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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 days ago

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beauty and the beast

a/n: ahhh here it is! february's poll fic! hope you all enjoy the twisted tale it became!

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3

summary: sucking in a breath, he stared down at you before stating firmly, “…I want to be human again. No matter the cost…”

warnings: beast/werewolf!bucky barnes x reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, fairytale retelling, soulmate au, prisoner x captive, predator x prey, monsterfucking, magical castle (except it's alive in the sense that bucky can control it because of the curse), violence, references to murder, bondage, dirty talk, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, gaping, manhandling, knotting, overstimulation, oral, squirting, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 3505

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Your lungs burned as you dashed through the cold castle, your cloak billowing behind you as you tried to navigate the dark halls.

But as you whipped your head around in your frantic search, your eyes caught sight of a dusty portrait on the wall that stunned you to your very core and momentarily caused you to forget about the vital matters at hand.

Though scratched up by angry streaks, you still recognised the face that the painting portrayed. Although you had never met him, it was still the visage of the very man who had haunted your dreams for as long as you could remember. You’d never previously known if the man of noble birth had been real or just a figment of your imagination, though his tormented life, and the terrors he’d had to endure every month when the moon above became the prince’s master, had flickered in your mind almost every night.

A distant scream then rang out high up in the eastern tower and echoed through the castle till it found your ears and ripped you away from your discovery.

Darting down the dim hall and up a winding stone staircase, you soon found the elderly man you’d left your little village to find, bolted and locked away in a freezing cell.

“Papa!” you cried out as you lunged forward and grasped the iron bars dividing you both.

Achingly pushing himself up to his feet, he scurried closer and gasped, “what are you doing here?” his eyes as big as saucers.

“Getting you home,” you felt a tear roll down your cheek before your fingers brushed over your father’s knobbly ones, “oh, papa, how did this happen?”

“No, darling, listen to me, you must leave here at once, it isn’t safe,” he urged in a hushed tone as his eyes darted to the shadows behind you, “go! Run away before he finds you!”

“Who?” you asked, but before your dad could be the one to fill you in, a low growl rumbled throughout the space. Spinning around, you glanced around the darkness, “who’s there?”

“Oh no…” your father whimpered, “he’s back…”

Keeping a hand clutched over your dad’s, you sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “let my father go!”

“The very least that thief deserves is to rot in a cell,” a deep voice chilled your bones, though your wild eyes still couldn’t find the source.

“Thief?” you panted, “no, he would never–, it has to be a misunderstanding–”

“He stole a rose,” a trickle ran down your spine as you recalled what flower you had requested for your father to bring back home for you, “it was this sentence or death.”

“You truly demand a life for a rose?” your eyes continued to dart through the darkness.

“Please, darling–,” your dad begged you to stop, though you swiftly cut his efforts short.

“Let me take his place,” you pleaded. Keeping your gaze twisted away, you flinched as your father’s protests seeped through the metal bars, “I was the one who asked for the flower, so I should be the one taking the penance.”

A low snarl rumbled in the night as the unseen figure thought it over, though as he did, he shifted just enough for you to make out the faint silhouette of him, huge and hulking, unlike any man you’d ever seen before.

But instead of offering you his verdict in words, he instead, by some mystical means beyond your comprehension, unlocked the cell door by his sheer will.

As it creaked open with a loud groan, you rushed in and threw your arms around your father.

“I can’t let you do this,” he stated, pulling back from the hug.

“It’s going to be alright,” you tried to assure him, though tears still streamed down your face, “I love you.”

“No, darling, no–,” he continued to protest, before a massive arm suddenly reached out of the shadows and snatched up your father by the scruff of his neck, “ah!” the old man screamed as his captor dragged him out of the cell.

“Don’t hurt him!” you tried to follow, but the iron door was slammed shut in your face, “please!”

Halting at your words for but a moment as the broad figure began to accent the stone steps, pulling your father after him like a burlap sack, he muttered in a low tone, “silly peasant girl…” the moonlight streaming in from one of the small windows caught and illuminated him just enough for you to discover that he wasn’t a human at all, “you should have just run away when you had the chance…”

Curled up in the corner of the cold cell, you shivered violently as you hugged your knees even closer to your chest, though swiftly jumped as you suddenly heard a pair of heavy footsteps stomping up the winding staircase.

As you scurried to crawl even further away from the dungeon door, the towering beast appeared once again on the other side.

“Eat,” he growled after he’d kicked a plate in through the sliver of space at the bottom of the door.

Your stare only flickered down at the stale bread and the tankard of water for a mere moment before it darted back up to the monster before you.

“Who are you?” you gathered the courage to ask, “what are you?” though the beast didn’t bother entertaining your questions, only grumbled quietly before he shifted back towards the steps, “please,” you called after him, “I’m already your prisoner, what harm could a few questions do?”

Stopping in his tracks, he let out a heavy sigh, “more than you’d think,” before he disappeared from your sight.

A painful gasp filled up your lungs as you snapped awake, swiftly shooting up to a sitting position.

It had seemed so real… the careful seduction honeyed enough to make your core throb even now, to the loss of control and blind rage that swiftly followed each disappointment…

Though you knew it just to be a figment of your imagination, you still trembled at the possibility of it being true. Princesses, more than you could recall, had all, one by one, been taken to this castle. The gentle side of the beast that he had granted them each the privilege of witnessing nearly scared you with how efficiently it had not only wooed them, but also had made your own heart confused for even but a moment.

Though after he had carried them off to bed and made love to them in a manner you could quite literally only dream about, something, unbeknownst to you, would cease to take a hold, a failure that each time would cause the monster to snap, and in the mindless frenzy, he would accidentally take the royal’s lives, each and every time.

Panting as you tried to calm your rapid pulse, your weary eyes finally noticed the shadow lurking on the other side of your cell.

“Are you gonna kill me like you did with all of those princesses?” you hesitantly asked in a hushed tone.

Shifting his weight, he slowly tilted closer and uttered darkly, “how do you know about that?”

“Are you?” you insisted, “because then you might as well just get it over with instead of drawing it out–”

“No!” he roared, “you’re no good use to me dead,” his beastly head then tilted, “but if that’s what you wish, then…”

Sucking in a breath, your stare stayed glued on him before you muttered, “depends on what you’re planning to do with me…”

“Well, since you don’t have any blue blood running through your veins, you aren’t what I need. But perhaps I can still find some use of you. Maybe, if one day you change,” or more like break, “forget about that meaningless life you had before and grow loyal to me, then you could live out the rest of your days as my servant, assist me with whatever I may require.”

“Like getting you more royals to murder? I won’t help you with that,” you dared to stand your ground, “is that also what happened to the man in the paintings downstairs, the ones that are all scratched up? Did you kill him too, just to have his castle?”

Your words caused the creature’s features to get muddled as he then blinked, “I didn’t–…” swallowing hard, his jaw clenched before he continued, “he’s not dead, not yet at least. Though I fear he doesn’t have much time left.”

“Can I see him?” you heard your own heartbeat thump in your ears, “I know it sounds crazy, but I think I might, some way, somehow, be able to help him.”

Staring back at you, the monster then uttered, “…you’re staring at him,” causing you to seize up in shock before you slowly heard him say, “prince James Barnes,” he introduced himself, though with a hesitancy as if the memory of his own name had begun to fade away, “though everyone always used to just call me Bucky.”

Scarcely breathing, you uttered, “what happened to you?”

Averting his gaze, he began to explain, “…I’ve always had this affliction, ever since I was but a child, each time the moon would stand full and proud in the night sky, I would change, lose control… I was young and dumb… hunted the wrong doe…” he uttered, though the way he phrased it made you think he wasn’t speaking of a deer at all, “so now, instead, I am cursed to live like this each day that doesn’t bear the same full moon I used to fear, slowly losing my myself with every month that passes, becoming less human and forgetting about those ways… if I do not break the curse before the next eclipse, then I will be stuck like this forever,” he shared before he added with a growl, “so, yes, I would greatly appreciate it if you helped me find some more royals since I am running out of time.”

“That’s what you need to break the curse? A princess?”

“Not just any princess,” his head slowly shook from side to side, “the day that spell was cast, it was prophesied that she would be the only one who could save me. So, she became linked to me. But, perhaps out of fear, or greed, or something else, her kingdom hid her away from even themselves,” he exhaled, “and I still haven’t been able to find her, no matter where I look–…” his sentence then melted away as you shifted slightly and the sleeve of your dress dropped down just a tad from where the hem had been resting on your shoulder. In the low light, the beast spotted just the very crescent of the birthmark that was now visible, poking out of your neckline “…what is that?” he whispered before willing the door, that kept you both separated, to swing open.

You stumbled back as he slowly strode in, “what is what?”

“That,” he then ripped down your sleeve, the seams slightly tearing from the force. Petrified, you didn’t move an inch as he stared at the moon-like shape on your skin, “…you’re–…” his breath sounded ragged as he pieced the mystery together, “you’re her…” his eyes then flickered up to find your own.

“I’m–,” your breath got caught in your throat, “sorry?”

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” he breathed, “you came to me,” the corners of his lips faintly twisted at his spellbound amazement, “you finally came to me.”

“I came here to free my father,” you swiftly corrected him.

“Your Highness, that thief wasn’t your kin. Did you truly not know?” he uttered, “don’t worry, I will never lie to you as they did, you have my word.”

“I thought I was your prisoner, and now you want to–, what, love me?”

Sucking in a breath, he stared down at you before stating firmly, “…I want to be human again. No matter the cost…”

Your eyes then flickered towards the cell door he’d left agape, and before you could even weigh out the odds, you seized the opportunity and darted out.

“What are you–, no, no!” he roared from behind you before you heard his thunderous steps nip at your heels.

Running down the stairs, you nearly slipped countless of times before you reached the bottom. As you stormed through the castle as fast as your freezing feet could take you, screeches cut through your panting as all manner of furniture, large and small, magically came soaring through the air in attempts at slowing you down or blocking your path.

“Stop!” you heard him behind you, though didn’t have the courage to glance back to discover how close he was as he chased you and continued to fling items towards you at his will, only narrowly missing your form, “you will not escape, not when I finally have you!”

But when you finally reached the bottom of the grand staircase that led down into the entrance hall, eyes glued to the exit, Bucky then lunged down the latter half of the steps and tackled you to the ground.

Wind knocked clean out of your lungs, your body ached from the collision. The stone floor was cold beneath you as his weight pinned you down against it.

“You really shouldn’t have done that…” he panted in your ear, his laboured breath causing your hair to rustle, “I was gonna be all nice and gentle with you, just as I was with the other princesses, but I can’t have you slipping away again.”

His hulking form then peeled away from you, though only to seize your hips swiftly enough for escape to never be an option. Yanking you up off the ground till your bottom was propped up high, yet your upper half stayed plastered to the floor, his wide hands raked over your frame before a claw caught onto the fabric of your dress.

Once your clothing was ripped to shreds and scattered across the castle’s entryway, his grasp encircled your hips as his thumbs stretched out to spread you open for him.

Your toes curled as he then began to lap at your core, tickling your clit till your cunt couldn’t help but leak for him. The beastly tongue was long and just as strong as the other muscles in Bucky’s body, making you quiver as it greedily explored your holes.

But when the cursed prince’s patience ran thin, he didn’t hesitate to let himself straighten up behind you and nudge his length against your core. Without even catching a glance of it, the sear weight of his girth as he briefly tapped it against your glossy folds sent a shiver down your spine. As he buried his monstrous cock inside of you, instantly bullying it much further than you thought plausible, your mind went blank as your body struggled to accommodate for his inhuman size.

Fear swiftly magnified within you at the thought that he might break you, since that was what it felt like as he split you open.

“O-oh shit, little one…” he groaned as he tried to draw back out, though when only the tip of him remained, your tightness clung around the bulbous head too fiercely to let it escape. A yelp bubbled out of you as he had to put his might into it, letting out a grunt as he forced himself out with an audible pop, watching as your poor pussy gaped for a second before achingly clenching around nothing.

When he sank back into you, the ruthless rhythm he then initiated caused your body to shake violently beneath him as his rough thrusts were too intense for what your form was used to.

“Quit fucking squirming, princess,” each word was punctuated by a buck as he mercilessly drove his fat cock into you, “fucking take it or I’ll just eat you instead.”

On the next thrust that rocked your body, your wobbly knees finally gave out, though the drop barely affected the monster’s pace as he only followed and blanketed you with his form.

Weakly, your fingers shakily snaked up above your head before they began to claw at the ground in a hopeless attempt at crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” one of his massive palms came down over the back of your head to shove you back down against the floor, holding you there as his glance then flickered to the curtains close by. Jaggedly, the fabric then fluttered alive and came flying through the air to obey his wish. Slithering over, they first tangled themselves around both your wrists, yanking them up high till your arms were completely stretched out against the floor, before another curtain then slipped around your torso, just beneath the swell of your tits, to keep you that much further trapped.

Slamming his dick even further inside of you, he tried to ram the bulbous knot at the base of his cock inside of your warmth, but no matter how hard he thrust, it just wouldn’t pop in. Though as he kept up his efforts, it kept on hitting your puffy pearl at every failed attempt, soon rendering you to gush around his fat girth as he continued to rut into you till you were crying out at the overstimulation.

Pinned down and mind melted, your blurry vision found the painting on the wall of Bucky’s true form, the very prince you had dreamt about your whole life and put up on some pedestal as someone to yearn for. Though as you stared at the portrait, it was then that you noticed his eyes, and you finally began to lose yourself. They were the only thing that hadn’t changed about the beast that still buried himself inside of you. Eyes that you had previously fallen in love with… eyes that you perhaps still were in love with…

Suddenly, the curtains around you tightened before you were flipped all the way around. Head spinning, you blinked up at Bucky as he pushed himself back till he was kneeling between your trembling legs. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as he grasped your hips and lifted them up off the ground, rubbing your drooling pussy messily against his leaking tip before his hardness caught your entrance and he slipped back in.

Sinking you down onto him, a low groan of elation rumbled in his throat as his big knot finally popped inside. His thick fingers dented your hips as his efforts paused for a moment as he let himself revel in the sensation of your cunt clenching around all of him.

As his movements picked back up again, lewd and sloppy pops sounded each time he fucked his knot in and out of you, repeatedly making you take it and stretch your tiny hole out for him.

As your eyes drifted down, they caught sight of just how intimidating his size truly was, for if you had seen it before, there would have been no way in hell you would have thought your body was capable of taking it.

Your messy cream stained his knot as he continued to bring you down against him, fucking you as if you were just a toy in his grasp. It was then that you spotted the bulge that appeared in your belly, though it still took you a moment to realise that it was the thrusting imprint of his jarring size, visible for all to witness. It was so staggeringly pronounced that it caused you to unravel once more for him, your squirt that leaked around his cock only caused the beast to grow more feral and snap his hips up to meet your own each time he drove your body down against him.

His heavy balls slapped against your slick skin as he repeatedly bumped against your sore cervix, nearly piecing his way through it as he brought you down one last time before he finally tumbled over the edge himself, pumping you full of so much cum that it began to leak out of your stuffed hole before he was even finished.

And then, while he was panting above you and still plugging up your poor pussy, a bright light appeared and set his body aflame in an ethereal glow.

You had to narrow your eyes to a squint as the beast’s visage began to melt away before you, till he wasn’t a beast no more, and only the man of your dreams remained hovering above you.

Staring down at his hands with wide eyes, Bucky turned his palms a couple of times before he gasped, “it worked! I can’t believe it actually–, I’m human again!” before his teary vision found you below him, “and all because of you! You–, oh…” he then melted down against you, a bright smile shining on his face as he uttered, “thank you,” and worshipingly pressed his lips to your skin.

#lea’s writing #february 2025 poll fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #werewolf!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #werewolf!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes au #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky smut #princess!reader ᰔ

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cinnamongirlblogsworld · 2 days ago

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Well, these past few days, I had a fleeting thought and debated whether I should write about it. But here we go.

read at your own risk!!!

Haunted

Lilia calderu x reader

The reader is part of the coven (let’s imagine they’re an actual coven, beyond just the Path of the Witches). It’s almost like a "Girls' Night," and everyone is gathered at Agatha’s house. You and her have always been close—maybe you’re the only person, besides Rio, that she actually tolerates and respects. Your relationship is almost like a friendship, in the sense that you talk about feelings every now and then, and she always acts afterward as if it never happened—lol, Agatha being Agatha.

Because of that, she notices that you might have a little crush on Lilia. And honestly, who, being a rational human being, wouldn’t?

So, you’re all eating pizza, having a few beers, hanging out in the living room when Jen suggests a game of "Truth or Dare." You hesitate, thinking, This is such a childish game, but you don’t notice the discreet, knowing smirk that Agatha flashes in your direction.

Between laughter and playful jabs, the bottle lands between you and her. Harkness leans in with a teasing grin.

"Truth or dare, baby?"

You smirk back, expecting something entirely inappropriate from her.

"Dare!"

"I dare you to give Lilia a lap dance in my closet—for as long as I find it entertaining. And you can’t back out, don’t be a coward."

Time seems to freeze. You remain motionless, knowing she knew—but you never thought she’d actually do something about it.

"That bitch."

From one side, you hear Jen’s uncontrollable laughter; on the other, Alice’s wide-eyed stare looks like it might burn a hole through you. But something else stirs deep inside you, something that makes your whole body feel like it’s seconds away from bursting into flames.

Slowly, you lift your gaze toward Lilia, expecting complete disdain at the suggestion. But what you see makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

She holds a wine glass, having just taken a generous sip. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, and her eyes—oh, her eyes—are locked onto you, piercing, as if she can see beyond what you’d ever let anyone else witness.

"So?" she hums. "What are we waiting for?"

"W-What? You’re actually going along with this?"

For the first time, you speak after what feels like hours, though it’s only been seconds.

"Come on, darling," Lilia drawls. "Unless, of course, you don’t want to. Not that it’d be a hardship for me to be there with you. I might even enjoy the private show."

Your thoughts spiral. This is insane. How did things escalate this quickly?

Agatha, clearly entertained, throws her hands up. "Lilia Calderu, I knew I liked you, girl!"

Lilia rolls her eyes at the comment but doesn’t deny anything.

And just like that, you find yourself inside the closet—locked in by Agatha.

Your clothes disappear, leaving you in nothing but lingerie, while a sensual song begins playing in the background—yet another ridiculous Agatha stunt.

"Fucking hell."

Lilia sits in a chair, watching you. No, devouring you with her gaze, as if the sheer lack of fabric on your body is an invitation. There’s something in her eyes, something like hunger—but no, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t look at you like that... would she?

Heat spreads through you, searing, setting every nerve alight. The blood in your veins turns molten. You take a breath, fighting for composure.

Your body moves, fluid and slow. Your hands skim your own skin in a way that makes confidence bloom within you. You step toward her, swaying your hips with deliberate grace, your gaze never leaving hers. Your hair tumbles around you like a living thing, shifting with every movement.

You turn your back to her, slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders but never removing it. A teasing glance over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips.

But when you see her biting her lip, watching you like that—oh, you shudder all over.

And then you lower yourself into her lap, the warmth of her body against your bare skin making you dizzy. The energy radiating from her coils around you, drawing you in. You roll your hips, slow, deliberate. This is just a game, just a dare, nothing more... right?

She hasn’t touched you. Not once. Not until—

A pair of firm hands grip your waist. And then, in a surge of strength, she lifts you effortlessly.

You gasp, thrown off balance, eyes wide as she spins you around to face her.

"L-Lilia—"

"Shh, darling."

Lilia Calderu is a force of nature—unyielding, commanding, and utterly intoxicating. She cages you between her and the wall, making you feel utterly trapped—no escape, no thoughts, only her.

One of her ring-clad hands trails up to your throat, fingers curling gently before tightening just enough to steal your breath.

Your body burns. Shakes. The submission she draws from you is instinctual, primal, absolute.

Your legs press together in desperation, but she notices. Of course, she does.

She shoves you downward. "Kneel."

It’s not a request. It’s a command, sharp and unwavering.

You drop instantly, sinking to your knees before her, eyes lifting to meet her gaze. The way she looks down at you makes you shiver.

She grips your hair, yanking your head back with a force that hurts—but the pain only fuels the fire inside you.

Deprived of attention, you lean your face against her thick, prominent thigh, and slide your face across the area, seeking raw and crude contact. She looks at you and smiles pretentiously, almost motivated by this reaction. You raise your face a little more, until your intimate area, pressing your nose there. Damn, her scent flooded your being, and you just wanted to beg, plead in her name, like a miserable person cries out to God.

Then, she pushes you away.

"Open your mouth."

You gulp, but you do it. No hesitation.

"Good girl..." Her voice is pure sin. "I knew you had this pathetic little urge to be used."

She leans down, whispering against your lips, "You do realize I’m old enough to be your mother, right? Don’t you have any shame?"

Her fingers trace your jawline, tilting your chin up. The glint in her eyes is nothing short of wicked.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Silence is consent.

"Of course, you wouldn’t," she taunts. "How pathetic."

Her fingers push past your lips, forcing themselves inside, making you choke, making your throat constrict around the intrusion. You’re drenched for her, dripping, needy.

Tears prick at your eyes as you suck around them, tongue swirling over her rings, leaving them slick—just like you.

Nothing else exists but this.

You want me?

I walk down the hallway

You're lucky

The bedroom’s my runway

Slap me!

I'm pinned to the doorway

A wet sound—her fingers leaving your mouth.

You gasp, panting, feeling the unbearable loss.

She releases your hair, but you stay put, unmoving, waiting.

"You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?"

You nod. No hesitation.

She pulls you up, and your knees ache, but you don’t care.

Her nose trails along your neck, breathing you in, reveling in your warmth.

She exhales, her lips brushing against your ear.

"I’m going to take care of you, darling."

The sound of a slap echoes through the room—a firm strike against your sex, from bottom to top, reverberating to the core of your cells. No coherent thought crosses your mind.

"But first, I need relief. I want the image of your pretty little face all messy because of me, between my legs. My thighs framing your neck while I feel your tongue licking me until I come."

"You want that too, don’t you, darling?" "I know you do."

Well, I don't know what that was but it's been on my mind for a while, comments are welcome so I don't feel crazy alone lol

#lilia calderu x reader #patti lupone #lilia calderu #i'm just a lesbian #lilia calderu x you

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 2 days ago

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Charm Me | Jeon Jungkook | Two Shot | Part One

Summary: Your best friend's boyfriend's best friend is not someone you had planned on falling for, and honestly you hardly admit it to yourself most days but maybe, just maybe there's something you can do to test those waters... Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (semi friends to lovers lol) Word Count: 7k~ Warnings: Some curses here and there but nothing major. a/n: Kay so this was supposed to be a one shot but I didn't finish it in time and I wanted to get something out for Valentine's Day so I hope you guys enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited per usual so please excuse any mistakes. I legit decided last minute to make this a two shot lol.

"Come on y/n let's go!" Sadie pleads practically dragging me through the parking lot. "Someone's excited" I laugh, dragging my feet a little to make her task even harder, eventually yanking me through a heart littered archway.

"You finally agreed to come with me to the Valentine's Festival after I had been begging you for years! How could I not be excited?" she says as though her degree of excitement is warranted but with her, excitement is always easy to conjure.

"I've never had a reason to come since I've been single for years" I roll my eyes, the whole thing seemingly pointless if you ask me. "Yet here you are, still single and gracing me with your presence" she says accompanied by a dramatic curtsy, very fitting this time since she happens to be wearing a dress.

Her cute coquette style mismatched with my dark and moody nature is a laughable dichotomy.

Her pink ballet flats walk next to my all black combat boots, the ribbons swaying in her hair stand in stark contrast to the way the light catches on my silver chains, leaving us quite the odd pairing.

"You know, if you keep on hanging on my arm like that people are gonna think we're lesbians" I sigh, not making an effort to pull away. "Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine" she teases and I roll my eyes.

"Pretty sure Jayson would have a problem with that" I say, pealing her off of me leaving her pouting before grabbing my hand instead and pulling me over to the first of many stalls that line this festival.

"Just because Jayson is my boyfriend doesn't mean he has to be my Valentine...plus he hasn't asked me yet" she sighs dramatically for the fifth time today, a common theme for the past couple of days whenever this topic is brought up.

"You know you could always, I don't know... ask him" I say and her brows furrow leaving me poking the wrinkle on her forehead to make her stop.

"What a ridiculous thing to say" she scoffs and walks off to the next stand leaving me shaking my head and following after her.

Sadie is someone I've been friends with for as long as I can remember. Long enough to have known each other before we made the dramatic split in our senses of style. I'd love to burn the pictures of me in Abercrombie skinny jeans and brightly colored Hollister polos but alas they will forever haunt my memories.

At least I had Sadie though. I wouldn't leave her in the past no matter how many embarrassing stories she's in possession of.

"No way!" she squeals and pulls me over to another stall that's caught her eye. "If you keep on yanking on my arm like that you'll eventually pull it off" I say while rolling my shoulder, making it a point to prevent her from doing so again.

"Sorry" she laughs awkwardly and tries to check on me but I assure her I'm fine, choosing to direct her attention to the table she decided to pull me towards this time.

"Love potions? Really? Jayson is already head over heels for you Sadie, I doubt you'll need help keeping him around" I roll my eyes and try to move onto to the next stall but she pulls me back, gently this time thankfully, clearly enthralled with the concept.

"Not for me silly, for you!" she justifies and takes a closer look, making the mysterious and lowkey sketchy woman behind the table hopeful that she'll get another sucker to fall for her tricks.

"Why would I need a love potion? Last time I checked there's not a man in my life that I'd want to fall in love with me" I say and she cocks a brow at me. "Bullshit" she says, using language that I've hardly every heard from her.

"Someone's feisty today" I chuckle making her expression sour. "What? There's literally no guy I could think of that I'd want to use that on" I reiterate but we both know I'm lying.

But I'm not gonna give that information up though even if she tries to beat it out of me.

"Whatever you say" she huffs and moves onto the next stall.

The rest of our time here is spent doing the same thing over and over again with Sadie trying to find something for Jayson and me just following along getting hungrier by the second as we inch closer and closer to the food stalls that are annoyingly full of food items that look like hearts and roses but I couldn't care less when they smell that good.

"Alright come on dude I'm starving" I say when she's finished paying, still engaged in a conversation with the shop keeper that has been convincing her to buy too many useless things but it's no skin off my nose if she wants to use her daddy's money to buy that nonsense.

"Hey! I was still talking to her" she whines but follows since after my not so subtle mention of needing sustenance she's starting to realize she's just as starving if not more than me when she see's that they're selling heart shaped waffles.

"Okay but afterwards I want to check out a few more stalls!" she compromises and switches to pulling me along again to get in the ever growing line of hungry customers.

~~~~

After we've each successfully gained a food baby each Sadie pops around and looks at a few more stalls with me very much ready for a nap.

But let's be honest, I'm always ready for a nap.

"Hey why don't you pull the car around and I'll check out the last few stalls on my own" she suggests but I know she's up to something.

"Why?" I question watching her eyes shift over to a certain stall in particular. "That way it'll safe us a little bit of time and we can get out of here sooner" she explains but I sigh and agree, knowing the faster we get out of here, the better from my perspective at least.

"I'll call you when I get closer to the entrance" I say and she smiles and waves me off while I make the trek back to her car on my own, having brought her car so I would have no means of escape.

When I finally pull up she hops in with at least two or three more bags than she had when I left. "What did you buy?" I ask but all I'm granted is a little giggle accompanied by a no where near suspicious 'Nothing' leaving me rolling my eyes for the last time tonight, knowing that her childlike excitement when it comes to these things truly is endearing to me, but she'll never know that.

~~~~

Once Sadie unlocks the door to her apartment we both head over to the table to set down her countless purchases.

"Did you really need another perfume?" I ask, holding up the pink ish stained glass bottle to the light leaving her taking it out of my hands and putting it back on the table. "It's not perfume it's room mist. It's supposed to make the space feel more romantic" she says, giving a shortened version of the sales pitch she no doubt got.

"Right...romantic" I chuckle knowing that it'll probably just be a cheaply made lightly scented mist that's supposed to be all natural with health benefits too but I won't burst her bubble on this one since I know there's enough romance to spare when it comes to her and Jayson.

I swear I can barely stand being alone with them but luckily that's gotten a little better lately.

"I should probably get going soon" I say looking at the clock after I've helped her put everything away for safe keeping, code word for away from Jayson's prying eyes. "Wait why?" she pouts, "I thought you were gonna stay for movie night" she says as if I just told her that she can't wear pink on Wednesdays.

"I don't wanna watch a movie with you and your boyfriend" I cringe at the idea of being left in a room with those two. "Yeah but he's bringing J-" she starts to argue but is cut off by a rhythmic knock on her front door making her expression go from sulking to smug.

"Can you get the door?" she asks and goes back to the kitchen to get the movies snacks ready. "I'm not your butler S" I call back out but my only response is her happily humming and completely ignoring me.

I walk over to the door and open it with Jayson's hand raised up about to knock again which he luckily doesn't because he wouldn't knocked on my forehead instead.

"Impatient are we?" I ask and lean against the doorway, making his efforts of seeing Sadie last a little while longer. "Hi y/n, is Sadie around?" he chuckles, glad he didn't accidentally make an enemy of me tonight. "I mean this is her apartment" I say and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yeah I guess you're right" he says making me smirk, knowing I'm playing to scary best friend role perfectly. Looks like he took the threat of me castrating him if he ever hurt Sadie pretty seriously still. "In the kitchen" I say and widen the door, letting him slip past me but when I go to close it I'm met with another person trying to come in right behind him.

"Hey y/n" his deep voice says, no doubt trying to play it cool since he's probably heard that story before as well. "Didn't know you were coming" I say, my tone neutral as I widen the door for him.

"Yeah Jayson said something about a movie night? I heard you were gonna be here so I thought I'd tag along...if that's alright with you of course" Jungkook say, backtracking and clearly embarrassed for admitting that he wanted to see me.

"I mean it's a free country" I shrug my shoulders and close the door, with him waiting for me to lead the way even though he's been here quite a few times already since Sadie and Jayson got together. "Right" he chuckles, not adding much more than that, letting the conversation die.

"Hi baby" Jayson says making Sadie giggle and I avert my eyes before I have to witness another kiss of theirs leaving me bumping into Jungkook's chest, not having expected him to be that close. With him as a result wrapping his arm around me to make sure I don't stumble from the impact.

"Sorry I-" he says but I just unwrap his arm around my waist. "It's fine. I was just a little too dramatic in trying to save myself from witnessing their love" I roll my eyes leaving Sadie pouting but I can tell she's clearly satisfied with seeing Jungkook and I so close.

"Makes sense" he said and rubs the back of his neck and watches as I make my way over to the couch with him soon following my lead.

He's been like this almost since the beginning once he realized that my moody exterior wasn't aimed at him just because he was a stranger but was just a part of my character. Although I'm pretty sure I still make him nervous, he doesn't seem to mind it anymore.

Just like clockwork he sits on one side of the couch while I sit on the other, never crossing spacial boundaries unless necessary or out of convenience like that one time I got roped into sitting in the middle in the backseat next to him on our trip to the beach since we needed more space for the stuff we brought with us.

Curse you Sadie and your tiny car.

I don't even know why we ended up taking her car since it's the smallest out of the four of ours but alas. The result of which was Jungkook's arm draped across the back seat to offer me some more space with me eventually falling asleep on him. Resulting in me lowkey avoiding him after the fact until I realized how ridiculous I was being.

Sadie had also been guilt tripping me at that time about how sad he had been and how lonely he looked hanging out with just her and Jayson and so I finally gave in, knowing I couldn't do this forever. Plus it wasn't like it was his fault or anything. Swimming always makes me sleepy and I should've warned him about that.

He didn't make it a big deal about it when I came back thankfully since I already had to deal with enough teasing from my often merciless best friend so we were luckily able to act as though it never happened. Although ever since then it's happened quite a few times...

"Hey Jungkook do you think you could let me use the arm rest tonight?" Jayson calls out sounding not in the slightest bit suspicious but all of us know what he's doing and Sadie clearly has clearly put him up to it.

"Oh um" Jungkook starts but when he not so subtly glances over in my direction I decide to just put the boy out of his misery. "You can use mine. Sadie and I can sit in the middle" I say resulting in me having to sit next to Jungkook for the next two or so hours.

When I glance at him I can see how the new seating arrangement has made him nervous and so I decide to torture the boy a little. "As long as that's okay with you Jungkook?" I ask, tilting my head at him which has him nervously glancing back over at me before clearing his throat and practically squirming him his seat before nodding 'yes'.

"Perfect!" Sadie says and with the help of Jayson brings over all the snacks and presses play on the pre approved movie from our group chat debate.

~~~~

As the movie drags on I watch my vision go in and out of focus, leaving me shaking my head in an effort to try and wake myself up. "You okay?" Jungkook whispers and I hum. "Just a little sleepy" I respond assuring him I'm alright. He hums back and adjusts his posture, draping his arm around the couch, as a not so subtle invitation for me to lean on him.

The corner of my mouth turns up at that and I can tell that he noticed it, making him not as nervous about his offer anymore.

The dynamic between Jungkook and I has been...peculiar to say the least.

I wouldn't consider him a close friend or even a friend really. Maybe more like a friend by proxy since we do end up spending a lot of time together. With both of our best friends insisting that the two of us tag along with neither of us having the real desire to tell them no.

We've had a good conversation here and there when Sadie and Jayson are wrapped up in their own little world but I won't lie to you when I say that there have been some days or nights where we just sit in silence, watching the love birds do what they do.

If you ask me though it's never felt awkward. Has he been awkward and nervous? Yes. But it doesn't really bother me either.

I wouldn't say that I seek out his company but I can't say that I don't feel a little disappointed when he's not around. More like there's something missing because obviously someone is missing, plus I'm forced to pay more attention to the two of them if it's just me.

It's times like that when he works up the courage to text me. Explaining why he wasn't able to make it as though he felt obligated to do so but he makes sure to offer me an ear when I want to complain about the nonsense those two get up to or what they managed to rope me into.

He sends funny memes to cheer me up, somehow knowing my sense of humor perfectly or complains to me in return about how boring and monotonous his job can be making me smile when he tells me he has to go because his boss is watching. As though he was a nervous teenager that couldn't spend a second away from his crush.

He couldn't have a crush on me could he? No, no that's not right.

I let my thoughts of Jungkook drift off, the low hum of the TV soon lulling me to sleep resulting in me leaning against him, with him adjusting his posture to make it more comfortable for me, his arm soon migrating from resting on the back of the couch to loosely around my waist.

Something I've always noticed when I wake up though is that he's so comfortable. As though being this close to him feels natural. I will admit that when I've partially stirred awake and realized what I'd done I don't make an effort to wake up or pull away, indulging in the comfort for just a little while longer.

I feel bad though for the times that I wake up and he has to leave right away or when Sadie pulls me over and let's me lay on her lap to continue sleeping, making it a little easier for him to head out. It's as though he waits until the very last minute just to let me sleep a little while longer, not wanting to disturb me for as long as he can.

Tonight isn't one of those nights though, the ones where he has somewhere to go or some place to be.

He just stays there, being as still as he can, letting me cuddle up to him as little or as much as I want to, eventually helping me lay my head down on his lap once Jayson and Sadie turn in for the night. The position being the slightest bit more comfortable this time with me eventually waking up three hours after the movie had finished.

My head is resting on his upper thigh, with my face basically buried into his torso but he doesn't seem to mind when I turn onto my back and see him absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

"What time is it?" I mumble, slightly startling him but he smiles at my groggy state soon after. "One thirty" he mumbles back, keeping his voice down so he doesn't force me awake too quickly.

"You could've woken me up" I say, slowly sitting up and stretching before straightening out my appearance just the slightest bit. "I didn't have anywhere to be so I thought I'd just let you sleep" he shrugs and I hum. "Plus you seemed pretty exhausted so I thought you could use the rest" he adds and I can't help but give him a soft, hardly conscious smile.

"Thanks" and he just smiles back at me. We sit there for a little while, and he eventually hands me a bottle of water that's on the coffee table to hopefully help me wake up but after a while I sigh and rest back back against the couch again.

"What?" he chuckles, sensing my struggle. "Sadie was supposed to give me a ride home" I huff, realizing the predicament I've been put in, just because I wanted to get some shut eye.

"I can give you a ride" he chuckles, seeing the clear solution but I shake my head.

"I can't just keep you here and use you as my human pillow then have you give me a ride home as well" I counter but he just smiles. "It's really not a big deal" he counters and I sigh again, knowing he's probably not gonna take no for an answer.

I can't help but get this...this indescribable feeling in my stomach that I so desperately want to ignore when I think about being alone with him. We are alone right now but that somehow seems...different.

"I have to go somewhere on your side of town anyways so your place is on my way" he says making me smile at his blatant lie. "At two in the morning?" I chuckle, checking my phone and quickly turning down the brightness so it won't blind me anymore.

"Yeah it's uh...open for twenty four hours" he say, making excuses to fit his claims. "You're lying to me aren't you?" I say, calling him out making him look down at his lap, slightly defeated seeing his excuse didn't work this time.

"Yeah" he mumbles making me smile. "You could always just say that you want to give me a ride" I chuckle and from the way he clears his throat and looks away I can tell that that sentence has a completely different meaning to him than I had intended.

"I um...I want to give you a ride...home. A ride home" he stammers, the whole interaction quite amusing to me. "Sure, I'd like that" I say and stand up with him getting up immediately, patting his pockets and making sure he has his keys.

I grab my purse and make sure I have everything I need as well and when he sees that I didn't bring a warm jacket he gives me the other one he brought that he had put aside when he came in. "What's this for?" I ask, taking it suspiciously and draping it over my arm.

"We're just walking to your car right? Pretty sure I don't need this for that short of a walk" I say and try to hand it back to him. He takes it back but instead wraps it around me and helps me put it on regardless, even going through the effort of zipping it up for me.

"Trust me, you'll need it" he smiles softly after seeing how it fits me, clearly satisfied seeing me wearing something of his.

"I look silly don't I?" I say, turning towards the full length mirror Sadie has in her entry way but he chuckles and shakes his head, standing behind me and looking at me through the reflection.

"It looks perfect on you" he says just as soft as his smile and opens the door, urging for me to go in true gentlemanly like fashion leaving me rolling my eyes but going along with his efforts nonetheless.

I lock up the apartment with my spare key and follow him as he leads me to what I had expected to be his usual black BMW but what I'm met with is an equally as black Harley Davidson with him unlocking the compartment in the back and handing me his spare helmet.

This item although I don't take so willingly.

"You're joking right?" I scoff and cross my arms, the longer sleeves from his jacket by design giving me sweater paws making my stance a whole less defiant than I wanted. A pouty aura now stands in it's place.

"What? Never ridden a motorcycle before?" he smirks and walks over to me, choosing to put it on for me since he's pretty sure I wouldn't do it from my argument against this whole idea to begin with.

"No I haven't and I don't plan to" I huff and try to take it off but he chuckles and holds it down against my head making me accept defeat with this part at least. Just because I put on the helmet doesn't mean I actually have to ride it.

"You scared?" he chuckles, adjusting the strap under my chin and making sure it fits just right, smiling, satisfied with his work, amused with my soured expression. "I am not scared!" I argue and he smirks.

"Then what's the problem sweetheart?" he says, his first time even daring to use a pet name with me catching me off guard.

"The problem is, sweetheart, is that I don't wan't to. Those things are dangerous!" I argue and he smiles before putting his helmet on as well and taking my bag to place it in the back seat compartment and closes it.

"Hey!" I argue when I realize what he's done, trying to get it back but it seems it locks automatically leaving my efforts sans key useless.

"Do you trust me?" he asks and my brows furrow, honestly not knowing the answer yet making me look away. "Y/n" he says, placing both of his hands on my shoulders and urging me to look at him leaving me ultimately relenting.

"Do you trust me?" he repeats, all the times I've let him in even in the slightest rushing through my psyche. Hell even just moments ago when I had been asleep and in a vulnerable state I trusted him to watch over me and so I nod my head.

Admitting to him and myself that I've let him in, that I've let him break down these walls that I've built up even in the slightest making the sides of his eyes crinkle, the mask like helmet making it impossible to see his complete expression.

"Good, now get on"

~~~~

I hold onto him as tight as I possibly can while he safely swerves between lanes and warns me when he's about to go around a bend and I can tell that everything about this predicament amuses him.

"You know you can relax a little when we hit red lights" he calls out to me over the roar of the engine but my only answer is a quick 'Nope' while I grasp onto him tighter, his reactions always a dark chuckle that I can feel through his back that's pressed impossibly close to my chest the tighter I cling to him.

At those red lights though he tends to remind me to keep my legs spread just a little wider, making sure I don't burn my calves on the hot metal of the bike. Placing both of his hands on my knees and spreading them a little wider. The act alone in this case is innocent but in others that I curse my mind for wandering to is anything but that.

"Hey" he calls out, the roar of his Harley no longer audible making his voice seem that much louder. "Yeah?" I ask, still completely clueless as to what he's trying to alert me to. "You can let go now" he chuckles, the sound no longer just felt but heard makes me pull back, so thankful his back is turned to me still.

"Sorry, I didn't realize we had gotten here already" I say and he shakes his head and pulls off his helmet before getting off and leaving me sliding down a little on the seat, loosing my balance and grabbing onto the handlebars.

"I thought you said you didn't like motorcycles" he taunts and I huff. "I don't" I roll my eyes making him even more amused. "Really? Because you look like you're about to steal it from me" he points out, nodding towards my hands that are very much still on the handle bars.

I let go of it as though I had burned myself and quickly getting off the bike, losing my balance and making Jungkook on instinct grabs my hips to keep me on my feet.

After regaining my composure and realizing the predicament we're in leave me the one to call in back to reality. My hands although are still very much holding onto his biceps with his hands still gripping my hips with an almost bruising strength.

I look up at him, seeing as he's looking down at me, an unreadable expression written on his face as though he was struggling with something leaving me really having to break him out of his train of thought.

"Jungkook?" I say, loosening my grip on his arms. "Hmm?" he hums, still clearly lost in whatever thoughts had been holding him hostage, still looking at me but almost as if he couldn't focus on one feature.

"Jungkook?" I say again, this time smiling and that breaks him out of it a bit more. "You can let go now" I laugh, leaving him blinking and letting go, taking a step back making both of our arms fall at our sides now.

"Sorry um...are you okay?" he asks, remembering the fact that I almost fell on my ass. "I'm fine, are you?" I tilt my head at him leaving him looking away, a rosy tint deepening on his cheeks even in this twilight surrounding us.

"Can you help me with this?" I ask after trying to struggle and get the helmet off leaving his mouth utter a inaudible 'oh' before stepping closer again and unbuckling the intricate strap under my chin.

"See, home safe and sound" he chuckles after putting the helmets away and giving me my bag back. "Slightly traumatized but safe nonetheless" I say making the corner of his mouth turn up.

"It wasn't that bad was it?" he asks with him now tilting his head at me, now understanding his reaction to when I do it. "Never make me do that again" I huff and turn to walk away and when I hear the sound of two sets of foot steps instead of one I turn around and watch as his steps stutter and come to a halt.

"What?" he asks when he's met with a confused look. "What are you doing?" I ask and he's now the one rolling his eyes at me. "Walking you to the door?" he nods towards my front door making me cross my arms over my chest.

"Why?" I cock my brow, "I'm perfectly capable of walking there myself" I argue but he looks down and chuckles. "I know, but I want to" he says when he looks back up at me, something about it making my heart flutter and therefore making me more susceptible to the whole idea.

"Fine" I say and it's at that point I notice the fact that he had in fact planned this. Him having parked in a visitor parking space and going through the effort of taking his helmet off as well. Clearly showing me he had no intention of leaving right away making me turn around to hide the no doubt embarrassed expression on my face.

His footsteps trail behind me as I walk over to the stairs, choosing to not take the elevator because the thought alone of being in that small of a space with him seems intimidating enough.

It's not like I'm on the fifth floor or something...just the third, making both of us slightly winded by the time we get to my door.

He waits as I unlock my door and when I turn around he still doesn't look like he's in much of a rush to leave. "You gonna head home?" I ask, tossing my keys on the hooks next to my door and he smile. "You're not gonna invite me in?" he asks, nodding inside and I look back assessing the state of it and decide it's in an okay state to have visitors.

"Do you wanna come inside?" I ask and he again clears his throat and looks away. Damn this boy has an even dirtier mind than I do. "Yeah um sure" he says, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears pink as if he wasn't the one that suggested this making me smile and walk in, leaving an open invitation.

He follows soon after and closes the door behind him, quietly since it's about to be three in the morning so he doesn't feel like contributing to me getting an eviction notice.

"It's been a while since you've been here huh?" I ask, grabbing both of us waters from the fridge with him nodding and taking it from me, making it a point to brush his fingers against mine before I pull back.

"Yeah. It looks a little different" he says while taking in some things he hadn't noticed before, one of which being my little black cat that does a big stretch before walking over to him, smelling him and circling around his legs as if he was sizing him up.

"I didn't know you had a cat" he says, leaning down and offering his hand down for him to get a little bit more familiar with his scent. "What's his name?" he asks, looking back up at me after having crouched down to pet him, seeing that he's taken a liking to him which surprises me to say the least.

"Shadow" I say and I can't help but smile at the sight. "Hi Shadow" he coos again leaving me caught off guard when Shadow starts purring. "He really never takes a real liking to strangers, or at least not this quickly" I say and he smiles before standing back up, leaving me looking back up at him again.

"I guess I'm just a likable guy" he jokes making me roll my eyes and sit down on the couch with him following after me. "You've got some pretty heavy duty curtains there" he points out, seeing my very dark, very black curtains to match my whole aesthetic.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes so it's easier for me to keep as much light out that I can if I end up having to sleep during the day" I shrug and place my water down on the coffee table with him soon following after.

"Is that why you're so sleepy all the time?" he asks making me hum, "Yeah, sorry about that" I apologize but he smiles and shakes his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I'm just glad I'm able to help you get some sleep sometimes" he says, his smile soon turning shy making him look away.

His act of going in and out of shy to confident makes him that much more entertaining to me. With him although practically squirming under my gaze one second to practically giving me butterflies in the next. It's an interesting dynamic but one I don't put much thought into.

"Are you gonna have trouble sleeping tonight? You know with that long nap that you had" he says sheepishly as if he wasn't the one I had fallen asleep on.

"Maybe, but I'm used to it" I shrug my shoulders and he nods, clearly trying to think through what he wants to say next but before he's able to a loud thunder clap resounds through my apartment, making me almost jump into his lap, the sudden sound catching me off guard.

"You alright?" he asks and I clear my throat awkwardly, and sit back, going back to my respective side of the couch. "Yup totally fine, completely fine actually. How are you doing?" I babble, clearly giving myself away which now is amusing him.

"You're afraid of thunderstorms aren't you?" he asks, tilting his head at me and I nod, giving in right away because there's no use hiding this obvious answer.

"Are you gonna be able to sleep through it?" he asks and although I know what he's gonna offer next I don't want to take advantage of his kindness especially since I don't want him to end up thinking I led him on because I can't make up my mind in the future.

"Probably not" I admit and he hums, thinking about it for a second before saying what I knew he was going to. "I could stay...if you want?" he asks, not wanting to overstep but sensing from my body language alone that I might need someone.

"I-" "How about this. I don't really like the idea of riding my motorcycle in the middle of a thunderstorm so do you think you could offer me a place to stay for the night?" he asks, making me see that although I know he's doing this for me he does end up benefitting from it at least a little bit...or a lot a bit.

I think about it for a second and although I know I'm gonna say yes I can't help but hesitate. The thought of letting him stay making this whole thing I know we're starting to feel for each other that much more real.

"I guess it would be pretty shitty of me to kick you out in the rain huh?" I smile, wanting to add a little humor to the tension I clearly feel growing between us. "I mean it's your choice but I would really appreciate it if you didn't" he jokes making me smile.

"You can stay on one condition" I say and he hums at that but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have it any other way. "You have to sleep in my bed. My couch is too short and I'd feel horrible if you woke up with a kink in your neck or something because of it" I say and he gives me a cheeky smile.

"It would defeat the purpose if I slept anywhere else but with you. You know, so I can keep you calm through the storm?" he chuckles and I nod, glad that we're on the same page although for different reasons.

"Did you wanna borrow some clothes? I have some baggy sweats and your waist is pretty small from what I remember so they'd probably fit you" I ramble and I know at that point that I've said way too much when he gives me a wicked smile.

"Have you been checking me out y/n?" he asks and scoots just a bit closer. "No, no I just remember from the few times we've gone to the beach together. You know, with Sadie and Jayson?" I make excuses but he's not buying it.

"So you haven't been checking me out now but you did then?" his smile never leaving his face.

"Did you want the clothes or not?" I scowl making him even more enticed to keep teasing but he hums in agreement and watches as I jump up from the couch.

"Wait here" I say and he nods his head, resting his arm across the back of the couch and spreading his legs just a little wider than necessary with him shamelessly checking me out as much as I am with him.

I scurry off to my room though, the thought of crossing anymore lines with him than I'm about to already is something I'm not ready for yet...yet? No! I'm not ready for period! I'm not ready for anything like that and I don't want to put a strain on our relationship if something ends up happening.

I change and take some very much needed deep breaths before going back to the living room with the baggy set of clothes I had offered to him and see that he's started to explore. He takes a closer look at the pictures that I have hung up and zeroes in on one on my desk of Sadie and I in those aforementioned pictures I had mentioned.

"You looked really different here" he chuckles and I walk over and put the picture frame face down, not wanting him to have to see that image for any longer.

"I didn't have much of a choice back then. Plus you know that was the style back then" I explain and hand him the clothes before resting against the desk, making sure he doesn't try to look at it again.

He hums and takes the clothes making my eyes furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask but he smiles and shakes his head. "Nothing" he says and places the clothes on the desk next to me.

"What do you mean it's nothing? It has to be something if you're acting like that" I huff and glare at him as he looks away, clearly more amused at this situation than I can comprehend. "I just had an image in my head of you always dressing like you usually do" he says and looks down at me, making me realize just how little space is left between us.

"How do I usually dress?" I ask, knowing the answer but wanting him to elaborate, wanting to know exactly what he thinks about the way that I dress. "You know, all dark and scary" he smirks and places both of his hands on either side of my hips on the desk, leaning down to my height making me back away from him.

"You think I'm scary?" I scoff and look away, trying to hide how much his close proximity has caught me off guard. "I used to" he hums making me look at him, his honesty although obvious is peculiar to admit at this point.

"And now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper making the corner of his mouth upturn but before he's able to respond another roar of thunder smashes us out of our "Moment" if you could even call it that. Embarrassingly forcing me to cling onto him as if my life depended on it, with him on instinct wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me steady, now realizing just how scared I truly am.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay" he says in a hushed tone, pulling me even closer, him feeling the rapid beating of my heart through my chest.

He rests his head on top of mine with me practically trying to crawl into his chest with how close I'm trying to be and he finds it endearing to say the least. "You're safe, I got you" he says, after another one roars, making me cling onto him, practically shaking at this point.

"How do you know?" I mumble against his chest and he pushes me away and leans down so he could be at my level. I look away again, this time trying to hide how completely embarrassed I am for being so scared of something that I know is silly but I can't help it.

He tilts his head trying to catch my glance and when that doesn't work he cups my cheek and brings me back over to him but even then in my stubbornness when I still won't look at him he tilts my chin up and I finally relinquish to his efforts.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you" he says softly and I nod before going back in, knowing that at the end of the day he's the one who's gonna keep me safe.

No matter what he's always gonna be there for me...and that's what scares me.

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Taglist continued in the comments 💜

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ghostinthetumbchine · 18 hours ago

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Yes, it's something that so deeply haunts me because I absolutely and deeply empathise with his rage at the Valar and Eru and costant attempts to "rig" the game. The crux of the problem is him essentially ignoring that now there are also the Children and other living things in the picture, using them as basically metal and materials he can mold to his liking and not living beings with their own will. In many ways in my eyes he repeats the mistakes of those that formed him, without noticing.

My problem with the works is that it's never acknowledged as a mistake and those on the "good" side are never properly confronted. It's only a mistake when he does it. That's also what makes me feel like the story is unfinished and why I need the redemption story arc so deeply - not to defang him even or "fix" him - thats too simplistic. But to put those two opoosing sides into direct confrontation when they no longer fight but instead have to find a way forward together, confront each other and themselves through it. He's the prime candidate for it, in fact, I feel, the only one...

On this part:

Also: not being able to find the right path alone = it's still his responsibility, not anybody else's, but he NEEDS help.

See, now I'm about to say something really controversial that this convo maneuvered me into admitting... I don't entirely agree. I want to make it clear that I mean here Eru, the Valar and Eonwe, people in positions of extreme power and authority and above him in hierarchy. Not the children, not his victims or people at his mercy.

I generally believe people in positions of power and authority in society - as well as Society collectively, not us personally and individually but this complex construct we create all together - have a much greater responsibility than we currently acknowledge but I will leave that discussion for another day and post as it entails some at lenght explaining and context

The Rings of Power | 2.01

#this is also where we visibly hit the western vs eastern/southern perceptions of community and What We Owe To Each Other ayeee

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luvvictoria · 2 days ago

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The breaking point

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension

+ summary. In the heat of lingering grief and tension from the day's losses, Ghost and Riley confront each other in a raw, emotionally charged argument. Accusations fly as Riley accuses Ghost of being overprotective, while Ghost reveals his deep-seated fear of losing Riley. Their words cut deep, exposing vulnerabilities and the heavy burdens they carry. Ultimately, the confrontation forces both to face the painful reality of their intertwined lives—a love marred by duty and the ever-present specter of loss, leaving them heartbroken and forever changed.

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part.

+ a/n. eated Argument → 👀 Tension Explosion. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !!

The air in the barracks was thick with the residue of exhaustion and sorrow — a lingering reminder of the day's brutal losses. Yet, as the weight of that grief settled over you both, a different kind of storm was gathering, one fueled by simmering frustrations and the unbearable burden of unspoken truths.

You couldn’t take it any longer. With a force born of years of pent-up emotion, you slammed the locker door shut. The metallic crash echoed down the silent corridor like a death knell. “What the fuck is your problem, Riley?” you barked, your voice trembling with anger and despair.

Across the room, Ghost stood rigidly, his arms folded over a chest that had seen too many battles to know peace. His normally unreadable eyes now burned with an intensity that made your heart ache. “My problem?” he snapped, his tone icy. “You mean besides the fact that you almost got yourself killed out there?”

Your laughter was bitter, raw with the sting of betrayal. “I was doing my job, Ghost. Maybe if you weren’t so damn obsessed with watching every step I take, I wouldn’t have to dance with death!” Each word came out sharper than the last, each syllable laced with a pain you couldn’t mask.

He took a step forward, the space between you shrinking until the air felt heavy with everything you both couldn’t say. “Obsessed? You think this is some kind of game? I’ve seen the nightmares. Every time you walk into a firefight, I see your face in the flames, and I— ” His voice broke, a fleeting crack in his controlled exterior.

“You’re suffocating me!” you cried, voice raw. “I’m not a damn child who needs rescuing every time I get hurt. I’m not your project to fix!” The anger in your voice mingled with a deep sorrow, each word a desperate plea to be understood.

Ghost’s eyes darkened with a pain that went deeper than the scars on his soul. “And you think it’s that simple? That if you just step away from my concern, I won’t feel this... this crushing fear? Every moment I see you out there, risking everything, I’m haunted by the thought of losing you. But you—” His voice faltered, swallowed by the enormity of his own heartbreak. “You never let me in. You never let me share that fear with you.”

A single tear glistened in the corner of your eye, betraying the storm inside you. “You don’t get it, do you?” you whispered, voice cracking. “I’m tired of being seen as some liability, some broken soldier who needs saving. I’m out there because I have a job to do, because I want to make a difference — even if it means walking right into hell.”

For a long, agonizing moment, the silence between you was a chasm of shared pain. Ghost’s fists clenched at his sides, his entire body trembling with the raw intensity of the emotion he’d spent years burying. “I’m not trying to control you,” he finally managed, his voice low and ragged. “I’m trying to protect you. Every day, I live with the terror of waking up to a world where you’re gone. I can’t— I won’t—watch you die. Not again.”

Your heart ached at his confession, the truth behind his harsh words now laid bare. “But I’m not dying,” you murmured, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I’m fighting. I’m surviving. And I need to do that without feeling like every step I take is a betrayal to you.” The admission was both a challenge and a plea — a desperate bid to be seen as more than just a fragile piece of his shattered world.

The words hung in the air, heavy with all the pain, fear, and love that had been suppressed for too long. Ghost’s eyes shone with unshed tears, his face contorted in anguish as he fought against the tide of his own emotions. “Then why can’t you let me in?” he demanded, voice cracking. “Why do you push me away when all I ever wanted was to be there for you?”

Your own defenses crumbled under the weight of his vulnerability. “Because every time you get close, I’m reminded of what I can’t lose,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of you sharing this burden. I’m already drowning in it.”

For one excruciating heartbeat, you both stood there — two souls caught in the merciless grip of war, bound by duty and haunted by loss. The noise of the outside world faded into a distant echo as the pain between you surged to the forefront. The fierce argument that had erupted was no longer just about blame or control — it was a raw, unfiltered manifestation of the terror of losing each other, of confronting the limits of what you both could bear.

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, Ghost stepped back. “This conversation is over,” he said, voice hollow, as he turned away. The sound of his retreat was a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you standing alone in the suffocating silence of your own making.

In that shattering moment, as the weight of all your shared grief and fear pressed down, you realized that this was more than an argument. It was the painful, inevitable breaking point where love and duty collided, leaving both of you raw, exposed, and heartbreakingly human.

tags : @hao-ming-8 @jajuska @pinkpookiebear @illuminwtesz

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rindreamery · 2 days ago

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nishi's thoughts ─ mikage reo x reader ─ royal!au

“prince reo, we should not be doing this. i’m sure his majesty has noticed your absence by now—” yet, despite your complaints, you’re met with silence.

reo’s footsteps never falter, his grip on your wrist firm, and pace still as brisk as ever as he leads you through the garden maze. the chatter and loud music playing from the ballroom starts to slowly fade into the distance, muffled by the tall hedges that surround the two of you, until all you can hear is the crunch of the grass underneath your feet. it’s now just you, him, and the silence of the early night. and, for a second, concern overwhelms your mind; now at the aspect of being caught alone, together, and the idea of potentially becoming lost.

as if sensing another complaint, he throws you a quick look over his shoulder, looking quite blasé— unconcerned, indifferent, completely at-ease as opposed to you. he doesn’t smile at you, he doesn’t try to provide you with any verbal reassurance, but the subtle squeeze of his hand against your wrist is all you need. “you know, you worry way too much,” is all he says.

“because you make it difficult not to,” you shoot back, your lips curving into a faint frown. “if i must remind you, his majesty is throwing this ball for you. i’m sure the guests are wondering where you are, by now.”

he misses a beat in his steps, stiffening momentarily at the mention of him, but you don’t notice.

“i don’t care about them,” reo’s response after comes rather quickly, and there’s a slight agitation in his voice as he speaks. tense, but in a way that’s so subdued that it almost flies over your head. almost, because you know better, and the inflection in his voice has you glancing at him through your peripheral. “this ball is my father’s way of searching for marriage prospects for me.”

you can almost see it; the way his mind clouds over in a dark fog at the idea, the word ringing like a haunting bell amidst the fog. the idea of an arranged marriage, you understand, has always been a touchy subject for him. obvious in the way he runs away from it, both metaphorically and literally, effectively dodging any and every opportunity given by his father.

it’s also obvious in the way his fingers dig into your pulse point, fingers clenching around your wrist as marriage slips from his lips. you wince at the sensation, an elusive frown forming between your brows, but you don’t speak on it. instead, you rack your mind with things to say to him— words of comfort, maybe advice, or maybe a simple way of telling him that you’re there if he needs a shoulder to lean on.

but, what could you say? you had never been in this situation before. so, all you could think of is, “oh.”

“i don’t want to get married.” reo continues, honestly, voice distant and trailing off. you ignore the dull pang in your heart, that this isn’t about you, so you purse your lips and offer him your silence. “— to them.” he quickly adds, looking over at you as he says it.

your eyes meet his in the dark, only the moonlight illuminating the earnest glint in his eyes. your breath hitches at the idea, at the possible insinuation, behind his words. but you try not to get ahead of yourself, emptying your mind of fanciful delusions, and simply asking, “to them?”

“to them.” he simply repeats, and then he looks away.

your gaze lingers on the side of his face for a moment, watching the way his hair billows in the gentle breeze that flows through the maze. it’s silent now; you choose not to add onto the conversation, leaving the uncertainty of his words to be lost in the maze behind you.

maybe not to them, but to you. a hopeful, distant thought persists in the back of your mind.

note. i was supposed to post my situationship hcs or sae angst drabble but... i haven't had motivation to finish either of them. so have this draft that's been rotting here for a month 😞

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader

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ditzycafe · 21 hours ago

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🥐 Softening the edges

Summery ; Estella, a kind-hearted bakery owner in the bustling city of Piltover, is known for her sweet confections and even sweeter demeanor. Sevika, hardened from her life in Zaun, comes into Estella’s life under less-than-ideal circumstances. Over time, they form an unlikely bond that leads to something neither of them expected.

Author note ; I hope you guys like this it took foreverrr but I will be posting more I promise and please send ask 🥹🤍

W/C ; 1.7k

The little bakery on the corner of Piltover’s artisan district was a beacon of warmth and light. Estella, the bakery’s owner, embodied its charm—always bright-eyed, smiling, and wearing flour-dusted aprons. Every day, the aroma of fresh bread, cinnamon buns, and lavender scones floated down the street, luring in even the grumpiest customers. But there was one particular customer Estella had yet to win over: Sevika.

Sevika didn’t frequent sweet shops. Her world was one of underground fights and dirty deals, where niceties were a waste of time. However, she had a habit of stopping by Estella’s bakery—not for pastries, but for strong, bitter coffee. She appreciated that Estella didn’t ask questions or push for small talk. Sevika wasn’t the friendliest person, but she wasn’t about to complain about the only place in Piltover that served a decent cup of black coffee without trying to dress it up.

One cold morning, Sevika swung the door open a little too forcefully, setting the bells above it jingling madly. Estella was kneeling behind the counter, picking up a basket of freshly baked rye loaves. Her eyes popped up at the sound.

“Sevika! Good morning!” Estella’s voice was sunshine. She beamed at the towering, scarred woman in front of her.

“Coffee,” Sevika said flatly.

Estella grinned despite the brusque greeting. “I have some ready. Give me just a second!”

She busied herself behind the counter, pouring the dark brew into a clay mug. Steam curled up, bringing with it the rich, roasted scent that Sevika craved. Estella handed it over with care, their fingers brushing briefly. Sevika jerked her hand back as if burned.

“Careful,” Estella said gently. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Sevika didn’t meet her gaze, eyes fixed on the black surface of her coffee. She turned to leave, but something made her hesitate.

Estella noticed. “You okay?”

Sevika froze. “I’m fine. Don’t ask me that.”

Her tone was harsh, but Estella didn’t flinch. Instead, she softened her expression and leaned on the counter. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk, or… need anything, I’m here. No strings attached.”

Sevika stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t do ‘friendly,’ bakery girl.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Estella replied. “Just offering.”

With a grunt, Sevika pushed open the door and disappeared into the street.

Days passed, and Sevika continued to come for her coffee, though she lingered a little longer each time. Estella started to notice the small things—the way Sevika’s shoulders tensed and relaxed depending on the crowd, the glint of something haunted in her eyes. But she never pried.

One evening, just before closing time, Sevika appeared at the door again. This time, she looked… different. Her arm, the one that had been augmented with shimmer-fueled technology, was sparking. Blood dripped from a cut along her cheekbone.

Estella gasped. “Sevika! What happened?”

“None of your business,” Sevika snapped. She staggered inside, breathing heavily. “Just give me the damn coffee.”

“Coffee’s not what you need right now.” Estella stepped around the counter, grabbing a clean towel. She hesitated only for a second before reaching for Sevika’s face.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Estella said simply. “Sit down before you pass out.”

For once, Sevika didn’t argue. She slumped into a chair, scowling but too tired to protest. Estella pressed the towel to the cut, careful not to irritate it further. Her touch was so gentle, Sevika found herself leaning into it without thinking.

“Does this happen a lot?” Estella asked softly.

Sevika huffed. “Occupational hazard.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Stop digging.”

Estella nodded. She didn’t push, instead focusing on cleaning the wound and calming Sevika’s sparking arm. When she was done, Sevika felt lighter than she had in weeks.

“Thanks,” Sevika muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Estella replied, smiling.

The next morning, Sevika returned to the bakery. Estella greeted her with the usual smile, but today there was a small box on the counter.

“What’s that?” Sevika asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“A gift,” Estella said. “Open it.”

Sevika’s first instinct was to refuse, but something in Estella’s expression stopped her. She popped the box open and found a small, perfectly golden pastry inside.

“It’s a honey bun,” Estella explained. “Thought you might like it.”

“I don’t eat sweets.”

“You don’t have to. But it’s here if you want it.”

Sevika carried the box out without another word. Later that night, when no one was watching, she took a bite. It was soft, warm, and tasted like kindness.

The days turned into weeks, and Sevika found herself visiting more often. Estella learned to read her moods—when to chat and when to let silence fill the space. Slowly but surely, Sevika began to open up. Little by little, the bakery became more than just a stop for coffee. It became a safe place.

One rainy evening, Estella was closing up when Sevika knocked on the door. She was soaked to the bone, and her usual gruff demeanor was gone.

“Hey,” Estella said, unlocking the door. “You’re drenched.”

“Yeah.” Sevika stepped inside, water pooling at her feet. “I… didn’t know where else to go.”

Estella’s heart ached at the vulnerability in those words. “You’re always welcome here.”

She fetched a towel and some tea, guiding Sevika to sit by the small fireplace in the corner. For the first time, Sevika let herself relax completely.

“You’re too good, you know that?” Sevika said quietly.

“I just care,” Estella replied. “About people. About you.”

Sevika looked up, meeting Estella’s gaze fully. “I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Something shifted between them then—a fragile, unspoken understanding. Sevika reached for Estella’s hand, and Estella didn’t pull away.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika felt like she belonged.

The days following that rainy evening felt different. Sevika still grumbled and glared at anyone who looked at her the wrong way, but Estella noticed something new—she lingered longer, softened more easily, and even gave small, grateful smiles when no one else was watching.

One afternoon, Estella had just finished arranging a tray of berry tarts when the bell over the bakery door rang. She turned, expecting the usual sight of Sevika in her thick coat. But instead, Sevika was standing there, looking unusually uncertain. In her hands was something wrapped in crumpled brown paper.

“What’s this?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at Estella. “You’re always giving me stuff. Thought it was… time I returned the favor.”

Estella’s heart skipped a beat as she gently took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden flower—a lotus, to be exact. Its petals were smooth and delicate, with a faint shimmer of varnish.

“It’s beautiful,” Estella whispered, tracing the edges.

“Not really,” Sevika said, her voice gruff. “It’s just… something I made when I had downtime.”

“It’s perfect,” Estella insisted. She set the carving on the counter and took Sevika’s hand without thinking. “Thank you.”

For a long, quiet moment, Sevika didn’t pull away.

But life in Piltover and Zaun was never simple, and peace never lasted long.

Late one evening, Sevika arrived at the bakery, breathless and tense. “Estella,” she said urgently. “You need to close up. Now.”

Estella blinked, confused by Sevika’s sharp tone. “Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s trouble,” Sevika growled. “Some old enemies of mine are looking for leverage. If they find out you’re—” She stopped herself, jaw tightening.

“If they find out I’m what?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika swallowed hard. “Important to me.”

Estella’s eyes softened, but there was no time for tenderness. Outside, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the street.

“Back room,” Sevika ordered. “Now.”

Estella obeyed without question, ducking behind the storage door. Sevika turned to face the entrance just as a group of thugs burst in. They were scarred, dirty, and armed with brass knuckles and jagged blades.

“Well, well,” the leader sneered. “If it isn’t Sevika. Heard you’ve gone soft.”

Sevika cracked her knuckles. “You’re about to find out just how soft I am.”

The fight was brutal but quick. Sevika moved with the precision of someone who had fought a thousand battles. In mere minutes, the thugs were sprawled on the bakery floor, groaning in pain. Sevika wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and turned to the back room.

“It’s over,” she called.

Estella rushed out, her eyes wide with worry. “Sevika—your arm—”

“It’s nothing,” Sevika muttered.

“It’s not nothing.” Estella grabbed a first-aid kit and started tending to the bruises and cuts. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Sevika said softly.

“I choose to.” Estella met her gaze, her expression fierce and unwavering. “I care about you, Sevika. I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside Sevika cracked—something she had kept locked away for years. Without thinking, she cupped Estella’s face with her good hand.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sevika whispered.

“Yes, you do,” Estella said firmly. “More than anyone I know.”

And before Sevika could argue, Estella leaned in and kissed her—soft, sweet, and full of everything Sevika had been afraid to hope for.

The next morning, the bakery felt lighter. Estella hummed as she kneaded dough, and Sevika sat at her usual table with a steaming mug of coffee. The sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the space and casting golden light across the floor.

For the first time, Sevika felt at peace.

“You’re happy,” Estella said, noticing the change in Sevika’s expression.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Sevika grumbled, but there was no edge to her voice.

Estella laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They spent the day together, Estella teaching Sevika how to make pastries despite Sevika’s insistence that “baking is for soft people.” By the end of the lesson, flour coated both of them, and Sevika’s scowl had turned into something dangerously close to a smile.

As the day faded into evening, Estella wrapped her arms around Sevika from behind.

“Stay for dinner?” Estella asked.

Sevika turned, resting her forehead against Estella’s. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” Estella said softly. “But we’ll figure it out together.”

Sevika kissed her again, slow and tender. And for the first time in a long, long while, she believed that maybe—just maybe—there was a future worth fighting for.

The end..

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beomiracles · 11 hours ago

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𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 05

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings references to sexual encounters, blood, mentions of injuries, drinking, red-flag reader (?), no warnings just vibes idk man leave me alone im going to cry.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. the last scene was so god awful hard for me to write for some unknown reason... oh well! I got it out, I'm alive, all is well :3

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 05 ] — Bloody Bodies recording legnth; 6.4k + PLAYLIST

⸝⸝

📼 — April 29th 2022

“So… What happens now?” Your hushed question feels loud when it passes your swollen lips. Gingerly pulling your panties back on, you cringe at the sticky feeling of the damp fabric against your skin. Beomgyu remains silent next to you as he leans back against the brick wall. For a moment, you wonder if your question had been a stupid one to ask.

It’s not until you move closer to him, your arm brushing against his that he tilts his head your way, one of his brows tugging upward. “Is something supposed to happen?” He echoes in an almost monotone voice. — Confused, you glance between him and the door only a few steps away. “Are you not going back inside?”

For the past ten minutes you had been trying to come up with an excuse, rather an explanation to deliver in front of Kayla once you walked back inside the club with Beomgyu. She would be mad, undoubtedly so and your mind raked with different scenarios and outcomes. What would you tell her? Would you even get the chance to introduce him, would he even want you to? Maybe he would just take off as soon as you stepped inside.

“No.”

His sigh is like a stone brick thrown right at you, hitting you across the face and leaving an ugly bruise. You blink, in complete disbelief as your gaze darts back toward him. But you had just spent ten whole minutes worrying about what to say. And he wasn’t even going back in? — “You’re not?” It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice and you’re almost certain he picked up on it.

Beomgyu shakes his head before letting it tilt back against the wall behind him. You knew that he was waiting for you to leave, and perhaps you should. Any other day you probably would have, but today it wasn’t enough. The sex only gave you a temporary fix, you needed more.

“Where are you going?” You straighten out your back, hands falling to your sides as they clenched into fists. You were determined to draw at least a half-assed answer out of him. Beomgyu doesn’t look at you when he replies, “Work.”

Ah right, work. It was an easy excuse, given that you knew little to nothing about what he did for a living, or anything else regarding him for that matter. That was bound to change.

“You work nights?”

He hadn’t expected that question, you could tell by the way his jaw subtly clenched, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. He nods, but his eyes are fixated on something far away, something you couldn’t see. “I do sometimes”, he hums.

Sometimes? He must work quite odd hours, for night shifts were usually on a tight and regular schedule. “Is it okay for you to drink before work?” You ask with a small frown, silently questioning his move to come here if he knew he had somewhere important to be shortly after. — But Beomgyu merely shrugs as he pushes himself off the cold wall. “I am my own boss, dollface.” His lips curl into the ghost of a smirk when he leans over to kiss your forehead.

And just like that, he was gone again, and you were left with what seemed even more questions than you’d started with.

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 22th 2024

“He was a freelancer… Of sorts..” You quietly state and Yeonjun glances up from the files in front of him. “Freelance?” He repeats and you nod as your gaze returns to the photos of the crime scene before you. Your finger drags across the image of the bloodstained cough, cringing as you imagine Beomgyu, covered from head to toe in blood as he lunges at the poor victim.

“Do you know what kind of freelance?” Your senior then wonders as he flips a page. You did. Though Beomgyu rarely, if ever, discussed work matters with you, you had still caught on to enough where you knew what kind of connections he held, what kind of person he was. — For some reason your lips betray you, “I don’t.”

You then hastily continue, “He was gone a lot, worked odd hours, came and went.” You shrug, trying your best to divert from the topic you had brought up yourself. You don’t know why you defended him, why you felt the need to take his side. You want to be honest with Yeonjun, hell you want to be honest with yourself. Why did he have to make it so hard?

Your last conversation a mere two days ago was still fresh in your mind. You wondered if his words actually held any weight. Was it true? Were you still loyal to him, after everything that had happened… Maybe you always will be. The thought was a scary one and you quickly pushed it away.

Choi Beomgyu was going to prison. He had no alibi, no witnesses, and all evidence pointed at him. All you lacked now was his confession, but that proved to be more than difficult.

“Why did you do it?”

Your question is left hanging in the open air, and your fingers curl around the pencil in your hand as you grip it tightly. The all too familiar metal table in front of you gleams under the bright lamp hanging above, the sterile lights reflecting off of its surface. — Beomgyu sighs, sounding tired as his gaze shifts from the wall behind you and over to meet your own. But when his eyes fall on you, they seem to regain their almost mischievous glint. “You’ve got to be a little more specific than that, dollface.”

Feeling your jaw clench as you fight to stay composed, your gaze flickers to the window on your left. As much as you wanted answers, you couldn’t risk anything with Yeonjun on the other side, listening intently to the conversation taking place. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you watch your reflection through the dark glass, you looked as scared as you felt.

Following your hesitant glance, Beomgyu smirks. It was like he fed on your uncertainty. Every step you faltered allowed him to take at least three forward. You swallow, and then your attention returns to him. “Why did you kill him?” — “Hm?” He attempts to run a hand through his hair, cringing slightly when he realizes that they’re both tied together by the metal cuffs around his wrists. With the small roll of his eyes he continues, “Thought I already told you, I was cleaning up a mes-”

“No.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an impassive expression. You draw in a sharp breath. Never had you interrupted him before, never had you dared to. His brows pull together, his vision narrowing if only slightly. “No?” He huffs, the disbelief in his tone evident. — You shake your head softly, the movement small, so minimal that only he could pick up on it.

“Why did you kill him?”

Within the four confined walls the already thick air suddenly shifted. You recognized the smirk that tugged across his lips, the way his eyes glimmered with recognition. Beomgyu leans back, his hands clasped neatly together as his thumbs roll over one another. And even though it felt as if the two of you spoke completely different languages, where words were all but an endless game of cat and mouse.. — Sometimes… It was like he could understand you perfectly, as long as you gave him reason to.

His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his lip twitching and for a second it looked like he was holding back laughter. “Dollface”, he drawls, metal cuffs rattling against the metal table when he leans forward. “Why?” He echoes, “Is that what you’re dying to know?”

Yes. But you never say it out loud. You swallow, your grip on the pencil so tight that it might just snap in half. Beomgyu picks up on it, his eyes flitting down for a second before snapping back up to yours. — You knew that Beomgyu had killed people, you knew that he had blood on his hands. You have seen it yourself.

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

The hotel room is dark. The expensive silk beneath you is cool to the touch and the large bed is cold, for it misses the warmth of another body next to your own. You try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it won’t budge. It’s quiet, eerily so, and your stomach doesn’t tingle with butterflies as it usually would on a night like this. Instead it twists with dread.

You reach for your discarded phone, its bright light stings your eyes when you re-read his message. The address was correct, the room number too. But the time… 11:45 pm. Your heart drops when your gaze flickers toward the time indicator on your screen.

2:31 am.

He was nearly three hours late. But Beomgyu was never late, in fact, he was always there before you. Often you had wondered how he managed to get from one location to the next, how he never seemed out of place, no matter when and where you met. But tonight things are different. — Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to see you after all? Maybe something had come up…

Your attention fixates on the shut door. You imagine him walking through it, his dark hair falling across his even darker eyes, the everlasting smirk plastered on his lips. You imagine his voice, the nickname he had for you rolling off his tongue when his arms wrap around your waist. You imagine him kissing you, with a longing that perfectly matched your own.

But Beomgyu never comes.

You bite your lip, the idea of going home crossing your mind. It would be rather pathetic to wait here all alone, no? But then he would have spent money on a room left unused. Perhaps you should stay the night.. You could order room service in the morning before leaving.

The bed frame rattles under your weight when your back reaches the mattress with a thud. Exhausted and anxious, you let your eyes fall shut as you beg for sleep to take you. Even if you worried that he would continue to haunt your nightmares. — Beomgyu always left you clueless, he kept you in the dark. But naive as you were, you thought you would one day get answers to all of your questions. If only you stayed long enough..

You don’t know how many hours had passed, perhaps it had been mere minutes. But it was still dark outside when the small click of the door lock startled you awake. Quickly shooting up from the bed, your back presses against the headboard as you grab onto a pillow, not that it would aid in any defense.

The thick darkness prevents you from making out who the person lingering within the shadows was. Your heart thumps against your ribcage and your free hand blindly searches for your phone, only to freeze in your tracks when his voice cuts through the silence. — “Fuck, are you still here?” Beomgyu’s short breath instantly makes you relax and you slump back against the bed.

Lowering the pillow from your chest, you swallow. “Sorry, should I have gone home?” You quietly wonder as you shift awkwardly on the mattress. In the everlasting darkness it was impossible to make out his expression, but you hear him heave a sigh. “No it’s fine, I… Fuck I’m sorry, dollface.”

He takes a couple of steps forward, finally emerging from the shadows and becoming engulfed in the pale light of the moon. You find your gaze lingering by his dark figure, regarding him like it was your last chance, you never knew if it was. — The cold metal of his rings send sparks down your spine when his fingers wrap around your chin. He tilts your face back, his other hand finding a place atop your head as he studies you with a small frown.

“I got held up at work”, he explains and your eyes widen. It was unusual of him to share as much as a word about his life outside of your encounters, even if it was just a simple apology for his tardiness.

You find yourself leaning into his touch. “It's alright”, you murmur, your eyes half lidded when you peer up at him, “You can always make it up to me.”

Beomgyu chuckles, his hands sliding down your sides as he guides you back onto the mattress. The kisses he places to the side of your neck and down your collarbone are warm and familiar. That very warmth seeps into the cold vines that have tightened around your chest, gradually loosening them up.

You don’t question where he had been or what had made him take so long, you knew that you would never receive an answer. Instead you clung onto this fragile moment of intimacy, for you never knew if it were to be your last.

Letting your hands trail along his still clothed chest, your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, tugging on it as you pull him closer. Just as you’re about to push the garment up above his torso, do you freeze. There was an undeniable wet patch on the soft cotton. But when your lips part in an unspoken question, Beomgyu’s sudden kiss to your open mouth makes you lose your sense of direction.

Allowing him to kiss you for a moment, your hands halt as your fingers nervously fiddle with his shirt. But when you find that the damp spot only grows, you can’t ignore it anymore. — “What’s that?” You half-hearted whisper against his lips, torn between satiating your burning curiosity and saving this sacred moment.

“Hm?” Beomgyu hums against you, his kisses becoming all the more persistent in an attempt to sway your curious mind elsewhere. He ignores it when your hands brace themselves on his chest, and it’s not until you speak that he finally pulls back an inch. “Beomgyu, there’s something on your shirt..”

With an outstretched arm you flick on the small light on the bedside table. Given a second to adjust to the warm glow, your eyes widen as soon as they fall on the dark crimson stain covering his grey shirt. — Was that… blood?

Immediately you jerk back, your gaze flitting down to your now stained fingers. It was fresh. “Oh my god”, is all you can muster and before he has the chance to object your hands are insistently bunching his shirt up above his chest. — “Dollface”, Beomgyu tries, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrists but you merely shrug him off, all too focused on the blood smeared across his skin.

“What happened- Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say something?” The words all come bubbling to the surface, passing your lips without crossing your mind twice. It’s not until your trembling fingers swipe across his very much untainted chest that a brief silence falls over the two of you. He doesn’t wince or draw back at your finger’s probing, because he wasn’t hurt in the first place.

Beomgyu sighs, his hands brushing along your forearms. “It’s not mine”, he says, his voice is low, calm, as if trying to reassure you that everything was fine when it quite clearly wasn’t. How could he say something like that so casually? And what did he mean by not his? Who else if not him…

You swallow, the sound near deafening in the otherwise quiet room. All previous desire and longing has now washed off, the heat of his kisses and his touch no longer linger. You felt cold, left with an uncanny feeling in the deepest pits of your stomach. — You refuse to look him in the eyes, “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Was he thinking of an excuse? Was he conjuring yet another lie? Maybe he was debating on telling the truth for once. His thumbs rub soothing circles across your wrists, the small action however, had an opposite effect. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the blood, there was so much of it.

“Told you I got held up at work didn’t I?” He finally says, pulling you close in order to press a kiss to your forehead. His words didn’t matter, they couldn’t erase the uneasiness that had begun to build inside of you. Instead you draw in a deep breath, shifting on the bed as you lean back to peer up at him. “What exactly do you do for work?”

Beomgyu lets go of your wrists as he bites the inside of his cheek. He runs a hand through his dark hair and you intently follow the action. Whilst studying him under the faint glow of the bedside lamp, you notice just how rough he was looking, and that didn’t have to do with the blood tainting his chest. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken in, his skin was pale and there was a small cut on his upper lip.

He looked exhausted.

“It’s a business”, he begins in a low tone, drawing his words out as he talks slowly. His gaze flickers over the deep frown etched across your face and he presses the palm of his hand to your cheek. “I merely make sure that deals go through”, he says as his thumb slides between your furrowed brows, as if trying to ease your expression.

You shake your head, unconvinced by his vague response. “What kind of business ends in you looking like that?” There’s an underlying sense of accusation to your question and despite the subtle clench of his jaw, Beomgyu continues his soft caress to your face. “Our client hurt himself, pure accident. — Had to get him help, it took longer than I expected.”

He sends you a small smile, and you want to believe him, you really do. You want to believe that Beomgyu was just your average person, living an average life. But you knew that he wasn’t And you knew that he was lying to you right now. Beomgyu lied a lot. What you didn’t know was if his lies were good or bad intentions.

It scared you.

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

You didn’t think Beomgyu was a murderer. No, that would be extreme. Yet you found yourself ignoring his messages. He’d sent two. Just like usual they had contained two separate addresses, two separate times. You’d officially stood him up twice. He told you that he was okay with it, that he didn’t mind, so you took his word for it. — On the fourth day you think he might stop, that he might grow tired of your persistent no-shows and move over to the next woman waiting on his call. But as you sit in class that very afternoon, your phone vibrates with the indication of yet another text. You felt your stomach twist.

Of course, you were right. The second your eyes fall on the short message you completely lose track of your surroundings. He was insistent, you’d give him that. But surely this would be the last time he’d ask for you. You had spent weeks, almost two months chasing after him. Suppose a small part of you thought of this as payback.

Perhaps that was what caused you to act without reasoning as you turned in your seat. A light tap to Taehyun’s shoulder makes his eyes divert from the board ahead and over to you. “Hm?” He asks as he taps his pencil against the pages of his notebook. You feel your lips tug into a smirk that’s familiar yet most uncharacteristic on you.

“Do you want to go clubbing tonight?”

Taehyun sputters at your words, his jaw slacking as he glances around like you’d just asked him to go down on you. “T-Tonight? Me and you? Clubbing?” He seems almost baffled at the proposal, even more so when you quickly nod. — “Sure why not?” You drawl as the smirk on your lips only grows. You trusted your classmate enough to share a drink or two with him. Besides, Taehyun was a good guy, there was no harm in getting to know him better was there?

He hesitates for a moment, gaze flitting between your professor by the front of the classroom and back to you. “But what about class tomorrow?” He wonders and you shake your head. “Class is canceled, didn’t you hear? Mrs Yang is ill.” — His mouth forms into a small ‘o’ shape as he hums.

“Sure I guess… Do you have a place in mind?”

“Are you sure you know where we are?” Taehyun sounds wary as he trails behind you, he’s like a skittish animal, ready to jump at the tiniest of sounds. He briefly stops to inspect an old street sign, only to jog after you like somewhat of a lost puppy. You, on the other hand, walk with long and determined strides, your feet carrying you through the narrow alleyway with a confidence you couldn’t quite recognize. — “Don’t worry, I’ve been here before.”

Sure enough, the familiar entrance soon floats into vision. The same cold purple hues dance across the dark brick walls, casting the street in an eerie glow. You don’t know why you had picked this place, why it had seemed like a good idea, but now there was no going back. — You swallow the lump in your throat as images of you, walking down this very path not long ago, flashes before your eyes.

You recognize the bouncer, the one who’d refused your entry last time. Part of your worries that he might do so again, this time you had no Beomgyu to rely on. The concept was both terrifying and freeing. This was the very first address he’d ever sent you, perhaps that was why the memory was still so vivid in your mind. Something about this place was different, special.

The sharp light of your phone screen illuminates your face as you check the message one final time. ‘Address, room number, 11:00 pm.’ You glance toward the clock on top of your screen, indicating a menacing 2:37 am. He would’ve left by now, surely pissed off with being stood up a third time, which means… Your gaze drifts toward the entrance mere feet away, the thumping rhythm of bass already drumming through your chest.

You wanted to see Beomgyu, that was the truth. You just didn’t want to see him. The chances of catching a glimpse of him were slim, but if there was anywhere you’d be able to find him, it would be here. Why? — Well because your gut told you so.

Taehyun grabs ahold of your arm when you make a move to approach the bouncer. “Why don’t we just go back?” He murmurs, the words coming out hushed. You shrug him off, shaking your head as you march toward the large man. This was it, you would give it your best shot. — Straightening your back, you push out your shoulders as far as they would go, your gaze narrowed when you glance up at him.

The bouncer peers down at you through his dark sunglasses, then he frowns, lifting a finger as he pushes them down on his nose. His eyes meet yours and there’s a flash of recognition. “Miss”, he drawls, a small grin splayed across his otherwise stern face. “How delightful of you to join us tonight.” — He steps aside, allowing you both inside, though not without sending Taehyun a harsh glare.

“Do you know him?” Your classmate asks as he stays close to you. — The smirk on your lips grows and you shrug, “Sort of.”

The interior of the place was just like you had remembered it. The large dancefloor, the purple lights, the booths shoved against the walls, not to mention the lack of a bar as drinks were being passed around by the many waiters. — Somewhere behind you Taehyun lets out a short breath, gawking as he takes in his surroundings. But your eyes were only in search of one thing, of one person. And when you don't find him, you pull your friend along as you scour the outskirts of the crowded floor.

Upon passing a waiter on bystand, you snag two glasses off of his plate, handing one of them to Taehyun. He seems skeptical as he peers down at his drink, “Do you even know what’s in these?” — You shake your head, “Nope.” That was the least of your concerns.

Your eyes fall on the grand staircase when you bring the cool glass to your lips. The steps looked much different tonight than they had back then. Tonight they felt untouchable. There was no way you would be getting up there… At least now without a little help.

“Where are you going?” Taehyun calls for you, and you hear him rushing after you as he pushes past the people in his way. You know that you should stop and give him at least a half-assed explanation, maybe even ask him to wait somewhere else. But your mind is entirely preoccupied with the sight before you. — “I’m serious, what are you-” He cuts himself off when he crashes into your shoulder, stumbling backward as he grips his drink tightly.

You’ve stopped in front of one of the many booths lining the walls, and Taehyun peers over your shoulder as he tries to make sense of the situation. The unfamiliar faces to him are ones you recognize with fright.

“No way”, a deep voice drawls, “Dollface, is that you?”

Duri leans forward, his hand, previously on the thigh of the girl next to him, withdrawing as he runs it through his short hair. You feel your stomach draw into knots at the persistent use of that nickname, the one that sounded so sickeningly wrong coming from his lips. — Duri chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“We seem to bump into one another quite a lot”, he muses, even though he knew that tonight had been no coincidence. You had come with clear intentions in mind, you were certain he could tell. — “Yes.” You send him a tight lipped smile, “So it seems.”

You could practically feel the confusion radiate off of Taehyun as he shifts awkwardly behind you, his eyes darting between Duri and the men surrounding him. You try not to pay his presence any mind as you focus your attention on the target before you.

“Say”, Duri leans forward as he grabs one of the drinks set aside on the table between you, “What can I do for you tonight?”

Your lips part, the grip on your glass tightening significantly as you throw a glance over your shoulder, your eyes automatically landing on the staircase. The steps seemed to shimmer under the purple lights. Duri hums behind you, snapping your attention right back to where it should have remained all along.

He brings his drink to his lips, taking a long sip as he peers at you over the rim of his glass. “Pray tell, what business do you have there?” He wonders as he busies himself with another sip. You shake your head, your gaze unwavering as you say, “That’s none of your concern.”

Duri chuckles, the sound rough and raspy as it builds in his chest. His friends all join in, their laughter echoing off of the booth’s walls. You ignore them, patiently waiting them out as you twist the foot of your glass between your fingers. — After a long minute Duri finally nods, “He’s rubbing off on you.”

The comment makes your face burn and you resist the urge to avert your gaze. Painfully, you watch as he leans over to share a kiss with the woman next to him, parting for a moment to whisper something in her ear. Then he sits back, slamming his drink down on the table with a little too much force. “Fair”, he agrees as he rises to his feet.

Bewildered, you watch as he makes his way around the table, giving your shoulder a harsh pat before making his way toward the staircase. — “Come on”, you urge Taehyun as you hurriedly follow Duri’s tall frame through the ocean of people. Your classmate’s complaints are audible as he whines behind you. “Have you really thought this through?” He questions, his breath warm against the back of your neck, “I mean, look at the guy! We should not be following someone like him to-”

He’s cut short when Duri suddenly stops by the first step. “Ah”, he exhales as he turns on his heel, his piercing gaze falling on Taehyun. “Seems I have yet to introduce myself, pardon me.” — He extends a rough hand and you watch as Taehyun gingerly takes it in his. “Duri”, he says, the menacing smirk on his lips making your friend cower as he mumbles out a quiet, “Taehyun..”

It looked as though Duri was holding back laughter when he turned back to you. “Shall we?” He glances in the direction of the grand doors atop the stairs and you nod.

When you had first climbed these steps, with Beomgyu’s hand on your lower back, the world had been spinning. Each step had felt like one closer to the edge of a misty cliff, where the fog was so thick that it had been impossible to deem the trauma of the fall you might take. — Tonight it felt different. The cliff was no longer enveloped in mist, you saw things clearly now. You saw him clearly. That’s what you had told yourself.

Each step you take feels both empowering and deafening. The moment lasts forever yet it’s somehow over in a second. And before you know it, you’re faced with the grand doors leading into the VIP section. — Duri stops, his hand on the door handle as he sends the guards a small look of acknowledgement.

“I think you’ll be fine from here”, he states, the finalization in his tone evident. Wordlessly he pushes the large doors open, motioning for you to step inside. You do so without hesitation, not sparing Duri as much as a second glance when you pass him.

It’s quiet here, the air is lighter, cleaner. Just like you’d remembered it. Taehyun’s presence is hard to ignore as he clings to your side, the heat radiating off of him as his skittish eyes dart around the room. Almost all booths are occupied already, but you manage to find an empty one by the very edge.

“Did you know him?” Taehyun whispers when you sit back against the soft cushions. You nod, your gaze still roaming the open space as you absentmindedly bring your drink to your lips, “Sort of.” — Your classmate frowns, and you knew all too well from the look on his face that he was far from satisfied with your answer.

Your eyes jump from booth to booth, quickly skimming the people populating them as you fervently search for your target. But it’s not even been a full minute when Taehyun interrupts you again. — “Why are we here?” His voice is even quieter now, as if hesitant to even ask the question out loud. “Are you looking for someone?” He then adds when he notices your distant gaze.

You hum, shaking your head as you lean back against the velvety cushion. “No.” But that was a lie, your first of many. And just as the simple word leaves your lips do you finally find him. All the way across the room, shielded by the man standing before him, yet you could clearly make out his dark hair amongst the rest.

Suddenly your throat feels dry, and you gulp down another mouthful of your beverage. He’d come here after all. A small, naive part of you had hoped and wished that he would stay, that he would linger within the empty hotel room as he waited for your arrival. But it seems he’d moved quickly.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice the unfamiliar woman draped on his arm. The sight shouldn’t surprise you anymore, but your heart still skips a beat. She was your replacement. And though she was far from anything you represented, he’d still turned to her when you were a no-show rather than wallowing his sorrows alone at night. — You shouldn’t have expected anything less of him. He was Choi Beomgyu after all.

He hasn’t noticed you and appears preoccupied with whatever conversation he was currently indulged in. You wish he would notice you. You crave his eyes on you. You long for the way a simple glance from him could make you feel.

You’d stood him up a third time tonight, and it had made you feel in control. For once you were deciding, and not him. So why was it that you felt so utterly powerless at this very moment? Why was it that your eyes searched his when he couldn’t be bothered to even gaze your way?

You turn to Taehyun, he was watching you with a small frown. “You don’t like it here?” You ask, the tension falling from your face as you regard his awkward frame. Taehyun shrugs, his warm eyes flitting to the drink in his hand. “It’s alright”, he says, but you catch the hesitation in his voice.

He chokes on the liquor when your hand brushes along his thigh. “Don’t worry”, you hum as you settle against the booth wall, “We can leave again if you’d like.” Taehyun swallows as he glances between the smile on your lips and to your fingers splayed across his leg. An unfamiliar tint spreads across his cheek when he clears his throat and you find yourself enjoying the sight.

“It’s fine, really.” He assures you as he takes another small sip of his drink. Though he makes no attempt at shrugging you off. You could still sense his confusion, and you didn’t blame him. You were acting far too uncharacteristically even for your own liking. You had barely recognized yourself when you’d approached Duri. The sudden surge of confidence was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and the rush it had left behind still tingled in the depths of your stomach.

It was the length you were willing to go in order to see him, to see Beomgyu.

Your gaze drifts toward him on its own, and it’s not until his dark eyes fall on yours that you realize just how long and intently you’d been staring at him. He pauses mid sentence, his expression being struck with something you couldn’t quite decipher from this far away. Any other instance you would’ve probably looked away, hid behind nervous laughter or pretended like you hadn’t noticed him in the first place.

But tonight you don’t feel like yourself. — So you hold his gaze. You want him to see you, all of you. You want him to know that you were here, that you had come without him and that you weren’t planning on changing said fact.

Beomgyu shifts where he stands on the other side of the room. His fingers, that had previously been drawing small circles on the waist of the woman next to him, stopped. She’s talking to him, her lips move but you can’t make out what she’s saying, and you’re certain that he’s not listening either.

You can’t tell if he’s angry, you hope he is. Was it selfish? You wanted to pull any other emotion besides lust out of him. You wanted him to feel what you felt every single moment spent in his absence, was that so wrong? — You think you might have succeeded when his hand falls from her waist.

“I want to go home.”

The words escape before you can stop them and you lean forward to place your now empty glass on the table before you. Taehyun’s frown returns, and you feel him shift under your hand. “But we just got here? I thought you wanted to-” — “I changed my mind.” You firmly state, not tearing your gaze from Beomgyu as you watch his jaw clench.

You had gotten what you came here for. A small, but noticeable reaction, one that you’d created. Now all that remained was to safely evacuate before he had the chance to approach you. — With that you rise to your feet, blinking as blood rushes to your head. Taehyun is quick to follow as he gulps down the last of his drink.

“Hey, wait are you-” His protests are lost on you as you head for the door. Through the corner of your eye you catch Beomgyu’s dark figure moving, coming closer. You quicken your pace, desperate to get away from a situation you had caused yourself. And you were so close, the door handle almost within reach when suddenly, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

You freeze. Their grip is firm, unwavering and demanding as they tug you backward. This was it, this had been a mistake. One temporary rush of confidence had led you to believe that you were actually in control. And now you were about to pay the price for your foolish actions. With your heart in your throat, you turn.

It’s Taehyun.

His expression is tense and guarded. It seemed he finally reached his peak. The warmth in his eyes feels distant as he regards you with a narrowed gaze. “What’s going on with you?” He spits the words out, and though you can tell that he’s trying his hardest to appear stoic, you can see the concern swirling in his irises.

“You want one thing then the next, you’re making no sense and I…” You stop listening, his rambling becomes background noise when you catch Beomgyu not far behind him. Dark strands falling across his face, the rings on his fingers glimmering under the lights as he runs them through his hair. He’s stopped, and you wonder why.

Your gaze shifts between Taehyun’s worried expression and his motionless one. In that moment, you realize just how much power Beomgyu holds over you, the extreme lengths he makes you go to just to end up hurt in the end. — You didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

“Taehyun.” His endless rambling is cut short when his name leaves your lips. His eyes, despite the conflict buried within them, are nothing like Beomgyu’s. No, his eyes are gentle, even like this, even when they shouldn’t be. Even when you didn’t deserve it. Your gaze flickers over to Beomgyu one last time before they return to him.

“Can you kiss me?”

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organic-bloodbath · 2 days ago

Note

Can you do a part three for Teach Ddakji to me plz

Teach Ddakji to me - Part 3

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: A stranger leads you towards unfolding the secrets of the man you've fallen in love with.

A/N: My people has been begging and i shall serve. Once again, i do not know what the hell i'm writing so i'm just vibing.

Part 1 - Part 2

♡♡

"I can explain," he said, putting the glasses and bottle on a side table. You kept holding the gun with your fingers.

"Yes?"

"It's only for protection, i promise," he insisted. "And it's not loaded."

You were silent, not sure exactly what to do or say.

He sighed. "When my dad was shot, i sort of got a gun to feel safer. He was killed in his own home, so getting a gun meant i could defend myself if anyone came here and tried to harm me as well."

You looked at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

"I haven't used it, i swear," he promised, taking a step closer to you. You let out a sigh.

"Okay," you mumbled and shook your head. "Well, okay, i suppose."

He slowly put his hand on yours, grabbing the gun from your hold. You eventually let go of it and let him have it back.

"I can take it elsewhere if you're more comfortable then," he offered, afraid this was going to scare you away. You nodded and he went to take it to another room where you wouldn't have any business walking into.

You had never been a fan of guns. You knew people in the U.S. who had a gun at their homes but your family had never been one of those, as far as you were aware of.

You did feel bad and had sympathy for him the longer you thought about it. You couldn't imagine how bad trauma you would have if your own father was murdered, you didn't think you would be able to live anymore. You couldn't blame him for having sleepless nights and afraid for his own safety after that.

To be honest, if that happened to you, you would have gotten some sort of weapon into your home too, just in case someone would come after you too.

Soon he came back, a nervous look on his face now when he approached you slowly.

"Hopefully that didn't ruin the night?" he asked carefully and stepped in front of you.

"Do you have others in your house?" you asked. "Or like, anywhere?"

"That's the only one," he immediately swore.

He put his hand on your cheek and pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. His warm touch always managed to relax and calm you down, forget all the worries in the world for a moment. He looked at you with all his love and kindness in his eyes, and you knew you could trust him.

"Let's grab the wine, hm?"

"Okay."

♡♡

He was meant to keep his work a secret from you. You couldn't find out about what he really did, no. You would instantly leave him, that was for sure, and he didn't want to think about that possibility. He only had to come up with more and more lies - but for how long? How long could he really keep up this facade around you? He had turned his back away from you for only one moment at his house and you already managed to find one of his guns.

Or would you leave him? Would you be okay with it after all? It would be so much easier to be able to explain everything to you. But he also knew he had to keep the games secret from any outsiders who wouldn't take a part in the game.

The look on your face haunted his mind the next day as well. You had looked at him in a way like you didn't know who you were dating after all.

And for the most parts, you didn't.

The look on your face had told him loud enough that he couldn't tell you about his true self – not now or in a long time.

Along with that, he had felt someone watching him outside. He wasn't sure who it could be, but he was certain that he was being followed by someone and he didn't like that feeling at all.

He had to find out who was trying to shadow him.

♡♡

The three of you were supposed to go for a dinner together soon, but your brother had to cancel last minute and changed the plans for tomorrow, making you frustrated.

"I'm so sorry, something came up," he had texted. "Let's meet up tomorrow, okay?"

There was always something that 'came up' when you tried to make plans with him. You tried to question what he meant but he wouldn't tell you, preferring to stay all secretive to his sister.

As you were driving home in the car your friend had borrowed you to use for a week, you were falling into your thoughts a little too hard, not paying as much attention to your surroundings as a good and responsible driver should have. Sooner than you realised, you were stopped by a traffic cop and had to pull over.

You saw a man look at you through the window, motioning you to roll your window down.

He said something in Korean to you which you couldn't really understand. He switched to English as he figured you were a foreigner.

"License, please?"

You grabbed it from your purse and handed it to the man.

"You were speeding a little," he stated.

"I know, i'm really sorry, i wasn't thinking."

"I'll have to write you a ticket, miss," he said seriously.

"I know," you sighed and closed your eyes, laying your forehead against your hand. "I really am sorry, i didn't mean to."

"Are you feeling alright?" the cop asked, a hint of worry in his voice – but only a little bit.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem."

Truth to be told, you weren't entirely fine. You had slept only couple of hours and had drank almost an entire a bottle of wine last night. You weren't really hangover right now, just suffered from a bad headache, for which a painkiller hadn't helped.

"Are you sure you're able to drive further?" he tried to confirm, unsure if he should just let you go with the ticket without questioning you further.

"I'm sure," you said but didn't sound believable even to your own ears.

"Could you step out of the car, please?"

You let out a deep breath and opened the door, stepping outside. He stood right in front of you, trapping you between himself and the car. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

"Follow the light with your eyes."

You did as you were told, trying to act as cool as possible. You had been only once before pulled over on the road by a cop and that had been in America. You hadn't been sure if the protocols in Korea would be the same.

He turned the flashlight off and put it back into his pocket.

"Alright, you can go now," he nodded. Thank god he didn't actually believe you had been drunk driving.

Looking at his face closer, you could see that he was young and very handsome. If you weren't in a relationship and would have met him somewhere more... relaxed environment, you could imagine yourself starting a nice chat with him.

"Thank you, officer," you said politely in Korean before stepping back into the driver's seat, slipping the ticket into your purse. You tried to make atleast a little better impression with your poor Korean skills but weren't sure how correct the pronunciation really was.

"Have a good day, miss. And do pay your ticket on time."

♡♡

"Had a fun and eventful night with your man, i hope?" your roommate asked, one eyebrow up and teeth biting her lip to hide her smirk, failing on the simple task.

"Sure did," you answered and managed to make yourself smile. You wouldn't mention the gun part of the night to her, trying to brush the entire thing off your mind. "How about you? Found a hot guy at the club?"

"Oh, i definitely did," she answered. "He's some sort of a rapper, i think, though i had never heard of him. He gave me his phone number if we should catch up again some other day."

"Mhm, he gonna take you on a date?"

"Oh god no, all i want is to get into a bed with him again. He knows what he's doing," she stated seriously. "Besides, romantically i'm into more mature men, like that your hottie. Unfortunately you can't really find those men at the clubs where people our age go to."

Your roommate had met him a few times, but rather quickly, they hadn't had the chance to actually get to know each other since you didn't really bring him inside your apartment longer than a few minutes when he would come pick you up or bring you back home. But when he had met your roommate, he had acted as the most charming version of himself, like a man would act around a girl's parents when he'd meet them for the first time.

♡♡

"Okay, darling, i need to go to work for a few hours now to settle a few things," he said later that day as you were walking on the street together, his hand holding yours. He leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

"Come pick me up afterwards?" you asked with a smile.

"Of course, see you then," he smiled, pressing one more kiss on your lips, and turned his back to you, disappearing behind the next corner.

You took your phone from your pocket and was browsing a song on Spotify to listen to, until a man stopped you, stepping in front of you.

"Excuse me," the man said, making you turn around to face him. "You were with a man just a moment ago, dressed in a suit, right?"

"Um," you started, brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this about?"

"You were with a man in a suit?"

"Yes, but i-"

"Listen, i really need to find him. He's uh... a colleague of mine," he explained. "And i need to see him as soon as possible."

"Why do you need to see him?"

"We have some business to do. Work related," he quickly answered.

"Don't you have his phone number? Work phone or something?"

"I got a new phone and lost it."

"Just call to your workplace, maybe they can-"

"I don't have the time right now," he said, startling you with the tone of his voice. He noticed it and lowered his voice a little, not meaning to freak you out. "Could you just point the way, please?"

"Well, he didn't really say where he was going. Only that he had to go to work. Can't you meet him there?"

You narrowed your eyes, you could tell he acted very suspiciously. Did this man really know him? He had sounded so hesitant when telling how he knew him. Usually you weren't able to tell very easily when someone was lying to you, but right now even you could tell his behavior and reactions were too odd.

Besides, this guy was complete opposite than the man you knew, by the looks of him atleast. If they worked together and were on their way to work, you'd imagine this stranger would wear a suit too or something similar and cleaner.

♡♡

Gi-hun could tell that you were completely oblivious about the Recruiter or otherwise you were just a good actress to hide his secrets, refusing to tell his location. But you had looked completely lost with Gi-hun's approach to you and the talk about the man's work.

To be fair, he did probably look like a crazy person so he couldn't exactly blame you for not giving the information he so desperately needed.

Gi-hun hadn't thought about the Recruiter's private life, of course not, so it was strange to see a woman kiss him and hold his hand. He always seemed like only a pawn in this sick game to other people, since Gi-hun didn't even know his name either. The Recruiter always wore that same suit too, he felt like some sort of a default character in a game who had no proper development.

Which he basically was.

Gi-hun had lost his contact to the men he had hired to track down this man, until finally, his phone rang again.

♡♡

Of course you had grown too curious and suspicious about this stranger that you had to follow him wherever he was going.

Was it a good idea? Probably not, but you were still going to do it. It slowly started to rain, and of course you didn't carry an umbrella with you.

The man got a phone call, but you couldn't fully understand what he was saying since he spoke in Korean. You had studied Korean the best you could during the months you had been here and a little before you left America, but you couldn't translate complete conversations in your mind in just a few seconds. But you could hear some familiar words in the man's speech here and there. You could have probably understood more if he talked more slowly.

Where?

What?

Hotel?

Four?

The tone of his voice sounded panicked and rushed too, even more making you curious.

After a while he finished the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He started walking fast around the corner, soon starting to move faster and faster.

You quickly ran after him. You tried to make sure that he wouldn't see you if he happened to glance back over his shoulder, but you also couldn't lose the sight of him. You weren't exactly the fastest runner and would be out of breath soon, but luckily the distance to the destination wasn't too large.

Eventually, you ended up by a building, a hotel or hostel of some sorts. He went to the back of the building through a side alley, not entering through the front doors, which seemed to be locked by chains.

When you entered the hotel inside, you had lost the man, but you knew for sure that he had arrived here as well, right before you, so he couldn't be very far.

There was nobody else around, the place was totally empty, most of the lights were out and there were no sounds around you, forcing you to tiptoe even quieter not to make yourself known to anyone else possibly here. You didn't want a guard to find you trespassing, if there was one.

You started walking up the stairs, slowly and as quietly as possible, heart racing so fast you were afraid someone could hear it if they stood too close to you. You unintentionally held your breath as well out of this thick suspense what was going on.

Maybe this was completely unrelated to the man you loved. Maybe something else had come up with him and you were following a stranger somewhere private like a creep. Would this end up being a trap of some sorts?

Then, you heard speech somewhere in the fourth floor and walked towards the noise with even slower steps.

You were approaching one of the rooms where you heard two men talking to each other now much more clearly – the walls of this building seemed to be as thin as paper, since you had heard them already further away.

But then you noticed that the door wasn't closed, so you could easily open it without a sound and peek inside the room.

Two men were sitting at a table on the opposite sides, facing each other. It was that same man who had stopped you on the street. Your eyes widened on what you were witnessing right now.

He had a gun in his hand. It wasn't the same revolver which you had seen in his house.

"I used to work at the game too," he explained to the man with a calm voice. "Clearing and burning countless of bodies of people like you. I remember thinking: 'These things aren't human. They're just trash, they have no purpose in this world.' That's what i kept telling myself for a few years. One day they gave me a gun. I liked the way it felt. It was like someone had finally acknowledged my existence." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what year it was, but there was a man who lost, and i went over to shoot him. I recognised his face. Guess who it was?" He now leaned towards the man opposite him, his voice turning into a mere whisper, and you weren't sure if you heard it correctly or just imagined it. "My dad." You noticed a small smile lingering on his lips. "I was pointing the weapon at my very own father. And he begged me, tears in his eyes, to spare his life. You know what i did?" In under a second he lifted the gun and pointed it right towards the other man's face, who didn't even flinch. "I shot him right in the middle of his forehead and i realised: 'Huh, i guess i really am good at this'."

Your blood ran cold and all you wanted to do was to run away, but your legs refused to move at all. They shared a few more words but you couldn't concentrate on their conversation anymore. You felt like you weren't able to breathe. The ground beneath your feet was slowly failing you.

The next time you looked towards them, he pressed the gun on the man's forehead again, now actually pulling the trigger, making you slightly jump from the noise.

You were frozen on your place. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Run away, confront them or call someone for help?

But as he moved the gun towards himself, inserting the gun deep inside his mouth, a playful smirk on his face, you had to act.

You tried to say something as you stepped towards the table from the shadows, finally able to make yourself move before he would be able to pull the trigger, but you couldn't get a word out of your mouth.

He let the gun slowly fall out of his mouth and his entire face turned pale like a ghost as he realised who had joined their little game. When his eyes met yours, you noticed something red on his cheek, and you instantly thought of it being someone else's blood, the same red splattered on the collar of his white shirt.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

This was the man who you had fallen in love with. A man who took you on sweet dates, took you into his warm embrace as you slept with him in the same bed, kissed you both softly and with passion... a man who opened up to you about his father's death and how someone had murdered him coldblood.

The murderer had been him all along. How could you be so naive and dumb? Had there been red flags which you had just missed?

Other than the damn gun at his house.

But now there sat only a man just couple of metres away from you who had just confessed on shooting his own father with his own gun. Pulling the trigger himself. And he had told it with a smile on his face.

He had lied to you this entire time. You wanted to shout and yell at him, then run away, but you couldn't move your body. Until he stood up.

Instantly, without hesitation you took a step back as he took one towards you, which made his heart break.

♡♡

A/N: I'm not sorry about the ending 🙂‍↔️ the last scene is obviously not 100% accurate to the show. Next part will take a while too so be patient with me 🫶🏻 if you want to be added or stay on the taglist, lmk.

Tags:

@k1ra-park3r

@aftersnrise

@sakurayashiro

@zmbiefiend

@preppyfella

#squid game imagine #squid game x reader #the salesman imagine #the salesman x reader #the salesman #the recruiter imagine #the recruiter x reader #the salesman x you #the recruiter x you

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heliosunny · 23 hours ago

Note

how do i convince you to write more yandere!sampo because that lucky egg fic made me feel things, it was simply too good

Leaving Sampo Koski had been the hardest mission you’d ever undertaken—not because of emotions, but because of how deeply entangled he had made himself in your life. You weren’t sure when it had started, but at some point, he had stopped being just an informant, a contact, a convenient source of intel. He had made himself a necessity.

His silver tongue spun stories that blurred the lines between truth and deception, his ‘coincidental’ appearances on missions became so frequent that you began to rely on him without realizing it. He always had an escape plan when things went south, always knew who was watching you, always seemed to be two steps ahead.

You thought you were the one playing him. You were wrong.

So you did what you were best at—you vanished. You cut ties, abandoned old haunts, and left no trace behind. You were a Stellaron Hunter, disappearing should have been easy. But the moment you set foot on Jarilo-VI for a new mission, you knew something was off.

It wasn’t just the way the citizens stared a second too long when you passed. It wasn’t just the uneasy feeling of being watched. It was the sense that this was all too perfect. Like someone had been expecting you.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't my favorite runaway sweetheart."

That voice- You turned sharply, hand instinctively reaching for your weapon, but there he was, standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against a wall with that infuriatingly familiar smirk. His hair caught the dim streetlights. He looked exactly the same—but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"You’re back." Sampo continued, pushing off the wall with a lazy grace. "Though, gotta say, I’m a little hurt. No messages, no calls? After everything we had?"

Your fingers twitched around your weapon. "Get out of my way, Sampo."

His grin widened, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, easy there, hotshot. No need for all that hostility. I’m just a guy welcoming an old flame home, y’know?"

You scoffed. "This isn’t my home."

"Sure it is." His voice lowered, taking on a silky, dangerous edge. "At least, it was. ‘Sides, I had a feeling you’d come back sooner or later. Call it... intuition."

Sampo Koski hadn’t found you by luck. And if there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he never let something he wanted slip away twice.

----

Jarilo-VI was a cold, desolate place, but right now, that wasn’t what sent chills down your spine. It was the feeling of being watched.

This mission should have been simple: find information on your target, retrieve the asset, and disappear without a trace. But there was a problem.

Your usual informants were silent. No messages. No signals. No backup. Someone had gotten to them first. And there was only one person who could manipulate an entire city’s underground like this.

You’d spent months avoiding him, cutting ties, ensuring he had no leverage over you anymore. You thought you had finally freed yourself from his cloying, suffocating grasp. But deep down, a small, sinking part of you had known—if you ever set foot on this planet again, he’d know.

Still, you had no choice. He was the only one left who could give you the information you needed. Even if you knew he’d spin half-truths and lies, even if you knew he’d twist this into something that benefited him, you were desperate enough to take the risk.

So you reached out.

Meet me at the usual spot, sweetheart. We’ve got some catching up to do.

You could practically hear the smug grin in his voice through the encrypted message. You should have found another way. But now here you were, standing in the dimly lit backstreets, the cold seeping through your coat. You shifted your weight, scanning the shadows.

"You’re looking good, hotshot."

The voice came from behind.

You turned, already expecting the sight before you.

Sampo Koski, arms crossed, a grin playing on his lips.

"Cut the small talk, Sampo. I need information."

He whistled. "Oof, straight to business? No ‘hey Sampo, how ya been?’ No ‘wow, you’re looking handsome as ever’?" His grin widened when you didn’t respond. "Cold as ever, I see. But I like a challenge."

You clenched your jaw. "I don’t have time for your games. Do you have the intel or not?"

Sampo sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Always so impatient. But yeah, yeah, I got what you need. Turns out, your little target’s been making quite the mess down here. You wouldn’t believe the trouble they’ve been stirring up. Lucky for you, I happen to know exactly where they’ll be tonight."

You narrowed your eyes. "And you’re just giving this to me? No price?"

His grin turned sharper. "Oh, there’s always a price, sweetheart. But let’s call this a… favor. Just for you."

You didn’t like the way he said that. But you didn’t have time to argue.

"Where?"

Sampo tilted his head, as if considering something, before finally saying, "Old supply depot. The one past Rivet Town. Midnight. Come alone."

You committed the information to memory, but something in your gut twisted.

Sampo never gave things away for free. And he never told the whole truth.

So, with one last glance at the man who had once held you too close, whispered too many sweet lies, and refused to let you go, you turned on your heel and walked away.

As you made your way toward the old supply depot, the uneasy feeling in your gut only grew stronger. You didn’t like it.

You checked your weapon as you approached the rusted entrance, exhaling slowly.

In and out. Get the information. Get gone.

Yet, the moment you stepped inside, you knew.

You’d been played.

The depot was empty.

The doors behind you slammed shut.

Sampo Koski stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, a pleased grin stretching across his face.

"Ahh, you really do trust me, huh?" he drawled, tilting his head. "Warms my heart, sweetheart."

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to stay still. He had the upper hand here. You had no idea if anyone else was lurking in the shadows, if there were more traps waiting for you.

"You lied"

Sampo placed a hand over his chest, mock offense dripping from his tone. "Lied? C'mon now, don't make it sound so ugly. I just… redirected the truth a little."

"Why?"

He took a step forward. You didn't move.

"Because," he said, "it’s been a while since we had some quality time. And I figured, well… you wouldn't come willingly."

Your grip tightened around your weapon. "And what exactly do you think is going to happen now, Koski?"

Sampo exhaled, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. "See, that’s what I love about you. Always thinking so far ahead. But let’s keep it simple, yeah? No tricks. No running. Just you and me… having a little chat."

"And if I say no?"

"Then, sweetheart," he murmured, "I’m afraid you’re gonna have a real hard time leaving."

This wasn’t just some mind game.

Sampo hadn’t just set a trap.

He had made sure that, this time… you wouldn’t slip away.

The second his words left his lips, you moved.

A quick flick of your wrist sent a concealed blade flying toward his shoulder—a distraction. You were already rushing forward, closing the distance in a flash, your weapon drawn.

Sampo barely dodged, twisting to the side at the last moment. The blade grazed his coat, a piece of fabric fluttering to the ground.

"Whoa there!" he laughed, flipping backward, landing light on his feet. "You sure know how to make a reunion exciting!"

You ignored the taunt, lunging again. This time, you aimed for his weak spots—his ribs, his legs, places that would slow him down. You had to end this quickly.

He was fast. But so were you.

For the first time, Sampo looked surprised. He wasn’t used to you fighting him with full force. In the past, you’d always held back—a mistake you wouldn’t repeat.

"Aw, c'mon, sweetheart," he panted, narrowly dodging another strike. "We don’t gotta do this. You and me? We had something special—"

You slammed your knee into his gut, cutting off his words.

Sampo stumbled back, coughing, but he recovered quick.

"Alright," he exhaled, wiping his mouth. "Guess we’re doing this the hard way."

Suddenly, the air filled with thick, blinding fog, Sampo’s signature escape trick. You pivoted, expecting him to run—

But he didn’t.

Instead, you felt something coil around your wrist.

A wire.

You tried to wrench away, but Sampo yanked hard, sending you off balance. A second wire looped around your other arm, pinning you, forcing you forward—right into his trap.

Before you could react, he twisted your body, knocking your legs out from under you.

You hit the ground hard. A weight pressed against your back before you could roll away. Sampo was on top of you, pinning you down, his knee digging into your spine.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tsked, tightening the wires around your wrists. "I gotta admit—almost had me there. But you should know by now, sweetheart…"

He leaned in, voice dropping to a purr.

"I never lose."

You thrashed, but the wires only tightened.

Sampo sighed dramatically. "Don’t give me that look. If you’d just behaved, we wouldn’t have to do things this way."

"Let me go."

"Can’t do that," he said smoothly, brushing some stray hair from your face. "Y’see, you keep running. And I keep chasing. It’s exhausting, really."

"But lucky for you, sweetheart," he murmured, "this time, I made sure there’s nowhere left for you to go."

You struggled harder.

But Sampo only sighed again, amused.

"Still fighting? That’s cute. But don’t worry…"

His lips curled into that signature, infuriating grin.

"I’ve got all the time in the world to make you love me again."

The last thing you heard was the sound of metal shackles locking into place.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #sampo hsr #sampo koski #sampo x reader #hsr sampo

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nanamineedstherapy · 1 day ago

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Chapter Two)

F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Previous Chapter 1 (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal frat party. Just a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just him, king of never taking anything seriously, getting shoved into a closet for a dumb dare. And yet. Now, he can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t stop thinking about you. And one by one, his friends are starting to realize—Whatever happened in that closet? It never really ended.

Outside in the garden, Toji mocked. "Man got a straight-up haunted hard-on."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sukuna wheezed. "Tell me why bro just made out with a ghost so hard he got a fucking boner."

"Can we not call it that?" Satoru groaned.

"That’s exactly what it was," Hiromi confirmed, shaking his head. "You got seduced by a fucking spirit."

Shiu, lying on the grass scrolling through his phone, barely looked up as he added, "Even in the afterlife, women aren’t safe from your dick preceding your reputation."

"I'm gonna kill myself," Satoru muttered, running a hand down his face.

"Ghost girl might be into that," Choso said thoughtfully, sipping a beer.

"Yo, shut the fuck up," Satoru snapped.

"You were rock hard for a literal corpse." Shoko was almost rolling in the grass, clutching her bottle.

"FOR THE LAST TIME, I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS A GHOST!"

"And yet," Suguru drawled, gesturing vaguely at the still-very-visible problem in his jeans.

Satoru made a strangled noise, willing his soul to leave his body.

“If I see your haunted dick in my nightmares, I’m suing." Yuki yelled.

"I have hater friends. At least she thought I was beautiful." Satoru smirked.

A collective groan echoed through the garden.

Kento dragged a hand down his face. "I hate him. I hate him."

"Fucker just got ghosted in every sense of the word, and he still has the audacity to make it about his looks." Kashimo jeered, leaning on Haibara, who was barely holding himself up.

"Kill yourself," Sukuna muttered.

"Honestly, yeah," Hiromi agreed.

Satoru just grinned. "Jealous much?"

Suguru physically sighed. "Let's go, you delusional horny disaster."

---

Satoru couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Not the way your lips had felt against his, or how you made him laugh, or how you got flustered easily but still kissed him first like a paradox he couldn’t solve—though that haunted him, too.

No, it was the way you had looked at him.

Like you had been starving.

So, Satoru did what any rational person would do.

He spent an unhealthy amount of time at the library.

Gojo Satoru. At the library. Voluntarily. His friends thought he was having a crisis.

At first, there was nothing.

No students matching your description in the recent records.

No tragic accidents or ghost stories written in the university archives.

It was like you had never existed.

But then—

One night, while flipping through the school’s oldest records, something caught his eye.

An envelope stuffed with papers.

He pulled out a diary first.

Diary of Miss L/N

(Archivist - Leather-bound, gold-embossed. Found in the ruins of the university, its final pages splattered with what appears to be dried tears. Handwritten, ink fading in places. Some pages torn. Final entries nearly illegible—written in a shaking hand, desperate and uneven.)

January 3, 1914

There is a new litter of kittens in the old courtyard! I counted five, all squirming and mewling, their mother, a thin little thing who watches me with wary eyes. I left some bread soaked in milk, though I do not think she trusts me yet. Perhaps if I sit quietly tomorrow, she will let me closer.

(If I were a cat, would I be loved more easily?)

The groundskeeper scolded me, said I am too soft-hearted, that I let animals take advantage of me. As if a kitten could be cunning! I told him there is no harm in kindness. He only shook his head.

Satoru sat back, staring at the first entry, his thumb tracing your handwriting. He didn’t know much about you—hell, he didn’t even know you were alive a hundred years ago—but he could picture you, kneeling in the courtyard with kittens, trying to be kind. He imagined the faintest smile tugging at your lips when you saw them squirming in the dirt. The idea of you feeding a stray mother cat made his chest tighten in an odd, unfamiliar way. He ran his fingers along the edge of the paper, almost as if trying to feel your presence through it.

That groundskeeper? He was an idiot. He didn't get it. Satoru couldn't help but feel a spark of frustration. You didn’t need anyone’s permission to be kind. He almost laughed at the idea that someone might scold you for being soft-hearted. If anything, he wished he could go back and tell you not to worry about those around you. He would’ve probably looked at you the same way—the way he did when you kissed him, not knowing why or how, but unable to stop himself from caring just a little too much for someone so—soft.

January 10, 1914

I do not think they like me.

Not in the way they like each other.

They are polite, of course. They smile. They call me ‘Miss L/N’ with syrupy sweetness, but their eyes flicker. I see the way their lips press together when I speak. The way their laughter dies when I enter a room.

But it is alright. Not everyone has to like me.

I just wish they did not hate me, either.

Satoru skimmed the next entry, his eyes narrowing. You were already noticing the tension in the air, weren’t you? The polite smiles, the murmurs. The fake sweetness they showed you—he could practically hear the insincerity in their voices. He frowned, shaking his head. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody should ever make someone feel like they didn’t belong.

For some reason, even though you were long gone, he found himself angry on your behalf. He didn’t understand why they treated you that way. You were probably just too good for them, weren’t you? Too pure, too gentle. He shook the thought off, the sharpness of the moment still biting at him. It made him wonder if maybe he would’ve been one of the few who would’ve actually liked you.

January 25, 1913

Viscount Salvatore looked at me today. He did not merely glance—he looked. I was in the library, carrying too many books, and he leaned back in his chair, all effortless indifference, and drawled, "Planning to read all of those, Miss L/N? Or are you building a fort?"

(He thinks I am ridiculous.)

(He noticed me.)

I almost dropped Wuthering Heights on my foot.

A frown burrowed on Satoru’s face when he read about Viscount Salvatore. You noticed him. He noticed you.

He flipped your yearbook with his other hand to find any Salvtores; there had been two in your class who’d gone to become Army officials in the first World War and then died there. Your description fit the blue-eyed one with a cocky smirk. Like Satoru? Did you have a type?

He felt a slight sting in his chest at the thought of this Viscount—some guy who probably had no idea what to do with someone like you. Still, he couldn’t suppress the bitter taste in his mouth. Jealousy? Was that what this was?

A sigh slipped from his lips. It was stupid—he was more than a hundred years too late. He didn’t even know if you’d ever seen him the way he now imagined you looking at the Viscount. The thought of another guy noticing you—really noticing you—made him want to jump from a boat. But instead, he read on.

February 2, 1914

It was a joke. Just a prank.

"She'll cry and beg to be let out," one of them whispered, giggling behind her lace glove. "Let's see if Miss Perfect is still so polite in the dark."

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

The dark swallowed me whole.

I did not beg.

I bit my tongue until I tasted iron and waited. And when they let me out—smirking, triumphant—I smoothed my skirts, fixed my hair, and walked past them as if I had not spent the last hour choking on the thick, dusty air.

They did not like that.

"A little too perfect, isn’t she?"

(They will do it again.)

Satoru’s eyebrows furrowed as his gaze lingered on the next entry. You were trapped. Locked in a closet by the very people you probably thought were your friends. It was sickening. He almost couldn't finish reading—his stomach lurched with disgust. The way you didn't beg... it said so much about you. You must’ve been used to pain by then, used to being pushed aside and ignored. But still—you walked out of there like nothing had happened, like you didn’t carry the weight of what they had just done to you.

Satoru shook his head, muttering to himself, “Cowards. All of them.” He clenched the paper tighter in his hand. He hated the idea of you facing that kind of cruelty alone, without anyone there to stop it. He could feel it—your loneliness, your frustration, your unwillingness to break. And somehow, it only made him want to be there for you more. He'd never admit it, but there was a strange urge within him to make it right—even if it was a century too late.

February 10, 1914

Today, I found a sparrow with a broken wing. I named him Edgar (after Poe, of course).

I should have left him alone. Mother says I should not dirty my hands with such things. But he was shivering—how could I leave him?

Viscount Salvatore saw me, kneeling in the grass, my gloves stained with dirt. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Then, just as he passed, he murmured, "Don’t name it. You’ll only make it harder."

He has such an awful way of speaking. Always so practical. So cold.

(He was right. Edgar did not make it through the night.)

Satoru didn’t expect to feel as deeply affected by this entry. You found a broken bird and tried to help it. Just like the kittens. Just like everything else. He read about the sparrow, Edgar, and that bitter, practical remark from Viscount Salvatore.

He rolled his eyes. That guy was cold, wasn’t he? It was almost like he couldn't even understand that you just wanted to do something kind. His jaw clenched slightly at the thought of this Viscount, cold and indifferent. Did he not understand the pain of losing something you tried so desperately to save?

“You deserved better than that.” Satoru muttered quietly to himself. He could barely comprehend it, but it stung to think of you, caring for something so fragile, and yet not having anyone there to help you when you needed it most. He could almost hear the sadness in your voice, like you were speaking not just about the bird, but about yourself.

February 13, 1914

Razor blades in my book bag today.

I did not see them in time.

A sharp sting—red seeping into my gloves, blooming against the pale silk like a dying rose.

A girl gasped.

One of them. The one who used to call me her friend.

She reached for me, hesitated. Opened her mouth—closed it.

Did nothing.

(They are all cowards.)

I smiled at her anyway.

(It is getting harder to smile.)

The entry made Satoru stop in his tracks. Razor blades? What the hell...? He had to reread the paragraph twice, the sharpness of the words sinking into him with every line. It was hard to stomach—knowing that someone, one of the people who had once called you their friend, did this to you. Left you bleeding and didn’t even care.

He felt a fire burning in his chest now, a rage that was foreign to him. A strange protectiveness, something darker, almost suffocating. He didn't know how you had kept going through all this. And yet, you had. You smiled through it all, even when everything in the world was trying to break you.

Satoru stood up suddenly, pacing around the room. He was aware of how ridiculous this was—he didn’t even know you. But damn it, you deserved someone who would’ve fought for you. Someone who would’ve taken those blades from your hands and never let you feel alone.

February 14, 1914

Viscount Salvatore pulled out a chair for me today.

The smallest thing. A flick of his wrist. A glance in my direction. A murmured, "Miss L/N."

But I have not been spoken to kindly in so long.

For a moment, my eyes burned. My throat ached.

But I said nothing. I only sat.

And when I looked up—just for a second—he was already watching me.

(What a strange, strange man.)

Satoru’s fingers lightly brushed over the paper. He didn’t know what it was, but something about that entry—Viscount Salvatore pulling out a chair for you—made him pause. He didn't react outwardly, keeping his face carefully blank, but internally? There was a slight stir of discomfort. It was such a small, insignificant thing, yet it meant so much to you. A simple gesture, something that should’ve been normal.

He imagined the quiet moment, your surprise. The thought that such a little thing could make you feel seen, even for a second, gnawed at him. A frustrated sigh left his lips. Why did it have to be like that? If he were there—if only he were there, he would’ve shown you kindness, not just with gestures, but with actions. But that was a thought he quickly pushed aside, frustrated by how much time had slipped through his fingers. He kept reading, though.

February 20, 1914

I have decided. I loathe Viscount Salvatore.

He is insufferable. He speaks in riddles and always looks as if he is laughing at me. I do not know why I bother thinking of him.

(He held the door open for me today. Said nothing. Just waited.)

(I hate him.)

A faint chuckle escaped his lips as he read the next entry. You’d decided to loathe Viscount Salvatore now. "Insufferable," you called him. Satoru almost wanted to agree, though he couldn't completely share your sentiment. He had a feeling there was more to him—more that was left unsaid. Still, it was a funny thought. Viscount Salvatore being that frustrating, mysterious figure. Satoru was intrigued by how you wrote about him with such sharpness, but the words seemed like a cover for something deeper. He wasn’t sure what, but the tension between you two was palpable.

“Is it really that bad?” he muttered, flipping the page, knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer. He felt a flicker of something, but the rest of the entry, especially with the way he “held the door open,” left him feeling... unsure. He wasn't exactly proud of it, but maybe there was some part of him that didn't want you to find comfort in anyone else.

March 2, 1914

I found a dead rat in my desk.

Its body bloated, eyes staring.

Its tiny mouth open, frozen in a silent scream.

There was a note pinned to its belly. Still feeling generous?

I swallowed back the nausea and took it outside myself.

(It is getting harder to breathe here.)

Satoru’s expression hardened as he read about the dead rat in your desk. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to focus. The cruel games they played—it disgusted him. He could almost feel the sickening weight of it, as if it were happening right there, in front of him. Who does that? He set the paper down and ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep his composure, though his jaw was tight.

You didn’t even flinch. You simply took it outside. There was an odd kind of resolve in the way you wrote that. No begging. No breaking down. Just... handling it yourself. It made him uneasy—how much you had to endure, and how little anyone had cared. He couldn’t imagine what you went through, not yet, but the pieces were starting to come together. The cruelty. The silence. The isolation.

June 20, 1914

I am tired.

No, not tired. Weary.

I wake up with my body braced, waiting for something—waiting for the next whisper, the next cruel trick, the next unseen hand that will shove me down the stairs when no one is looking.

I have not eaten all day.

(They will not break me.)

The word “weary” hit Satoru like a punch to the gut. He could picture you, slumped in exhaustion, never having the chance to recover. He could almost hear the quiet panic that sat beneath those words. The next cruel trick, the next shove—it was too much. His hand tightened around the paper as he read on.

He didn’t need to know everything to understand that what you were going through wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper. Something that made your bones ache and your heart heavy. And yet, here you were, still breathing, still defiant. He let out a breath, annoyed at the powerlessness he felt just from reading your words.

July 24, 1914

I am going to the party.

They said they want to start over. That it was all just foolish jealousy. That they want to be friends.

I should not believe them.

I know I should not believe them.

But I am so, so tired of being alone.

Just for one night, I want to pretend I belong.

Satoru frowned, eyes narrowing. The truth was already in your words before you even said it. He felt an odd mix of sympathy and frustration as you told yourself you were going to the party—hoping, wishing to belong, even for just one night. He had to read that part again, swallowing a lump in his throat.

He flipped the page; the diary ended. Satoru immediately scrambled to pull out another stack of papers from the binder.

Final Entries – Found Scribbled in the Dark on Stationary available inside the closet

(Archivist - Stray pages, ink smudged. Words scratched over and rewritten as if she could not make her fingers hold steady.)

July 25, 1914

They lied.

Of course they lied.

The music was loud. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and laughter. For the first time in years, I thought—maybe.

Then hands.

Grabbing. Dragging.

"Let’s see how perfect you are now."

They locked me inside.

A closet. Small. Cramped.

The door will not open.

It has been hours.

(Or has it? I can’t tell.)

No one is coming.

The change in tone was abrupt, and Satoru’s pulse quickened as he read about the party. He could feel the shift, the claustrophobia, the betrayal seeping through the paper. The scribbled words—he could almost hear you gasping for air, trapped in that small closet.

“They lied.” That one line stung. It was so raw. He couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t make it right. But he had to know—he had to understand why you were forgotten. He had to keep reading, even if it made his heart feel like it was crumbling under the weight.

???, 1914

How many hours has it been?

They will come back.

They must come back.

Please, please, please—

My throat aches.

I screamed until my throat bled.

No one heard.

No one wants to hear.

(They have forgotten me.)

Satoru’s hands clenched around the papers. They had broken you in ways that even time couldn’t erase. And he could do nothing. He gritted his teeth, struggling to stay composed, but it was impossible to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest. You’d screamed until your throat bled, and they had... forgotten you.

Satoru sat with his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled against his lips as he read the next entries. He was quiet now, the usual restless energy in his body drained away, leaving only a tense stillness. The words on the page felt heavier with each line.

???, 1914

I am thirsty.

I am so thirsty.

If I press my ear against the door, I can hear the music.

(Another party?)

They are still dancing.

They are still laughing.

They are still living.

And I am here.

Satoru’s throat felt tight. He swallowed against it, as if somehow that would make up for the dryness that must have burned through yours. He could picture it too clearly—the way your lips must have cracked, your voice reduced to a rasp.

And yet, they were still dancing.

Satoru exhaled sharply. You were still there, forgotten, while life carried on just outside the door. The thought made him nauseous.

His fingers flexed against the paper. If I had been there... But he hadn’t been. No one had. That was the entire tragedy of it.

???, 1914

It is quiet.

No music. No voices.

Something has happened.

Why won’t anyone come?

Satoru’s breath slowed. You didn’t know. You had no idea that while you were trapped in that suffocating darkness, the world outside had shifted.

They left.

No one had opened the door. No one had checked. It wasn’t even malice at this point—it was worse. It was indifference.

His jaw clenched. You weren’t even aware that the world had moved on without you. You were just waiting. Waiting for a help that would never come.

July 28, 1914

Sirens.

War.

The halls are empty.

They have all gone home.

No one remembers I am here.

No one remembers at all.

Sirens. The first world war. The absence. His hand trembled. The emptiness of the halls. You had been forgotten amidst the chaos, the madness of the world falling apart. He hated the feeling of it. The helplessness. The way everything—everything—slipped away, leaving only that quiet, sickening silence. He muttered a curse under his breath, feeling a heavy weight in his stomach.

You had been alone. And it wasn’t just the physical isolation. It was the fact that no one even cared enough to remember you.

???, 1914

(Archivist - The ink is uneven, pressed too hard into the paper—her hand must have been shaking.)

I dreamed of Viscount Salvatore.

He pulled out a chair for me again.

Only this time, when I sat, he turned to me and said, "I see you."

I woke up crying.

(He will not remember me either.)

Viscount Salvatore was back in your dreams. And now, Satoru was reading about how you woke up crying. He shook his head slowly, his eyes closing briefly. Even in your lonely moments, he was there, haunting you—both a comfort and a torment. He could almost see it in his mind, the way Viscount Salvatore's distant gaze would have held some measure of regret, maybe even longing. But none of that would ever matter now.

“Damn it,” Satoru cursed under his breath. He didn't even know what he was mad at—himself, the Viscount, or fate. The whole damn situation. You didn’t deserve any of it.

???, 1914

There is no light.

I am afraid to sleep. Afraid I will wake up and it will still be dark. Afraid I won’t wake up at all.

I think I can hear something scratching. Or maybe it is just my own heartbeat.

Satoru shut his eyes for a brief second. That sentence—it was worse than the others. It wasn't just physical anymore. It wasn’t just being locked inside. It was the fear creeping in.

Afraid to sleep. Afraid to wake up and still be in the dark. Afraid to never wake up at all.

He felt sick. You weren’t even sure if you existed anymore. If you were real.

He let his head drop forward slightly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. It was just a diary. Just words. So why did it feel like they were clawing at something inside of him?

???, 1914

I had a Mother?

Satoru’s eyes flicked back to the page, scanning the sentence again.

His stomach twisted.

You were unraveling.

That was what this was. Not just hunger. Not just thirst. Your mind was fraying at the edges, breaking apart piece by piece.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable, a strange, suffocating weight settling in his chest. You had been alone for so long that even memories were slipping away.

You were forgetting yourself.

???, 1914

I dreamed of the kittens.

They were hungry. So was I.

I woke up biting my sleeve.

Satoru closed his eyes again. That dream—it wasn’t just a memory. It was your body crying out, pulling at whatever fragments of warmth it could find.

And when you woke up, you were biting your sleeve.

His lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to picture you curled up in the dark, trying to trick yourself into feeling full.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing hard.

???, 1914

I have started whispering my own name.

I am afraid I will forget it.

Satoru blinked. The words blurred for a second before coming back into focus.

You were losing yourself. The last thing you had—the only thing left. Your own name. And even that was slipping.

His grip on the paper was too tight now. He forced himself to relax his fingers before he crumpled it.

You had been so, so alone.

???, 1914

I do not want to die like this.

I do not want to die in the dark.

Satoru’s shoulders tensed, but he forced himself to read it again.

You knew. By then, you knew.

It was no longer just fear. It was a final, quiet understanding.

Satoru’s hand came up, fingers pressing lightly against his temple. He had read countless things in his life—reports, records, confessions. But this?

This was someone—you—begging the universe for something it had already denied you.

???, 1914

Did he ever think of me?

Did Viscount Salvatore ever notice that I was gone?

(I am so, so cold.)

???, 1914

I can hear it raining.

There is no hunger anymore.

No thirst.

Just cold.

So, so cold.

???, ????

(Archivist - Final entry. Ink smeared, nearly unreadable.)

If someone finds this—Please—Please remember me.

Satoru didn’t move.

He stared at the words, his vision blurring for a moment before sharpening again.

His throat felt tight.

His grip on the page softened, and he slowly, carefully, set it down.

Satoru wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this—this aching, gnawing thing in his chest. He didn’t have the words for it. But as he reached for the next stack of papers.

Newspaper Articles

(Archivist - Yellowed clippings, brittle at the edges. No one speaks of her anymore.)

DAUGHTER OF L/N FAMILY MISSING – UNIVERSITY REFUSES COMMENT (July 27, 1914)

Miss L/N, the only daughter of the esteemed L/N family, has been reported missing for over a week. The university has declined to comment, insisting that Miss L/N likely departed of her own volition.

Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, have offered a sizable reward for any information regarding her whereabouts.

SEARCH FOR MISSING HEIRESS ENDS IN TRAGEDY – PARENTS DECLARED DEAD (December 3, 1916)

After two years of relentless searching, Mr. and Mrs. L/N have perished under tragic circumstances. Their estate, heavily in debt from the investigation, is to be auctioned off.

Miss L/N’s disappearance remains unsolved.

RENOVATIONS UNCOVER HIDDEN CLOSET – HUMAN REMAINS FOUND (March 5, 1957)

Construction teams working on university renovations discovered a sealed-off closet in the west wing. Inside, they found skeletal remains, still clad in a deteriorated silk gown. A diary was found nearby, though much of its ink had faded with time. Officials report that the identity of the remains is unknown, as no records exist of any missing student matching the description.

No further investigation is planned.

THE DAILY GAZETTE

Est. 1896

Thursday, March 7, 1957

PRICE: 10 CENTS

MYSTERY OF THE FORGOTTEN GIRL: REMAINS DISCOVERED IN UNIVERSITY WALLS

Renovation Workers Uncover Skeleton, Raising Chilling Questions About the Past

By George L. Whitmore

SHIZUKA CITY—A routine renovation at one of the country’s most prestigious universities took a macabre turn last week when construction workers stumbled upon a hidden closet sealed within the walls of the East Wing. Inside, they found the skeletal remains of a young woman, her body curled as if she had simply lain down and never risen again. The discovery has sent shockwaves through the academic community, raising unsettling questions about how she came to be there—and why no one ever looked for her.

The identity of the deceased remains unknown. No records exist of a missing student from the time period estimated by forensic specialists—likely the early 20th century. But one thing is certain: she was left there. Forgotten.

A Name Erased

The East Wing, once a grand structure funded by old money and aristocratic influence, had been largely abandoned for decades before renovations began last fall. The university, now bearing the Gojo family name, was once under the patronage of another dynasty—one that, curiously, has all but vanished from historical record.

Researchers digging into archived documents found faint traces of a once-powerful benefactor: the L/N family. According to a 1907 university registry, the L/Ns were among the wealthiest patrons of the institution. From Arms dealings, their contributions were responsible for much of its early expansion. And yet, no descendants remain. No estate. No legacy.

A mere decade after their peak, the family seems to have disappeared altogether. Their name erased. Their wealth scattered.

And now, this girl—the girl in the closet.

A Harmless Prank Gone Horribly Wrong?

The discovery has sparked whispered theories among university staff and alumni. Some recall long-forgotten stories, rumors passed down like ghost stories in dormitory halls. Stories of a girl. Beautiful. Intelligent. Kind. Too kind.

“She was perfect, too perfect,” said one retired professor, who wished to remain anonymous. “People resented her for it. The way the faculty admired her. The way she carried herself. There were whispers, of course—ugly, jealous things. But back then, the school was different. There were rules about what could and could not be spoken aloud.”

While no official reports exist of bullying, former students who attended in the early 1900s recall the cruel pranks that were common among the elite circles of the time. Stolen books. Torn dresses. Whispered mockeries disguised as etiquette lessons.

Then there was the incident at a party—a party that took place just before the world changed forever.

“She went missing that night,” said another source, a woman in her seventies who had attended the university in the years following the First World War. “There were rumors, of course. But no one ever spoke of it directly. And then the war came, and everything was forgotten. Just like that.”

What started as a childish prank—locking a girl in a storage closet—became something else entirely when the world was plunged into chaos. Sirens screamed. Students fled. The university shut its doors. And no one, not a single soul, remembered to let her out.

A Legacy Stolen by Time

The timing is chilling. The L/N family vanished not long after. Their once-glorious estate burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances. With their wealth depleted in a desperate search for their missing daughter, they faded into obscurity, lost to history. Meanwhile, the university found a new patron—one with deeper pockets, stronger influence. The Gojo family.

“Nothing stays empty for long,” remarked historian Dr. Henry Carrington. “Power abhors a vacuum. One name disappears; another takes its place. That’s how history works. The question is whether it was simply fate... or something more deliberate.”

What Comes Next?

For now, the remains of the forgotten girl lie in the care of forensic specialists, who will attempt to identify her and, perhaps, grant her the dignity she was denied in life. The university has yet to release an official statement, though sources indicate there are plans to memorialize the discovery.

Still, the air remains heavy with unspoken truths. A legacy buried beneath floorboards. A name erased. A girl left to die in the dark, her existence fading from memory even as the institution she was meant to inherit flourished without her.

And now, decades later, she has returned. Not as a scholar. Not as an heir.

But as a skeleton in the walls of a university that no longer remembers her name.

Satoru understood what had happened.

---

1914

The first time they locked you inside, it was supposed to be a joke. A harmless prank.

“You’ll cry and beg to be let out,” one of them whispered, a cruel giggle curling around her words as she hid her smirk behind a lace-gloved hand. “Let’s see if Miss Perfect is still so polite in the dark.”

You cried.

But you didn’t beg.

Not that night.

Not yet.

It didn’t surprise you. You’d always known people resented you. You were the only child of the L/N family—their legacy was carved in the very stone of the university. Wealth, power, influence, all wrapped in a name that commanded respect. Your family had funded these halls, shaped them. Built them.

And you were meant to carry that weight forward, to live up to expectations that came with being the heir of such a name. You studied hard, spoke softly, helped others without a second thought. You tried to meet the world with grace.

But you had made one mistake.

You were kind. Too kind.

You didn’t wear your last name like armor. You didn’t command respect with a gaze sharp enough to cut or a voice cold enough to freeze. You didn’t move like royalty among commoners. You spoke gently, smiled too much, helped without expecting anything in return.

And that, apparently, was enough to make them hate you.

They called you perfect. A fraud wrapped in silk and sweetness. A girl born to wealth, yet untouched by cruelty. It made them sick to their stomachs. They told themselves your kindness was a mask. That you were pretending. That behind your soft smile, you looked down on them.

The whispers slithered through the hallways, filled every corner of every dormitory, echoed between the benches in lecture halls. “She must think she’s better than us.” The rumors crept, fed by jealousy and disdain, each one sinking deeper, until they made it their mission to tear you down.

It started small. Stolen assignments. Ink spilled all over your uniform. Books knocked from your arms as you passed, their laughter trailing behind you like a shadow.

But then the pranks grew worse. Razor blades slipped into the lining of your bag, waiting to slice your fingers. Your tea, laced with ink, stained your lips and tongue black for hours. Dead rats left in your desk drawers, bloated and stinking, their decaying bodies a cruel reminder of their hatred.

You had friends—or you thought you did. But when you looked to them, their smiles faltered. They said nothing. Did nothing. They looked away.

So, you endured it all alone.

Then came the night of the party.

You hadn’t wanted to go. But one of the girls, the one you still foolishly believed to be a friend, begged you. She said everyone wanted to start over, that they regretted their childish jealousy and were ready to put it behind them.

You wanted to believe it. You wanted so badly to believe that people could change, that cruelty wasn’t the default. You wanted to believe that if you just endured long enough, they would see you for who you really were.

So, you went.

The music was loud, thick with the beat of drums and the pulse of electric guitars. The air was heavy with smoke, alcohol, and the scent of youth gone wild. Laughter rang out, spinning around you as people twirled under lantern light. For the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—you weren’t so alone after all.

But then, hands grabbed you.

They pulled you, dragged you away from the laughter, from the light, down the dim hallway that felt colder with every step. You struggled, but there were too many of them. Nails dug into your skin, and their breath reeked of whiskey and sweat.

They laughed. “Let’s see how perfect you are now.”

The closet was small. Cramped. A tiny, forgotten storage room in the corner of the building, filled with old books and dusty supplies. They shoved you inside.

You stumbled, tripping over the rough wooden floor, your hands scraping against the splintered walls. The door slammed behind you, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in your chest. You barely had time to press yourself against the door before it shut you in complete darkness.

“Let’s see how sweet you are after this,” they jeered, and then they were gone.

At first, you thought it was a joke. Any second now, they would open the door, laughing, saying it was just a prank. The music outside was still loud. The sounds of celebration filled your ears, muffling your screams and your frantic banging against the door.

They would let you out.

Of course, they would.

Wouldn’t they?

You banged harder. Screamed louder.

But no one came.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Two.

Your fists were raw, your throat burned from the screams, but still, nothing.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep. When you woke up, your mouth was dry, your body stiff and cold. You were still in your party dress, but your shoes were gone. You had lost them somewhere, in the chaos of being dragged.

You banged again. Screamed louder.

Nothing.

More hours passed. Maybe a day. You tried to count the time, but it blurred. The darkness stole all sense of it.

Then, one night—though you couldn’t tell if it was day or night anymore—something changed.

The university went silent.

The once-bustling halls were empty. The voices, the laughter, the music—gone.

In the distance, you heard sirens. A sound that felt like the last thread of the world unraveling.

The world was at war.

Overnight, everything collapsed. Students fled. Professors disappeared. The university shut down.

And no one, not a single soul, remembered that you were still locked in that closet.

The hunger was unbearable at first. You pressed your hands against your stomach as it twisted in agony, but after a while, even hunger faded into the background. The thirst, however, never left. Your lips cracked, your throat burned, your vision swam.

But you were too weak to scream now.

At some point, you stopped feeling anything at all.

No one remembered the girl in the closet.

Days passed. Maybe weeks. Maybe months.

But in the end, it didn’t matter.

There was only silence.

When they finally reopened that part of the university—years, maybe decades later, during renovations—the workers found a hidden closet behind the walls. They found a skeleton, still curled on the floor, clutching the remains of a tattered dress.

No one knew who you were. Your records were gone.

The L/N family was erased from history.

Your parents had searched for you. Desperately. They spent every penny, called in every favor, tore the world apart looking for their only child.

But war doesn’t care for grieving parents.

They died before they could uncover the truth. Your home burned. And with them, the name that had once shaped this university disappeared from the records.

The buildings once funded by your family were renamed. The university you were supposed to inherit now bore another family’s name.

The Gojo family.

And you?

You had simply ceased to exist.

---

Present Day

Satoru stared at the newspaper article in his hands, the words blurring as his chest tightened. It felt like someone had reached into him, squeezing the air from his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. His vision wavered, the paper in his hands turning into nothing more than a smear of ink and empty noise.

He had spent the entire night digging. Searching. Prying through the layers of forgotten history no one had cared to remember. And now—

Now, he wished he hadn’t.

His chest ached. His stomach churned with the weight of it. He hadn’t expected to find this. He hadn’t expected to feel the crushing blow of reality, the terrible, suffocating guilt that twisted through him like a knife.

You had smiled at him.

how your fingers had trembled in his hands, how your wide, nervous eyes had held so much uncertainty, yet a quiet hope. And when you kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, it had been the kind of kiss that felt like it was long overdue—like you’d been waiting a lifetime for someone to touch you.

And now he knew why.

You had been waiting for a hundred years.

A hundred years of silence. A hundred years of darkness. A hundred years of loneliness so deep it suffocated you, a cruel weight on your chest that no one had ever bothered to lift.

He thought about the closet. The cramped, suffocating space. The darkness. The silence that stretched on for years, unbroken. The pain of realizing no one was coming, no one cared.

The students who had shoved you inside. The laughter as they walked away, their voices fading into the distance while you were left to rot alone in a forgotten corner of the university. The friends who had seen it happen and did nothing. The ones who had turned their backs when you needed them most.

Satoru’s chest tightened further, a sharp pain stabbing through him. His teeth ground together, his jaw clenched so tight it felt like it might crack. His hands shook, trembled violently, as if they could somehow undo what had been done, erase the horror of it all.

He wanted to break something. Throw something. Tear through this cursed world and go back, back to that night, back to when he could’ve stopped it. To rip open that damn door and pull you into his arms, to tell you that you were never alone. That he would have fought for you. That someone—anyone—should have fought for you.

But it was too late.

One hundred years too late.

He sucked in a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. His lungs felt tight, and his throat closed up, like something was blocking the air. His hands shook as he traced the edges of the photograph in front of him. A group of students stood there, stiff and formal, their faces solemn in that black-and-white world of the early 1900s. They were so... distant. Detached. Like they were living in a world completely untouched by joy, by life.

And then there was you.

At the edge of the group, standing out like a ghost, yet so very present. Your soft features. Your gentle eyes. Your delicate, hopeful expression that somehow still managed to look so... lonely.

Beneath the photo, in delicate cursive handwriting, the caption read: "Class of 1914. Including Miss Y/N, the only child of the L/N family—our university’s first founding patrons."

Satoru’s breath caught in his throat.

Your name should have been everywhere. It should have been on every plaque, in every building, carved into the very bones of this place. Your family had built this school, laid its foundations with their blood and wealth. You had been the heir, the future.

And yet—

No one remembered your name.

Satoru’s pulse pounded in his ears, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo in his chest. His fingers curled into the paper, the fragile edges crinkling beneath his grip. His heart hammered in his chest as he clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to scream.

This school, his school, had been built on the L/N family name. Your family’s legacy was supposed to be immortal, etched into the very structure of the place. And yet, all he saw now were the names of the Gojo family—his family—everywhere. The library. The dormitories. The lecture halls.

Your family had been erased.

A sickening wave of anger washed over him. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart. He wanted to shove the truth in their faces, shove it into the faces of everyone who’d forgotten you. Everyone who had abandoned you. But more than anything—he wanted to go back.

He wanted to go back to that night.

He wanted to break down that fucking door, drag you into the light, and tell you, "You weren’t alone. You’ll never be alone again."

But he couldn’t.

It was too late.

One hundred years too late.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of your face lingered. You, the girl who had been forgotten. The girl whose name had been erased from history. The girl who had waited for someone to remember, to fight for her. The girl who had suffered alone.

No one remembered you now.

But Satoru did.

A/N: Did you get who Viscount Salvatore was?

Next Chapter 3 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

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bidisasterevankinard · 3 days ago

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I hate that 911 don't plan at least a little bit in advance so they can create the arcs that we see going in little details for 3 seasons or something like it, for example: if they would have planned Daniel in advance it would make sense in 2 and 3s Maddie do smt like 2-3 times that makes us all do the double take. For example in 2x18, when she cries watching news she could carefully whisper "Please, Evan, I can't lose another brother" . We all like "wtf?". Then 3s starts and Maddie talks to their parents and is like "no, i hadn't said why you don't like hospital to Buck. No. He doesn't know. But he should!". And her saying she hates be in the hospitals for her brotherS. And then like "with Buck it feels like there's 5 of them", but he face betrays her. Then she's looking at the toy car in her house when she packs her clothes to Chim and we see her a little bit sad and on the car we see the name "Daniel"

You understand me right? Like little steps to the that one point when we have all the answers

That way maybe they actually would leave Shannon alive

Also, it would be really new look at love in 911. Bc Bobby and Athena are the "lost loved one once and now has a second chance" type of love. Both the same

Maddie and Hen "bad first love, but healing second one"

Karen (what we know) "first love, but first lover of your so haunts you"

Chim "long way to the best big love story"

Buck "looking for love too long, always close but not exactly, till you meet that exact one on the perfect time" *coughs Tommy coughs*

And Eddie with Shannon would be incredible "first puppy love when never leaves you but you need find the way to make it work. Write person wrong time till it's right time". Both of you having the work to do before you can be together forever

Now, Eddie just like Bobby lost his first love, but they drag his healing way too long

I'm again thinking how beautiful could be EddieShannon long arc with them getting divorce in 3s, but stay friends. Her dating and him jealous. Him deciding to move on with Ana, but no, he can't. And Shannon is jealous. But they both try to be supportive. Then her helping him with 5s breakdown, finally having the man she loved being EDDIE she loved,bc she never wanted perfect husband, just Eddie. Them getting back together in 5x18, but have normal secret relationship in 6a bc they get it slow and don't want to make Chris sad if it won't be good. And then him finally getting against his parents for her and protect her (it could be for 7s) then they open up about it in midseason finale. And then Eddie asking her to move on with them in 6x18. And in season 7 it would be perfect times to show that they think about getting married too and boom you have another wedding for 8s

It could be such a good "right person wrong time till it's right time", but no, they should have killed Shannon

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sealrock · 2 days ago

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febhyurary, day 14: love

autumn, 1549

my dearest hector, I cannot imagine my life without you, for you have plucked my fluttering heart from my chest the moment I laid eyes on you—you, with your delicate hands, curious eyes, and laughter sweet as honey. you haunt my waking thoughts and restless dreams, I cannot bear leaving your side for an instant. I would travel to the ends of the earth to bring you back to me. would that I had the power to freeze time so we both could revel in our youth together, for I fear the reality of growing old without you by my side. may this aethograph be a testament for my love for you, and may the image never fade for as long as I draw breath. forever yours, elaine.

#febhyurary #febhyurary2025 #ffxivsnaps #gposers #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv oc #hyur #mygposes.#AAARAHGHGHH *werewolf ripping off shirt.png*#this was meant for day 4 because these two are the annoying pda couple but... valentine's day...#elaine fell very hard and very fast for him you see. she was lovesick #and hector was a bit oblivious but he caught on eventually :)#this was during their studium days because right after they graduated tristan was born. and then you know the rest

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tired-truffle · 2 days ago

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My Soul to Keep

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @ihascat5 @pebble-bb @goooofy-goooober1121 @furblurwurblur @potatointhedirt @webofwhimsy @mad-simp420 @xo-mingx @patchs-curiosity-corner (Let me know if you'd like to be added)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

You’d never imagined being a ghost tethered to a place to be a very fun experience. Being unable to move outside of your haunting space or see new scenery would drive anyone at least a little crazy after a few years. Being tethered to a person or an object, on the other hand, would give you a bit more wiggle room and the ability to explore. Except it would only be at the whim of the person carrying your object, or the person themselves. While you hadn’t figured out if you were actually a ghost or not, less than a minute after Viktor had left his apartment, it became viscerally clear that you were attached to something or someone on the move. Like an invisible wall of force, you were shoved from your spot, hovering uncertainly above the leather couch, and dragged through the floor.

Your shrieks of terror went unheard as you passed by room after room, making your descent from the upper floors. A man frantically buttoning his vest, a piece of toast crammed into his mouth, groaning his irritation as crumbs scattered over his chest. A woman reading a newspaper, a cup of tea in her hand. A young couple, one wrapped nothing but a thin sheet as they kissed goodbye at the door.

Wonderful, not only were you some sort of ghost-like creature, but you were now a Peeping Tom too.

After what must have been upwards of fifteen rooms, you finally reached the ground floor, floating down until you hovered over smooth tile flooring, polished marble tiles laid out in an intricate herringbone pattern that stretched from wall to wall. Towering columns of veined stone rose to meet a vaulted ceiling, where ornate chandeliers hung like crystalline raindrops frozen in time. Their warm light glinted off the gold-leafed accents adorning the walls and archways, rendering an atmosphere of quiet luxury.

A polished mahogany reception desk stood to your left, its surface so reflective you assumed it must be polished on the hour every hour. Behind it, a wall of brass mailboxes glinted, their tiny doors neatly labelled with apartment numbers.

As you floated there, drinking in the details of your lavish surroundings, a soft 'ding' broke you from your curious reverie. The elevator doors slid open, and Viktor stepped out.

It took him a moment to spot you, likely not having expected to see his hallucination lying on the floor of his building’s entry, but unfortunately for you, there was no coverage to hide your embarrassment. Like a flame flickering into existence, his eyes widened as they landed on you, stuttering in his steps. With a resigned sigh, you waved at him and floated back to a standing position.

Out of all the side effects of your predicament, the floating was probably your favourite. It was the little things that kept you going.

Recovering smoothly, lucky that the few others in the lobby weren’t paying attention to the newcomer, Viktor resumed his long-legged strides, his shoes clicking against the marble floors. When he reached you, you floated along at his side, hands clasped behind your back with the dignity of someone who did not just fall through the ceiling.

“It seems like I can’t leave your general vicinity. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” You elbowed him, even knowing it would go right through him. It was the thought that counted. “I don’t think anyone else can see me though, or a lot more of them would have freaked the fuck out when I appeared in their rooms.”

The subtlest of smirks canted at the corners of his lips. He pushed open the glass door, the creaking of the hinges masking his voice so only you could hear his reply.

“I’ve had worse tag-alongs.”

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, but you beamed at him anyway, pleased like a student who’d been praised by an overly harsh teacher.

You hovered in silence beside Viktor, acutely aware of the peculiar situation you found yourself in. The bustling streets of Piltover unfolded before you, gleaming with wealth and innovation that left you slack-jawed with wonder. It was one thing to see it on screen, and another to experience it first-hand.

Sleek, chrome-plated carriages whizzed by, and the people of Piltover moved with purpose, their attire a dizzying array of fine silks, tailored suits, and accessories that sparkled with precious stones. You realized, with a start, that even the most modest outfit you saw probably cost more than you'd ever seen in your life.

Street vendors hawked their wares on the cobblestone roads - miniature clockwork toys, glowing vials of mysterious substances, and gadgets whose purposes you couldn't even begin to fathom. You longed to stop and examine each fascinating item, but the invisible tether binding you to Viktor urged you onward.

After a few blocks of sensory overload, you approached a structure that made even the grandest buildings you'd passed seem modest in comparison. The Academy loomed before you, a colossal edifice of azure stone that seemed to touch the very heavens. Its walls were smooth and polished, reflecting the sky like a massive sapphire.

As you ascended the steps alongside Viktor, you noticed how the stone beneath your feet - or where your feet would be if you weren't floating - clicked and moved to match the height and speed of his strides. Would they get smaller for someone like Heimerdinger?

You turned to Viktor, bursting with questions and observations, but held your tongue, remembering that he couldn't respond without looking like a madman talking to thin air. Instead, you contented yourself with a small smile, grateful for this unexpected adventure and the chance to witness the wonders of Piltover firsthand.

It wasn’t until you were through the foyer and into the elevator - alone with Viktor - that you spoke up.

“So,” you elongated the vowel as you thought of what to say. “What do you do with this professor?”

Viktor was young and mostly healthy, no illness eating away at his lungs, and if he was going to meet Heimerdinger first thing in the morning, you imagined it was because he was still working for him. However, there was a chance that he was meeting with the professor about Hextech.

“I’m his assistant,” Viktor said plainly, confirming your suspicions.

You frowned, consideringly. “Prestigious.”

He shrugged. “It has its perks.”

The elevator dinged, its doors opening to the tenth floor. Viktor stepped out, cane softly thudding against the carpet and accompanying his muffled footsteps. It was just the two of you, as far as you could tell.

“You’re welcome to accompany me, though it appears you have little choice in the matter, but I must warn you I will not be able to speak with you,” he said under his breath. “Heimerdinger may appear…aloof at times, but he is sharp as a whip. If he believes that I’ve cracked under the pressure, he will have me immediately escorted to the nearest in-patient facility. That or he’ll lecture me over tea, neither of which I am particularly fond of.”

You nodded along as he spoke, spinning so you were floating on your back, watching the sparkly tiled ceiling flow by. “I figured as much. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just chill in the corner. You won’t even know I’m there.”

And you’d been so close to being right.

You’d done as promised, perusing the corners of Heimerdinger’s office while they reviewed their daily tasks, and trailing as far behind them as you could when they set out. The limit seemed to be about twenty feet in all directions before the barrier kicked in and shoved you along. Entirely aggravating - you’d never liked being told what to do, not even by invisible walls.

Every so often, you'd push against the barrier, testing its limits. It was like pressing against an elastic wall - you could stretch it a bit, but eventually, it would snap back, dragging you along.

As you drifted through the corridors, you noticed something peculiar. Whenever you passed through a person, they would shiver involuntarily, as if a sudden chill had swept over them. You watched as a young student, her arms laden with books, trembled as you glided through her. Her eyes darted around, confused before she shrugged it off and continued on her way.

Intrigued by this discovery, you decided to conduct a little experiment - if you were going to surround yourself with scientists, you might as well try to blend in. You positioned yourself in the middle of a busy intersection where multiple hallways converged. As people walked through you, one after another, you observed their reactions. Some merely twitched, while others visibly shuddered, their teeth chattering for a brief moment.

Interesting, but you weren’t sure what to do with this newfound knowledge.

They didn’t head back to Heimerdinger’s office until late into the evening - it was clear where Viktor got his unhealthy work habits from, if he hadn’t had them already. By that point, you were bored out of your skull, and you couldn’t even get the reprieve of banging your head against the wall.

All you could do was talk and float around, and since the only person you could talk to was Viktor, that left you with floating as your only option - and there was only so much flopping around into different positions that you could do before you lost your mind.

Your wish for entertainment came in the form of an overly distracted Heimerdinger. You hadn’t been watching, Viktor hadn’t been watching - busy sorting through the missives that had piled up on the professor’s desk while they’d been out - and Heimerdinger himself hadn’t been watching where he was going, too enraptured in his thoughts.

Bang! The loud slap of a stack of books toppling to the floor jolted you out of your calm - albeit painfully boring - state.

Your perspective shifted dramatically, as if the world had grown larger around you. The colours of the room muted, losing their vibrancy, yet somehow, you could see more of your surroundings at once. Your visual field expanded, stretching to the corners of the room that were previously out of sight.

Your closest surroundings blurred, becoming indistinct shapes in your new vision. Yet, you found yourself drawn to the smallest movements - a piece of paper fluttering in the breeze from an open window, specks of dust filtering through the air.

Everything was different, more immediate, filled with scents and sounds you hadn't noticed before. The musty smell of old books mingled with the sharp tang of ink and the faint aroma of Heimerdinger's pipe tobacco.

Your ears twitched, picking up sounds you hadn’t noticed before. Viktor's breathing seemed louder now, the soft rustle of his clothing, the subtle creak of floorboards beneath his feet.

Instinctively, you hissed through clenched teeth as confusion prickled along your spine, your fur standing on end as your back arched. The sound that escaped your throat was alien and feral, nothing like your usual voice. As soon as it happened, you froze, bewildered.

Hold on.

Be so fucking for real right now.

This could not be happening.

Viktor’s wide eyes and slackened jaw said otherwise, his missive falling to the floor like a feather on a gentle breeze.

You became acutely aware of your new feline form. Your whiskers twitched, sensitive to the slightest air currents in the room. Your tail, a foreign appendage you'd never possessed before, swished behind you with a mind of its own. You flexed your paws, feeling the soft pads beneath and the sharp claws that extended and retracted at will. The fur that covered your little body was a sleek black, looking soft to the touch as though you’d spent hours grooming it.

“Gadzooks!” Heimerdinger exclaimed, his head popping up from where he’d dived behind his desk to avoid being crushed. “That was a close one! Are you alright, my boy?”

Viktor hadn’t even been close to the books, but it was sweet of the professor to ask - not that you could register it in your shock.

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, Viktor turned to face his employer. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“I’m alright, but it did give me quite the scare.” Heimerdinger chuckled to himself, but you were too busy freaking out to fully appreciate how the yordle’s ears wiggled when he laughed.

Why the fuck were you a cat? And how were you supposed to turn back?

Oh God, were you stuck like this forever now? No, you refused. You’d had enough weird shit happen; you weren’t going to let this control you too.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on slowing your heart rate. Like water falling off a duck's back, your feline form melted away. A tingling sensation spread from your core to your extremities, and you sensed your body stretching and reshaping. When you dared to open your eyes again, you found yourself back in your ghostly human form, hovering a few inches above the ground.

Frantically, you patted yourself down, checking for any lingering cat-like features. No tail. No fur. No whiskers. You ran your hands over your head, sighing in relief when you felt your hair instead of pointed ears. The world had returned to its normal proportions and colours, the hyper-awareness of scents and sounds fading back to normal.

Still shaken, you drifted over to Viktor, who was helping Heimerdinger gather the fallen books. You hovered close to his ear, hissing in a low, urgent whisper - a human hiss, not a cat hiss - "What the fuck was that?"

Viktor's eyes darted to you for a split second before returning to his task. His lips barely moved as he hissed back, "How am I supposed to know?"

You ran your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "I turned into a fucking cat!" you whispered incredulously, your voice rising slightly in pitch.

Viktor's jaw clenched, and he shot you a warning glance. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Heimerdinger, who was dusting off a particularly old tome.

You nodded, forcing yourself to take deep, calming breaths – not that you actually needed to breathe, but the familiar action helped steady your nerves. As Viktor and Heimerdinger finished tidying up, you retreated to a corner of the office, trying to process what had just happened and wondering what other surprises your strange new existence might have in store for you.

Sitting in awkward silence wasn’t your favourite activity, but lately you’d been doing a lot of things you typically avoided.

“Do you still think I’m a hallucination?” You broke the silence, your elbows resting on your knees as you floated above the couch, legs crossed.

Viktor swayed his head and twisted towards you, his piecemeal dinner of toast and jam abandoned on the coffee table. “I have not concretely ruled it out, but since no one else can see or hear you, that may be difficult. For now, I am leaning towards no. It is much too fantastical for my mind to come up with. Besides, I do not feel as though I have lost my senses. There would be other signs.”

Logical, as you’d expected.

“I wish I wasn’t real,” you sighed, tilting your head back to look at the popcorn-textured ceiling. “This is all so crazy. I don’t know where to begin trying to find answers.”

“Do you remember what happened before you arrived here?”

You shook your head. “Not a thing.”

Viktor hummed his understanding. “You said that this world should not exist, what did you mean by that?”

Right, you had blurted that out in a panicked rush, hadn’t you?

“If you don’t think you’ve lost your mind, then you definitely will think that I have when I try to explain it to you.”

He smiled, soft and patient, and in response, your stomach conjured up a flurry of butterflies to tickle your insides. “I promise I will not pass undue judgment. If I was going to, I would have already, given that you’re transparent and can turn into a cat.”

“Fair point.” He had you there, and what else did you have to lose? “Though don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He sat back, motioning for you to begin.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. “Do you have televisions here? Like screens that play pre-recorded videos?”

“Some do, though it is not particularly common.”

“Thank God,” you breathed, “I really didn’t want to try to explain what that was. They’re pretty common in my world, at least where I come from, most households have them. We’ve got millions of shows and movies to watch. There was this one show called Arcane that was about, uh, here. Like, Piltover and Zaun.”

He nodded sagely, and you couldn’t find any traces of disbelief in his eyes. He was just…accepting it? Or he was a very good actor. You were leaning toward the latter.

“You were one of the main characters,” you continued, noting that this did get a reaction from him: a slight raise of his eyebrows. “And judging by a few observations, this is before the start of the show, though it can’t be more than a few years at most. If I had to guess based on my luck lately, we’re pretty close to it, weeks if not days.”

Viktor's forehead creased as he processed your words. "A show…about Piltover and Zaun. I suppose the politics could be intriguing. And I'm a character in it?"

“You are, but I don’t expect you to take me at my word. I can prove to you that I know things that I shouldn’t, and I can predict a few upcoming events, though we must prevent one sequence of events or everything goes to shit, so I may need a little bit of trust from you.”

At this, he looked interested, and you took this as a win. “Intriguing. You may proceed.”

You paused, what could you even tell him? What would be believable? “You…know a lot of things.”

“True.”

“And if you’re still thinking I may be a hallucination then I can’t tell you your history ‘cause you already know it.” You tapped your chin, lips twisted as you thought hard. “I’m trying to prevent the immediate future, so that wouldn’t work either, but…oh! Are you able to go to a doctor anytime soon?”

Viktor blinked, startled back. “A doctor?”

“Yeah, like a medical one, not Dr. Reveck.”

“Who is Dr. Reveck?”

It was your turn to express your confusion. “You know, the doctor in that cave you met as a kid? When your boat went down the stream into his lab?”

Viktor eyed you, suspicion swimming in the depths of his gaze. “He never told me his name.”

“Oh, uh,” you grinned sheepishly, “I guess you know it now. He’s the inventor of Shimmer. He’s trying to cure his daughter of death. He should probably be stopped, but that’s a later problem.”

“Right.” He was dubious, but he waved for you to continue.

“Okay, here it goes, and it’s probably gonna suck to hear, so I’m warning you now,” you said, and upon Viktor’s nod, you started. “They never told us what illness you had, or I guess you have, just that you got it from Zaun’s shitty air. Your lungs will start to fail you, you’ll need a crutch, you’ll lose weight, and you’ll start coughing up blood sometime in the next seven years. Eventually, it would kill you. But, many people believed the illness was similar to one that we have in my world: tuberculosis or consumption, depending on the time period.”

Viktor's face paled as you spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sat in silence for a long moment.

"That's... quite specific,” he said when he was able to form a response. “And rather grim."

“I know. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m sure that’s a lot to take in, but if it is something like tuberculosis, then the good news is it’s totally treatable before it gets to the active stage. Do you have any of those symptoms now?”

“I don’t,” he said, a wariness to his tone.

“That’s great!” You clapped your hands, relief flooding through you. What were you supposed to do if the one person who could see you died? “That means you don’t have the active stage yet, or any illness at all, but if it’s caused by Zaun’s air and you haven’t lived there for some time, then it wouldn’t make sense that you pick it up later. Can the doctors here test your blood for an illness like this?”

“Yes.” His fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get checked, though the idea of being ill and unaware until it is too late is unsettling."

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of a clock on the wall and the distant hum of the city outside. You wished you could offer more comfort, but what could you say to someone who'd just been told they might have a potentially fatal illness?

"I'll schedule an appointment as soon as I can," Viktor said, quiet but resolute.

You nodded, relieved that he was taking your warning seriously. "That's good. Really good. Thank you for listening to me."

Viktor's lips quirked into a small smile. "It's not every day a ghostly entity from another world appears to warn you about your health. It would be foolish to ignore such a specific prophecy."

You chuckled, appreciating his attempt at levity. "That’s the spirit."

Over and over in your mind you prayed to whatever gods may be listening that they could catch his illness in time. And if they couldn’t…you weren’t sure you had it in you to stop him from becoming the Machine Herald.

A few days later, he had his appointment set, and until then, you were stuck following him around. It wasn’t all bad, you’d spent most of your time idly floating, watching the scenery as you trailed after Viktor, and the evenings were spent in peaceful companionship. Surprisingly, he was more chatty than you’d expected. Late at night as he pursued his work, he’d talk to you about it, or rather talked at you as you had little to add. But still, you appreciated the entertainment.

You had avoided turning back into a cat again, if such a thing could be avoided. One thing at a time; address Viktor’s illness, get him to believe that you were real, and then you could figure your shit out.

On the day of the appointment, you floated beside him as he made his way to the physician’s office. It was in a central part of town, a quick trolley ride away. As you entered the sleek building, a thought occurred to you that you’d nearly forgotten.

“Did someone teach you to use your cane on the same side as your injured leg?”

Viktor halted in his steps, said cane clacking against the floor. It was just him in the entryway, and he looked at you with bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

You cringed, who were you to tell him how to use his mobility aid when you couldn’t even use your legs? There was no such thing as an inaccessible environment when you could float everywhere. “It’s just that you’re supposed to use a cane on the opposite side as the disabled leg, right? But I thought maybe there was a reason you weren’t doing that.”

He glanced down at the cane and then back up at you. “That’s what my parents taught me.”

Ah, it was as you feared. No one had taught him to use it properly, and they’d been letting him go his whole life using it in a way that would damage his body over time. It made sense that Zaun didn’t receive proper health education on top of everything else. “Maybe you can talk to the doctor about it while you’re here.”

He pursed his lips, gaze distant as though evaluating memories you were not party to. “Perhaps.”

After signing in and waiting his turn, Viktor was called back.

“I’ll wait outside the door if that’s okay with you,” you offered, floating down the long hallway as the nurse brought him to a clinic room. Viktor nodded his understanding.

You hovered in the hall, your ethereal form passing through the occasional nurse or patient who hurried by, watching as they shivered or shuddered.

As you waited, you observed the diverse array of people moving through the clinic. A young woman with braided hair adorned with gold jewelry passed by, her eyes fixed on a small device in her hand. An elderly gentleman hobbled along, supported by a woman of a similar age - his wife, maybe. A pair of identical twins, no older than ten, chattered excitedly about the latest comic their parents had bought them.

The nurse who had escorted Viktor into the examination room emerged, her shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. She moved with purpose, her crisp white uniform much too clean for someone who no doubt frequently got her hands dirty. How many changes of uniforms for its staff did this place have to keep up appearances?

Minutes ticked by, and you found yourself studying the patterns in the wallpaper, tracing the delicate floral designs with your eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only about thirty minutes, the door to Viktor's room opened again. This time, a distinguished-looking man in a white coat stepped out, followed closely by Viktor. The doctor's salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a reassuring expression that immediately put you at ease.

Viktor's face was a mask of calm, but you could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. He extended his hand to the doctor, who grasped it firmly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Viktor said. "Your insights have been most valuable."

The doctor shook Viktor’s hand, his smile widening. "It's my pleasure. Remember what we discussed, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."

With a final nod, Viktor turned and began making his way down the hallway towards the exit. You floated after him, your ghostly form easily keeping pace with his measured strides. As you followed, something caught your eye, and you did a double-take.

Viktor was using his cane differently.

Where before he had held it on the same side as his disabled leg, now it was on the opposite side. He had listened to your suggestion and brought it up with the doctor. This small change could make a significant difference in his daily life, potentially alleviating pain and improving his mobility.

As you exited the clinic, the bustling streets of Piltover greeted you. The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone paths, and you floated alongside Viktor, studying his face for any sign of what the doctor might have told him. His expression remained impassive, but when there was a break in the crowd, he leaned closer to you.

“I will receive a call with the results of the testing in a few days,” he whispered. “But you were correct about the cane. Thank you.”

You shrugged, entirely unsure what to say. “I hope it helps.”

An uptick at the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his smile. “Only time will tell.”

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I hope this makes it to you in time, and thank you so so much for all the support you gave for the first chapter <3

If at any point when reading this chapter you thought to yourself: "I just want you to stop sayin' odd shit." I do not blame you. It's not going to get any less weird, but I hope you enjoy it!

#isekai #fem reader #reader insert #reader goes to world #no use of y/n #eventual smut #fluff #falling in love #viktor x you #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #viktor x reader

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