#-further than 'this is… probably a bird'

[birds-in-posts]

Queue is getting pretty low; reminder that this blog accepts submissions and tagging it in posts (even if they're obvious or the ID has already been provided) is more than welcome!

[creaturefeaster]

been busy lately but i hath conjured... two women today

[wildtornado-o]

Ohhh this shot is so cool. Siffrin...

[sudokuplayer]

i've watched only a few scenes of the movie WALL-E and i hate it so much 😮‍💨 and i also dislike all the Pixar movies released after that one. they really peaked with Ratatouille in my eyes

[euclydya]

💰 (ur very cool btw)

HMMMMMMB.

When we're bored up front and Inland also happens to be up front we just throw things through its head. Tbis does not bother it whatsoever like it doesn't hurt or anything and Inland doesn't feel anything so we've kinda made it a game 2 see how much random shit we can throw through inland's head/face... thing. Tbe biggest object successfully tossed through it so far has been Myself 😃👍❗ -Half Light

In unrelated news Either our headspace is falling apart or the innerworld view has shifted to HARRY'S headspace of all things bc 90% of the time it's just a black void. I mean we'll take that over the Cold Cave Full Of Fog that we've been having for the past.., month almost??? But. Screams. Girl dot com. I miss hte small cabin thingy we had like 2 months agoNFJDDJCJXJXJC Trant can teleport us back there if he focuses Rlly hard on it but he's not always uP FRONT like bitch (!!!) @ our brain WORK WITH US PLEASE stop changing the headspace so often!!!!!!!!! JDJDJDFJDKDKDJD

LIKE IT'S NOT A SERIOUS ISSUE it's just Annoying. -Electrochem

[coprolite-posting]

the bird is the craziest one here and it's not even a contest tbh

"what if it was curly" - humans

(selkirk rex cat, angora goat, astrex rabbit, curly coated retriever, mangalitsa pig, texel mouse, american curly horse, texel guinea pig, frillback pigeon)

[acid-ixx]

prequel: again &. again. (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: prequel, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

what hurts more when it comes to neglectful batfam that adopted you after jason's death (that eventually turns a 360 after you have left) is probably the fact that they always had time for you, it's just that they never chose to spend it on you; an extra burden to their family rather than an addition. if they had time to spend, they spend it on anything or anyone else but you. it's not that you don't share interests with them, it's just...! they have way more priorities that push you further back into their list of 'to do's'; though you know you'll always be the last of that list.

bruce has to juggle so many tasks as the billionaire playboy "brucie wayne", a father of an ever growing family, and gotham's dark knight vigilante but somehow, you're aware he could easily fit in one or two more children into his already booked schedule— he just never seems to consider you worthy enough apparently. or maybe it was because you were too silent, you set boundaries compared to your other family who are outspoken about what they want, what they need— but there's one thing for sure that sets you off from your siblings; you're not a vigilante.

you were merely a child of a one night stand; a child raised too well. you were behaved, you never complained, and you were just, you. and being normal (at least in their level of extraordinary talents were you a mere droplet) amongst a family of talented individuals makes you easily a ghost. was bruce to blame with his neglect? definitely. if he was able to balance his life so easily, then maybe as the world's best detective would he notice you packing your things day by day without update. maybe that was why you never once hesitated the moment you stepped outside the manor, permanently.

dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence. sure, he smiles at you with those shiny teeth of his, but despite him looking at you, he never notices you for more than a second, right after he would skidadle his way to another sibling's room, bothering them to spend more time with him, never you though. it occurs to you that he has only entered your bedroom once, and that occurrence was years ago. even then, he didn't last a minute inside there before running away once more.

family matters more than anything to dick. hell, he was enraged at the announcement of jason's death and even beat joker to a bloody pulp when he realized tim fell into his hands. he's ready to defend damian, barbara, steph, cass, and duke with his life. it's his duty and obligation as the family's eldest brother, of course. but were you considered family to him? were you considered a sibling in his eyes, or were you just the resident roommate of the mansion? you question that endlessly because everyone, family and friends, seem to be smitted with dick, but you eventually gave up trying to vye for his attention. it's fine, really, if you were just another civilian to him, because he was just another person to you too. just like in a circus, you would always be the intermission rather than the main event. and with that, you take your leave.

jason was the most forgivable to you, second to tim. he was never there, and he would've probably put effort into spending time with you if not for the fact he despises bruce and the mansion and wouldn't and couldn't last a second stepping into it. he never met you when he was robin, it was only right after his death did he discover were you taken in and that added fact alongside tim being his replacement turned him bitter with resentment. though his hatred for you receded over time, he wouldn't really be caught taking a minute with you because he always sneaks inside the mansion and crime in gotham never seems to lessen. because of that, and your unwillingness to become a vigilante to kick ass with him and the others, he wouldn't be able to fully take an hour with you.

casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes, and with a heavy heart, you book an apartment away from the wayne manor with your own atm card; hope irreversibly dead and unable to revive a sliver of faith, even if it was dipped in the lazarus pit would it never come back as the same.

tim drake is always tired. just like bruce, his days are filled with investigation, crime fighting, and worst of all; high school. that's of course that least of his worries the moment he drops out. tim was never the guy to talk much. he only does when he needs to make an impression for others, or when he needs to manipulate people for potential information. his life revolved around fighting, from when he solved the case of bruce wayne and dick grayson being batman and robin respectively, up to his current identity as red robin and occasionally robin. he'll often be found in the batcave working with babs on a case or working alone in his room.

it's no mistake that you were the most distant to him, never once knowing about his interests or even hobbies and vice versa. it was a given that at the very moment you pass a glance at him, you knew it was a 'mind your business' type of relationship with him. if you were a mere ghost to dick, then you were just a spec of dust to tim. it was unfair to assume he would never care for you, he does! only in a way where you were another person to save if you ever were endangered, but would that be enough to stalk you to the point he gains every insight about you? not really. you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers. yeah, your feelings about leaving him weren't as bitter as the caffeine he drowns in his system, but you were still hurt either way.

damian wayne, from his birth, was taught and raised to prioritize his mission as an al ghul, to be the one continuing the legacy and to shed blood on anyone who opposes. when he was given over to bruce, it took a hell lot of effort to turn a new page and become the next robin. it was, with no doubt, that despite his 'redemption', he would be a tad bit crueler to you than the others. unlike tim, who he persistently bothers, you were untalented, worthless, and a stain on the reputation of the wayne's. even jason, his father's greatest mistake, had more value than you.

maybe it was fine-tuned jealousy, maybe he was mirroring his father and dick's actions towards you with his own sick twist of violence. either way, you would rather avoid the boy, lest you face the wrath of his sword. it wouldn't be wrong if you came to hate him, actually you do, but despite your endless game of cat and mouse with you as the unwilling victim of the chase, your poor heart couldn't fathom the thought of not excusing his actions as that of a child's. you tell yourself everyday, 'just ignore it, he was raised like as to be a menace after all' but you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together. the resentment eventually builds up until you blow up and just, give up. within your final moments in the manor, you figured to leave some belongings that you collected overtime that were supposedly memorabilias that you wish to show off to your family. like his pieces of art, you could only explain your life in the family as black and white and as bleak as the streaks of charcoal that rubs against the pages.

when dick was jogging through the desolate halls of the manor, he noticed the place seemed to be more... empty of some sort. and he knows pushing that feeling into the back of his head would only result in more questions than answers. so he decides to enter the spare rooms one by one until he comes across your room (he doesn't know it was yours, though), turning the knob without knocking.

that was when his eyes seem to dilate. his nose catched a faint whiff of bleach (was the room deep-cleaned?), vision seemingly closing in on the few furniture left alongside a diary and other boxes left neatly on your bed, with other smaller trinkets left untouched on your bedside table. he didn't remember you mentioning anything about leaving, hell, he doesn't want to admit his lack of memories about you but—

wait...

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago...?

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this is one of my favorite pieces of writing i have ever done and i like it a lot so i hope whoever reads this likes it too. if you all want to read more of this, then please leave a comment or reblog because i heavily appreciate it and it motivates me further to write this type of content! the reason i have come to a long hiatus is because, as stated, the lack of interaction with content. like i said, i will still write for genshin but i am open to expanding my fandom list. (p.s. i hope you like the way i had to connect their interests or a part of their past to the reader.)

heavily inspired by @klemen-tine's work: Glass Bones and Paper Skin, @gotham-daydreams' work: Not [], and @onmyyan's work: Ain't No Sunshine.

[sticksandsharks]

congratulations to the newly wed couple

thank you to everyone who has not only purchased the comic, but also had kind words to say in tags and through asks!! I am away for holiday for most of this month, and I have been/will be largely offline on account of this*-- but please know that my heart is incredibly full to know people like this story!!

(*any posts that go up here have been scheduled before I left)

A few recurring questions I'll answer here real quick:

Will Sacred Bodies have a physical print? Yes! I would like to self-publish this book after the fair is concluded and sell it at conventions and through my online store.

What are the Ba'It based off of? Their body/limb plan is based on pteradons!! with some bat and bird anatomy thrown in. Garaang are semi-bipedal so that makes the silhouette even weirder, but you see some quadrupedal stances in the comic and it might make more sense then. I don't want to post or talk too much about some of the minutae of their design, as it is part of the story itself. :}

What medium did you use for the comic? It's all digital; I used Clip Studio Paint to draw the entire thing. I use the base watercolour and design pencil brushes that come with the programme. How long did it take you to make the comic? It's a little hard to estimate-- initial ideas, visdev and writing drafts were intermitent at the start of the year; once I landed on the story, finalising the script would've taken no longer than a week of recurring writing and editing. It's the actual drawing that takes forever, unfortunately. I started thumbnailing around April, and pencilling, colours and painting were a 10-11 hour work-day commitment for most of June and July. (I lost a lot of work-time in May cause I fell ill, womp womp). I'd probably say it was 4 - 5 months of labour. Are you going to write more stories in this world? I would really like to! I have a lot of ideas rattling in my head for the Valley of the World-- the place that the folk of the Spire have escaped. That being said, I have a whole graphic novel to finish first! It has been pushed back on account (but not exclusively because) of me working on my SBCF entries the last couple years, and I don't want to neglect it any further!! (it's 350+ full colour pages though so it was always going to be a huge undertaking)

Thank you again for the outpouring of enthusiasm and support; it means the world!

[sunderwight]

Trying my hand at this one:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a worm.

It's just a normal garden variety (heh) earthworm, not a special magical worm (yet), so initially he thinks this is gonna be a really short transmigration adventure indeed. But of course that would be boring, so he also manages to end up in the body of a worm who lives under one of those magical immortal fruit-bearing trees.

One of the fruit drops, Worm Yuan chows down, and he significantly upgrades his physical abilities, and senses, and gains a cultivation boost! Hooray!

Unfortunately it's not enough to fix that he's still a worm, but it's enough so that he has less to fear from getting hit by a random shovel or such. In the process of eating the fruit, he sees some disciples (come to gather the fruits, slacking somewhat since they even allowed a few to hit the dirt) and overhears enough of a conversation to figure out that he's transmigrated into a worm that lives in the PIDW setting. Specifically, on Qian Cao Peak!

Wow! How random and wild! Why a worm??? What god did he piss off in his past life for this?

Well anyway, it is what it is, and Shen Yuan decides that if he's gonna live a probably short and uneventful life as a worm, at least he wants to see his favorite character. So he inches his way in what he hopes is the general direction of Qing Jing Peak, course-correcting whenever he gathers that he's guessed wrong, hitching a ride on the occasional shoe or once even gripping the internal part of a wheel from an An Ding Peak carriage, until finally, he's leveled up his meager worm cultivation even more and has reached Qing Jing Peak!

As Worm Yuan continues to inch his way across the peak, he keeps just-barely missing Luo Binghe, until finally he comes across... not Binghe, but a recognizable item: a fake jade pendant!

Though lost initially on a tree branch, it must have fallen at some point, down to the ground where Worm Yuan stumbled upon it.

Mustering his strength, Worm Yuan manages to get the broken string of the fake jade around his little worm body, and then makes the herculean trek to the wood shed. Dodging bird attacks, hiding from other QJP disciples, and further upgrading his Worm Skills such as digging, inching, and oozing, until finally he reaches his destination and squeezes under the door.

Leading to the situation of an incredulous disciple Luo Binghe -- who had previously been tending to his bruises -- watching as a little worm climbs into the shed (normal, usually it's spiders but sometimes other bugs get inside) while dragging his long-lost most treasured item in what can only be described as a deliberate fashion (very not normal).

After ascertaining that Worm Yuan is not some cultivator's tool or shapeshifted creature, Luo Binghe decides to approach this situation in the only reasonable way, and offers the worm some scraps from his leftovers. Worm Yuan happily shares a meal with his favorite character, and things take off from there.

Somehow Luo Binghe finds himself learning more about cultivation by watching Worm Yuan than he has in all his attempts to figure out his manual or listen to his shixiongs on Qing Jing Peak so far. He watches Worm Yuan work up the spiritual energy to crack rocks and scale the wood shed walls, and deduces some methods for applying his own spiritual energy in similar ways. He finds it heartening to think that if even a little worm can learn to cultivate through what seems to be pure determination, then surely Binghe can make his situation work, too. He scrounges around and manages to gather up enough materials for a makeshift terrarium, so Worm Yuan can be safe and cozy by his side at night.

Of course, trials and tribulations never stop. At some point Ming Fan and his cronies find the terrarium and smash it. Binghe is inconsolable until he realizes that Worm Yuan got away (extra durable, after all!) and is wriggling back towards him in a reassuring fashion.

Worm Yuan's hero schedule is quite full, too! At some point he digs his way into a tunnel to the Lingxi caves and saves Liu Qingge, and in the midst of the demon invasion he manages to help Binghe at a vital moment by hardening his body and tripping his opponent. He rides in Binghe's pocket when Binghe goes to claim Zheng Yang, too, developing his cultivation throughout it all.

Unfortunately, kind of, Worm Yuan is also in Luo Binghe's pocket when he gets thrown into the Endless Abyss. Through the hardships of the Abyss, Worm Yuan consumes some unsavory things (the less said about the quality of worm food in the Abyss, the better) but manages to unlock rare worm cultivation upgrades, until finally he achieves his first transformation -- a gigantic Dune-esque mega worm!

The less said about the symbolism of a stallion protagonist accompanied constantly by a literal monster worm, the better, probably. But having the ability to tunnel through basically anything does make a lot of things easier, at least in terms of travel, and cuts years off of the Abyss trip. Binghe and Worm Yuan almost have fun, even, just tearing through the terrain and any foes stupid enough to get in Worm Yuan's path until they retrieve Xin Mo and bust out.

Then they get into the demon realms and that actually is just straight up mostly a good time. Worms like Shen Yuan are not common so at first he nearly always surprises Binghe's foes when he shows up to help with fights, and a lot of the time the demons involved don't even seem to realize, at first, that he's with Luo Binghe and isn't just some hellish calamity that's coincidentally also shown up! But word gets around pretty quick that the new Heavenly Demon on the scene has a giant worm companion (probably leading to some misconceptions of people who think it's Tianlang Jun returned and that someone's mistaken Zhuzhi Lang's snake form for a worm).

Once that happens, unfortunately, some demons start taking precautions. After the first time Worm Yuan gets poisoned and nearly perishes (saved by Binghe's blood in the nick of time), Luo Binghe stops letting him participate in fights. Which is just rude! Worm Yuan's not going to make the same mistake twice, duh! But Binghe just keeps holding him in reserve again and again until the fight with Mobei Jun, and then when Worm Yuan intervenes anyway (is it just him or does Mobei Jun seem to know a lot more about potential heavenly demon weaknesses than he did in PIDW...?) and gets partly frozen, Binghe goes berserk. For a while there Shen Yuan is worried he won't actually LET Mobei Jun surrender!

Thankfully though he does, and then Binghe settles into his properties and starts... building a giant-scale worm garden? What about the harem, Binghe? Like obviously it's nice and all, but shouldn't you be focused on housing for, y'know, your future wives?

Other factions in the demon realms clearly are wondering about the same thing, as the marriage alliance offers naturally start pouring in. The most vocal of these being Sha Hualing. Worm Yuan supposed that his Binghe is probably waiting to officially take his wives so that he can marry Ning Yingying first or something, but still, a little planning wouldn't go amiss. Though eventually Luo Binghe seems to get -- if anything -- fed up enough with the questions about his marriage prospects that he does start setting up for a wedding.

Worm Yuan is surprised and touched when he finds himself being fitted for a monster-worm sized amount of wedding regalia. So he can be included in Binghe's wedding procession? That's so sweet! He's not sure he understands the inclusion of a veil, though...?

Anyway. Yes. Binghe marries the worm.

[teawithcherries]

wrong number

Ghost receives a text that leaves him absolutely reeling. OR the guy that you texted on accident is weirdly flirtatious and you're kind of into it?

1.1k words. lieutenant!Ghost x chef!reader (f). reader’s age unclear but 18+ (not a minor!!). divider by @plutism.

Unknown: SOS!!!!

Ghost immediately goes deathly still, eyes zeroing in on the text message notification that blinks across his phone before disappearing.

Having a SAS issued phone means that his phone number should be impossible to find. He doesn’t receive spam texts or calls and the few people who have his number know better than to bother him when he’s on paperwork duty. Which means that something is not right.

His phone buzzes again, and he feels his gut churn sourly.

Unknown: (1 attachment)

He doesn’t have time to think, he just braces himself for the worst. A photo of Johnny bleeding out with a gunshot wound? Coordinates to a location where Gaz is being held hostage? 

He’s already reaching for his kit in case he needs to jump on a helo when the attachment, an image, finally opens up.

The breath that was suspended in his chest slowly releases like a deflated balloon as he tries to make sense of the carnage on his phone screen. Yet, it isn’t one of his squadmates that’s crying out for help. Rather, it’s an image of a Cornish hen that’s been burnt to an absolute charred crisp. 

His mind is racing at a speed that he can’t quite process, his eyes methodically scanning the photo for any clues or hidden messages in the image. 

Yet, even to his trained eye, the image is perfectly normal. The background of the photo is a standard flat kitchen, slightly disorganized with cooking materials and ingredients scattered about. Your feet are visible in the corner of the photo, you’re wearing a pair of girly pajama shorts and bunny slippers.

His brows scrunch together in confusion, thoroughly perplexed and slightly annoyed at the mental gymnastics that he is undertaking to try to make sense of these messages.

Ghost: Who are you?

Your reply is instant, confirming his suspicion that you have truly somehow managed to message him by accident.

Unknown: It’s (♥︎), your classmate from culinary school!

Ghost glances at the image again, brows scrunching in disbelief that you are training to become a chef considering the charred and blackened state of the bird.

Ghost: Wrong number.

Unknown: Ah, how embarrassing. So sorry to disturb you! I must have jotted down my classmate’s number incorrectly during class. Have a lovely rest of your evening! 

That’s that then.

He sighs and sets his phone on his worn desk, glancing back at the mountain of paperwork that awaits him. He’s several hours away from finishing up, and Price will absolutely have his head if doesn't get it all done.

Yet, for reasons he isn't willing to unpack, the image of your bare legs tucked into those ridiculously fuzzy bunny slippers lingers in the back of his mind. His fist twitches, annoyed with himself for getting so hot and bothered over a mere glimpse of bare ankle.

You’re just another nameless, faceless muppet in the void of the digital age. Even responding back to your text message is probably a breach of security protocol that could land him in another hour long cybersecurity training seminar if he isn't careful.

So Ghost isn’t sure why he bothers picking up his phone and typing a message at all, but his thumb hits send before he can ponder it any further.

Ghost: Chicken seems a bit burnt.

Being the asshole that he is, Ghost can’t help but chuckle wryly at his own joke. He figures you’ll probably ignore his message. Maybe you’ll even take offence to it and block his number. So when his phone instantly buzzes with a response, his interest is fully captured.

Unknown: You think? I worried it might be a bit underdone.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward beneath his mask.

Ghost: I could be wrong. You’re the chef after all.

Unknown: Well, there’s plenty to go around if you fancy charcoals and mash.

He's fully smiling now, embarrassingly chuffed that you're playing along.

Ghost: You asking me on a date?

Unknown: Depends. Are you a serial killer?

Ghost: Depends on your definition of a serial killer.

It’s silent after that and Ghost can’t help the kernel of disappointment that takes root in his chest. Easygoing banter is far and few between for the lieutenant who has spent the last 48 hours trying to make sense of the mountain of paperwork that piled up on his desk during his last mission. He was enjoying this exchange with you far more than he cares to admit, and several minutes pass with no response before he glumly locks his phone and returns his attention to his desk.

A full day passes and Ghost accepts that he has scared you off.

Yet he can’t blame you. He knows full well that there are loads of creeps and nut jobs on the Internet who could take advantage of you. And even so, you’d be better off messaging any one of those weirdos rather than him. Because, after all, he’s ... who he is.

Three days later, Ghost is seven kilometers into his evening jog around the training field when his phone buzzes again unexpectedly. His eye twitches but he doesn’t check it right away, chiding himself for the persistent flare of hope in his gut that refuses to be extinguished. He’s been pathetically rushing to his phone with every notification he receives since your last text message came through and feeling disappointed every time it isn’t you.

It’s only when his phone buzzes again that he decides to bite the bullet and check who's texting him.

He’s fully expecting it to be another stupid meme from Soap in the 141 group chat. Which is why he skids to a stop, heart suddenly pounding in his chest, at the sight of a message from your phone number (which he has memorized at this point).

It’s his trigger finger that flies to open your message, eyes fixed intensely, almost nervously, on the pixelated screen of his outdated phone.

You’ve sent him a photo of a sausage roll, a proper sausage roll, that’s cooling on a wire rack in your kitchen. He's already salivating at the sight of the juicy blend of ground meat packed neatly and precisely into a flaky case of golden pastry, as well as the sliver of your bare thigh that's showing in the edge of the photo.

He assumes that you’ve accidentally messaged him again instead of your classmate until he sees the message beneath the image.

Unknown: Just wanted you to know that I’ve been testing some other recipes for our date. 

Unknown: Thoughts on my sausage rolls?

Ghost doesn’t even realize that he’s grinning like a madman until his face starts to twitch uncomfortably. He hasn’t smiled so hard in months, maybe even years, and the mechanics of beaming like a lovesick idiot have almost been forgotten by his stiff facial muscles.

He responds immediately, almost afraid that you might slip through his gloved fingers again if he is even a second too late.

Ghost: That’ll do.

(thoughts on part 2 from reader pov? i want them to talk on the phone and see ghost be all cute n awkward TT)

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt reworking Uni a bit. I do love Uni conceptually and as a character, but I've become increasingly uncomfortable with their story in the state that it's in, mostly because of how completely it removes Aris from the equation. I'm hoping to not completely scrap Uni, but I'm going to start brainstorming ways to also include au Aris as an actual character that's involved in au antag stuff instead of just a backstory character for Uni

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Lemon, Tangerine, and reader are in their early twenties, toxic relationship, swearing, violence, men (the gross kind), body/weight insecurities, cheating, intoxication

~ based on a conversation i had with my wife @little-miss-dilf-lover and lightly inspired by Dial Drunk by Noah Kahn ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It was midnight when you heard the sharp knocks on your apartment door. You knew your roommate was already asleep so you quickly pad out of your bedroom and through the living room, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you open the door a sliver and peer out into the corridor. You see Lemon first, a sympathetic look painted across his features as he holds up an extremely drunk Tangerine.

Tangerine's face is covered in bruises, the skin around his eye is slowly turning purple and you see the blood on his knuckles as he flexes his hands. Your eyes widen and you hurry out into the hall, your bare feet against the harsh carpet as you quietly shut the door behind you. "What happened?" you whisper, worried for him. Tangerine just grunts, his eyes glossy. 

He's been crying. 

Lemon groans and holds his brother higher, looking at you knowingly. As if he knows the news will somehow break your heart. You stare at him, as if to say 'cut the bullshit' because you want to see if it has something to do with Macey—which it probably does.

Tangerine and Macey have been dating on and off for years. Since high school she's had him wrapped around her pinky, his head a lust-filled mess that very quickly turned into full-blown puppy-love. She'd always be the one to dump him and he'd always come back because he loved her so much. It was an endless cycle that lasted until now, your junior year of university. 

You hate her. You have never hated anyone as much as you hate Macey Addams. 

You hate her silky ginger hair, the way her dark eyes contrast Tangerine's blue ones so well, and that fake smile she reserves for you when you see her. You hate how she laughs, how she talks, and how she looks in those skin-tight dresses Tangerine loves so much.  

You hate her.

You hate how you're not her. 

"Ran into some 'friends' from high school at the bar," Lemon says, emphasizing the word friends with a grunt, "Said some things this dick didn't like so he had to start a fucking bar fight, like some fucking criminal. All because of some bird who doesn't want nothin' to do with you anymore, mate," Lemon scolds Tangerine, who slouches against the wall and slides down, holding his head in his arms. 

"Someone called the coppers and I had to bail him out."

Your eyes widen and you run a hand in your messy hair, kneeling in front of Tangerine as you look up at Lemon. "Really?"

Lemon nods and removes his hand from Tangerine's shoulder. He walks away further down the hall, shaking his head as he groans. Lemon's mumbling curses under his breath and so is Tangerine, only his sound sadder than his brother. 

"Hey," you whisper, "Tan?"

His arms attach themselves to your waist, holding you close as he sobs. You sigh, resting your hand on his head as you let him hold you. Sometimes you'd find yourself being bitter, because why does he love Macey so much when you've always been here for him? 

You'd gift him the moon if you could, but instead, you're stuck being just this—his best friend.

Not that you're complaining. 

"Y/n?" he asks a while later as you both sit on the floor of your room, having managed to sneak him quietly through the living room. You're nursing frozen peas to his knuckles as he leans his head against your bed. Knowing Tangerine was in good hands, Lemon had gone home. 

You hum, looking at him. 

"If I could choose who I was in love with," he begins, his intoxication still obvious only he's slowly sobering up. He blinks slowly, finding his words, "I'd choose you."

You look into his blue eyes you'd normally want to drown yourself in and your heart shatters. He means well, you know this. Plus, how is he supposed to know you're actually madly in love with him when you've never told him?

However, the words hurt like hell knowing his love for Macey is almost otherworldly. He speaks of it like a chemical reaction he has no control over and you're simply the choice. Something mundane and easier. 

You turn your head and quickly wipe a tear from your cheek so he doesn't see. You look at him again and strain a smile. 

"I'd choose you too, Tan."

* * *

Four months later, although sometimes you would find him lost in thoughts of her, she was mostly a distant memory and your feelings for Tangerine have been successfully repressed.  

The pub is extra crowded this evening and you slither your way through people to where your date is. His name is Adrien, which is a respectable name. He's handsome enough if not a little boring. You order your drinks and then the conversation turns sour. 

"I mean, females need to watch their crabs, y'know. You should really order a salad," Adrien pushes the menu across the table, his voice calm like he'd just called the sky blue. You frown, cheeks warm as you cross an arm over your stomach, feeling insecure in your dress. 

"Females?" you repeat in disbelief that a man like this exists.

He doesn't answer. The waiter comes with the wine and you gulp yours down in one go.

In hindsight you should have left the moment Adrien opened his mouth, but something inside you embarrassingly craved any form of affection up until he tried to kiss you outside the pub, and when you pushed him away for the second time, he called you an ugly bitch and stormed off. 

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the lamppost, your hand clutching your purse strap so hard it hurts. You sniffle and fumble with your phone, texting the one person you know won't hesitate to come pick you up. You really don't want to walk home.

Minutes later, his car screeches in front of the pub and he opens the door from the driver's side, looking at you with a concerned expression as you climb in, buckling yourself. "Thanks," you mutter. 

"S'no problem, poppet," Tangerine says, sending you a sideways look as he starts the car again, shifting the gear as he drives off. You sink into the expensive leather seats and look out the window. You sniffle again, still holding an arm over your stomach. 

You keep hearing Tangerine's ringtone. Someone's bombarding him with texts. You turn, catching a glimpse of the contact's name as she calls him up again. The screen flashes her name. Mae. Macey. Tangerine turns his phone over in the center console, turning off the sound as he focuses on the road.

You look at him, your frown momentarily distracting you from how watery your eyes have become from the evening events. "Don't you want to answer?" you whisper. You know Tangerine would usually jump at an opportunity for her attention. This time, his jaw clenches and he shakes his head. 

"Rude to answer the phone when you're with someone, innit?" he says, looking at you briefly. "Are ya okay, love?" he asks, his tone softer now. 

You're a little surprised he's putting you over Macey but you relish in it.

You shrug. "Hm, bad date," you say. 

Tangerine's nose scrunches and his hands tighten on the wheel. "Did something happen?"

"If you count him being a jerk who thought it was normal to comment on my food choice on the first date, then yeah." You roll your eyes and look out the window again, blinking rapidly not to cry. You cross your other arm across your stomach as you instinctively suck in.

Tangerine catches the movement and his frustration boils. "You look beautiful," he says and places his hand on your knee. "Don't," he whispers, waiting for you to relax your poor stomach. You do it with a sigh and you're silent the rest of the car ride.

Once you're back home, Tangerine agrees to stay the night to keep you company after such a horrible experience. It really isn't smart, considering your heart latches on to him immediately, and it is only sent plummeting when just before your eyes flutter shut to sleep, you hear Tangerine's muffled voice in your bathroom, her name on his tongue.   

Of course, he'd called her back. 

* * *

Six months later Lemon is throwing a housewarming party for him and his fiancée, Liv. You'd decide to bring your boyfriend of three months. Unbeknownst to you, Tangerine also had invited a plus one neither you nor Lemon approved of. 

"Y/n/n!" her shrill voice calls over the music as you turn, your champagne almost falling from your hand as you see her. Her fiery red hair is cut shorter but it's as pretty as ever as she drops Tangerine's arm and skips over, pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." Macey's tone is sweet, almost as if you'd been best friends for years. 

You see Tangerine handing Lemon his and Macey's coat, whispering something to his brother who sends him a dirty look. Macey continues to hug you and then introduces herself to your boyfriend Charlie. You don't miss how Charlie's gaze flickers to her breasts in her navy skin-tight dress. Macey smiles sweetly at him.

You feel sick. 

You excuse yourself and find Tangerine in the kitchen as he looks for a drink. "Macey? Really? You're a fucking puppy wrapped around her finger," you spit, slightly drunk from the champagne and frustrated from the situation.

Tangerine rolls his eyes. "She's changed. We're good now."

"You sound so stupid," you accuse, walking over and shoving his shoulder in an attempt to knock some sense into him. He grunts and steadies you with his hands as he frowns. 

"You're sloshed, Y/n."

You shake your head and push his hand away, eyes lidded. "You fucking tell your girl to keep her dirty mitts away from my boyfriend then!" Tangerine's anger rises as he hates what you're implying just as much as you do. 

"She's not like that," he argues and you scoff, turning around to storm off into the living room again. 

"Not anymore," Tangerine calls but you ignore him. 

An hour or two later, after some rounds of charades and sneaking glances you wish you hadn't seen between Charlie and Macey, you're even drunker. Lemon is beginning to worry as Liv insists you have more water. You don't know what you hate more, that your current boyfriend keeps looking at another woman, or how said woman keeps playing with Tangerine's tie as she sits curled up in his lap. 

You think it's all in your drunken mind when you stumble into the backyard and see Charlie with his hand under Macey's dress, her leg wrapped around his hip as they kiss passionately. They're probably fueled by liquor and lust but it doesn't matter, the dam breaks and you turn around, stumbling inside, alerting them to your presence. You're crying as you slam your head into someone's hard chest. 

"Woah. Bloody hell," Tangerine frowns and looks at you. He's probably the only sober person here. He's been fully sober for more than half a year now.  His hand comes up to your cheek immediately as he pads at your tears. "Love, what happened?"

You don't answer him, only sobbing more as you push by him and rush into the upstairs bathroom. Charlie stumbles inside, buttoning up his shirt and he makes uncomfortable eye contact with Tangerine. He stops cold, clears his throat, and nods his head at him before he rushes up the stairs after you. 

Tangerine's stomach drops. He takes a calming breath and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks outside and sees Macey adjusting her dress and wiping the sides of her mouth, where her mauve lipstick had smudged.

She turns to him, her voice still as she says calmly, "I can explain, T." She doesn't sound remorseful in any way, a clear indication that he's been letting her walk all over him. 

He takes another breath and walks to her, his demeanor just as calm and Macey's expression falters. Usually, this would rile him up and she loved the adrenaline she received from calming him down and taming him. This? This was new.

"It's one thing to hurt me," Tangerine drawls, staring at her with a cold gaze. "It's another to hurt her."

Macey frowns. "Who? Y/n? Who cares—"

"I care," he interrupts and takes Macey's chin in his hand, not tightening enough to hurt her, just to scare her. "You went too far this time and I should have never given you another chance. This? Us? We should have ended years ago."

He releases her and Macey's eyes widen. "Tangerine,"

"Get out." He says sternly and turns around, adding in a harsh tone, "And lose my fuckin' number."

Tangerine hears Charlie banging on the bathroom door the moment he enters the house again and his fists clench. He strides upstairs and pulls on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling him jump as he looks at Tangerine. "Ya think ya haven't done enough?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest but hearing Tangerine, you open the door just a little and peek outside, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a mess of snot under your nose. Tangerine's gaze softens when you sniffle. 

"Tan," you whisper. 

Charlie puts his hand on the door and attempts to pry it open. "Y/n!" He sounds urgent but Tangerine shoves him away, sending him a glare as he lets himself into the small bathroom and locks the door behind him again. 

You're inconsolable now as you cry violently. As angry as you are with Tangerine for bringing her, you need him now. You grasp his shirt and rest your forehead on his chest, shaking. Tangerine is as mad at himself as you are, maybe even more so. He wraps his arms around you and inhales the scent of your shampoo as he kisses your head repeatedly. 

"Darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He hears another annoying sharp knock from Charlie again and instantly bangs his heel against the door, startling you a little but he holds you tighter and barks. 

"Piss the fuck off, twat."

The knocking ends. 

* * *

An hour later, Tangerine has you sitting on Lemon and Liv's kitchen counter as they clean up from the party. He hands you some water as he rolls up his sleeves. One of his hands finds your thigh and he rubs it soothingly. You look up at him from behind your glass, unable to resist the question.  

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Tangerine's forehead pinches and pulls his hand away so he can cup your cheeks instead. He stands in between your legs, his eyes level with yours as they search your features. "Pardon? Say that again."

"What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier than me? Does she have a better body? I- I want to be wanted like her," you sniffle, your words slurred as you're still very intoxicated no matter how much water you've drank. Your cheeks are damp from your tears. "Why does she take every man I like? Why did she take you from me when I loved you damn so much?"

Tangerine's heart leaps at your words. "Loved me?" he repeats, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod and look into his eyes. "Love," you admit, "For years—and it never stops either and I tried. I tried, Tan."

You sound so sad.

His hand shakes on your cheek and for a moment you think he's leaning in to kiss you as your eyes flutter, but instead, he crushes you into a hug. You relax in his arms, shutting your eyes fully as you whimper and the sound hits him hard. 

He'd been such an idiot. 

"I would kiss ya," he whispers, sounding sincere, "I'd kiss ya if ya weren't so damn drunk."

You're speechless. 

Liv walks in, holding an armful of paper towels with Lemon on her heels. She smiles when Tangerine shifts away from you, clearing his throat, and you try to look busy, your head spinning from Tangerine's previous words. Lemon raises an eyebrow at his brother and Tangerine communicates with his eyes. Lemon chuckles.

"G'night, lovebirds," he grins as Liv puts away the paper towels and smirks too, slapping Lemon's arm playfully.

Tangerine's cheeks burn crimson all the way up to his ears. 

Once they're gone he turns his attention to you again, looking at you fondly. "I've been a real fuckin' prick, haven't I?" he says and pushes some hair behind your ear. "Lookin' at 'er, when what I wanted was right here in front of me this whole damn time."

You blink at him, his words sinking in but you're too drunk to comprehend. 

Tangerine kisses your forehead. "I'll make it up to you," he says, his chest filling with warmth. It's a promise. One he keeps because when you wake up in Lemon's guest room, Tangerine walks in shirtless with a breakfast tray full of an assortment of toast, beans, and eggs. 

"Monrin' love," he says. He's wearing that familiar smile. A peaceful, happy, smile. The one you haven't seen him wear in a while. 

Damn does it look good on him.     

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[ellieputellas]

the bird | epilogue

tags: future!Alexia, future!reader, post-graduation setting

taglist: @alexiaputellasera @sapphicdarlingx @profoundcoffeepeanut @therealgbaby @batllexreina @my-favorite-sign-blog @wosowriter23 @groovyblazeturtle @violetromanova

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ chapter one 🕊 chapter two 🕊 epilogue

It had been over three years since you last saw Alexia.

After that last day in Sister Philomena’s office, Alexia was expelled. There were several, baseless rumors about what happened to her but all you knew for sure was that she was kicked out of the school that same day and you’ve never heard anything about her again. It was as if she disappeared as quickly as she appeared in your life.

Your fate, however, had been different. You remained at the school, subjected to endless, one-on-one sessions with the sisters. They called it “guidance,” but it felt more like indoctrination — a relentless effort to force-feed the beliefs they so piously upheld. 

But it wasn’t the sermons or the pray-overs that wore you down, though; it was the pity.

The word had spread through the school that Alexia had kidnapped you and assaulted you. It didn’t hurt that they painted you as a victim but it pained you deeply that the love of your life was painted as a villain, a spawn of the devil.

What’s worse was that you couldn’t do anything but nod politely at those who offered their condolences and looked at you pitifully since there was always a hovering sister or another praepostor that would snitch on you to Sister Philomena if you said anything in defense of Alexia. 

Ingrid and Maria were your only allies in all of it. 

The sisters had always trusted Ingrid; she was practically the second choice for the ideal student after you. They favored you for your quiet humility, a stark contrast to Ingrid's bubbly, energetic demeanor, which never quite suited the older sister’s preferences.

But now, it seemed the tides had shifted. They lost confidence in you and Ingrid had earned their trust, perhaps even more than you ever had.  You didn’t mind, though. You no longer cared about the sisters' opinions and being placed under Ingrid’s wing was something you actually appreciated. When the nuns assigned her to pray the rosary with you every night or do a novena – tasks any other praepostor, including your past self, would have dutifully obeyed – Ingrid had her own way of doing things. Instead of complying, Ingrid and you would simply chat, vent, or play games. You probably would have gone insane without her.

And even though you weren’t particularly close to Maria at first with your interactions mostly limited to the times you both hung out with Ingrid or Alexia, she gradually became a central figure in your life. She was in the same year level as you, so she often ended up sitting beside you in class. Her presence became invaluable during those tough days when you were too depressed to function. Maria would quietly help you catch up on homework, offering her support without judgment. Over time, she became your best friend.

The couple practically held you up and prevented you from slipping into insanity. They understood what you were going through – possibly, the only people in that school who could have. And, naturally, the three of you became inseparable, which the nuns loved because they thought they set a good example for you. Little did they know, they too were both raging homosexuals.

When you and Maria graduated together, Ingrid practically bawled her eyes out. Aside from missing the two of you, she also would have to be stuck in that hellhole for another year all alone. 

Once you left school, life was anything but smooth. You lied to your parents, telling them you were embarking on a religious outreach mission to “help the poor lost souls in third-world countries” in an effort to make spiritual amends for your past transgressions. Maria didn’t just agree to help; she took it even further, asking help from her cousins and friends to make fake admission letters, websites, and notices to sell the story. As soon as they agreed, you were practically out of the house, never to return again.

You wanted to try and find Alexia as soon as you left your house but it became difficult to even find the time to do so.

You and Maria moved to the city, living in a small crappy apartment that cost way too much. You scraped by together taking on odd jobs. Maria was lucky to play for a small football club and also, often did tattooing gigs at the nearby tattoo shop for extra funds. On the other hand, you worked two jobs: a Spanish tutor in the morning and a receptionist at the tattoo shop where Maria worked on weekends. You both worked to the bone for an entire year, incredibly exhausted with no time for yourselves. But as grueling as it was, life in the city still felt freer than the rigid confines of the boarding school. For the first time, you could live authentically.

After a year, Ingrid graduated and finally joined you, moving into the tiny apartment that somehow became even smaller with the three of you crammed inside. Though, on a positive note, Ingrid immediately got picked up by a football club, and with her salary, it was easier to pay the rent and bills. This meant that you could have more time for yourselves. Ingrid and Maria even managed to save up enough for a vacation back in her hometown in Norway. And, for you, it meant that you had extra breathing room. You were finally able to drop your tutoring job, affording you the time to search for work that actually interested you.

You had a day off from the tattoo shop and something about that day made you want to explore the city. Restless and eager for something different, you decided to wander, letting the streets guide your steps without a clear destination in mind. That’s when you stumbled upon a jewelry store tucked into a quiet corner.

As you browsed, the store’s owner emerged from the backroom, greeting you warmly. She had a whimsical energy and an easy charm. Her warm aura made conversation feel natural, but it was more than just her personality pulling you in. Your curiosity about the intricate details of jewelry-making seemed to spark something in her, too. The exchange felt natural with the two of you vibing instantly.

And then, as if by chance – or fate – she mentioned it. “You seem like the perfect fit for an apprentice,” she said, beaming at you. “It’s a paid apprenticeship and if you do well enough, I’ll keep you as a permanent employee to help out with designing and jewelry-making.”

You agreed in a heartbeat. It was quite the commute from where you lived but it was worth it. The apprenticeship not only paid decently but it also helped you develop your skills in just weeks. You started off with stamping out rings and engraving jewelry. After a while, you were forging your own sample jewelry from your own designs; most of which you got to keep. You even made a ring for Ingrid and Mapi for their anniversary. 

Soon, your boss entrusted you more with doing tasks for the store. Currently, you were tasked with engraving and the polishing of certain pieces.

“Darling,” she said, her voice laced with a playful energy. “I’ve got a simple job for you now.”

You looked up from your sketchbook, where you were drafting ideas for her upcoming collection. “Oh, another engraving?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

She shook her head, the twinkle in her eye betraying the importance of the task. “Just a repair. A broken chain.”

You raised an eyebrow curiously. “Since when did we do repairs?” you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice. 

“Well, we don’t,” she admitted, hesitating just a moment before she continued. “But the girl who came in… she’s part of my favorite football team. I couldn’t say no, obviously.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “A footballer?” You were amused by her star-struck enthusiasm. 

She nodded, the gold chain in her hand catching the light as she passed it to you. “And she has excellent taste in jewelry, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell on the piece. The golden bird pendant was unmistakable. It was the same one that had once hung around your own neck, now broken at the same link as this one before you and abandoned in your drawer for months. You stashed it away and never looked at it after it broke; it felt like a sign that any hope you’d held onto was gone.

Yet, even if you haven’t seen it in a while, you practically memorized each contour and edge of that necklace… and you were certain that this was hers.

“Oh,” you whispered, your voice wavering as you tried to keep the sting of tears at bay. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, and your heartbeat quickened. “Do you remember her name?”

You already knew the answer – there was no way that someone else could have this very necklace – but you just had to be sure.

“Yes,” she said, a knowing smile forming. “Alexia Putellas.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It’s been a while since you’ve kept up with Alexia; the last you heard was that she signed for FC Barcelona. At times, you wanted to go to a game, see her again, and maybe reconnect. But… you were scared.

The last time you saw her was in that office after you explicitly said that you didn’t love her. 

As you touched the necklace, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest as tears continued to fill your eyes. You surreptitiously wiped your tears. “Uh, when did she say she needed it?”

“Well, she said she can come back for it in the morning,” your boss responded as she sat in front of you. “I can introduce you if you want. You’re single, right?”

You chuckled. “Well, yeah…”

She beamed. “Oh, you should definitely meet her so that when you date, I can get all the free tickets to the Barcelona games.” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “You totally look like you’d be her type.” 

You shrugged, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I don’t know about that.”

“Hmm, a pretty girl like you? You can get any football star you want.” Your boss teased. “Anyway, I trust you can fix this up.”

You nodded, looking down again at the necklace. 

Fixing the necklace took you mere minutes but for hours, until the shop’s closing, you couldn’t move on from how it found its way to you. When you came home, you took your own necklace out of the drawer, looking at it under the dim light of your tiny room. 

Do you want to see her tomorrow? What if she hated you? What if she never wanted to see you again? 

For the past two years, you’ve thought about all the scenarios that could possibly happen once you finally met her again. On more than one occasion, you’d fantasize about seeing her, rushing to your door, and bringing you flowers. When you were in the grocery, sometimes you’d ridiculously dream up a corny scenario like reaching for the same can of sardines. Sometimes, it would be sweet like that.

But oftentimes, you thought about how badly it could play out. She could shout at you for breaking your heart. She could say she's in a relationship with someone better than you, less broken. She could even ignore you, pretend nothing happened and honestly, it felt like that would be the worst possible scenario. Even worse than seeing her in love with anyone else.

You barely slept that night, touching your own necklace the entire time.

The next day, you reported to work earlier, deciding to patch up your own necklace. You looked at the two of them side-by-side, nearly identical, with yours being just a bit more detailed and polished than Alexia's.

You don’t know what came over you but when it was time to package it up. Instead of putting her necklace in the small box, you put your own, taking her necklace instead and wearing it on your neck, tucking it under your blouse.

If this is the last time I see her… and she never wants to see me again, at least I can keep this piece of her for myself.

“Good morning, darling!” Your boss chirped as she entered the backroom of the store, bringing you a cup of coffee. “I see you’ve packed up the necklace for Alexia.”

She took the box from you, opening it up and looking inside. She tilted her head slightly. “Huh,” she paused, examining the necklace closely. “Is it just me or did it get prettier?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, I just cleaned it up, removed all the build-up on it.”

She nodded, buying into your story. “Oh, that’s great! Well, she did say she was coming over soon so I’m glad you got it done before then.” She smiled. “Good job.”

She paused before walking over to you to fluff up your hair. “And put on some lipstick,” she added, jokingly. “You wanna look your prettiest when she comes. Mama needs next season's tickets.”

You gave her a weak smile back, feeling nerves kick in. In just a few hours, you were going to see her again… maybe. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see her… or if you were even ready to.

You hid in the backroom for a while, pretending to sketch more designs to propose for the next collection. 

But all you could think about was her.

The bell above the store’s door rang as it opened. Alexia walked in, clad in a blazer and blonde hair still damp from her shower.

It was her off day from training but she still had a long day of work ahead of her – meetings with her agent, sorting out contracts, all the boring stuff that came with her new life as a famous football player.

After she was kicked out of the school, she decided to head back immediately to her parents, not even bothering to give her grandparents a chance to trap her. She took the train back to her hometown and walked into her parent’s home, much to their surprise. She told her family all about her experience – the homophobia, the prejudice, her terrible experience in boarding school. Even if her parents were more than willing to take her back under their wing, she knew she had to figure out a way to lighten their load. The last thing she wanted to be was a burden. Most importantly, she wanted to be her own woman.

She lived under her grandparents most of her life, with them dictating what she should believe in and do. When she moved to a boarding school, it was merely a change in scenery—the control remained, just in a different form. Now, all she wanted was to live for herself. She craved the freedom to make her own decisions, to follow her own desires without the constant weight of judgment or unsolicited guidance.

For once, she yearned to carve out a life that was truly her own.

She began trying out for local football camps. With her skills, it wasn’t long before she was recruited by a local team. Soon, with her performance in the small team, news made it out that there was a new hidden star player.

It all came so fast – scouts from all sorts of big clubs came over, offering her things beyond her imagination. When Barcelona came forward with a deal she couldn’t refuse, she knew her dream was finally within reach. Signing with the team wasn’t just about fulfilling her lifelong ambition, it was a chance to give back to her parents and help secure a better future for them. She knew her life would change drastically after that.

And it did. Within merely months, everything changed.

She was suddenly a big name with people all over the country coming to watch her play for one of the biggest teams in the world. It was amazing and exhilarating. She was living out her biggest fantasy.

And yet, during the rare times when she had a break and life was quiet, all she could think about was you.

Even with all she had accomplished, she felt a gnawing emptiness... feeling like she could never be completely and utterly happy. The cheers of the crowd, the support of the fans, the acclaim, not even all the trophies — they could never fill the gaping hole you had left in her life.

On that day when you said you didn’t love her anymore, her heart practically hollowed itself. She knew you were saying it to appease the nuns but it still hurt to hear you say it, for it to come from your mouth.

She repeated to herself that you didn’t mean it and that you loved her just as she loved you. She reminded herself that the circumstances were impossible, that you had no choice. But as the months dragged on and she knew you had left school, her confidence in that hope began to waver. When a year passed without a single word from you, her heart broke all over again. Maybe you had meant it.

Still, she waited. Another year passed. Ingrid had sent her a sweet message after news got out that she would play for FC Barcelona. Maria reached out a couple times too, asking Alexia if she wanted to catch up and go out for drinks.

But from you? Nothing. Not a single word.

And on the second anniversary of the last day she saw you, the chain of her necklace broke. 

She was at a celebratory party for Barcelona’s latest league championship; everyone was laughing and enjoying the win yet her thoughts drifted far away when she felt that gold chain slide down her neck, a chain broken for no apparent reason.

She was supposed to be having fun, basking in the victory, but all she could think about was you. That necklace, fragile and worn, was the only tangible thing she had left of you.

And now, it was broken.

​​“You good?” Irene’s voice broke through her thoughts. Alexia looked up to see her teammate watching her with concern as she put a hand on Alexia’s shoulder

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Alexia muttered, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her. Irene frowned, her worry deepening as she slid onto the seat beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

Alexia let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head as she held up the broken necklace. “This… was from my ex. It’s the only thing I have left of her,” she explained in a low voice. “And now it’s broken. I can’t help but feel like… maybe it’s a sign. A sign that I need to move on.”

Irene rubbed comforting circles on Alexia’s back. “Ale, it’s not a sign,” she said gently. “It’s just a chain. They break all the time. But didn’t you say she ghosted you? Maybe it is time to move on.”

Alexia hummed in response, not fully convinced. She’d never told anyone the full story, choosing instead to let her teammates believe a half-truth — that her ex had disappeared from her life without explanation. It wasn’t entirely wrong, but it wasn’t the whole picture either.

“Yeah, but…” She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t think I’ll ever really move on.”

Irene nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

Alexia hummed, seriously considering it despite the hesitation. Moping around and being depressed didn't help her at all, just made her a bummer to be around. So, she figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

After agreeing, Irene set Alexia up with a good friend of hers, Olga. 

Olga was beautiful, funny, and talented, and their connection felt easy. Alexia liked her. Actually, Alexia liked her a lot. For the first time in years, she laughed freely, and Olga’s presence brought a sense of joy she hadn’t realized she was missing. She stored the necklace away, shoving it to the back of her cabinet, hoping to bury the memories along with it.

But despite Olga's warmth and the happiness she brought, there was a quiet emptiness that lingered in Alexia. It wasn't overwhelming, just a nagging feeling that something was missing. The space you had left inside her was still there, faint but persistent, no matter how much she tried to move on.

“Babe,” Olga called out from Alexia's bedroom on one of their date nights while Alexia rummaged through a pile of unfolded laundry. “Can I borrow your hoop earrings? I left mine at my place.”

“Yeah, sure,” Alexia replied, distracted as she searched for her silk shirt. Finally, she fished it out of the pile before heading back to her bedroom to put it on in front of her wardrobe mirror. "Did you find the earrings already?"

Olga hummed. "No... I found your silver ones but I wanna borrow the chunky gold ones..." Her voice trailed off as she continued to rummage. Alexia chuckled, fixing her shirt before sitting down on her bed to put on her shoes.

Moments later, Olga loudly gasped. “Oh my god, babe, can I borrow this too? It’s so pretty — oh wait, never mind," her voice dropped in disappointment. "It’s broken. Aw... this would have looked so cute on me."

Alexia looked up sharply, her heart stopping when she saw Olga holding the bird necklace. Panic filled in her chest as she practically ran across the room, snatching it from Olga’s hands. She cradled the delicate charm in her palm, her breathing stilted.

“Alexia, what’s wrong?” Olga asked with an alarmed tone.

Alexia didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the necklace, a wave of emotions crashing over her. Every distraction she had used to patch the wound you left in her heart – a new girl, football, work – all proved to be temporary fixes at that moment. She felt as though the bandaid had peeled off, the stitches had come undone and she was back to feeling that gaping wound in her chest.

“Alexia?” Olga’s voice was tentative.

“I can’t do this,” Alexia whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't do this anymore."

“What?” Olga asked, stepping closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Please,” Alexia said, her gaze still fixed on the necklace. “Just leave. Just go.”

“Alexia—”

“Go!” she repeated, her voice firmer but trembling.

Olga hesitated but eventually left, leaving Alexia alone with the broken necklace in her hand. The memories, the pain, the love she thought she could suppress — it all came rushing back, overwhelming her.

At that moment, Alexia realized that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many distractions she filled her life with, the wound you left behind couldn’t be patched up or healed. It wasn’t a scar. It was still a raw, open wound that seemed to have no cure.

Alexia felt guilty for driving away Olga, someone who obviously cared about her and someone she actually liked. But Alexia didn’t want to lead her to believe that Alexia could love her completely… not while you were still haunting her. 

How could she give her heart to someone when it was no longer hers to give, when you still owned every piece of it?

As her fingers brushed the broken chain, Alexia considered messaging Ingrid or Maria — just a quick text, something casual, to ask about you. Were you happy? Do you still live with them in Barcelona? Or had you moved on completely, finding someone else to love? Did you still think of her?

Suddenly, she was filled with thoughts of you. It ranged from memories of the two of you from school to her own concocted daydreams of where you were now. Were you finally working on jewelry? Have you fallen in love with someone else? She was full of questions.

She shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. She could leave all of those thoughts for later. For now, she had to get this necklace repaired. To her, it wasn’t just any necklace; it was the only piece of you she had to keep for herself.

The very next day, she stopped by the nearest jewelry shop, just a block away from her house, and asked for a repair.

And that’s how she ended up there now – in the shop where you worked, just feet away from you as you nervously waited in the backroom.

“I’m here to pick up my necklace,” you heard the voice and even if it had been years, you knew it was her. A flutter in your stomach formed. “I dropped it off yesterday. Here's the receipt, if you need it.”

“Oh, of course, my jeweler had it finished yesterday,” you heard your boss say. You looked over through the doorway to the main shop and saw her looking at you as if calling you over. You caught a glimpse of Alexia's hair and sleeve. You bit your lip and hesitated, feeling anxiety take over you, freezing you on the spot.

Alexia opened the box and looked at the necklace. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh,” she murmured, exhaling softly. She held the charm closer, her fingers brushing it as her expression shifted to confusion. “I… I don’t think this is mine.”

Your boss blinked curiously at her. “Oh? I’m quite certain it’s yours.” She insisted with a nod. “Your necklace was the only one we repaired… and we don’t really have anything like that necklace.”

Alexia nodded but continued to stare at it. She knew it intimately — every curve, every flaw. She had stared at it for countless nights, held onto it as if it tethered her to something she couldn’t let go of.

And this wasn’t that necklace.

“Uh, I’m sure it isn’t mine,” Alexia hummed. “Or did you do something different? Did someone make a change to it?”

“My apprentice did say she cleaned it up? But she didn’t do anything else…” your boss hummed. “Let me call her. She can explain and sort this out.”

Alexia nodded, watching your boss disappear into the backroom. She sighed, frustration flickering in her chest. While the necklace looked more polished and even more detailed, it wasn’t the one she brought in. It was different; it wasn’t the one you put around her neck that day and certainly not the one she stared at all those sleepless nights. She wasn’t the type to complain about services but this time, she might have to. The necklace was special to her.

Her thumb brushed over the charm as memories flooded back — the day she bought the matching necklace for you, the one she gave you with a more polished design.

Her breath hitched, her thoughts spiraling as she slowly realized

“Hi, Alexia.” 

The familiar voice pulled her back to the present. She looked up, and for a moment, she thought she might be dreaming. There you were, standing cautiously with your hands clasped together.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your palms clammy as you locked eyes with her. It had been years, but there was no mistaking those warm hazel eyes. She looked different now — older, more put-together — but she was still unmistakably Alexia.

Alexia blinked at you, hands still grasping the necklace. You offered her a hesitant, almost nervous smile as you stepped out from behind the doorway and moved closer to the counter. “Is there… is there a problem with the necklace?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Alexia chuckled, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “No… no problem at all.” Her lips curved into a small, trembling smile, her heart thrumming as warmth spread through her chest. 

You chuckled softly, though a couple of tears began to well up despite your best efforts to hold them back. Quickly, you swiped them away, shaking your head as if to brush off the emotion. But before you could fully recover, her hand reached out, gentle and familiar, wiping away a tear that slipped down your cheek.

Even after all these years apart, in that moment, she just… knew.

Her gaze locked with yours, steady yet filled with unspoken emotion. You furrowed your brows, feeling the sting of more tears threatening to fall. You tried to lighten the moment with another soft laugh, but the tears came anyway, betraying you. Her hand remained on your cheek, her touch grounding you as she rubbed her thumb against the smooth of your cheek.

You chuckled shakily and smiled, wiping your tears and stepping away to gather composure. “I… I’m sorry,” you blubbered, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

You looked back to her hazel eyes, seeing that they too had glazed over. She shook her head. “It’s okay… it’s okay, monjita.” She smiled at you with the nickname slipping out naturally as if those years never passed at all. “Why don’t we start over?”

You nodded, using your fingertips to wipe her tears as you exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay…” you nodded. You smiled faintly, a quiet steadiness settling in. “Let’s start over. You start.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in that quiet space. Alexia’s eyes dropped briefly to her necklace — now hanging around your neck — and she smiled.

“Hey…” she started. “I like your necklace.”

You shook your head, remembering your lame pick-up line from that day in the library. “Yeah?’ You said as you looked at your own necklace which was now propped on the box set on the glass counter, between the two of you. “Yours isn’t so bad either.”

Alexia laughed warmly, her laugh blending into yours, and when your eyes met again, you felt something shift. You were finally ready to spread your wings and soar.

You were free.

a/n: i hope the ending is satisfying for you guys!! i struggled finishing this, mostly because i was scared of not making a satisfactory ending. but also because... i didn't want it to end yet! this is my longest fanfic to date with around 50k words total... and i really got attached with the characters and the story lol. (also i only proofread this once because i fear that if i do any more, i would nitpick endlessly and never post it)

anyway, thank you again for all the support for the bird — whether it be a reblog, a like, or a long message! all are appreciated. i would, of course, love to hear your thoughts. requests are still close for now but i'd still love to talk to you guys so please send an ask! they often make my day <3 anyway ily all!

chapter index

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰: 𝗛𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱

Word Count: 4.3 K (I told you, It's been in my head for a long time)

Warnings: Jeong Yunho x sub!fem reader, Haunting Adeline AU, DUB-CON, partial somnophilia, unprotected sex, olfactophilia (scent play), sexual persuasion, stalker!yunho, oral (fem receiving), possessiveness, nipple play, jealousy, fear play, manipulation, kissing, biting, marking, praise (princess, good girl etc) and body worship.

Warning: 18+ only of course. This is a DARK FIC and it contains taboo and dark depictions of abuse that could be triggering. If you choose to read further, then you have heeded this warning and I hold no responsibility for your emotional well-being.

No sound was more loud and teeth-chattering than the wind howling

The night used to be your friend, a safe space, a creative outlet for your inner world and thoughts.

But now it felt like it was taunting you, teasing you as you held the coffee mug in your frozen hands, forcing yourself to stay awake as the minutes felt slow and agonising.

You prayed for the comfort of being alone now knowing you weren't...ever.

For He was always there.

Another rose was found on the coffee table this morning, all fresh and pruned with the thorns removed and a piece of paper wrapped around the stem.

The delicate handwriting revealed the next mission of this uninvited presence and it caused you to feel a sense of uneasiness you've never felt before.

My patience is running thin. I'll be with you tonight, my princess. Yunho

You silently walked over to the window that was uncovered by the drapes, watching the raindrops fall on the glass as you peered outside to gaze at the shrubbery and looming pine trees.

You hid in the shadows, trying not to reveal your face as you peered out the front of your domain, no sign of civilian life around you at all.

There was fear inside of you, fear of your safety and for your life sure but there was anticipation and curiosity.

Probably a lot less fear than you should have for the stalker who's found you, isolated you and admittedly-cared for you.

Your eyes lock onto the shadow formation in the bushes, your heart racing as you found your dark knight.

His tall, lithe build standing there in the heavy rain, covered in black and the hood of his parka covering his face except for a small sliver that revealed the plumpness of his lips and defined cupid's bow.

The one that has been sending you roses month after months, all pruned with pieces of paper tied around the stem.

The one that has been leaving nicely-packaged gifts on the empty side of your bed, all wrapped in crimson paper with a pretty rose on top.

All containing gifts of the highest quality such as perfume, a silver necklace with the 'Y' initial, makeup, sanitary products (how did he even know when your cycle was?), panties.

The latest one was an oversized plain, black t-shirt that smelt of musk and cologne, it smelt like he had worn it, slept in it...some perverted part of you wondered if he had worn it whilst jerking off with you in his mind- what was he even thinking about doing to you?

All the messages he gifted to you all revealed the same desires but with sickly, sweet words.

How he yearns for you. How he loves you, how he just wants to protect you, care for you, be your safety net from the cruelty of the world.

His desire to take you, claim you, ravage you, to bend and mould you to his will.

It felt like you were being courted and hunted for at the same time, were you to be his Queen or a gilded bird locked in a cage?

The reality of the situation quickened when the shadow form moved, your eyes locked on how his lips turned into a twisted smirk and he lifted his right hand to offer you a slow, taunting wave.

You quickly dashed away from the window without bothering to close it, running to the middle living and dropping yourself in front of the glowing hearth- wrapping the blanket around your shoulders further tightly around your body.

Ring the police, scream, run...why aren't you doing this? You hadn't even locked the doors...why? What's wrong with you?

The truth was this man brought out a perverted joy in you, the joy of being wanted, of being pursued, a temptation stirred in your belly at what could happen tonight.

He wouldn't kill you (at least you hoped) and you were tired, burnt out, lonely...maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let him in?

The thoughts were too much for your sleep-deprived brain to cope with and in front of the hearth with a pillow on the floor and your blanket wrapped around you.

You fell asleep.

You lost the game.

The room was steeped in darkness, the only light a faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. The air was thick with the kind of stillness that made everything feel suspended in time.

Yunho stood silently near your feet, watching you scrunch your nose up cutely whilst you were asleep on the floor with the hearth flame slowly turning into ash.

He had been watching you for what felt like hours, the corners of his lips curled in a faint, almost tender smile. There was something intoxicating about your vulnerability, the way you were completely unaware of his presence. You were so peaceful, so trusting in your sleep, and it stirred something dark and possessive within him.

Yunho moved closer, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly under his weight. His breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above your skin. He could feel the warmth radiating from you could almost hear the blood pulsing just beneath the surface. The urge to touch you, to claim you as his own, was overwhelming. Yet, he held back, savoring the moment, relishing in the power he had over you.

But he resisted, choosing instead to let his fingers trace a delicate line down the side of your face, his touch as light as a feather.

Your skin was soft, impossibly soft, and he could feel you shiver under his touch, your body reacting even in sleep. It was intoxicating, this power he held over you, this control. He could do anything—anything—and you would be helpless to stop him. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, dark and thrilling, as he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Mine,” he whispered, the word barely audible, but it sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively curling in on itself, as if trying to escape an unseen threat. Yunho’s smile widened, satisfaction and something far darker curling in his chest. You were his, in every sense of the word, and tonight he would make sure you knew it.

As if sensing the shift in the air, your eyes flutter open, groggy and unfocused at first. You blink, your vision clearing, only to find Yunho’s face inches from your own, his eyes dark and intense, filled with an emotion that sends a chill down your spine. Panic surges through you as you try to push yourself up, but Yunho’s hand is already on your wrist, holding you in place with a grip that is firm yet strangely gentle.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s a sinister edge to it, a promise of something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matches the fear rising within you. But there’s something else too, something that makes your pulse quicken for an entirely different reason. His gaze is intense, burning with a possessive hunger that makes you feel both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

“What do you want?” you breathe, your voice trembling as you search his eyes for any hint of mercy, but all you find is that same dark intensity, a need that matches your own but twisted into something far more dangerous.

Yunho’s smile is slow, almost predatory, as he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You. I want you, all of you. And I’m not letting you go.”

The words send a shiver through you, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous, something that makes your pulse race with a heady mix of terror and desire. You know you should fight, should scream, should do anything to escape his hold, but all you can do is stare into his eyes, trapped in the dark, magnetic pull of his gaze.

And then, with a gentleness that belies the darkness in his eyes, Yunho releases your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulls back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, to think, but not enough to escape. The room feels colder without his touch, and you realize with a start that a part of you misses the warmth, the connection, no matter how twisted it is.

“What are you going to do to me?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, your fear mixing with a curiosity you can’t quite suppress.

Yunho’s smile is slow, almost lazy, as if he has all the time in the world. “That depends on you,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with a dangerous promise. “But one thing is certain—you won’t ever want to leave me. Not after tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and full of meaning, as Yunho’s gaze holds yours, daring you to resist, to fight, even as he knows you won’t. Not really. The darkness in him calls to something deep within you, something you hadn’t known existed until this moment, something that responds to his possessiveness, his unyielding desire to claim you as his own.

And as the tension thickens between you, you realize with a start that you’re not entirely sure you want to resist. Not when the alternative is losing yourself completely to the dark, twisted allure of Yunho’s obsession.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s an edge to it, a raw, unfiltered need that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I’ll take care of you my princess, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted… if you let me.”

His hand moves to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his touch. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Yunho whispers, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “For you. You have no idea how much I want you.”

His dark hair frames his lashes and enhances the intensity of his gaze, the parka gone from his shoulders and now replaced by a black, long-sleeved henley shirt and his cheeks flushed red with desire.

His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he’s too rough. But you’re not going anywhere—you can’t, even if you wanted to.

There’s a moment of hesitation, a brief second where you could pull away, where you could resist the pull of his gaze, the magnetic attraction that binds you to him.

'How I needed you'

His lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, and whatever resistance you might have had crumbles beneath the intensity of the moment.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, filled with a hunger that Yunho has kept restrained for far too long. His hand moves from your neck to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss, and you find yourself responding, your body leaning into him, craving the warmth and the connection despite the fear that lingers in the back of your mind.

Yunho groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through your entire body, sending a rush of heat pooling in your lower abdomen. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to process what just happened. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-lidded, dark with desire as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, the words a possessive growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Say it.”

There’s no hesitation in your response, the words tumbling from your lips before you can even think to stop them. “I’m yours.”

Yunho’s eyes flare with satisfaction, and then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your body with a need that borders on desperation.

He drapes his body over yours and cements you to the floor, his body providing all the heat you needed as he kisses down your neck, his teeth clamping down on the skin and leaving a mark.

A dark chuckle leaves his breath as you moan at the sting, the sensation changing as he licks over it to soothe the pain before averting his attention to the base of your throat.

You could feel how hard he was as he grinded on your thigh, it aroused and terrified you about how big he felt, your imagination betraying you as the thought of how you would take him made your mouth water.

Fuck, you hoped he was nice enough to prep you or would he be mean and expect you to take that thick cock of his without any prep at all?

His hands tug at the fabric of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one fluid motion. You shiver as the cool air hits your skin, but the chill is quickly replaced by the heat of Yunho’s touch as his hands explore every inch of you, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. “So perfect.”

The praise sends a flush of heat through you, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

Your thoughts were undone when his hands cupped the curve of your breasts, squeezing them gently and kneading the flesh as a moan echoed from his throat.

'So soft, so full, just like how I imagined them princess' His voice was deep, raspy and filled with need as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around the bud, his tongue swirling and suckling as he kneaded the other one with his fingers.

Yunho could be buried in your tits all day and it would feel like heaven to him, his teeth scraping the edge as he pulled away with a thick, sucking noise before moving on to the other.

His lashes fluttered and his moans were beginning to sound like music to your ears, your hands gripping the surface beneath you as you stifled your moans, though you weren't not sure why- no one could hear you.

He pulled his mouth away from your swollen bud before reaching up to gently tilt your chin down so you could see him, his pupils blown-out and dilated- who was fucked more, you or him?

'Don't silence yourself- I need to hear you princess. You can try and fight this but I see the way you respond to me. You crave this as much as I do, even if you won't admit it'.

Your body shivered at those words as Yunho placed kisses down your naval, biting the skin every so often so your body was a myriad of his kisses and claims.

A squeal left your body as Yunho roughly pulled your hips to him, grabbing the fabric of your thin leggings and tearing the material near the crotch region.

You were fascinated at how he could tear the fabric with his bare hands, watching the veins in his hands, neck and forearms dance as he pulled the material roughly down your legs.

'I never want you this clothed when you're with me princess, I'm going to steal all the pants you own. Want you easy and pliable for when I come to your room and fuck you senseless every night'.

Yunho's eyes turned predatory and wild as he buried his nose in your panties, his hands holding down your hips and fingers kneading into the flesh.

The tip of his nose rubbed your clit through the material and your cheeks reddened at the sound of him inhaling your scent, a deep guttural groan resounded through the room.

"Mmm, you smell so sweet, baby. I could stay between your legs forever," Yunho growled, his voice rough with desire. His hands tightened around your hips as he pressed his nose harder against your clothed core, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through your body.

Your back arched involuntarily, a gasp slipping past your lips as he dragged his nose down, teasing the edge of your panties with his tongue. "You're trembling already, princess," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. "I haven't even started."

Yunho’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was dark, hungry, and it made your heart race in your chest. "Gonna ruin you, you know that, right?" His voice was low, full of promise, and it sent heat pooling between your thighs.

With your panties tossed aside, he wasted no time, his mouth finding its place against your bare skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, while his grip on your hips kept you pinned firmly in place. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alight with pleasure as he worked you over with expert precision.

"Yunho..." you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body began to quake beneath him. He hummed against you, the vibrations only adding to the intensity of your pleasure.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he groaned between licks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could make you come like this, princess, but I want you to beg for it first."

Your body bucked against him, desperate for more, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Say it," he commanded, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me how bad you need me."

Your breath hitched, every part of you aching with want. "I need you, Yunho. Please... don't stop."

His eyes darkened even more, satisfaction washing over his features. "Good girl." Then, without warning, he dove back in, his tongue and fingers relentless as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the room filled with the sound of your breathless moans and his low growls.

You were lost in the haze of pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably as he devoured you, your release building until it was impossible to hold back. With a final cry, you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as Yunho held you through it, his mouth never letting up until you were completely spent beneath him.

Panting, you stared up at the ceiling, still dazed from the intensity of it all. Yunho wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking as he crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

"That's just the start, princess," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. "You better be ready for more."

Yunho pulled back from the kiss, his lips still hovering over yours, but his eyes were blazing with something darker. His fingers trailed over your flushed skin, gripping your throat just tight enough to send a pulse of fear through you, but it only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"You think this is enough?" he growled, his voice dripping with an edge of dangerous obsession. "No, baby, I’m not even close to being done with you. You’re mine, all of you. I don’t care who’s looked at you, touched you before. From now on, I’m the only one who gets to claim you."

His hands roamed possessively over your body, fingers digging into your skin like he wanted to leave marks—like he wanted to brand you as his. "I’m going to make sure you feel me everywhere," he whispered, leaning in to nip at your ear. "You’ll wake up every morning aching for me, and no one else will ever satisfy you the way I do."

He leaned down, his tongue darting out to lick the sweat from your neck before sucking hard on the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. The bite of pain mixed with pleasure sent a shockwave through you, your body reacting instantly, but Yunho only grinned, like he could feel your helplessness.

"You think you can get away from me?" His voice was a low growl as he pressed his body flush against yours, trapping you beneath him. "You think you have any choice but to need me? No, baby, you belong to me. I’ll make sure of it."

His eyes flashed with something feral as he dragged his fingers down your body, his nails scraping just enough to leave faint red lines on your skin. "I’ll steal every last piece of you until there's nothing left for anyone else. You won’t be able to think about anyone but me."

He ripped his shirt off with one swift motion, revealing the sculpted muscle underneath, and his hands went to the button of his jeans, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he said, his voice gravelly and raw. "You're going to beg me, over and over, for more, and I’ll make sure you're dripping with nothing but me."

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're mine. And I’m going to remind you of that every night, every time you try to breathe without me."

His grip on you tightened, and his lips curved into a wild smirk. "I’m going to make sure you never forget who owns you."

He had you locked underneath him, using his frame and height like the gilded cage he wanted to contain you in. He needed you to understand the size of him, his height, his strength and how he could overpower you in every single way.

Your eyes opened to see his shoes thrown on the floor and Yunho pulling down the zipper of his jeans, both of you naked and the hearth silhouetting Yunho's frame.

He looked like Hades who had crawled out of the shadows, an unworldly beauty only enhanced by the onyx of his eyes which were filled with an insatiable need, a need to brand you with his soul or whatever you were willing to fucking take of his.

His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he pumped himself, your eyes widening when you saw how big he was- long, thick and girthy and your mouth became dry from the thought of it inside you.

"I’m going to make sure you feel me everywhere," he whispered, removing his hand to move your legs around his hips, "You’ll wake up every morning aching for me, and no one else will ever satisfy you the way I do."

You flinched at the feeling of the tip of his cock near your entrance, his other hand planted against the side of your face, his breath ghosted over your face he murmured against your lips.

"Tell me you're mine again, princess. Say it'.

Your pulse raced, the intensity of his words wrapping around you like a vice. "I'm yours, Yunho," you gasped, your voice trembling with both fear and need.

He thrust into you without warning, the possessiveness in every movement making your mind spin. Each thrust was a declaration, a reminder that Yunho wasn’t just taking you—he was claiming every part of you, stamping his presence on your body, heart, and soul. The world outside faded until there was nothing but him, his heat, his grip, his hunger.

'Ahh, you feel like heaven' He moaned out in ecstasy before kissing you feverishly, the swipes of his tongue matching the pace of his hips 'you're my heaven'.

A changed position has you beginning to drool for him as he drops this knees down, grabs your thighs and pushes them towards your chest, angling his hips higher and grinding over your clit.

'You're my life, I'd live for you, I'd- ahhh! I'd kill for you, I'd murder everyone in the whole world if it keeps you safe and with me'.

The overwhelming intensity of his movements drove you to the edge, and soon you were unraveling beneath him, your body quaking as he pulled you deeper into the ecstasy.

As you cried out his name, your voice hoarse from the pleasure, Yunho groaned, his own release following not long after. He held you tight, as if letting you go now would be impossible.

Yunho’s grip remained firm as he buried his face against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. The way his body pressed into yours felt overwhelming, suffocating even, as though he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his breath heavy and eyes dark, Yunho stared down at you with something that made your blood run cold. His thumb traced your lips, slow and possessive, his gaze never wavering. "You can try to get away," he murmured, his voice low and almost too calm. "But no one knows you like I do. No one will ever have you like this."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in your chest like a vice. His lips ghosted over your ear, the air between you thick with tension. "I’ve been watching you for so long... you can’t escape me now, princess."

The possessive tone in his voice was chilling, his eyes wild with a dark obsession. There was no softness here, no tenderness—only the certainty that he wasn’t letting go.

"I’ll always be watching. Always." His grip tightened slightly as if to remind you that he was never far away.

Happy surprise party gift to you from me! This is a sneak peek into next month's Kinktober and the fics won't be as long as this but thank you to everyone who supported me with posting this- I'm about to go to sleep because I'm so nervous.

I'm going to include my taglist and ppl who commented on my post regarding this fic- only read if you're interested.

Taglist: @mykryptonitelight @cursedeastern @sugarnspice630 @ja3hwa @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @gyuhanniescarat @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @laylasbunbunny @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @i-love-ateez @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @justaaveragereader @silentreaderthings @daddysspecialdollyworld @abby-grace @wisejudgedragonhairdo @smilefordongil @writhingwrecked @hongthoven @almightyddeonghwa @planet-dawn