Then your phone buzzed with a call from Gojo. You answered, still slightly surprised each time you saw his name light up your screen.

"Look down," Gojo's voice came through.

You walked over to the window and peered down. There, on the street below, stood Gojo. He leaned nonchalantly against a sleek black car, its polished surface reflecting the dim streetlights. He was looking up, a confident, almost playful smile on his face as he spotted you at the window. For a moment, you just watched him from above.

God, what are you doing?

He's your professor, for fuck's sake.

You're supposed to work with him. Not whatever you're starting here.

Yet, as he smiled up at you, all good reasons seemed to leave you.

You grabbed your jacket and made your way out of the apartment. As you descended the stairs, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Gojo was here, in the middle of the night—for you. Your heart raced.

You stepped out onto the street, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat on your skin. Gojo pushed himself off the car and stood upright as you approached.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Wherever you want."

Gojo's smile widened. He opened the passenger door for you. "Then let's go."

You got into the car. Gojo started the engine and pulled away from the curb, the city lights beginning to blur past. There was no destination, no specific purpose, just winding through the streets under the city's neon embrace.

The dashboard's soft lighting cast a gentle glow on Gojo's features. He wore a crisp, white button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, lean forearms. The shirt was just tight enough to hint at the well-defined physique underneath.

The faintest shadow of stubble along his jawline gave him a rugged edge, contrasting with the sharp, clean lines of his attire.

"You're staring," Gojo remarked as he caught your gaze.

"Geto would kill us if he knew," you replied.

"Worried about him, huh?"

"I just—I owe him a lot, feels like I'm betraying him."

Gojo chuckled. "You say that like we've already fucked."

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarified.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he said with a sly grin before shifting gears. "Or maybe you want us both? At the same time?"

You blinked, taken aback by his boldness. "Ha?"

"Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind, first-year," he teased. "But just so you know, I'm not really one to share."

God, this man really has too much confidence for his own good.

"You're quite bold to say something like this to your student," you pointed out.

"And yet here you are, in your professor's car, in the middle of the night. Seems boldness is a trait we share."

Suddenly, Gojo's attention snapped to something outside the car. "There's a McDonald's up ahead," he said, a spark of spontaneity in his voice.

Before you could react, Gojo expertly turned the steering wheel, guiding the car into a sharp turn. The sudden change in direction caught you off guard, making you flinch and clutch your seatbelt.

Gojo quickly placed his hand on your thigh. His touch, firm yet tender, sent a rush of warmth through your veins as his thumb brushed soothingly over your skin. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Didn't mean to startle you."

As Gojo smoothly guided the car into the drive-through lane, his hand remained on your thigh. When it was your turn in the lane, Gojo ordered two coffees and a selection of pastries.

"You really do have a sweet tooth, don't you?" you said as you took the beverages and treats and placed them on your side.

He glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Yeah, makes me wonder why I'm so drawn to you."

You ignored his comment.

He drove off, searching for the perfect spot to park and enjoy the spontaneous snack. Finding a quiet spot, he parked the car and the two of you settled in, the rich aroma of coffee filling the interior.

The warm summer night embraced the city, its gentle caress making the decision to keep the car windows down an easy one. The balmy air flowed in, carrying with it the faint sounds and scents of Tokyo at night.

"So, when do you want to start with the new approach?" you asked between sips of coffee.

"After your exams," Gojo replied. "I want you to be able to focus without any added pressure. This project can wait until you're finished."

"Speaking of which," he continued, "what's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?"

"What?"

"What's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?" he repeated, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"They're used for hypertension and congestive heart failure," you answered after a brief pause.

"Good. How do antipsychotics like haloperidol work?"

"Too easy, Gojo. They're dopamine antagonists, so they block dopamine receptors, particularly in the brain's mesolimbic pathway."

"Now, explain the pharmacokinetics of metformin," he said, taking a bite of his pastry.

"Metformin decreases hepatic glucose production, reduces the absorption of glucose in the intestines, and enhances insulin sensitivity."

"And what about beta-blockers?"

"Beta-blockers work by blocking the effects of epinephrine and norepinephrine on beta-receptors. This results in a decrease in heart rate, cardiac output, and the release of renin from the kidneys, which lowers blood pressure."

"Perfect. Now, what's the mechanism behind the antibiotic resistance of MRSA to methicillin?"

You raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment. "MRSA develops antibiotic resistance due to a mutated penicillin-binding protein that methicillin can't effectively bind to. This mutation is encoded by the mecA gene."

Gojo chuckled. "I think we can dive right into the research project. You're more than prepared for this exam."

You couldn't help but smile.

After finishing the coffee and pastries, Gojo gathered the wrappers and empty cups. "I'll just get rid of these," he said, stepping out of the car.

You glanced at your fingers, noticing they were still slightly sticky from the pastries. In search of something to clean them with, you began rummaging through the car, eventually opening the glove compartment in hopes of finding some tissues.

To your surprise, the compartment was filled with an array of blisters and pill bottles. Specifically, painkillers and a few other medications whose names escaped you. You reached for one of the bottles and read what it said. Hydrocodone.

You held the bottle in your hand, a frown creasing your brow. Of course, Gojo was a doctor. But why would he carry such a stash of strong medication in his car? There must be some reasonable explanation for that, right?

Your stomach churned, uneasiness settling in.

As you were still processing the discovery, you heard Gojo returning. Panic seized you for a moment, and you hastily shut the glove compartment.

Gojo slid back into the driver's seat, his demeanor as easygoing as before. "All set," he announced, starting the engine. "Ready to head back?"

You nodded, forcing a smile.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the earlier conversation replaced by a thoughtful silence. The streets of Tokyo passed by in a blur of lights and shadows. As Gojo's car finally pulled up outside your apartment building, neither of you immediately moved to get out.

The memory of the medicine in the glove compartment still lingered in your mind. Breaking the silence, you turned to Gojo. "You okay?"

Gojo's eyes flickered with a fleeting hint of surprise. "Yeah, I'm good. Why you ask?"

"You'd tell me if something was off, right?"

There was a brief pause as Gojo seemed to consider your question. Then, reaching out, his hand gently cradled the side of your face. The touch was tender, and you could feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. Without even realizing it, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes locked with his.

Gojo's thumb traced a soft path along your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, as if you were caught in a spell, completely captivated by the man before you.

You couldn't deny the growing attraction and connection between you, even if you weren't entirely sure what it meant. But at the same time, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something he wasn't telling you.

"Of course," he finally said, though his response was quick, almost automatic.

His gaze then subtly shifted, settling on your lips. You could almost feel the weight of his craving in the intensity of his gaze. His thumb lightly brushed across your bottom lip, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

Finally, he withdrew his hand, though the lingering warmth of his touch continued to dance on your skin. "You should get some rest," he said, his voice carrying a soft, husky undertone.

You took a sharp inhale, just now coming back to your senses.

"Thanks for tonight, Gojo."

"Anytime."

You lingered for a second longer before finally opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. It felt stark against your skin where his touch had been. As you walked towards your apartment building, you couldn't help but glance back. Gojo was still there, watching you until you were safely inside.

You forced a last smile before heading inside.

─── ·✧· ───

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x a/n: this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. Anyway, thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts! :)

➸ taglist: @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk fanfic

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