#“with your face all made up living on the screen”

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[onehundredelevven]

Okay so what if Satoru's eyes glows in the dark and is like a flashlight

☆☆☆

"Satoru, wake up."

The voice was soft, yet insistent. Satoru groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him as if he could escape the world’s most persistent problem—being awake. The lights flickered, and then, a sudden, dark silence blanketed the room. The power was out.

You were already half-awake, fumbling around in the pitch-black room for your phone, but it wasn’t helping. The glow of the screen was faint at best, and without any light, you might as well be blindfolded.

“Gojo Satoru,” you muttered again, a bit more forcefully this time. “Get up.”

There was a grunt from the bed, followed by a long, dramatic stretch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?” he groaned, his voice muffled from under the pillow.

You sighed and stood up, feeling your way across the room toward the bed. Your hands brushed over his bedside table, knocking over a few things in your search for—yes—his face.

With an exasperated sigh, you nudged his side. "I need you to wake up. I can’t see anything in here."

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, glowing faintly in the dark. “Really? You need me to help you with this?” His tone was cocky, like he knew exactly how ridiculous the situation was.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, I need you to be the light. You’re basically a walking flashlight.”

Satoru blinked, his eyes lighting up brighter, and then he grinned, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all. “I knew you’d come around~ I am the strongest, after all.”

You reached out, tapping the side of his face to make sure he was fully awake. “Alright, can you just move and shine for me so I don’t trip over something?”

Satoru laughed, sitting up dramatically and lifting his head like he was doing some grand reveal. His eyes glowed with an eerie, yet oddly comforting, light. “There you go. Your very own living flashlight. Try not to get too distracted by my beautiful eyes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle as you made your way around, finally being able to see without having to grope through the dark.

Satoru leaned back against the pillows, arms behind his head, still glowing in the darkness. “You’re welcome,” he said smugly, the usual gleam in his eye never fading.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, but secretly, you were kind of glad he’d woken up.

And, honestly? The whole thing was a little endearing(and funny). Even if he was, well, a walking flashlight.

[lexawritex]

need you now

idol!huhyunjin x producer!reader

synopsis: you're a producer whose songs dominate the charts. to keep the hits coming, you turn to a couple cans of beer for inspiration. but the alcohol takes control, pushing you into calling your ex.

genre: light angst; heated make out session at the end :/

warnings: alcohol; swearing; top yunjin cus why not

i'm all alone and i need you now

being a producer was a choice your parents didn't agree on but with you being the most sought after producer now—their doubts were erased and now they're showering you with praises and support. you found it hilarious how they ridiculed you for pursuing a non-engineering job like your siblings did and now they're treating you like a prodigy. thinking about it made you feel bitter, to make it worse, the alcohol started to kick in.

you were in your apartment, wide awake at one in the morning due to a sudden urge to write a song. around you were cans of beer scattered on the floor, with the hope that it can help you think of creative ideas but honestly, it's all what you have in your fridge.

finishing a can, you tossed it on a pile of empty beer cans as you shifted your attention to your laptop screen. deleting one line after another—unsatisfied with the words. beside it was also your notebook where you usually write songs but you were still stuck. the urge was strong yet no matter you do, the output didn't feel good enough.

frustrated, you grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it across the living room, knocking a box out of place. with a groan, you stood up, set the box right, and started picking up its contents. but when you saw what it was, you froze.

it was pictures of the past. a good memory now leaving bitter feelings whenever you remember it. you shouldn't but you did. you looked at the pictures that consisted of either places or a certain woman. the woman that were once the inspiration of your songs and the one that fueled your passion for music.

"huh yunjin..."

you mumbled as you stared at a photo of her, holding an umbrella and looking back at you. you remembered how you'd always carry a camera whenever you two went on dates, wanting to capture every moment to look back on. now, you traced the dusty photograph with your fingers, the smile on her face a painful reminder of a beautiful past.

you went on a couple of pictures and stopped on the last picture that was at the very bottom of the box. the photograph taken just a week before the beautiful story ended. her smile was so wide that it shocked your whole world when she came to you and ended your relationship. you asked yourself, 'what went wrong?' yet the answer was clear.

you both lived in the same world, yet her life was much harder than yours. you didn’t have thousands of people watching your every move, criticizing each mistake. you didn’t feel the pressure to be perfect, to look like a doll every day. you didn’t have a management controlling every aspect of your life. those were the things you didn’t have—things yunjin did. but despite it all, your relationship blossomed and sailed… until it didn’t.

reminiscing about it caused tears to well up in your eyes. a chuckle escapes your mouth followed with a sigh as you sniff.

"well that was a good two years of sunshines and rainbows..." you said, staring at the pictures scattered on the floor.

you stood up, almost loosing you balance and wobbled your way to the fridge—the alcohol taking over your whole system. grabbing another beer, you slumped on your sofa and took a chug of the drink. you looked at the fogged up window, rain hitting it creating soft thuds. you've always like the comfort of the rain but now you hate it. because it reminded you that no one will give you warmth in the cold weather like she used to. you shook your head as your thoughts drifted drifted her again.

"i'm so fucking lonely..." you said followed by a deep sigh.

you reached for your phone, hoping to have a friend that's still awake at this hour to accompany you in the lonely night. you scrolled through your seemingly endless list of contacts but stopped abruptly when your eyes caught a number you haven't contacted for a while.

your fingers hovered above the number as you hesitated on calling it or not. it must've been the alcohol because now you're looking at a ringing screen, her photo smiling at you while your phone rings—waiting for the other end to pick up.

your eyes widened and you panicked—causing your phone to slip from your grip.

"shit!" you cursed and hurriedly picked up your phone to cancel the call but it was already answered.

you gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth.

"y/n?"

oh how much you missed that voice calling your name. if not for the shock, you would've teared up hearing her voice. you hurriedly pressed the end button and tossed your phone on the coffee table.

"good god..." you said and downed a whole can of beer.

well it was a bad idea because now you're really drunk and lonely and the rain wasn't making it any better. you accidentally called your ex, heard her voice and now you miss her.

☆

yunjin looked at her phone with confusion as she sat in her bed. she had just gotten out of a warm shower after practicing for their upcoming comeback. setting the phone down, she stared at the wall as she let her thoughts run. from their upcoming comeback and how it would do, her thoughts drifted to you. a sad sigh escaping her mouth as her eyes landed on a jacket she hung. the one she wore when she broke things off.

she regretted it, yes, but she had no choice. your relationship was starting to fail when she got busy for their last comeback. fights were becoming frequent when she'd snap at the smallest things due to lack of rest and the pressure of their comeback. that time their group was also under heavy criticism due to a simple mistake that added fuel to the fire. her management urged her to end her relationship to protect their group incase someone leaks your relationship. yunjin didn't want to hurt you and ruin your career so she did the regrettable.

hanging her head down, she let her tears fall and let the feelings pour out as the rain drowned out the sound. sometimes, she'd wish she was stronger and fought for your relationship, for you.

her cries were cut off when her phone rang, flinching in surprise, she looked at who was calling her at this time. seeing that it was your number again, she immediately grabbed her phone. her finger hesitating to press the answer button yet did it anyway and she immediately heard your soft sniffles and your shaky breath.

"can you come over? i need you right now." you softly whispered through the phone.

your soft voice that used to whisper sweet nothings to her, your soft voice that would sing to her heart whenever you'd serenade her and the voice that she misses so much. it was enough to put her on her feet and storm out of her room.

looking at her phone, you had ended the call. she sighed and speed-walked to the front door when her leader called her.

"yunjin? where are you headed to this late?" chaewon asked, crossing her arms.

yunjin pursed her lip, deciding to lie or not before answering.

"y/n...she called and said she needed me.." the leader uncrossed her arm, brow raised in confusion.

"and you'd risk getting caught by dispatch over a call?" chaewon stared at her red-haired member who held a pleading expression. she sighed and waved yunjin off, walking towards her room.

"just don't get caught and use the manager's car. i'll talk to him for you." a smile broke in yunjin's lips as she eagerly nodded and jogged to grab the car key from the drawer.

"will do!" yunjin whisper yelled and put on a disguise. a good old hat and mask, tying her hair neatly under her hat—hiding her recognisable red hair.

☆

you were lying on the cold floor, eyes staring at the ceiling—which had remnants of the past. a masking tape you placed to hold the balloons when you surprised yunjin on her birthday. you forgot to take that off and now seeing it made all the memories flood your mind.

your eyes shifted to your phone that was held loosely by your left hand. you grimaced at how you let yourself go and drunk called your ex. a groan escapes your mouth as you writhe on the ground in embarrassment.

a ring on your doorbell knocked you off your actions— making you confused and scared. it's already two in the morning and you weren't expecting any visitors—unless you were thinking of how you called your ex to come over but it's impossible. there's no way she'd come over.

a ring resounded again and it made you stand up, wobbling to it. getting a grip on the doorknob, you twisted it and opened the brown door. all sense of security leaving your alcohol-drowned brain.

a masked person stood before you, eyes locking with yours. you swear you've seen those dark brown eyes before but you just can't remember where and when. the person took off their mask and you let out the most audible gasp. it seemed to make you slightly sober because you immediately pulled the person in and closed the door.

"yunjin? what are you doing here? you might get seen!" you said and immediately let go of your grip on her wrist. you didn't really expect her to come over.

finding the situation quite awkward, you stepped a good steps back. yunjin looked at you and chuckled softly.

"were you drinking?" she asked.

"no." her eyes shifted to the mess behind you then back to yours before raising a brow.

"yes." you sighed and she shook her head.

walking past you, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic bag. her familiarity with your place making you remember the days where she'd spend the night over and cook you delicious meals that you miss.

your eyes followed her as she went to the living room and picked up the empty beer cans on the ground. feeling guilty over her cleaning your mess, you walked into the living room and took the plastic from her—making her look at you.

"i'll clean it myself." you said but she took it from you.

"no, i'll take care of this. you go take a shower and then sleep." you looked at her as she continued cleaning your mess while you stood there watching her.

there she goes again, making you feel things with her actions. a trait of hers that you fell so hard for. but now, it only made your heart wrench in pain.

hearing your silence, yunjin stopped and looked up at you. eyes widening at the tears streaming down your face. dropping the plastic, yunjin got up and went to you, holding your face as she wiped the tears from your eyes with her thumb.

you chuckled bitterly.

"why are you doing this? we're not together anymore. exes don't wipe their ex's tears." you bitterly said, making yunjin stop and let go of you.

"right..." she nodded and stepped back.

"exes also don't call their ex saying to come over because you need them." yunjin retorted making you lock eyes with her.

"can you blame me? you came into my life, rocked my world and left me with these memories i wanted to forget so bad." yunjin's eyes widened at your words as you stood there breathing heavily.

"i wanted to beg to you to come back... i felt so alone that no matter what i do—i just can't fill the hole you left in my heart." tears welled in yunjin's eyes.

"i..oh god..i'm sorry..." yunjin cried as she closed the gap between you and held your face, wiping tears with her thumb.

"please...just for tonight...let me love you again..." you plead, eyes looking back at hers for a response.

the red haired girl nodded and without wasting time, you closed the distance between you—lips crashing against each other. you tasted the tears that you've both shed as you shared a passionate kiss filled with longing for each other.

your arms snaked around her neck as hers circled smoothly to your waist, pulling you even closer. as your lungs burned at the lack of oxygen, yunjin pulled away—foreheads against each other as you both pant heavily.

"i might get drunk with all the beer you've drunk." yunjin commented making you chuckle.

"oh yeah?" you said and leaned for a kiss, smiling against her lips that you missed so much.

lost in the heat of the kiss, you failed to realize that you were now against the wall, her hand trapping you in her tall build whilst the other held your waist. a once passionate kiss turned into something more when yunjin pulled away to breathe and you saw the hungry look in her eyes.

"fuck this." you said and pulled her to the sofa, pushing her against the soft cushion—straddling her immediately.

as if automatic, her hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to her. looking up at you with an intense, hungry gaze like a predator ready to pounce on her prey—you. pushing your face to hers, your lips danced together emitting sloppy sounds with your soft sighs and moans.

yunjin bit your lip, eliciting a moan from you—music to her ears. taking this chance to invade your mouth with her tongue who danced with yours leaving you breathless. her lips parted from your mouth and trailed kisses from your jaw to your neck.

she softly bit your neck, earning a moan from you. her lips went to your sensitive spot which she knows by heart and began abusing your skin, biting it softly then kissing it. controlled by her lust and hunger, she failed to realize that she'd been sucking on it. once she's done, she released your skin with a pop as she pulled away—looking at the red marks on your neck that are starting to darken a bit.

proud at her 'art', her attention went to your hungry gaze and now swollen lips that are begging for her care. she decided to tease you for a bit, ghosting her lips just a mere centimeter away from yours—watching as you squirm and push your head against hers. you hungrily kissed her, your tongue invading hers but was quickly dominated by her.

the heat becoming too much, you pulled away as you quickly removed your shirt—yunjin helped you so. lips crashing immediately as you threw it somewhere in your room. her lips parted from yours again and ventured beneath your neck, lightly nipping on your skin. her mouth just above your mounds making you whimper when she teasingly licked on the skin.

your eyes met hers, and you just knew where this kiss would lead—a path of no return, one you’d likely regret in the morning. but the thought barely lingered, drowned out by the intoxicating pull of her lips. drunk in her kisses, you leaned in again, letting her warmth consume you.

the world outside blurred as the glass windows fogged up, a hazy testament to the clash of warmth and cold. under the drizzling rain, her lips met yours in a heated frenzy—a desperate attempt to fill the fractures in your hearts. it was a kiss that erased everything but the two of you, a kiss that begged to mend what was broken, if only for a fleeting moment... or maybe, just maybe, forever.

.

.

.

-------------------------------------------------------

halo im back after being gone for almost a week. i made this about three days ago but lost the inspiration to finish it until now so here ya go.

[vicsstufff]

PROLOGUE — no exceptions.

warnings: when the characters talk in any other language, you would know when the words are like this: “hello! who are you doing?”, language, smoking, camila’s dad is kinda abusive.

paring: hopkings!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

BTS masterlist

authors note: hello everyone! this is the prologue of my first series “Behind The Screen” i’m so excited to write this and i’m constantly reading fics to motivate me and learn more. i didn’t plan that much of angst for this series but i will definitely add more than planned.

the harsh crash of the waves, the pure smell of the ocean mixed with the food from the near restaurants was addictive. this was the life that camila had her entire life, she wouldn’t give it up from nothing. “are you still going to your last year of high school?” miranda, her friend questioned her not taking her eyes of the little waves that made their way to their feet, cleaning the sand that piled up during their walk. “of course i am. where else would i go?” camila assured her, a comforting smile creeping its way in her face, miranda took her eyes of her feet and stared at the distance. “are you that sure? i heard your parents talking to the principal.” miranda took a shaky breath before continuing “they are sending you away, camila.” the smile that build up its way to camilas face quickly disappeared once miranda did her confession.

camila grabbed her dirty sandals and started sprinting towards her house. the streets were busy, summer was right around the corner and that meant one thing, tourists, camila wasn’t bother by the tourists, she actually liked them, she helps the ones that look lost or the ones that are one foot away from completely passing out because of the penetrating sun. thanks to an old lady, she even learned to speak english and a little bit of spanish too, making it more easy to speak with other tourist.

she unlocked the main door to her house, getting inside quickly, mumbling could be heard from her parents room, not to far from her own room. silently, she walked to her parents room, pressing her ear to the locked door to hear properly.

“why would we send her away!?” her mom shouted, she could hear the way that she was breaking everything that was in her eyesight “come on, woman, she doesn’t needs us anymore and we don’t need her anymore! she is almost a grown adult! she will be okay!” her father remarked her age again, she didn’t know what was wrong with her father and him being obsessed with young woman, before her 17 birthday, camila’s father was a perfect father, he bought her gifts, clothes, hair products, shoes anything you could imagine, but when her 17 birthday rolled over, he stopped being sweet to her, he didn’t care for her anymore, instead, he started focusing on her little sister, helena who was barely 15, the exact same thing happened to her mother, she know all the atrocities her father did to her.

“minnesota? really carlos? that shit is so far away!” her mother argued, minnesota? definitely it was not even near brazil or even located in brazil, maybe it was a city or a very small country? “she will be fine! she is even going to have another family” her father added, she couldn’t bring herself together and hear more than she needed to, her eyes locked with her bedroom door, she didn’t bring her phone to the beach so she would have a thousand of messages if anybody knew she was going to be exchanged.

cam

they r sending me away

p

what??

were??

cam

some place called minnesota

p

dude, omg

that’s were i live

no way

cam

seriously??

ur telling me that it’s in the usa??

p

yeahhhh

omg

please tell me ur coming to hopkins

we could finally meet

before camila could respond to her friend, her father entered her room abruptly, not even caring to knock. “hey, um, we need to talk.” her father mumbled, he was clearly nervous, but he wasn’t nervous when he was arguing with her mother. “i’m sorry, baby, you are going to study in another place.” her mother interrupted her father and hugged her tightly, her worst fears were begging to become true. she didn’t wanted to be separated from her family, neither her friends. “stop babying her!” her father barked, grabbing his wife shoulder and lunched her making her land in the middle of camila’s room. “look, you are very good academically and they offered us to exchange you for another student. it’s only going to be one year.” her father explained but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her broken mother, her own father had destroyed her mother, he had successfully sent her away to an unknown place she obviously didn’t know, who is going to take care of helena? her mother couldn’t possibly, she was very bad emotionally, and her father didn’t believe in therapist.

camila could sense her sisters presence in the room, she looked at her doorframe, helena was there, in shock, she had seen and heard everything. her bottom lip was shaky and she gripped the doorknob tightly.

the plane she was going to take was leaving until july, even though school started in august, she knew it was her fathers plan to get rid of her faster. for the past days she couldn’t stop texting ‘p’ the unknown girl made her feel safe, every text was filled with comforting words, it made her a little exited to visit a new place but she didn’t want to admit it.

her father made her do a face time with her host family, they were very sweet, so caring, they even had a beautiful schnauzer dog, she was called monica. her prayers were heard, she was going to hopkins, minnesota, ‘p’ started talking about herself more, she had figured out that she was in the women’s basketball team, she had blonde hair and blue eyes, and couldn’t stop saying that she was definitely taller than camila.

the nights were shorter when talking to ‘p’, their conversations never ending, ‘p’ would text her even if she was in class, or in practice, it made camila’s stomach flutter, knowing that someone took their to time to talk to her, even if they were busy. she was very excited to meet ‘p’ friends too, almost all of them were from the basketball team. p started planning dates hangouts, going for a milkshake, ice cream, eating pure junk food, going to see her play, watching the stars, you named it. camila was so excited to met her, but also nervous, what if she doesn’t meet her standards? what if she expects camila to be more beautiful? camila shook those thoughts away quickly, texting p to assure her that everything will be fine.

cam

what do u think i look like

p

i have been waiting for this

curly hair (obv), little bit tanned, maybe green eyes? definitely smaller than me, freckles and a natural blush

cam

wtf

how do u how i look like

p

u r definitely fine then

camila didn’t want to admit it, but she was definitely falling for this called ‘p’.

[hotwings0203]

"I swear, if she had just stayed with the group like a normal person would, she would've saved herself at least 30 more minutes of screentime," your friend says on the other side of the couch.

In retaliation, you playfully chuck a few kernels of popcorn at him and gesture wildly at the screen. "It's the classic bimbo trope! She's wearing a miniskirt and high heels in the forest for gods sake, it practically screams 'Murder me!' on her clothes."

You both squabble for a few minutes like this until the sound of violins coming from the t.v. cues you in for the next foreboding jumpscare. Both sets of eyes turn back to the dimly lit screen and lock in on the gore-fest about to unfold.

The main heroine cautiously creaks a door open in front of a tunnel and warbles out, "H-hello? Is anyone there?"

It's so cliche you could roll your eyes, but yet your heart is still pumping...

And your "friend's" body shifting a mere few inches away from you isn't helping the palpitations.

The two of you had been dancing around each other the past few months in some sort of premature courting method, the flirty remarks and jeers from your mutual friends egging you both on to seal the deal and admit your feelings for one another.

But, like every young romance blooms, the fear of wilt is just as strong.

And so you opt to get as close as you can to the real thing by being satisfied with his arm not-so-subtly thrown over the back of the couch , so softly playing with the ends of your hair so as to not disturb you.

You can barely focus though, as the girl on the screen inches closer to the end of tunnel, the boy behind you also creeps his other idle hand towards yours resting on the cushion.

It takes an incredible amount of effort to keep your breathing even and hands still as you watch from the corner of your eye as his veiny hands trail closer...his fingers outstretching towards yours...and...

Rrrriiinnngggg!

It's like a tidal wave comes crashing down as the woman on screen screams in tandem with your phone ringing.

You feign a groan as you shoot the disappointed man on your couch an apologetic wince, and try not to let your heart fall as he nods back with a barely understanding grimace. You round the couch and let the movie continue playing as you hit the green button and pick up the intruding call.

"Hello?" You snipe.

"Get rid of him."

For the second time in the night, your heart falters, but the former experience is something you'd beg for rather than this.

"H-how did you know someone's at my house?" Your voice drops to a shaky whisper and you throw a panicked glance into the living room to ensure that your lover/friend hasn't picked up on your tone. You duck into your bedroom and close the door slightly, your hands trembling as you do so.

The gravely voice on the other end chuckles, but the sound has anything but mirth in it.

"That's a funny way to phrase it sweetheart. Your question makes it seem as though I stopped keeping tabs on you."

A minute-long silence ensues after that, your mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water. There's no sound except for the low hum in the background of your living room, and your caller's shallow breaths on the other end of the line.

"You begged so nicely last time for me to leave you alone, even made it to the cops at one point. I granted you a shred of mercy, a bit of pity after the cops failed to take your report seriously- I mean, I don't blame them. Their time is precious, y'know? They've got bigger things to worry about than a dumb little girl whining about some invisible stalker jizzing all over her and her room when she sleeps," he snickers meanly at the sound of your choked gasps.

The taunting of your trauma is a slap to the face, a wound cut open again. You thought you got rid of this anonymous stalker a couple months back, you thought a police report and growing reclusive from your social life would dissuade any unwanted interactions from this psycho. You felt backed into a corner, dirty and ashamed as the threatening calls became more frequent. Love letters with ominous fluids coating the expanse of the papers started showing up at your front door when you changed your number. He'd attach polaroids of you in your undergarments, when you'd shower, when you'd cook, and so many other unassuming intimate domestic scenes in the envelope, and then when you couldn't take the terror anymore...it stopped.

The calls, the letters, the pictures, all of it...poof.

You had slowly started to hope that he had gotten bored of you and the lack of social life, lack of thrill in general at you losing your color.

With that hope, came bravery. Your friends started coming around again, the parties ensued, you switched your college class from virtual to in-person again, you even met the guy nestled comfortably on your couch currently.

"How many bodies did you think you could hide behind?"

The voice on the other end of the phone croons softly, but pulls you just as violently out of your dread.

"What do you want?" comes your shaky whisper, your fingers gripping the phone tighter in sync with your throat closing up.

"Ohhh sweetheart, now that's a loaded question. You and I have all the time in the world to uncover that, but your boy toy on the other hand..." His teasing lilt twists lower into something akin to a growl, and you can't help the whimper that escapes you.

You don't want to find out what his threat alludes to, or how serious he is.

Slow-burn romance be damned.

"J-just give me a few minutes-"

"Now."

Your teeth sink into your lips to hold back a frantic curse as you duck your head out the doorway to check on the living room.

He's still there, unassumingly checking his phone.

"Okay, okay. I-I'll tell him something came up, just dont-"

Your voice catches in your throat and you force yourself to swallow, taking in a deep breath at the sound of your stalker's pleased hum on the other end of the line.

"I'm watching you. Don't try to pull anything smart with me, unless you're eager to taste my blade in addition to my cock."

You blanch as the call ends, and try to quickly blink away tears of frustration. Wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts, you inhale deeply again before turning the knob and opening the door to the living room.

Rounding the couch, you softly pad your way to your lover and force the tense muscles in your back and arms to loosen, not wanting to give any indication that something's very, very wrong.

"Heyyy, you're back!" He drawls with a loose smile on his face. "Thought the movie scared you too bad and you ran off."

You force yourself to let out a faux chuckle and try to prevent your smile from looking too strained. He seems to unfortunately notice it though, because a crinkle appears between his brows and he sits up, tossing the phone in his hands aside.

"Woah, you okay? Did something happen?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that at all. Actually, this is really embarrassing but one of my girls called and I think she's blackout drunk at the bar near downtown, I gotta head out and pick her up. I had no idea I'd be on babysitter duty tonight, I'm so sorry," You frantically wave his concern off and try for another carefree laugh, but your shaking hands are a dead giveaway.

He stands up and grasps your hands tightly in his, the large and smooth planes of his palms enveloping yours before you can react. Your head spins as the realization of him touching you for the first time under these less-than-ideal conditions overwhelms you.

"Hey, y/n, look at me-no, look- you're okay, alright? It's no big deal, we can always finish the movie another time, seriously."

And before you can move back to save him, he leans forwards and pecks your cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second the door closes shut, your phone rings.

Your hand, still on the door handle, drifts up to your lips as you nibble on your nails haphazardly.

You're terrified to know the consequences you elicited. You don't wanna pick up.

And yet, you know if you don't, he's capable of so much worse.

Your thumb slides on the green button when his voice breaks through the call with barely-concealed rage, the waver of fury coating his venom as he spits, "He touched you. He kissed you."

"I tried to back away! I tried to-"

"And I tried playing nice, but looks like we both failed each other, huh?"

The excuse dies in your throat as his hiss overpowers yours.

"I should carve his fucking lips out for touching whats mine," he continues after a beat, an incredulous and ragged laugh erupting from the other end of the call, making you wince.

"It would be so easy to get rid of him too. That shitty little apartment he scrimps and saves for at his 9-5 hasn't changed the locks in the complex for years now, he walks solely at night with his earbuds in, his bones would be so easy to break-"

"Please don't hurt him," you finally break his monologue with a sob of your own, unable to fathom being the reason why your lover would suffer such sinister endings. You throw your hand over your mouth to prevent him from hearing you cry and your legs give out from their mindless, panicked pacing around the house. The soft duvet comforters of your bed provide ample cushion for the fall, but not enough to swallow you whole and hide you from his inevitable wrath.

Your stalker pauses as he listens to your muffled cries, your skin prickling as he lets out a ragged moan at no doubt your misery. You can hear the sound of rustling clothes and a belt buckle hitting a floor of some sort.

"Are you scared pretty girl? Are you scared I'm gonna hurt you, or him?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"You should be."

The call drops, but you dont move for what seems like hours.

Your body feels like stone as you eventually burrow under your covers, mountains of stress weighing you down heavier than the blankets and pillows you use as meager protection. All the doors in your apartment are locked, the windows bolted shut, the knives taken out and placed under your bed, and your phone fully charged.

And yet, you might as well have been naked for the lack of protection you feel as the clock strikes past 1am. You jump every time the branches outside your windows smack the glass, and grip the edges of your covers tighter at the slightest creak from your aged abode.

You're curled in fetal position, tense and alert, ready to call 911 at a moments notice. You wont, you can't let him get to you, mentally or physically.

But eventually your body fails you as you drift off to sleep, the adrenaline high wearing off and lulling you into an exhausted state of rest.

You only awaken when you hear his voice.

"Hereeee kitty kitty"

Body locking up before your mind is fully aware, you freeze under the duvet as you see his silhouette from under the opaque material.

He's merely a few feet away from you, leering over your lumpy form.

Your eyes dart to where your door is, and you can make out the shape of it being opened.

How the ever-loving fuck did he get in?

You can't move, you cant blink, you cant even breathe as he inches closer to you, settling to perch by your feet.

He chuckles and snakes his lithe fingers from underneath your comforters, trailing up your feet up to your ankle, letting his offensive touch rest there as a faux show of affection.

"You're like a present underneath those blankets."

You let out a shaky whimper and tense up even more as he leans in, the dark shape of his head right over your face.

"Does the little slut want me to unwrap her? I think i've won my prize fair and square."

The hand on your ankle moves up to your calves, then your knees, all the while you start to squirm and wrestle against his hold.

He laughs lightly with sick glee as his hold on you tightens, allowing himself to indulge momentarily as one of his hands shoves itself between the apex of your covered thighs, the other squeezing and pinching up your torso to any part of you that he deems soft enough.

You both writhe like this for a minute or two while you fight for air underneath the increasingly-stuffy covers, and you know he's reveling at your losing battle.

Eventually he must get tired of playing with you, because you feel the bed dip and shift as he climbs on top and straddles you. As a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, you throw the blankets off, exposing yourself to him. You try to scramble away after dislodging him, but he's too fast. He grabs you by the neck and slams you down against the bed with a snarl, his hair mussed and disheveled as his hands encircle tighter around your throat. Adrenaline courses through you along with the blood pounding your head as you try to scratch at his face. The harder you fight, the tighter he squeezes, and through the black spots in your vision you can see his salacious grin, his hair falling over his face and barely concealing the victorious and manic look in his eyes.

You feel his skin pile up under your fingernails as you rake down a particularly soft side of his cheek, but instead of him drawing back, he fucking moans as blood blooms through the new cut.

He feels you hesitate for a split second in your awed disgust, and uses the momentary reprieve to rock his hips against your clothed mound.

You gasp feels like its ripped out of you all the while he shakes with tension and laughter.

He feels high off the mix of fear and disgust at your body reacting to his ministrations.

You thrash like a fish out of water in his hold, your desperation a sick contrast to the firm and controlled motion of his body eliciting responses out of you that you never wanted to give to him of all people.

"Fuuckkkk, thats it baby, just give in," he croons and shushes the sound of you choking. A shudder passes through him as he feels your throat constrict under his unrelenting hold, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he thrusts again into you.

He must hit a good spot, because he feels your legs twitch. To reward you for reacting to his touch, he lets up ever so slightly on your abused throat, and opts to duck his head down and replace his hands with his mouth.

The whole ordeal can't have been going on for more than a couple minutes, but it feels like your overstimulation has been lasting eons. You feel the adrenaline crashing down, your defenses rendered useless as he uses both his hands to envelope your own and lace his fingertips with yours, bringing both your intertwined hands up next to either side of your head. He locks your legs under his, ensuring that you can't wiggle out of his grasp, and lifts his head up slightly off your neck from the galaxy-covered hickies he left on the empty planes of your neck to look at you properly.

No makeup, bared open and vulnerable for him, hair looking like a rat's nest from the struggle, neck littered in violent splotches of blue, purple, and reds, lips bloated and shiny from tears trespassing down the planes of your face and down your chin. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, he feels your body tremble as you fight off the waves of exhaustion threatening to capsize your efforts. Your eyes, teary and bloodshot, ensnare him most of all. He feels as out of breath as you as he gazes lovingly, sickeningly down at you with unread emotions.

Love, hate, defiance, disgust, fear.

To him, you look ethereal.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he whispers, pulling one hand out of your own to gently move strands of hair out of your face to see you better. He bites back a frustrated growl as you flinch and turn your head to the side, burrowing as much of your face into the pillow as you can. You don't want to see or hear him gloat, you just want him to take what he came here for and to leave you the fuck alone.

"Stop fucking-no, look at me," the hand that ever-so gently caressed your hair hardens as his entire hand grabs the lower half of your face to face him.

You try to mumble something out, but his invading hand covers your mouth. He doesn't seem keen on moving it or hearing what you have to say from the way he merely presses harder against your ajar lips.

"I can fulfill you better than that wimpy fuck could ever dream," he hisses, leering over you. Your muted scowl doesn't phase him as he continues, "And you don't need friends anyways. I'm enough for you. I'll take care of all your needs, financially, emotionally, and physically."

At this, he presses his hips right into your cunt, and holds his body there, groaning at the way you pulse for him even under the layers of clothing.

You squeal and try to squirm, but your displeasure proved moot as he uses a free hand to slither under the waistband of your short and dip lower.

This brings around another round of muffled screaming, your back arching as his fingers dance over your soft mound, finally claiming his prize and swiping his digits through your lips.

He makes sure you watch as he brings his fingers back up to his mouth and licks them clean, moaning and closing his eyes in bliss as he does so. Your horror is practically palpable as you freeze at the bizarre show, the violation leaving you speechless.

"You should have told me you were enjoying this, you fuckin' brat," he scoffs and wipes his spit-covered fingers across your cheek, chuckling as you scream in rage.

"Had I known you wanted to play rough like this from the start I would've fucked you raw in front of all your little friends."

He leans in, savoring your terror.

"After all, all a brat like you needs is a fat, hard cock stuffing her widdle pussy until she breaks."

He uses your frozen state to flip your entire body over with one hand, immediately closing in on you and covering your prone body with his own. One hand braces dangerously close next to your face to balance himself as he uses the other to grab a fistful of your locks and pull back, craning your head to meet his eyes once again.

Your back and stomach shake with the effort of holding yourself up in this painful and awkward position, and his hips slot themselves against your backside as if it was their rightful place.

He's not lying, you realize with dread as you can feel his thick and hard imprint nestle between your asscheeks, your shorts riding up in the process.

"But don't worry," he pants as he pulls aside your shorts and panties and begins thrusting himself up and down your wet slit, all the way up to your ass, making careful sure to tap his tip against your clit a couple times, making you jerk and whimper at the buzzing sensation.

"I'm not letting you go anytime soon. We have the rest of our lives to break you and put your pieces back together," he bites your earlobe as he hisses the promise, moaning loudly in your ear as he lets his tip indulge in your entrance, barely pulling back and pushing in inch by inch.

You wince and try to move your body forwards to escape the inevitable, but he twists your supporting arm behind your back painfully and lets your head fall back on the pillow in defeat with a hoarse sob.

"You're fucking mine."

[syverse]

i depend on you // ft. katsuki bakugou

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

bakugou can't bring himself to hate you, even after you left

warnings&a/n: if this is bad LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!! got suddenly verrrry inspired by that one drawing on tiktok and maybe i misinterpreted it in the writing but shoot me who cares. this is like my first time writing something and actually finishing it i get so discouraged and give up. if you hate this i will never do this again.

In his life, there's a lot of things that Bakugou hates. He hates simple and unavoidable things like the rain, and he hates specific things like people who rely on everybody around them. He hates weak people, hates getting up too early in the morning, hates being too involved in other people's lives if he doesn’t necessarily have to be. But, as he sits alone at his desk, forced to listen to the obnoxious and overbearing sounds of society in Tokyo despite how late it is, Bakugo can’t think of anything he hates more than you. 

He spent a lot of his life loving you. He loved things like your unwavering conviction to do the right thing, he loved the look in your eyes when you stole glances from each other during class dinner back when you were both in highschool, and loved the way you whispered his name like a prayer when it was just the two of you under the covers of your shared bed. It was hard at first, but as the two of you grew together, so did his love. He learned to love through the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your gentle hands intertwining with his. Nimble fingers pressing into the palms of his hands before flipping them over and placing feather-like kisses on his fingerprints, he tries to swallow the bile that claws its path up his throat.  

Along with the symphony of nightlife outside of his agency, he can also pick out the faint sound of a news reporter being broadcasted on a billboard next to his building. Pictures of your face are shown on the large screen, along with the headline “PRO HERO TURNED VILLAIN” and Bakugou holds his breath for as long as he can. His phone lay flat on his desk in front of him, buzzing every few seconds from concerned friends and family members, but the blonde doesn’t dare to touch it. It had been at least a week since your departure from his agency, and the news had spread to all of Japan at this point, but the news and media were still eating it alive as if they were starving. 

Bakugou’s eyes glue shut as he wishes for memories of you to disappear, and for the heavy dread in his gut to fizz up and die out. He curses himself for not picking up on it sooner, the fact that you would leave. Looking back on it, he’s pretty sure he could put his finger on the exact moment when you started to fade away. When the universe in your eyes started to blur each time you looked at him, when the sense behind your touch became hesitant instead of gentle, and when your cheeks no longer touched your eyes when you smiled. He should’ve said something. Should’ve done a lot of things to at least delay your disappearance, but Bakugo was familiar with the fact that he was never good with words, and the fact that his heart was bottomless with fear of him making it worse. 

Bakugou absolutely hates you for leaving him here. He hates that he can’t throw every single I love you that came out of his mouth into a little box and set it to ashes, hates that he has to go back to home and still smell you on his bedsheets, hates that even though you’ve made it clear that you’re never coming back, he still patiently waits with bated breath to hear you whisper his name again.  So, as Katsuki picks himself off of his desk and drags himself to the elevator to return back his house, his house where you don't live anymore, he tries to convince himself to forget you, and ignores the way his tongue instinctively traces the letters of your name on the roof of his mouth.

[write-here-n-now]

What to do when you've crossed a line?

C.(S). Jeonghan x Reader | WC. 1240 | G. Angst| Pt. 6/? | *Jeonghan's POV*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

He arrives at the parking lot of a riverside park that the two of you often frequent. In a little spot tucked away from the children's play area and picnic areas lies a bench covered by the draping branches of a large old tree. With the water flowing in front, it made for a perfect place to just sit without a thought. None of your other friends knew of it and it was nicer that way, a secret little hideout away from everyone for just the two of you.

He runs to the hidden spot hoping to see the familiar sight of you already sitting on the bench but, it's empty.

Sitting down, his hand hovers over the small engravement you made on the bench seat during a particular stressful vent session. The car key you had used to carve out “onwards” wasn’t that successful as the finished product looked like a very poorly looking carving of “awards”. He runs his fingers over the carving, remembering how you two made eye contact and then just simply burst out laughing at your “penmanship”.

All the memories you two created at this spot flood his mind one after the other, times where you talked each other’s ear off and ones where you found contentment just coexisting and admiring the flowing water.

He sat waiting for you to come, letting the sun’s bright yellow rays dim into soft orange and pink hues around him.

How long had he just simply been sitting there waiting? As the sky is a sliver away from completely turning pitch black, he pulls out his phone that he luckily remembered to grab in the rush out of his apartment.

When he switches it on, the screen flashes him “5:37” in big white numbers but below those, he’s greeted by you.

The lock screen is one of the many pictures he snuck of you sitting on the floor, Lego pieces splayed on the floor as your head is tilted downwards grinning at a completed section of your Lego model.

------

Your hair tied back, out of your face, brows furrowed, and lips pursed in concentration, unaware of Jeonghan’s eyes admiring your side profile.

You two had been sitting in his living room making new Lego sets all afternoon and now the evening, bringing snacks and meals to eat on the floor just to finish that last part of the model.

Sitting cross-legged for such a long period of time had Jeonghan’s legs aching, so to stretch them a bit he stood up and decided to head into the kitchen to also refill on some snacks, passing a quick glance to his side where you sat, focused and silent. When he returns, you’re still hunched over attaching piece by piece of the Lego.

He catches himself staring, eyes tracing the features of your face. Each crinkle, each mark moving alongside your changing expressions of focus.

Smiling to himself; how he wished he could just simply watch you forever, his heart fluttering at the very idea.

He reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone, angling it to capture you still unaware of his presence.

If the world ended right then and there, his last moments would be spent with his eyes full of you and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His hesitations over admitting his feelings for you, even to himself, were slowly but surely convincing him—especially when he felt the need to always have you in front of him, never out of sight.

Right as he’s about to click some more photos, you smile triumphantly over completing a section of your Wall-E model; the candid moment of your success becomes the permanent lock screen on his phone.

------

He stares longingly at the photo, how he missed seeing you in person.

He had been seated on the bench for some hours and now that the sun was going down, he realized you probably weren’t going to come.

He begrudgingly stands up and begins to walk back to the car, unsure of where to look next.  

Driving around, he stares aimlessly at the bustling of the city. People getting off work, couples walking hand in hand for date night, stall sellers cooking their dishes. He racked his head for any memorable spots that you might have opted to go to, but nothing was coming to mind.

Driving around, his brain recounted all your memories together at whatever he laid eyes on.

A bus stop? That time you ran after the bus when you bent down to tie your shoelace. A random gas station? That time you both got sick from eating too much candy during a road trip.

Following a familiar route near your university, he spots your favourite chicken restaurant.

The familiar sight transports him back to the moment of heartache reliving the memory of realizing how deep his feelings ran whilst eating chicken with you on a random and relatively mundane Tuesday. 

------

Some people could only truly let loose when they had some liquid courage in their system but for you, it was when you knew you had nowhere to be in moments of pure happiness, and also when you were fighting off sleep.

You, Jeonghan and your group of friends had been at the chicken restaurant for the past four hours, revelling in the freedom of finishing another year at university and not having to worry about completing another module or a cursed discussion post.

You sat across from him, he could see you progressing into a sleepier state by the minute and leaning onto the people beside you but then startling yourself out of sleep every so often to join in the conversation.

He pretends to focus on his own food and conversations, but his eyes stray towards you, not a single worry of someone catching him—not that any of your tipsy friends were paying attention.

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the restaurant, maybe it was the way you were chuckling at any small quip. Maybe it was the way you kept blinking, trying to push out any drowsiness or perhaps it was the way your responses started to jumble into one another, turning into a cute incoherent mess of phrases littered with poor attempts of suppressing yawns. At one point, he simply ignores whatever the conversation beside him is happening, his sole focus on you.

The final nail in the coffin, he realizes that he is utterly and completely head over heels for you. More than just a tug at his heart, more than butterflies in the pit of his stomach and more the happiness of your adorably sleepy state was his longing. The world around him was a blur of fuzzy faces and twinkling lights but you, you’re clear as crystal to him.

Still battling out sleep, you turn your head to meet Jeonghan’s eyes already placed on you. The two of you lock eyes, allowing yourselves to hold each other’s gaze, unwavering.

It’s as if the world is a little brighter around one another, the outside world a mere background. The two of were frozen in time trying to convey the uncertainties hidden deep past the surface of your hearts in your gaze.

A loud BANG and CLUTTER of cutlery and glass startles you out of the silent game of yearning. The moment dissipated, the wave of reality washes over you both—unsure of what exactly to do past it.

TAG LIST: @jjeongddol | @i-luv-stuff

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

❤️ x 🌒

give the not so angry dorito some comfort (*´ω｀*)

Warmth

(V4 Eclipse)

———————————————————————————

It settles inside him again as he sits in the dark of Foxy’s room, purple lights setting the walls aglow. A once unfamiliar turned more and more familiar feeling.

It seeps into his chest like oil in the tank of a car. Warm and filling in a way that sparks…something deep inside of him. Something that makes him rush to cut off the whirring rumbles that purr to life in his chest (a sound he vehemently dismissed as the sputter of some inner engine when Ballora pointed it out). Something that overrode the logical side and made him listen to other parts of himself that he rarely had before. It was as frightening as it was strangely enjoyable— this…something.

The drone of the television had long since faded to black silence. Eclipse could barely remember what had been playing on it before— some anime Monty had convinced everyone to watch for movie night— he thinks it was about exorcists but he’s not entirely sure. Jake and Andy and even Andrew had seemed to enjoy it though.

Speaking of…

Eclipse looked down as he felt a shift against him. An endo body cloaked in black curled against his lap like a cat, arms folded under their head. Tucked against his right side was the ghostly visage of Andrew— the touch of the kid’s phantom body against his felt fuzzy and barely there, like the static buzz from the screen of an old television. It was odd but not unpleasant.

Eclipse could feel it as he watched the two—technically three, actually—sleep peacefully. That warm feeling burrowed itself into his chest and spread itself over his body like a blanket soft as down. He only vaguely recalled having this feeling before in his previous lives (never in his third but there was a flicker of that something hidden somewhere in the recollection of his second and first). This life was the most he had ever felt it, though this life was also his first experience of many different things— things that before he would never have thought himself capable of experiencing.

Eclipse is broken from his train of thought by the quiet clearing of a throat. Looking up, he is greeted by Puppet’s smile. It is the kind of curled, crescent-eyed smile that he has come to associate with her more playful moods— or rather, a display of mirth typically aimed at him.

“What?” He grumbled out in a low voice.

“Nothing, Nothing.” Puppet waved her spindly hand dismissively. There was a small pause and then she continued, disregarding what she had just said, “I’ve just…never seen your rays do that before.”

Eclipse blinked slowly, brows furrowing, “Do what?”

“Spin.” She made a circular motion in the air with her finger, “Actually, I haven’t seen your rays move much at all. Sunshine’s do all the time, but not yours.”

Only then did Eclipse became acutely aware of the slow, circling motion of his rays. Quickly, he locked them back into place, “Tch, it’s not important.”

Puppet’s pinprick eyes twinkled with…something, hands cupped around her face like an enraptured child, “Come on, dude, it was kinda cool.”

Eclipse’s eyes narrowed and she raised her hands placatingly.

“Alright, alright.” She paused before a cheshire smile creeped slowly onto her plastic lips, “You’re such a softie, you know that?”

“Go fuck yourself.” He hissed, though the usual flash of annoyance was barely there now.

Puppet only laughed softly and stood from her seat in one of the smaller chairs, heading over to the door lit by Foxy’s Roxanne’s purple insignia, “We’re gonna be playing some games, maybe watching some more movies and stuff in the theater if you wanna join later.”

Eclipse grunted but didn’t say anything.

His gaze trailed back to the his kids sleeping soundly against him. Andrew shifted, curling closer— the soft, staticky feeling mingling with the strange warmth filling his chest that Eclipse was not privy to. There was a quiet click as his rays unlocked— something he didn’t acknowledge as the slow, circling motion began again. Just like he didn’t acknowledge the quiet rumbling that had started up in his chest.

“Oh, by the way– Eclipse?” He looked up to see her smile once again. But this one was different— softer around the edges, “For what it’s worth, you’re pretty good at the whole dad thing.”

———————————————————————————

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

tl;dr smoking a bowl outside with stoner!suguru getou

(hood!toji gets everyb caught up) [prev]

“Suguru, I swear I’m not mad… just curious how a romantic picnic date turns into a group affair.”

You lean into the phone camera, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Suguru’s sheepish expression. He avoids your gaze, moving his phone away as though shielding himself might lessen your scrutiny. You hear him inhale sharply.

“Hold on,” he says, voice low. “Let me go to my room.”

The screen shifts as Suguru walks through his apartment. The lighting dims, and soon his room comes into view. He sits back against the headboard, deftly tying up his hair before meeting your gaze again.

“Well…” he starts, dragging out the word. “I had all the food laid out in the kitchen to prepare—when Gojo bust in.”

You can already tell where this is going, but you let him continue.

“He got all excited, assuming we were all going on a picnic. Said it would make his week since his car’s in the shop and he’s had two migraines in a row. I… didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.”

Suguru gives you a knowing look, as if this explanation alone should suffice.

“Then,” he adds, rubbing his temples, “in true Gojo fashion, he invited Shoko and Nanami because, apparently, we haven’t all hung out in a while.”

You groan, setting your phone down to focus on your hair. “But we’re literally going today.”

“I know, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” His voice softens. “Hey, if it helps: Nanami’s driving, Shoko’s bringing the weed, and Gojo made all the food. We’ll pick you up last, so be ready by 1, okay?”

Your arms cross as you narrow your eyes at the screen.

“Please and thank you?” Suguru adds, flashing you a guilty smile.

By the time Nanami’s flashy Lamborghini pulls up outside, you’ve decided to focus on the bright side: a picnic is still a picnic, and riding in a sports car doesn’t hurt. As you step out the door, the car horn blares obnoxiously. You spot Gojo leaning over the console, earning a sharp scolding from Nanami.

The passenger window rolls down, revealing Gojo’s grinning face. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, and he’s decked out in a crisp Burberry shirt with bold blue lettering.

“Hop in, twin!” he calls, waving enthusiastically.

The butterfly door lifts open, and you climb in, greeted by the lively chatter inside. Suguru, sitting beside you, pulls you into a quick side hug, while Shoko smiles lazily from the other side.

“Ready for some chill vibes?” you ask, settling in.

Shoko sighs dreamily, brushing stray hair from her face. “God, yes. Work’s been a nightmare, and Utahime’s visiting her family, so I’ve been suffering alone.” She holds up a clear backpack, revealing sparkly glass pipes and a mylar bag. “I brought some goodies—figured they’d fit the picnic aesthetic.”

Nanami grunts from the driver’s seat as the car pulls away. “Picnic aesthetic, huh?” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “No wonder you’re so good at marketing.”

Shoko swats at him, laughing. “Damn right.”

Suguru drapes his arm over your shoulders, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushing against your skin. You peek at the GPS over the seat. “Gojo, you have the address to the nature reserve, right? I’ve been dying to see the pond. I think we’ll see swans!”

Gojo turns, flashing his signature grin. “Of course, sweetheart! You’re the best at picking scenic spots. And get this—Nanami’s trying a pipe for the first time. I’m thrilled.”

Nanami yawns, merging into the fast lane. “Just hope Gojo packed enough food for people other than himself.”

“Are you calling me big-backed, Nanamin?!” Gojo gasps dramatically, drawing a chorus of laughter, and the lack of response speaks for itself.

The trees are a deep, verdant green when you arrive. Sunlight filters through the canopy, casting golden streaks over the moss-covered ground. In the distance, you spot the pond, its still waters reflecting the sky.

Nanami parks carefully, muttering about the dirt ruining his tires. As everyone piles out, Gojo begins chattering about wild plants versus botanical gardens. You stretch your legs, joining Suguru at the trunk as he retrieves the picnic basket.

He grins, setting the basket aside before scooping you into his arms. “Let’s make this memorable,” he teases, lifting you effortlessly.

You squeak, clutching his neck as he carries you bridal-style. “Suguru!” Making good use of this vantage you squeeze at the flex of his biceps beneath your touch.

The group finds a sunny clearing near the pond, where Gojo unfurls a faded anime blanket.

“Is this… a Digimon blanket?” you ask, incredulous.

“Don’t shame me,” Gojo replies, flopping onto it like a starfish.

Shoko’s voice rings out. “Guys, there are mallards and swans! This spot is perfect.”

Suguru sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist. The group settles on the blanket, and Shoko begins unpacking the “tools.”

“Someone better have a lighter,” she says, pulling out a sparkly pink pipe.

Gojo raises a hand. “Torch incoming!”

Gojo grabs the pipe with a grin, packing it densely then handing it off to Nanami like a secret treasure. Nanami takes it with a steady hand, pressing his thumb over the carb and raising it to his lips. Gojo leans in, torch in hand, his elbow brushing your knee as he strikes it to life. The torch flares, a fiery orange that crackles sharply as it meets the bowl. Nanami inhales, his sharp cheekbones hollowing even more under the effort.

Leaning back onto his hands, he exhales a thick cloud, the smoke curling lazily upward before blending into the earthy aroma of moss and wood around you. It’s a strangely serene contrast—the cool, natural air swirling with the unmistakable musk of the smoke.

When Nanami cracks his eyes open, his usually stern face is softer, his posture visibly unwinding. He chuckles quietly, a rare, lazy smile creeping across his lips as his blond hair falls slightly over his forehead.

Shoko doesn’t wait long to snatch the torch from Gojo, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Watch this,” she teases, expertly lighting the bowl and taking a long drag. She exhales smoothly, her lips reddened from the pressure as perfect rings of smoke float into the air.

“Damn, Shoko, you’re too cool,” you murmur, enchanted as you wave your hand through one of the ghostly rings. It feels delicate against your skin before vanishing entirely.

“Shoko’s not the only one who can pull off tricks,” Suguru interjects, his cocky tone drawing everyone’s attention. He grabs the pipe, refilling it with deliberate care. With a smirk, he meets Shoko’s eyes. “I see your rings and raise you one.”

Suguru takes his hit, dragging deeply. When he exhales, his rings are massive, thick, and perfectly stacked, floating higher and wider than Shoko’s. The group collectively hums in impressed acknowledgment.

“Show-off,” Gojo mutters, his mock annoyance earning quiet laughter from everyone, including you.

When it’s your turn, you and Gojo, ever the chaotic duo, completely botch your hits. The smoke erupts in sharp, uncontrolled bursts as you both cough, doubling over in fits of laughter.

Suguru rubs your back in mock sympathy, unable to resist a sly jab. “You’d think you’d have learned something by now.”

It backfires quickly. A few rounds in, even the pros are struggling. Coughs ripple through the group as scorched lungs and parched throats demand mercy. The earlier finesse gives way to everyone wheezing and giggling uncontrollably.

The world around you starts to feel softer. The golden sunlight filtering through the trees feels warmer, the greens of the forest deeper. You breathe in the mingling scents of smoke, damp earth, and pine, savoring the strange but comforting mix.

Suguru’s fingers brush lightly over your forearm, sending a shiver across your skin. His soft hum is followed by a warm kiss pressed to your temple. You lean into him, feeling the weight of his presence grounding you.

“Guys! Guys!” Gojo’s hoarse voice interrupts the calm. He’s pointing wildly toward the pond, barely containing his excitement.

Squinting, you follow his gesture. Across the shimmering water, a pair of swans has landed. Their long necks intertwine gracefully as they glide across the surface, the image so peaceful it feels unreal.

The sight captures everyone’s attention, pulling a hush over the group as you all watch. The gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a bird fill the space.

Amidst the calm, Gojo’s shuffling breaks the silence. He’s hunched over the picnic basket, digging through its contents with increasing urgency.

“’M already hungry,” he grumbles, drawing groans from the group as the spell of the moment breaks.

Gojo pulls out a charcuterie board, followed by a tray of croissant sandwiches, a vibrant fruit platter, and bundles of baby’s breath flowers. The spread is as picturesque as a painting, sunlight glinting off the delicate petals and golden pastries. Suguru, suddenly interested, reaches over to pick up one of the flower bundles, plucks a single bloom, and carefully tucks it behind your ear.

“These are for you,” he says softly, his smile warm and radiant, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his dark hair gleams under the sun’s rays.

Shoko fake gags, waving a hand dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You two are hopelessly in love or whatever. Meanwhile, some of us have been abandoned by our partners.”

You chuckle and reach out to cradle Suguru’s cheek, pulling him into a kiss. His skin is warm and soft, and you resist the urge to linger longer.

Meanwhile, Gojo has wasted no time digging into the food. Bread crumbs dot his chin, and he shoves a forkful of fruit into his mouth with little grace, chewing loudly and making exaggerated moans. Normally, his antics would irritate you, but today they only make you hungrier.

You gesture to him, and he passes you a croissant sandwich. Flaky crumbs drift onto the blanket as you take a bite, the buttery crust giving way to a symphony of flavors. A dab of sauce trickles down your lip, and you swipe it away with your tongue before holding the sandwich out to Suguru. He leans in to take a bite, his lips brushing against your fingers.

If there’s one thing Gojo excels at, it’s setting the perfect mood with food. Suguru hand-feeds you sweet, tangy strawberries as you recline on the blanket, the pond glimmering in the distance and sunlight casting golden shadows over the lush greenery.

A speckled mallard waddles closer, eyeing the crumbs on the blanket with hopeful intent. Gojo notices and begins crumbling a croissant in his palm.

“Nuh-uh! Oh, hell no,” Shoko says, lunging to swat at his hand. “Feeding ducks is terrible for them—it causes malnutrition!”

Gojo dodges her attempt, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. One crumb can’t hurt. Besides, it’s already been subjected to secondhand smoke thanks to you, Sho’.”

Shoko winces, clearly torn between her environmental convictions and the undeniable truth of your earlier indulgence. Nanami, surprisingly, places a hand on her shoulder.

“Relax,” he says calmly.

Your eyebrows shoot up. Nanami, the usual voice of tension, diffusing a situation? Gojo notices too. He saunters over, dramatically wrapping his long arms around Nanami’s shoulders and burying his face in the blonde’s neck.

“Save me, Nanamin~” he drawls.

Nanami stifles a chuckle—his first real crack in composure—and it’s clear the weed is doing its work.

“Open up,” Suguru says, drawing your attention back to him.

He dangles a plump grape above your mouth, teasing you with a grin. You open obediently, humming with pleasure as the juicy sweetness bursts on your tongue. Suguru’s fingers are stained crimson from the berries, and he holds up a bright green slice of kiwi next.

As you savor it, the tangy flavor lingers on your tongue, and a random question pops into your head. “Mmm, juicy. Hey, Sugu, is kiwi a fruit or a veggie? I mean, it’s green, and most green foods are vegetables.”

He blinks at you, clearly caught off guard, his stained fingers hovering in the air. You reach out, grabbing his wrist, and pull his hand to your mouth. Slowly, you lick at his fingers, swirling your tongue around his forefinger before sucking it gently. The faint fruity tang sends a pleasant hum through you, and Suguru’s eyes darken with quiet amusement.

“Sweetheart… kiwi is definitely a fruit,” he says, cheeks tinged with pink as he carefully slips his fingers from your mouth. “It has seeds. That’s basic knowledge, y’know. Let’s blame this… lapse on the bud.”

“Mean,” you pout, batting your lashes playfully.

His smile softens as he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “At least you know I’d never lie to you.”

You smirk mischievously. “Wish you’d lie to me sometimes, Sugu.”

Gojo cuts in, pointing an accusatory finger at the group. “That goes for all of you, rude as fuck! Now come on—make it up to me by feeding the duckies!”

The high must’ve softened everyone’s resolve because, against your better judgment, you all comply with Gojo’s whim, trudging to the pond’s edge with croissants in hand. The sunlight filters through the trees, warming your skin as the dirt path crunches softly beneath your shoes. A pair of swans, their feathers pristine and white, glide toward the shore, their movement as graceful as a brushstroke.

“Here they come!” Gojo exclaims, his voice cutting through the tranquility like a slap.

The swans jolt, flapping their wings in alarm before settling again.

“And you’re so obnoxious,” Nanami mutters, casting a sharp look at Gojo. “You’re going to scare them off.”

Undeterred, Gojo grins while Nanami kneels by the water’s edge, cooing softly at the swans and sprinkling a few crumbs in front of his feet.

Shoko inhales deeply, a serene smile spreading across her face as she takes in the lush scenery. 

“This is… nice,” she says, her voice dreamy. “Fresh air, earthy smells. Feels good to be surrounded by actual greenery for once. Usually, the only plants I see are the ones we smoke.” She shakes her head, the ends of her golden-brown hair brushing over her shoulders. “It’s kind of sad.”

You squat down, carefully grounding yourself with one hand wrapped around Suguru’s ankle. Your free hand skims the pond’s surface, the coolness of the water sending a shiver up your spine.

“They say, ‘go outside and touch grass,’ like it’s a joke,” you murmur, glancing up at Suguru, “but maybe they’re onto something.”

He chuckles softly, the vibrations traveling down to where your hand rests on his leg.

A thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Hey, guys… is water wet?”

Suguru freezes, letting out a sharp cough as though choking on air. To your right, Gojo snorts so loudly it startles the swans again.

“You lost me.”

“Guys, this is a judgment-free zone,” you insist, shooting Gojo a pointed look. “I expect sincere answers.”

Nanami groans, clearly over the conversation, but continues feeding the swans in stoic silence.

Gojo hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Okay, okay, I laughed, but now I’m genuinely stumped. I mean, water isn’t technically wet, right? It’s just… water. It only makes things wet. On its own, it just is.”

You perk up. “That’s what I’m saying! Water can make you wet, but that’s just the sensation. Objectively, you’re the one who’s wet.”

Suguru, exasperated, pulls his ankle free from your grip and hauls you upright, gripping your shoulders firmly. “You’re all ridiculous,” he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Of course water is wet. It’s a liquid. It has moisture. This isn’t up for debate; it’s basic science.”

“Smartass,” you huff, shrugging out of his grip.

Nanami clears his throat, his tone surprisingly contemplative. “Actually, Getou, I think they have a point. Wetness is about contact. Water itself isn’t wet—it’s what makes things wet. It’s all about perspective.”

Shoko throws her hands up. “What the fuck?! You guys are gonna give me a headache and ruin my high. Debate over. Full stop.”

You flick Suguru’s chest playfully. “Face it, we presented the better argument.”

Gojo sticks his tongue out in agreement, the obnoxious red muscle wagging in Suguru’s direction.

Suguru smirks, his grin teasing and wicked. “Funny because my argument came from someone intimately familiar with wetness. You might say I’m an expert in the field, after all.”

“Suguru!” Your face flames as you slap his arm, and Shoko groans in disgust.

Nanami doesn’t miss a beat, pointing toward the trail. “Getou, you’re done. Time out. Ten minutes. Go take a hike.”

Suguru raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I was going to check out the trail anyway.” He turns to you, dark eyes glinting. “Coming?”

You sigh but follow, the breeze by the water starting to chill you.

As you start walking, you catch Gojo giving Suguru a sly dap and a slap on the back. Thick as thieves, those two.

Suguru quickens his pace to match yours, and when you swat at his arm in retaliation for his earlier comment, he catches your hand effortlessly. Linking his arm through yours, he pulls you close as the trail winds through wiry trees.

You stop at a wooden post where the dirt path climbs steeply over an incline of jagged rocks. You eye the trail warily.

“You’re kidding,” you mutter, already regretting following him.

Suguru presses a finger to your lips, his grin widening. “No complaints. You wanted to smoke outside, so we’re fully immersing ourselves in nature.”

Grumbling, you follow his lead, climbing carefully over smaller stones before tackling the larger ones. Your footing slips near the top, but Suguru’s hand steadies you, his grip firm.

“Careful there~” he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.

You shoot him a glare as you regain your balance, brushing dust and dirt off your clothes. He nudges your shoulder gently. “Look around.”

You do—and the sight takes your breath away. Behind you, the slope drops sharply, the rocks giving way to a sprawling field dotted with vibrant magenta and lemon-yellow flowers. Patches of lush green grass ripple in the breeze, framed by towering trees that crest the hilltop above. The golden afternoon light bathes the scene, and for a moment, it feels like a dream.

The soft click of a camera pulls you from your reverie. Suguru grins at you from behind his phone, his cheeks high, eyes crinkled with genuine joy.

“… Beautiful,” he murmurs, though you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the view.

You raise a lazy peace sign, eyeing his hoodie, now dusty and frayed, with leaves clinging to the sleeves. “And you look cute, all dirty like this.”

He arches a brow and steps closer, looping your arms around his neck. “Well, that’s not fair,” he says, his voice low and teasing as his nose brushes your neck. “I’ll just have to get you dirty too.”

Suguru leans in close, his warm breath fanning over your lips, carrying the potent scent of weed, with traces of sweetness from the fruit. His loose bun barely holds back the strands of his hair that the wind has claimed, giving him an effortlessly ethereal look. You tilt forward, rising onto your toes to meet him, only for him to pull back with that signature, teasing grin, making you chase after him.

“Such a tease, Sugi,” you murmur, your thumb brushing along the short strands at the nape of his neck, the spot that always makes him shiver.

You trail soft kisses along his jawline, letting your lips explore, your tongue tracing the sensitive underside of his jaw. He hums, low and resonant, the sound vibrating through you. When your eyes meet his again, they’re darker now—his pupils blown wide with want.

Determined, you pout, pushing out your lower lip in a way you know will undo him. It works. Suguru closes the distance, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s hot and insistent. His lips move against yours with a rhythm that’s utterly addictive, their warmth a striking contrast to the chill breeze that raises goosebumps on your skin.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, rough fingertips brushing your bare sides. The contact sends shivers through you, and you instinctively arch into his touch. When a moan escapes you—soft, needy, and unintentional—it catches you off guard, but Suguru seems more amused than surprised.

“You’re more eager than usual,” he teases, the husky rasp in his voice making your head spin.

“I’m always eager for you,” you reply breathlessly, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug just enough to make him groan, the sound like fuel to the fire building between you. “You drive me crazy—can’t think straight.”

His answering laugh is low, reverberating against your chest as his hands tighten on your waist. But the humor fades when you press closer, your voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sugi, I need you. Right now.”

You pull at his hoodie biting down on his collarbone, rough enough to draw a hiss from him, your tongue darting out to soothe the reddened mark. Your fingers thread deeper into his hair, tugging hard until his gaze locks with yours. The look on his face sends a shiver down your spine—his cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, and his eyes dark with hunger. He looks wild, feral, as if the thin thread of control he’s clinging to might snap at any moment.

You slide your hand down to interlock your fingers with his, tugging him toward a stocky tree just a few feet away. When you stop, mere inches from the cracked bark, you guide his hands to your waist. He doesn’t need more prompting, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his body. His breath is hot against your neck, punctuated by kisses that trail down your nape, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

You press back into him, the loose material of his pants doing nothing to mask how hard he is. He grinds against you, and the friction sends a delicious ache pooling low in your stomach. His mouth works at your neck, nipping and sucking as if trying to mark every inch of you. You mewl as his teeth catch your pulse point, the sensation sharp and thrilling.

The pressure of his hips against the swell of your ass has you jolting forward, your hands flying to the rough bark of the tree to steady yourself. The sticky texture of the wood barely registers; all you can focus on is the heat building between your thighs. It’s overwhelming, almost unbearable. You’re already so close, and he hasn’t even—

“C’mon, Sugi,” you whine, sliding a hand under your shirt to tease your nipple. His large hand quickly replaces yours, tugging at the jewelry adorning it. His thumb brushes the cold metal, sending a shiver through you as he presses his erection harder against you.

Desperation takes over as your arch deepens, grinding against him with more urgency. His hand slides over the small of your back, and you glance over your shoulder, batting your lashes with a pout. “Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Need you.”

Suguru groans, the sound low and primal, as if your words snapped whatever restraint he had left. His hand grips your chin, tilting your face toward him. His dark eyes search yours, and when you nod, he exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling.

A minute later, you’re breathless as he yanks down your pants along with your panties in one swift motion, just enough to expose you. He frees himself, his cock bobbing up against his navel, thick and glistening with pre-cum.

He spreads your thighs with one hand, forcing you to press yourself further into the tree for support. The other hand returns to your nipple, his touch slick and wet, and then you feel him—his thick tip gliding along your folds, teasing. Your slickness mixes with his precum coating him easily, his head catching at your entrance before slipping up to brush your clit.

“Please,” you whimper, your voice cracking as you push back against him. But your words tumble out incoherently, your mind too hazy to form a proper sentence.

Suguru chuckles, his voice rough. “What was that, baby? Say it again. Clearer this time.”

You whine, frustration spilling over as you curse under your breath.

“Sugi, pu—ah!”

Suguru suddenly pushes into you in one smooth, fluid motion, your slick sucking him so deep you hear the soft slap of his hips against your ass. His cock stretches you, fills you completely, and you cry out, the sound echoing. Your head knocks against the tree as his chest presses against your back, his breathing heavy and ragged.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re so perfect, bent over for me.”

The sharp smack of his hand against your ass draws a yelp from you, the sting blooming into pleasure that makes you tremble. He pulls out slowly, the drag of his cock against your walls sending sparks down your spine. You push back against him, desperate for more, matching his rhythm as he thrusts deep, then slow, making you feel every inch.

“Feels so good,” you moan, your words slurring as you lose yourself in the sensation. “S-Sugi, you feel so good.”

His movements grow rougher, his hips snapping against yours with an urgency that drives you closer to the edge. The lewd sounds of your bodies meeting—wet, rhythmic, and desperate—fill the air, drowning out everything else.

“You’re so wet,” he pants, his lips brushing your ear. “So tight. Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so good.”

His hand finds your lips, and you instinctively suck on his fingers, coating them with saliva. When he moves them lower to rub tight circles on your clit, you gasp, your body jolting at the added stimulation. The dual sensations of his cock inside you and his fingers against your clit are too much, and you feel yourself spiraling.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice strained. “Fuck, I can feel it. So tight f’me.”

Your body shudders as his thrusts quicken, and his words push you over the edge. “Yours,” you manage to gasp, your voice breaking. “All yours—ah, Sugi!”

Your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him as your vision goes white. Suguru’s grip tightens on your hips as he drives into you, his breath hot and erratic against your neck. He murmurs praises in a husky tone, each word sending a shiver down your spine as he fucks you through your climax.

You remain clenched, your orgasm washing over you in waves, and you can feel his rhythm falter. Your mind is hazy, consumed by the need for more—an ache that only he can fill. Without thinking, the desperate words spill from your lips.

“Sugu… so deep, s’good—ah, come inside. Inside.”

As if compelled, his fingers dig into your flesh, leaving crescent-shaped imprints on your skin as he buries himself fully, shuddering. A guttural moan tears from his throat as he releases deep inside you, his warmth spreading, leaving you both trembling.

The sensation is intoxicating, his thick heat pooling within you as you instinctively push back, savoring every pulse and drop. His voice, raw and broken, murmurs your name like a prayer, and the way he groans against your ear is utterly intoxicating.

The chill of the air suddenly cuts through the heat radiating off your bodies, and you shiver, the reality of your surroundings creeping back. Suguru, noticing your tremble, seems to regain his senses. With a gentle, lingering touch, he eases out of you, carefully tucking himself back into his pants, his gaze soft as he steadies you.

The breeze is brisk, but the warmth of Suguru’s hands on your waist lingers, grounding you even as your legs feel weak and unsteady. You turn to face him, burying your face in his chest.

“Leed fan cee labe,” you mumble into his shirt, the words muffled and nonsensical.

“What was that?” he asks, his brows raising in confusion.

You lift your head, meeting his amused gaze with a sheepish smile. “Need a Plan B, babe.”

Realization dawns on his face, and his expression shifts. “Shit, you’re right.” His hands slide down to adjust your rumpled clothing, tugging your bottoms back into place. “Let’s head out now—we can stop so I can grab you one on the way.”

You nod, though the sticky discomfort between your thighs is impossible to ignore. A flush creeps up your neck, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the changing sky instead. The molten orange of the setting sun blends into hues of deep pink and violet, painting the horizon like a masterpiece. It’s breathtaking.

Suguru’s hair has completely fallen from its loose bun, the dark strands framing his face and catching the soft glow of the fading sunlight. He looks utterly spent, his lips curving into a lazy, content grin. You can’t help but smile back.

“Ready to head back?” he asks, his voice warm.

“Yeah,” you reply, even though your mind buzzes with the impending awkwardness of facing your friends. There’s no graceful way to rejoin them after what just happened, not when the evidence still clings to your skin. It feels like your secret is scrawled all over your face in bold letters.

The forest around you grows darker as the sun dips lower, the tall trees casting elongated shadows across the ground. When you reach the edge of the clearing, you spot the rest of your group by the pond. Gojo, Shoko, and Nanami are slapping at each other’s shoulders, giggling like some badass kids up to no good.

Suguru clears his throat, and Gojo spins around, his eyes narrowing playfully as he looks between the two of you. Suguru hooks his pinky around yours, the small gesture comforting.

“You two have been gone sus-pic-iously long,” Gojo sing-songs, dragging out the words for effect.

Your nose twitches at the strong, smoky scent of weed lingering in the air, and you spot the faint haze around them.

“And your eyes are suspiciously red,” you fire back, raising an eyebrow.

Nanami straightens, crossing his arms as if to feign sternness, but Shoko waves her hands dismissively, ushering the subject away.

“Fair enough,” she says, smirking. “Let’s call it even.”

Without further comment, the group begins gathering the picnic supplies—folding the blanket, collecting containers, and making lazy conversation about the sunset. The walk back to the car is peaceful, a comfortable silence. You feel spent, wrapped in the afterglow of your raunchy rendezvous with Suguru and the tranquil camaraderie of your friends.

But as you approach where Nanami’s sleek car should be parked, your steps falter. Instead of the vehicle, you’re met with two tire tracks imprinted in the dirt and an empty space where it once stood.

Nanami freezes, his jaw slack as he stares at the vacant spot. His face drains of color, and for a moment, no one says anything. It’s Gojo who finally breaks the silence.

“It can’t be… Did they tow it?” His voice carries a mix of disbelief and amusement like he’s caught between laughing and whining.

The realization settles over the group like a heavy cloud. You’re too tired to muster any real outrage, and your friends—still riding their high—seem similarly incapable of processing the situation.

Nanami buries his face in his hands, looking utterly defeated. Suguru, ever the calm one, pulls out his phone, typing rapidly.

“We just need to get back to the apartment,” he says, his tone steady. “My car’s there. I’m texting Toji to pick us up—he’s mobile anyways.”

You nod along with the others, eager to leave the wooded area before night fully descends. Suguru’s phone clicks shut, and he confirms Toji’s ETA. Relief washes over you at the thought of Toji’s reckless but dependable driving.

As you lean into Suguru’s chest for warmth, Gojo starts humming, then breaks into a loud, off-key rendition of Rihanna’s SOS. He’s halfway through the third chorus when the distinct roar of Toji’s car cuts through the air.

The Honda skids to a stop a few feet away, its engine revving loudly, headlights piercing the darkness. 

“Hurry, get in!” Toji’s gruff voice calls, leaning out of the driver’s seat, a smirk on his face that somehow screams both “here to save the day” and “brace for the worst.”

The five of you scramble into the car in a chaotic rush. Gojo claims the passenger seat after a brief, comical tussle, leaving Shoko, Nanami, and Suguru to squeeze into the back. You climb onto Suguru’s lap, shutting the door as the car lurches forward.

Perched awkwardly, you grip the back of Toji’s seat to steady yourself as the sedan jolts over uneven terrain. Toji glances back briefly, patting your hand beside his head. “Duck down if we pass any cops, would ya? Can’t risk another ticket.”

The sky outside deepens to a starless black, made even darker by the car’s heavy tint. Toji’s erratic driving tosses you against Suguru’s chest, each bump jarring you further. You focus on your breathing, willing away the queasiness creeping into your stomach.

Gojo hums some nonsensical tune, punctuated by bursts of loud TikTok videos from his phone. Shoko, meanwhile, has gone limp, her head lolling from Suguru’s shoulder to Nanami’s. Her soft snores are oddly soothing amidst the chaos.

Nanami, ever the skeptic, watches Toji’s movements with a wary eye, his body stiff. “Something wrong, Toji?” he asks, his tone heavy with suspicion.

Toji’s brows furrow as he spares a glance at the rearview mirror. His hands tighten on the wheel, and the car speeds up to cut off a vehicle in the next lane. “Nothing major,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of unease.

“Nothing major?” Nanami repeats, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you at your word—for now.”

Toji clicks his tongue, as if debating how much to share. “Fine. Just a little hiccup,” he admits. “I double-back on a wealthy guy I scammed—transferred a chunk of cash to my second account earlier today. Forgot to use a VPN, though, so my withdrawal’s traceable. But don’t worry. I’ve got it all handled.”

The car goes quiet as his words sink in. You sit up straighter, your breath catching. Nanami chokes on whatever he was about to say. “You… what? Are we safe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toji says dismissively. “Relax. The IP’s all messed up anyway. I use public Wi-Fi—it’s not like they can trace it straight to me.”

Suguru groans, exasperated. “We’ve heard enough Toji, don’t incriminate my friends. Just get us home.”

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against the back of Toji’s seat. The constant dinging of notifications coming from his phone hoisted on the windshield mount is grating, and apparently, Gojo agrees—he snatches the device and powers it off. Toji glares but says nothing, his focus returning to the road.

“I’m getting carsick,” you mutter, pressing the button to roll down your window. Cool evening air rushes in, washing over your face and filling your lungs. Relief floods through you as familiar streets and buildings come into view, signaling the end of this turbulent ride.

Toji maneuvers into a tight spot between a Jeep and a Benz at the end of Gojo and Suguru’s street. The car creaks to a stop, and Suguru’s arms, which had been wrapped around your waist, shift to your thighs, smoothing over your legs.

You spot a sleek car with its hazards on, inching down the road. Squinting, you lean forward. “Check it out, Sugu! It’s a Bugatti.”

Suguru leans with you, intrigued. The car’s deliberate, almost sluggish pace feels odd, and you jab his chest lightly. “Scoping out the scenery, huh?”

Your teasing dies in your throat when the car suddenly surges forward, erratic and fast. The window facing you rolls down, and your heart sinks as the unmistakable silhouette of a gun muzzle emerges from the shadows within.

“Shit,” Toji growls, his voice tight with panic. His hand shakes as he fumbles to restart the ignition, the lanyard holding his keys slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor. Suguru yanks at your shoulders, trying to pull you down.

“What the hell’s going o—” Gojo’s voice cuts off as a thunderous crack tears through the night, the car shuddering violently as a bullet slams into its side. The second shot comes too quickly, sharp and jarring, the sound ricocheting inside the confined space. Chaos ignites in an instant.

Instant pain blooms in your left shoulder, hot and unforgiving, like fire spreading under your skin. It steals the air from your lungs, and a scream bursts from your throat—raw, guttural, almost unrecognizable as your own. Your eyes drop to your arm, now streaked with crimson, blood dripping steadily down to your fingertips.

Gunshots. I’ve been hit. A bullet grazed me. What the fuck? If Toji isn’t dead, I’m gonna kill him myself.

The thoughts slam into you, disjointed and surreal, the world spinning as your mind struggles to grasp the gravity of the moment.

“Suguru, they—” The words barely make it past your lips before his hands are on you, firm but trembling as he grips your shoulders. His voice is frantic, his usually steady tone cracked with panic. “Get down—stay low!”

Toji’s curses cut through the chaos, sharp and biting. His fist slams against the dashboard as the engine sputters to life. “Hold on!” he barks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The car jerks forward, tires screeching against the asphalt, but the motion only worsens the dizziness clawing at you.

Your vision begins to blur, black spots creeping into the edges, stars flickering like dying embers. The muffled voices around you—Suguru’s urgent commands, Toji’s muttered expletives—start to fade, swallowed by the throbbing pain and the encroaching darkness.

Slipping under, the last thing you hear is Suguru shouting your name before unconsciousness claims you.

[taglist: @inthedarkshadows000 @saltyhansen @m0rgui @walq-chan @creative1writings @mentallyillcore @yourname-exee xoxo]

10/10 fanart by @murawya on pinterest

[bluewatersfairy]

ease my mind (come over) - j.p.

a/n: happy new year! here's the first part of a series that's been sitting in my drafts for months (it'll be about 4 parts, the first two are written).

synopsis: reader is in their first year on the wizard's media team and has a run in with the teams star while working late at the facility.

warnings: none! my first clean nba fic, how far we have come.

word count: 1.8k she's short and cute

•••

Your eyes felt like they were starting to burn with how long you’d been glued to your computer screen.  This was your first year working media for the Wizards and you were determined to prove yourself a worthy hire.  

Having lived in Washington for University, you’d attended several Wizards games over the years – they were a good first date option and you often found yourself cheering for the underdog.  One of the last guys you’d gone with had assumed you were from the area, commenting on how you were so overprotective of a team that has definitely seen better years.  That’s part of the reason why when someone posted the job vacancy on one of your old class pages, you applied.  

Now you were a week in with the media team and today was your first day with the actual team and everything had been blowing by you so quickly, you barely had time to process it.  So far, they’d given you jobs that were difficult to fuck up, but you wanted more than that.  You were above an intern (thank god) so you were actually shooting the camera and editing, but it was all behind-the-scenes shots.  

It was a bit like being a kid at a family event.  You were shadowing a few higher ups and fading into the background as best as possible while they were doing their thing with the players.  Most, if not all, of your shots that you’d been working on all night had included no players' faces.  Barely any faces actually.  But you’d created something of a story out of it and had managed to turn each photo into something you were proud of.  

In your head, it was giving justice-league doing interviews after saving the city.  You had everyone on the roster and could easily make a graphic out of it.  You had that fizzy feeling in your fingers as you switched between your tablet and the computer, mapping out what it could be for your pitch tomorrow.  

Interrupting your stream of thought, your phone lit up on the desk beside you, violently vibrating – making you jump.  It was your roommate calling to see when you were going to be home.  It was gone midnight and they were starting to get worried.  You begrudgingly told them you’d be home by one and started to get ready to go.  You made sure to transfer the pictures you’d spent hours on to your tablet as well as a few video clips you’d taken “just in case”.  It was gonna take 25 minutes for everything to transfer (the wifi was stupidly slow), so you grabbed your camera and phone and figured you’d take a walk around the facility and see if there was anything that caught your attention.  

You weren’t thinking of much, maybe you’d find a fun angle of the courts or something about the building that seemed aesthetically pleasing.  You were all of 3 metres out of your office when you heard the faint echo of basketballs hitting the floor and shoes squeaking.  Not exactly what you were expecting, but you followed it all the same. 

Standing at the doorway to the basketball courts, you were met with the one and only #13, Jordan Poole, shooting mid range jumpers.  He had his earbuds in and was shirtless, glistening in sweat.  He’d clearly been here for a while.  You hadn’t realised you’d been so concentrated that you didn’t hear the only other sound in the building until you were pushed out of your office.  The door was wide open too. 

“Yoo,” Jordan dragged out in surprise when he turned to see you.  His hand instinctively reached up to take one of his earbuds out and he knocked away a ball.  His eyes first scanned over your face, then down your body before they landed on your camera.  He made eye contact with you and stood still for a second before pointing at you.

“You’re the new media girl,” he identified as he started to walk a bit closer to you, a ball now tucked under his arm, “I’m not gonna pretend to know your name but I’m Jordan.”  He held his hand out to you and you slowly took it, staring up at him minorly confused and somewhat dazed.

“I know,” the words fell out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.  He smirked briefly and let go of your hand, “I’m Y/N, and yeah.  The new media girl.”  

“I didn’t think anyone else was here,” he said tilting his head to the side, “I would’ve let you know otherwise.  I’ve got a key and all the alarm codes so you don’t have to worry about me getting out if you’re heading home.”  

“Oh, I’m not-” you cut yourself off again and looked behind you at nothing in particular, “I mean, I am about to leave, but I’m not.  Yet.”  Every part of your body was telling you to stop talking, to say goodnight, turn around and leave.  But your feet couldn’t move.  You were stuck in mud under Jordan’s gaze.  He looked tired, really tired.

“You look like you have a question,” he smiled as he took out his other earbud, “or like you're lost.  I can’t really tell.”  He chuckled a little, mostly to himself and turned his eyes to the floor before he started walking to where his stuff was.  

“I’m not that type of media person,” you said, slowly following him, “I just take pictures and videos, I don’t ask questions.”  You stopped about 4 metres away from where he was bent over.  He was putting his earbuds away, you realised.

“You, as a person,” he turned his head to face you, “don’t ask questions?” he raised his eyebrows and again started to smirk.  He was playing with you, teasing you.  You were too tired to properly process any of this. 

“I do, of course!” you exclaimed a little too loudly, your eyes widening at the sound of your voice, “I ask too many actually, but I don't get paid to, y’know?  So you don’t have to do any dodging with me, I just,” you paused and raised your camera, “take pictures.”

“And videos,” he added, pointing at you.  

“And videos.”  You took a deep breath and lowered your hand.  You were realising, right then, that you did in fact have a question for him.  

“Can I ask you a question?”

He smiled, like he was waiting for you to get there and patted the seat beside him, “only if you sit down next to me.”

So you did.  You sat down and pulled your legs up to tuck them under you.  Jordan turned slightly so he was facing you better and for the first time, you caught his scent.  It was mixed with his sweat, but it was rich and smooth, and oh so familiar.  Not that you could put your finger on it.  

“Hit me,” he said, pulling you out of your head again.  He smiled brightly at you and you returned it.

“Is there something about our media team that makes you uncomfortable?” you blurted out, it’d been on the tip of your tongue all day.  “At Golden State, you seemed so warm to the media team, but here, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

His smile slowly faded and he looked down at his lap, biting his bottom lip slightly before pushing his lips together.  He looked at you and pushed his tongue between his teeth. 

“It’s not just with this team, your team,” Jordan said honestly, “there was just a point where I felt like I couldn’t say the right thing so I just,” he paused and leant back in his seat, “pulled back with them.”  

Jordan sat in thought for a moment before turning to look at you to see what you had to say.  You didn’t have much, to be honest.  You’d not known this media team all that long and the only reason you even knew any of this was because you were a fan of the team.  And Jordan.  

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” Jordan broke out of the conversation and leant forward, dropping the look of vulnerability that very briefly crossed his face.  “‘You come to games often?”

You laughed, accepting you were moving on from your once serious conversation.  “I do, it’s sort of my go-to first date idea.”  

Jordan made a face before the two of you shared a quick chuckle, “you like watching your home team lose on a date?”  

“Hey,” you quipped, swatting at his arm, god his arms were solid, “you guys won most of the games I was at.”  

He rolled his eyes and chuckled a little, “no wonder I remember your face then, you must be our good luck charm.”

Before you could respond your phone started buzzing again.  Your roommate was video calling you this time, not a good sign.  So, you declined it and tucked it under your thigh.  

“It’s late,” Jordan said as he glanced at his watch.  He’d watched you decline a call from one ‘loveyyy’ and he decided he wasn’t putting himself in a smart position.  “You must have someone waiting at home for you.”

“Just a roommate who listens to the traffic radar too much,” you stood up, following Jordan and looked up at him for a moment when a thought crossed your mind.

“Did you enjoy doing the mini mic interviews?”  He was caught off guard, it showed in the way his eyebrows shot up and he instantly smiled.

“I did,” he nodded his head, “I dunno why they didn’t try and keep them going here.  They talked about it for a minute last season.”  

That was your entry point, you were sure of it.  Jordan was always stand offish towards everyone but he seemed to like talking to you.  If you could get him a mini mic and a few questions, you were sure you could make something of it.  A season-long series would basically prove your worth, secure you a proper spot on the team and Jordan was their best option for media engagement.  He was charismatic and good looking; the perfect poster boy. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called to him as you started walking off, your brain in quick motion, “hopefully with a mini mic.”

“I look forward to it,” Jordan called out after you.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he’d just set up, but he liked your vibe.  You were easy to talk to and finally stopped the thought that had been spinning in his head all day.  This felt like a do-or-die season.  If he didn’t play his best, he wasn’t sure they’d keep him around come February.  And he wanted to stay here, he wanted to make a name for himself separate from everyone else.   

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝓞𝐔𝐑: 𝓘 𝓖𝐨𝐭 𝓨𝐨𝐮

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 2.1k

summary -> having to comfort cheol after a particularly scary scene in a movie, his sister not answering her phone resorting to you caring for him. warnings -> the suggestion of cheating.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

9:44PM

𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 the orphanage, your mood had been remiss, arriving halfway through the movie. The drive from the Café a great distance, not doing you any favors with the added on traffic that had been nothing less than merciless. On any other day it wouldn't have bothered you to miss the beginning of a movie as much but tonight was different. For weeks upon end the children had begged, and pleaded with all their might to convince your mother to screen a particular film—an adaptation of an old folk tale, one you had been curious of since first seeing the previews even though it was aimed towards kids. Missing even a second of it stung more than you'd like to admit, almost feeling childish for the small pout that made home on your face because of it.

Without wasting another moment, you bolted out of the car and bolted towards the "movie room" which in reality was just a second living room, refurbished to look as such with an added projector and a small popcorn machine. Quickly, you slung your bag off of your shoulder, dropping it onto the front bench while kicking your shoes off before quietly tip-toeing towards the kitchen to make yourself a snack, knowing that the children themselves had already conducted something beforehand, always making their own special little treats for nights like this.

Slipping into the room as quietly as possible, throwing a gentle wave at the children who noticed you while simultaneously holding your finger to your lips to make sure they didn't alert the others, the last thing you wanted was to face the chaos of whispers and giggles from other children interrupting the movie, knowing just how rowdy they got over the smallest distractions.

Settling into a corner towards the back, you tried to focus on the screen, forcing your mind to catch up with the story. It had started out innocently enough—a group of friends exploring an area they shouldn't have been with added on lighthearted banter. Until the movie suddenly took a darker turn, something that was supposed to be lighthearted and fun with an occasional scare or two, spiraled into something chilling and borderline sinister, leaving everyone quiet. The room thick with tension.

Out of instinct you couldn't help but glance over towards Cheol, who sat stiffly on a worn floor cushion in front of you, his small hands clenched tightly into fists, nails digging into his palms with great strength. His doe eyes suddenly wide, and filled with tears as he remained frozen in his spot, eyes fixed on the screen as if he couldn't move an inch, the tremble of his body noticeable as he took rapid shallow breaths.

“Cheol?” you quietly whispered, concern laced in your voice as you leaned down closer to him. He didn’t respond, it was almost as if he couldn't. You watched as his mouth was slightly agape, his lips quivering before a soft shaky sob escaped him. A few kids turned towards him at the noise, some faces laced with concern while others snickered to their friends.

Without hesitation you lifted yourself from the couch, moving quietly but swiftly to where Cheol sat frozen in place. You crouched down to his level before gently wrapping an arm around him, quietly guiding him out of the room so you wouldn't draw anymore attention to yourselves, murmuring soft reassurances to him on your way out. You led him outside to the back porch, the freezing night air greeting you both with an occasional gust of wind.

Once outside, you crouched back down to his eye level, brushing a few stray hairs that stuck to his tear-stricken face. “Cheol," you quietly start off, your voice no louder than a whisper. "Are you okay? It's just a movie, I promise.” you quietly soothed, your thumb brushing away his tears. But as if your reassurances had no affect on him, Cheol's sobs grew louder, his hands that were balled into fists holding the bunched up fabric of his shorts suddenly shot up, hooking around your neck as he buried himself into your shoulder, his body heaving and shuddering as sobs continued to wrack out of him.

His small frame trembled wildly in your arms, each gasp of air cutting straight into your heart. “I-I want my sister,” he choked out between sobs, his voice thin and broken, laced with a despair that nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Without a second thought, you held him closer to your frame. “Okay, okay." you murmured softly, keeping your voice steady. "I'll go grab the house phone and we'll give her a call, okay?” you reassured. You brought him inside and guided him to sit by the door before untangling yourself from his grip. Quickly, you hurry towards the hall closet and grab a spare blanket, draping it over his form before saying "I'll be right back, will you be okay while I go back into the movie room for a second?" and even as his cries subsided into quiet sniffles with the occasional sob, he nodded, holding the wrapped blanket around himself even tighter as you bolted towards the movie room.

You tip-toed back into the room, slipping inside as quietly as you could. The glow of the projector filled the space and casted shadows over the walls and all of the children's dazed faces. Walking over to your mom who had been fighting a losing battle with sleep in her arm chair, her head lolling off to the side before shooting back up, only to repeat the movement again and again. Reaching her side, you tap her arm gently, before gently clasping both of your hands together in a pleading motion. "Please, please, I need your phone." you quietly whisper. With furrowed eyebrows and blurred vision she mumbles out a gruff "Why?"

"Um, Cheol really needs to talk to his sister. Please, it's urgent." You admit quietly, your hands flying around in a gesture of urgency. Your tone softened but the desperation clear with the slight crack in your voice. With an annoyed sigh, she waved you off. Mumbling out a barely coherent sentence "Her-mm-m-phone number—mm-fridge."

Shooting off of the floor, you quietly tip-toe out of the room and hurried towards the kitchen. As you pass the back door your eyes landed on Cheol. He sat slumped on the floor, his back on the glass pane of the back door, the blanket still wrapped tightly around him as his shoulders still shook with cries. The sight making you quicken your pace.

Reaching the fridge, your eyes quickly scan the fridge covered in magnets and pictures until you find a list of phone numbers. Your finger trailing down found the list of numbers on the fridge, until you see 'Kang Sae-Byeok'. You whisper her name under your breath, repeating her number like a mantra, leaving your lips in a whisper as you type it into the orphanages landline, in your head praying that she picks up.

The dial tone droned on—one second, then three, then six, then ten until you're met with the sound of the hollow monotonous tone of an automated message. A frustrated sigh leaving your lips, before you unknowingly start to nibble on the nail of your, a nervous habit you struggled to shake.

The beep signaling to leave a voicemail made my discouraged slouched position stand up straight, "Uh, Sae-Byeok, Hi. So, It—um was movie night tonight here and the movie we watched really scared Cheol and he's asking for you. Please, if you have the time to swing by to talk to him, I'd really appreciate it, He's really upset and could use your help. But—um I guess you're busy right now, so, just come by whenever you get this. Annnnd, Oh! This is Kim Y/n, Calling off of the orphanages home phone, if—uh, if you didn't know. ahem, okay bye." Hanging the phone up, you bring both of your hands to cover your face, your eyebrows pinching in embarrassment as you slowly shook your head. "What the fuck was that about?" you quietly murmur to yourself before making your way towards Cheol, a hesitance in the way you walked. "How am I going to tell Cheol?" you ask yourself, your frown deepening at the thought as you traded back to his figure.

He was still curled under the blankets, his cheeks a soft rosy color, slightly damp from the onslaught of tears that had come to a stop from his now bloodshot eyes. You sat yourself next to him, bringing your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I'm sorry, Cheol. I couldn’t reach her,” You quietly admitted. “But I’m here, okay? You’re not alone.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched out between you two, heavy, and thick with no movement. The whistling sound of wind being heard from the glass back door along with the muffled noise from the movie filled the silence.

After a long pause, he leaned into you again, resting his head on your side without a word. Your heart swelled at the amount of trust he had in you, a fragile thing you dared not to take for granted. Wrapping an arm around him once more, and leaning your head on the back door, the feeling of the cold glass soothing the heat that radiated off of your scalp. You whispered to him quiet reassurances, a hand rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him and slowly, his jagged breathing steadied, and his sniffles subsided.

Feeling his form slump further into yours gave you the signal that he was fast asleep. Slowly unraveling his figure from beside yours, you hook your arms under his legs and behind his back, lifting him up bridal style to carry him back to his bed.

Slipping out of the house as quietly as you could, leaving with a tight farewell to your mother and a wave to the kids, the weight of the evening still pressing hard on you even on the drive back home with the windows down. Your thoughts tangled with the same persistent questions: Where was Sae-Byeok? Why hadn't she answered or called back? Was she safe? You knew she was strong but the silence on the other end of the line felt deafening which worried you. The questions buzzed in your mind, a storm of uncertainty you couldn’t seem to escape.

Before you could fall too far down the rabbit hole, your phone buzzed on the passenger seat, David's name and his face taking over the screen, a sigh leaving you as you threw your head back against your headrest. Eyes remaining on the road as you grab your phone and answer it. A small “Hi.” leaving your lips, even you couldn't hide the strain in your voice.

“Hey, sexy.” His voice was cheerful, sultry, a stark contrast to the knot of exhaustion that sat in your chest. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. It’s been too long without having you in my arms." he comments, a soft sigh escaping his lips. You pretended to not hear the muffled chatter of a female voice in the background, giggling and mocking his words to which he replied with a quiet laugh himself and a quiet "shh."

“Yeah,” You replied, forcing some enthusiasm into your tone although it still sounded flat. “Me too.” you added, but even you could hear the exhaustion mixed with irritation bleeding through your words.

There was a pause, then a faint edge to his voice. “You—don’t really sound excited.” a dry chuckle escaping his lips, something he did when he was annoyed, which he was a lot.

“No, I am! Really, I Promise” You followed up quickly, trying your hardest to convince him as well as yourself, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make up for your lack of enthusiasm, hm?” he sneered, his tone tight and laced with something sharp. “Anyway, you sound tired. I’ll let you get back to… yknow whatever it is you’re doing. Hopefully you're in a better mood tomorrow, yeah?" His farewell sounding more like a threat. Not a hope for you to feel better but more of a you will.

The line went dead before you could respond leaving you to stare at the road ahead, your phone tossed to the side as a scoff escaped you. His words replaying in your mind. Backhanded and dismissive, they left a sour taste in your mouth, rolling down the window to let cool air brush through your hair.

Fuck David.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[caprisun89bakerstreet]

How can I be guilty as sin?

Ch.1 - What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Series summary: the 5 times you almost told Obi-Wan about your feelings for him and the 1 time it slipped out

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

“You never kiss anyone.”

“You’ve never seen me kiss anyone.” He corrects you and you want to crash his speeder for saying that.

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi f!reader

Wordcount: 5.0k (got out of hand oops)

Chapter summary: the council got a tip that Cad Bane will be at a bar on Coruscant tonight. You and Obi-wan are send to capture him but a few drinks in your feelings for him are distracting as you start to get jealous

Tags/trigger warnings: alcohol, being pulled closer by stranger but is quickly resolved, reader gets jealous, protective obi-wan, forbidden love, yearning

Notes: this is not exactly finished but i’m too lazy to go through this and edit it again. And i spend too much time searching up in-canon alcoholic beverages—the things one does for writing a fic. Nowhere near perfect but anyways enjoy~

You were sitting in the Archives, looking through all the information available about a certain bounty hunter. One you disliked. A lot. Because you’ve already met him one or twice, and Cad Bane wasn’t the type you were ecstatic about to meet again. The Jedi Council got a tip from their contacts that Cad Bane, someone they’ve been trying to capture for months now, would be at a bar here on Coruscant tonight. The Durasteel Den. And you were assigned to capture him. Spitting through his information you don’t learn much else to your credit. He’s a bounty hunter. What did surprise you however is that he had recently kidnapped children. But there weren’t any clues as to why. The thought made your stumach twist. But there was someone else coming with you on this mission.

“Did you find anything?” You suddenly hear a familiar voice and turn to Obi-Wan standing behind you. If you could’ve bottled the sound of the warmth in it, his accent and the way it spread tingles through you, you would’ve gotten drunk on it every night. It would be stronger than the finest corellian whiskey that’s for sure.

“He’s bad with children.” You wildly understated as you look back at the screen with a frown. “But not much we don’t know already. I doubt we’ll need to know about his ‘babysitting skills’ if we’re leaving tonight.” You said, and felt Obi-Wan lean over your shoulder to look at the screen. Blast, why did you always feel as if there was an overwhelming force trying to escape the carefully locked insides of your heart whenever he’s near? You try to not turn your head to the side. Though part of you wanted to, just because he’s so close and maybe if you were living in a different time you could feel his lips brush over—-

“Ah. He enjoys making things difficult.”

“And he doesn’t know when to quit apparantly”

The chuckle that came from Obi-Wan then was the light of your darkest days. He moves away from you and places a hand on your shoulder as he looks down to you.

“I have to attend a meeting in a few minutes. But I’ll meet you at the landing platform tonight.”

“Right, see you later. And good luck.” You add casually and Obi-Wan gives you a look.

“You’re unbelievable.” He tells you with an amused smirk and walks away. And you can’t stop the grin that’s spreading on your face.

It was finally getting dark outside. The Coruscant skyline was illuminated by all the speeder lights for the famous nightlife the city has to offer. Sometimes you wonder how there even was a Jedi Temple on the planet being covered by infrastructure of a giant city. The only living Force being that of the millions of beings rummaging through the streets. From high class dealers, senators and officials to the lowest class scum, villainy and those living of scraps. The unfairness of this Galaxy always made you feel a very strong sense of injustice. Grabbing your lightsaber from your desk, and clipping it to your belt, you make your way to the landing platform. You already see Obi-Wan waiting for you. He greets you with a smile.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” He teases, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Hey I’m arriving at a perfectly reasonable time! But I also know how much you love to see me coming.” You tease back defensively and pat his arm gently as you walk past him to the speeder. You can’t see his grin as he shakes his head and follows you.

On your way to the Durasteel Den, you can’t get rid of the bad feeling in your stomach. Or maybe it was just because you were flying down the lower levels of Coruscant.

“Obi, Bane is smart, how do we know he’ll actually be there?” you ask then and glance at him.

Obi-Wan stays silent for a moment thinking about your words as he flies through the city. His brow furrow just slightly the way it always did when he was deep in thought.

“He’s smart, yes. But everyone let’s something slip sometimes. We can’t always be flawless.” He responds.

You give him a look. Because you were all too aware of Obi-Wan’s perfectionistic tendencies and how he beats himself up over every tiny single mistake.

“You know, that’s very ironic coming from you.” You tease him and can see the corner of his lips turn up. He glances at you.

“Oh so you think I am flawless?” He couldn’t help but tease back.

“No that’s not—“ you start but then shake your head and look away. “You know what i meant you kriffing nerfherder.”

He chuckles softly at your words and contiues to fly to the Durasteel Den. “Ofcours.” He awnsers then.

You try to ignore the fact you feel a little flustered. But you’re able to hide it. Like many feelings over the years. Because you weren’t supposed to feel like this as a Jedi. But maybe you did think he was flawless, was it that bad? You couldn’t help yourself and glanced at him again. With a look you only reserved for him, unknowingly. Though Anakin told you about it once. He could see the way you glanced at his former master whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.

Obi-Wan’s own faint blush was hidden by the darkness of the night- or rather covered by the different colored lights of the speeder-traffic.

Obi-Wan parked the speeder a block or two away as you continued to walk to the bar. Both of you putting the hoods of your robes up, you may not have been actually famous but you were both known around those who weren’t fond of Jedi. And unforutnately for you, that was almost a custom in the lower levels.

“Stay sharp, we don’t know if Bane has arrived yet but if he is, we can’t let him escape again.” Obi-Wan tells you as you approach the entrance.

“Hey, you know me, I’m observant.” You say smiling as you push through the door.

“Very.” He mumbles sarcastically rolling his eyes. You were observant, yes, but he also knew how easily distracted you’d get. But he wouldn’t admit to himself that the real reason he was sarcastic was because you somehow hadn’t noticed how his feelings for you were different from any other Jedi. Or friend. Or anyone for that matter. He forced the thought away as he walked in after you and saw you sit down at the bar. You had both agreed to split up, but to remain in sight. Since Bane would definetly recognize the both of you. He sat down a few chairs away from you as he glanced around the place. No sign of Bane. Yet. But there were many beings already. From all kinds of places in the galaxy, he presumed. Not knowing how long this night will be, Obi-Wan decided to order a drink.

You keep your hood over your head. You hated bars. They were crowded, loud and smelled awful. And too many different types of people were here, often with bad intentions. And the zabrak next to you was very clearly drunk as he swayed in his seat a little mumbling to himself. You couldn’t quite make out his words. But you also hadn’t noticed Cad Bane yet. He should be easy to spot if he was here. That damn blue alien, you think to yourself. You glance at Obi a few seats away from yours. The bar was curved which made it easy to glance to your right without obviously eyeing someone. But you shake your head when you watch a bartender give Obi-Wan a drink. Really? Already? Ofcours he would order himself a drink when we’ve been here for a minute. It wasn’t like he was alcoholic or anything, but the man did enjoy a drink every now and then. In your opinion, his choices of beverages were awful. He always enjoyed the strong stuff, like Avedame for example, though you shouldn’t be that surprised about that. The man drank black caff as if that’s how it’s supposed to be served. It worried you sometimes. Was it because of everything he’s gone through? Or was it just his terrible taste? Maybe both. You didn’t know. After a few minutes though you do order yourself a drink, Alderaanian ale. Mainly because it would’ve attracted too much attention if you didn’t. But you weren’t that opposed to one anyway.

After a while there was still no sign of Bane. And you grew incredibly bored. So bored you had ordered 3 drinks already, one of the 3 being Cortyg Brandy. After the first sip you decided you hated the taste of it and sticked to the Alderaanian stuff instead.

The bar had gotten more crowded, and you started to feel slightly hot after your second drink, so you pulled your hood down. You had noticed some dirty looks towards you, but managed to ignore them, you weren’t interested. Not that that mattered- you were on a mission. You did however have to tell some sleemo to piss off when he sat down next to you and placed a hand on your arm, and luckily he seemed drunk enough to oblige. Turning the glass on the counter of the bar trying to pass time, you glanced at Obi-Wan again. You weren’t sure how much drinks Obi-Wan had ordered. It was more than two. But you had lost count. Not that you were paying attention to him though, you had just noticed the bartender giving him his drinks. Is what you told yourself. No other reason. Though your glances became more frequent from the moment he had removed his own hood earlier. He was one of the nicer things to look at in this bar after all, you think as you take another sip of your drink and gaze at him. That moment you notice Obi-Wan looking directly at you. And you cringe at the thought of him knowing what you just thought of and look down at your practically empty drink. You’re a Jedi you can’t think about Obi-Wan like that. You know that. And have known that for a long time. Over the years your feelings for Obi-Wan hadn’t disappeared like you hoped they would. No. They only became stronger, more intens. Sometimes you wonder how you managed to even get knighted at all.

There was still no sign of that blast bounty hunter. Obi-Wan was starting to wonder if the information was even real as he tried to reach out to the Force and try to locate his presence. He didn’t. He did however, among all these different beings, with agendas he didn’t even want to know about, feel you. Your warmth. Your light and uplifting Force signature. Though it was a little off because of the drinks you’d had. Less obvious, but still impactful. Your tolerance was quite high, he knew that. But not as high as his. He supposed he’d build himself quite a tolerance for it over the years. Obi-Wan had spoken a few words with others, who looked approachable enough. But mainly open enough to give any information about Cad Bane if they had it. But he had no luck yet. And neither did you, he thinks as he watches you fumble with your 4th drink. He noticed you glancing his way quite a few times, but he didn’t think much of it. You were probably just bored and wanted to argue with him about something. He debated on just walking over to you, but decided against it when he had seen numerous shady beings walking around. They couldn’t risk exposing their cover. It would be too risky. So he ordered himself another Avedame.

After a while you almost wanted to just walk out and go home. It was no use, Bane was nowhere and he was never gonna show up anyway. But when you glanced at Obi-Wan again you noticed something. And it made your stumach twist in a way you hadn’t thought it could. There was a twilek woman suddenly sitting next to Obi-Wan. He didn’t seem too bothered by it. Obiwan was always the polite type, and rather good with words. Too good. And he was smart. And he always had those too witty comebacks of his that would drive you crazy. But the twilek was talking to him with a smile that screamed ‘I know you want me’. It makes your insides twist as you tighten your fingers around your drink. Obi-Wan smiled at her as they spoke. Though you told yourself he only smile because he was polite. But then the twilek’s hand was resting on his leg, as she moves closer to him too casually. She looks from his eyes to his lips and you quickly realize you want to vomit. So you glance back to Obi-Wan. And when you thought this couldn’t get any worse you see him lean in as he says something in her ear. You want to look away because you can’t physically sit here and watch Obi-Wan flirting with this twilek. It made you feel sick. But you couldn’t tear your eyes off of them as if afraid you’d miss something if you did. And you would have. You would’ve missed the way the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and oh so casually leaned into him when he placed his hand on her back. You weren’t the jealous type. You were never jealous. But oh how you could feel the Force around you start to change into enviousness. Grabbing your drink you finish it in one go. Why is Obi-Wan smiling at her? And why didn’t he hold you like that? Why was he so easily entranced by this twilek he didn’t even know, he’s never seen before, when you’ve been right there next to him for years? You thought that he cared about you, you know he did, you just thought that maybe he’d feel just a little more for you than this. You don’t even bother trying to hide your feelings in the force. You doubt he’d notice anyway since he’s so distracted by the woman. And before you knew it, her hands moved to hold his face and she pressed her lips against his. And you watch as Obi-Wan moves his hand to cradle her face as he kisses her back. Obi-Wan is kissing her. Obi-Wan is kissing someone that isn’t you. Disgust paints your features and you’re sure you’re about to be sick. And they’re not stopping. And besides disgust, jealousy and an enormous amount of envy, you feel something else. Your heart sinks to your stumach as you clench your jaw. Because you wish he’d kiss you like that… After a moment you stop the bartender and ask for an Avedame. Because you didn’t care about the taste right now, if anything it would be a good distraction. Obi-Wan had seemed to have found one…

After a minute or two you can’t take it anymore. They’ve been making out for two minutes at least and you’ve been forced to sit here and watch as Obi-Wan kisses someone he doesn’t even know when you’ve been dreaming of him kissing you for years. You hate him for it. Sometimes you hate being a Jedi. But you knew that if you weren’t, you never would’ve been brave to tell him anyway.. you finish your fifth drink of the night and it was one too many. Avedame really tasted awful. And you regret drinking it so quickly. But you notice the two nerfherder’s are finally done making out. The twilek caresses his face for a moment and you clench your jaw again. You watch as Obi-Wan says something to her and she pulls back and walks away. Obi-Wan turns back to the bar and looks at his drink before glancing at you. The force surrounding you feels like a haze of mixed feelings. Jealously, resentment, anger, hurt, remorse, insecurity, guilt all mixed up like a bottle of Corellian whiskey. You try not to drown in it. And it takes a moment for you to look away from him. Obi-Wan noticed. And for a few moments you look around the bar again, trying to get rid of your conflicted feelings. Until your eyes return to Obi’s seat. Which is empty. Why is it empty—where did he go? Oh. He must’ve followed that twilek somewhere else so they can—

“You seem distracted..” you hear a familiar voice beside you disrupt your thoughts and see obiwan sitting down next to you. You look down at your drink feeling a pit in your stomach.

“I’m not.” You say unable to hide the resentment in your voice. “You seem to be though.” You add bitterly.

He says silent for a moment, watching you swirl around your drink. “It’s that Avedame?” He asks then, slightly surprised.

“Possibly.” You mumble as you finish the last bit in one go. And cant help but wince. “I still don’t know why you like this—“ you start as you lean against the bar and look at the empty glass.

“Well i never-“

“Not that i have any idea of what you do like.” You hear yourself say before he could finish, your words slumbering together slightly because of the alcohol in your system.

But Obi-Wan is taken aback slightly. You were upset. He knew that. But why? Was this about the twilek girl he just kissed? Why would that interest you? He stays silent for a moment trying to pick a right way to respond because he suddenly felt bad. He decides that the truth would probably be best.

“You know me better than anyone.” You hear him say after a moment. He stated it rather simply. But you scoff and rueful smile crossed your lips. “I thought that too.”

Because you thought he’d never willingly kiss someone. You were foolish enough to hope that he’d one day kiss you of all people. But you always had wild fantasies. And apparently— unfortunatly this was one of them. The realization made you feel awfully heavy, even though you’ve known that dreaming of Obi-Wan being in love with you was foolish. He was the most devoted Jedi you’ve ever met. It couldn’t happen. But emotions were a fragile thing and hard to control.

Obi-Wan felt his stumach sink when he saw that rueful smile on your face. He’d upset you. He wasn’t sure why or how but he hated it. And he wished he could just turn you around to make you look at him, hold your face in his hands and let his thumbs trace every feature of yours. The thought made him realize he wanted to kiss you. Desperatly. Like so many times before. He needed to show you how he felt- but it goes against everything he believes in. And yet it was there. That feeling was always there somewhere, hidden away in his heart. A door which could only be opened by you. It was as if you’d stolen the key from him on one of those days where you were running away from him as a padawan because you’d stolen his lightsaber. Along with the key to his heart. And he hasn’t gotten rid of the yearning to know what it’d be like to remove the lock forever. He only felt more and more conflicted every time you’d greet him in the morning with that beautiful smile of yours, your uplifting presence and those eyes which would sweep him off his feet and he could drown him if he wasn’t being careful. Stars— he must’ve been a little more affected by his earlier drinks than he thought. Or simply by you.

“We should probably go—“ he said placing a hand gently on your upper arm because he couldn’t help himself.

“Can’t- have to wait for Bane.“ You say your head feeling slightly fuzzy as you move from your chair and start walking away. Away from Obi-Wan because you were too upset. You thought he would’ve chosen you. Like you would choose him if he asked.

“Hey wait—“ he said when you started walking- or rather stumbling away through the bar and he reached for your wrist.

“Let go Obi— Wan-“ your words slurred and you were getting annoyed as you look back at him.

“Listen we have to talk.” He said placing his hand on your arm again.

“Don’t wanna- talk.” You mumble as you turn around and away from him because the last person you wanted to talk to right now was Obi-Wan.

You hear him sigh as you move through a group of people. And faintly heard him call your name multiple times. You just needed to find Cad Bane and then you’d be able to go home. And sleep. And get rid of this headache you were suddenly getting.

“Sir have you seen a really ugly blue alien?” You ask a random person and the man turns around to look at you. “With an outstandingly big hat.” You add and and see a grin spreading on his face.

“Can’t say i have. What’s his name gorgeous? Maybe I’m able to help. But I’m more curious about your name.” The man said as he stepped closer and looked down at you. If you weren’t drunk, you would’ve spotted this red flag way earlier.

But when Obi-Wan finally spotted you he saw the man wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. And he felt his protective instincts rise in his chest. He hurried through the last group infront of him.

“Can you not— touch me-“ you say, clearly getting annoyed by this man but he seems to enjoy it.

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll make sure you won’t want to think about anything else” he said pulling you closer.

“Let her go.” Obi-Wan said with a warning tone, standing behind you.

“Oh i see you have more admirers” The man said and you realized how drunk he was by the awful smell of his breath.

“You heard her she doesn’t want you to touch her. Now let her go.” Obi-Wan said again, and he’s refraining himself from grabbing his lightsaber.

“Will you both just shut up and leave me alone?” You say annoyed, tired of this entire night while you actually have an important mission. Cad Bane. Capturing Cad Bane. That’s what this night was about. You push away from the man as much as you can, but stumble back against Obi. Who was surprised but immediatly steadied you and place a hand on your waist. Normally you would’ve felt butterflies at the action. Now you just felt more irritated.

“I don’t think she likes you, sleemo.” The man said when he noticed your irritated look. And obi’s brow furrowed.

“She’s with me. Go buy another drink.” He told him and he realized you were walking away again.

“I can handle my own problems-“ you mumble towards Obi and see the two men glaring at eachother.

“For force’sake just leave us alone, I’m not interested-“ you say, your words still slurring slightly as you try to get away from Obi-Wan. And he lets you.

“Oh I don’t think so gorgeous-“ the man said when he reached for you again. And before Obi-Wan stepped towards you, you use the Force to throw someone else’s drink towards his head and it shatters, hitting his temple. Which is now bleeding. Obi-Wan pauses in his step. You apparantly were able to handle this without stepping in.

“Kriff—“ the man whined as he looked at you.

“Not interested.” You tell him again and then walk away. Not wanting to be distracted or held up by having to deal with idiotic men.

Obi-Wan had warned the guy again to not follow and he seemed to have taken the hint when he noticed his lightsaber around his belt. Then he turns to catch up with you. But you’re walking through the entire bar it seems like. He barely managed to catch up with you almost tripping over multiple people.

“Would you please just stand still and wait—“ Obi-Wan said as he reached for your arm again.

“No I’m looking for Bane while you’re busy with many other irrelevant things-“ you say until Obi turns you around and manages to grasp your wrist.

“We’re not going to find Bane tonight, now if you would please just listen—“

“I am.” You say are you turn away again because you were determined to find him tonight and end his crimes.

Obi-Wan grew slightly annoyed with your stubborness and sighed deeply. He whirled you around again and placed both of his hands on your shoulders. Forcing you to look at him.

“Listen to me, Bane isn’t here. He’s not going to be. He managed to find out his location would be compromised to the Order by one of his newer contacts. So he isn’t here.” He told you. And you managed to digest half of the information he told you, but it was clear Bane wasn’t here. And you grow more annoyed for some reason.

“Great so all of this was for nothing.” You mumble crossing your arms.

“No it wasn’t, we now know he wouldn’t be here in the first place, otherwise we could’ve only guessed.” He replied.

You stay silent for a moment as Obi-Wan looks at you. He’s a bit worried about your state. But didn’t mention it yet.

“How do you know?” You ask him then as you look back at his eyes. Those damn eyes of his were clearer than the oceans of Kamino.

“The twilek woman told me. She’s been in contact with someone who works for Bane and knew he wouldn’t be here. But she wasn’t any more helpful.” He told you, and if you weren’t feeling so drunk you would’ve noticed the way his expression changed for a moment.

“I bet you’d beg to differ.” You say bluntly as i glare at him. And he sighs.

“It was necessary. I do not understand why you seem upset about me kissing her.” He said and you wish you could punch him for his stupidity.

“It was stupid.” You state annoyed.

“Stupid?” He questioned.

“You never kiss anyone.”

“You’ve never seen me kiss anyone.” He corrects you and you want to crash his speeder for saying that.

“Did it actually upset you?” He asked when you stayed silent for a moment, and you hate the way his voice sounded genuinely concerned.

“I don’t care who you kiss. I just want you to be careful.” You say then and look away from him. “There’s many way to get drugged.” You add. it was definitely not an excuse.

“Ofcours..” Obi-Wan replied as he still looked at you. “So there’s truly nothing else bothering you?”

You look back at him then. And you wanted to scream at him how you felt. For him to feel the way you do when you see him smiling at you, holding your hand so neither of you get lost in crowds or when you saw him kiss that twilek. But you manage to stay silent. He’s a Jedi. You are too. It could never happen. It would never happen, because he didn’t feel the same. And he never will, not after so many years.

“I hate Avedame.” You say with a straight face. Obi-Wan can’t help his soft sigh.

“You’re drunk.” He states simply.

“A little.” You admit. And he shakes his head.

“We should go. There’s no reason for us to stay here.” He said then. You stay silent for a moment.

“Fine.” You mumble softly and start walking out the bar. Trying to get rid of the thought of what would happen if you did stay here. If you made a move. If you leaned closer to him and caressed his face. If you’d just lean in and kiss him. But he didn’t feel the same. He never had. You hoped he did. That maybe one day he’d confess how he felt all these years, just like the way he had in your dreams. Sometimes you let yourself foolishly believe that they were visions. But after years of being close it led to nothing other than friendship. You are grateful for it, but you desperately wished it could be more. But even though you were sure he was the only one you were ever going to fall for, the only one to ever love as deeply as this, you knew he only saw you as his friend. It could never be more.

[fridgrave2-0]

me: I hate turbo he is just a freak and a loser and a jerk and-

my brain: and he's "gasoline by halsey" kinnie

me: and he's "gasoline-" NOOOOOO

[magicicephoenix]

Maybe Audrey with #50 Gasoline palette for requests?

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being"🎶

(was thinking about Halsey lyrics sorry)

no no no thank you for reminding me that the names of the palettes are songs because i looped gasoline while drawing this and. it sure had an effect! :)

audrey with #50 - gasoline

[x-ladydisdain-x]

really returning to my roots (middle school) here but Halsey was so real for writing this

[azucar-skull]

*gasoline by halsey intensifies*

Sad Robot P1 | P2