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diremoone · 1 year ago

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written in fine print | r. sukuna

moving to japan to get a breath of fresh air was supposed to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. it still may be, but now you’ve got a problem and you don’t know what to do about it. the problem? ryomen sukuna, one of the wealthiest men on the planet, being… enamored with you. you’ve come fairly far with him as “friends” while keeping him at bay, but after you both spend christmas together, you know that things have changed. and come the first day of the new year comes a surprise that forces you to face your bottled-up truth.

[ Ryomen Sukuna Masterlist ] | part three

w — slowburn, age gap, modern au, older man/younger woman, fluff, mild? angst, this time we get reader’s pov bc it’s time ;3, insecure! reader, self-indulgence, A KISS (but just one for now sorry y’all), reader and sukuna lay their feelings on the table (I’m sorry I couldn’t help but finally get to this part), sukuna gets kinda prose-y lmao, slightly unsatisfied with this fic but I hope y’all enjoy anyway, sprinkle of bittersweet at the end

God, have mercy upon my soul.

The dozens of text messages from your cousin have you sitting on the edge of your bed in absolute disbelief. You haven’t even had any coffee yet, or any sort of something in your stomach. It’s sheer willpower keeping you from throwing up the stomach acid in your belly.

But you do need something. You make your way into the kitchen and nab the biscuits you made yesterday from the bag they were in. You shouldn’t, but you eat all four of them anyway. Then you drink something.

You were wondering why everything was going too good, why life had been so… easy as of late. Now you understood why. It was the calm before the storm. It was the universe allowing you to have some semblance of peace before it decided to throw you into the pit of mental and emotional turmoil that you’d been so great at avoiding.

Why in the world did the universe decide to put Ryomen Sukuna into your life?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself over and over again ever since you decided to take him up on the offer of a first date six months ago. Even worse, why did you even think it was a remotely good idea to get involved with someone over ten years older than you? Universe aside, you should’ve had the good judgement to keep Sukuna away. Your good intuition was something you’d always prided yourself on, so why did you decide to even let Sukuna keep coming around?

You go back to your room and get the phone, rereading over the messages. One in particular your eyes stay on:

A benefactor has paid for nana’s care and set her up in a really fancy, upscale care and rehabilitation facility here. They came and got her this morning to transfer her. When I asked about it, someone from registration said it was a gift for you. Who the fuck did you meet in Japan? 5:16 am

And you know, deep within your soul and in your gut that Sukuna was behind this. There’s no one you know that has the money to pull off something like taking your grandmother from where she was to a facility where she’s going to get more constant help, cleaned, proper rehabilitation. No one else but him.

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, beginning to brew a fresh pot of coffee. You almost jump out of your skin from it. You wait until it’s done before digging out one of the banana nut muffins Shoko brought over two nights ago to pre-celebrate the new year.

You truly don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure about everything. Coming to Japan to get a breath of fresh air from the strain your old life was supposed to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made. But now, all it’s become is a whirlwind of even more, even deeper emotional confusion.

Meeting Yuuji was great. Meeting his older brother? The entire source of the emotional confusion.

You lean against the counter and gaze outside. The snow has finally ceased and you’re sure dozers are out clearing the roads. You can’t help but fall into your thoughts.

For awhile, you’ve had… feelings. You’re not quite sure what they are, but you know that they revolve around the older, rich man you’ve befriended. You know that whenever he’s around, you feel more�� open, lighter even. You know he makes you feel flustered, to which you’ve learned to seal said fluster inside of a bottle and remain indifferent in his presence. Every time he looks at you or speaks to you, it makes you feel… giddy. Happy, dare you say it.

And it’s something you swallow down and hide every time it bubbles to the surface, fearing that it’ll be nothing more than the same story as your mother: a heart broken by the letdown of not ever being enough, not being what the man actually wanted, and not being genuinely cared for.

The mug of coffee in your hands grows hot, almost scalding against the skin of your palms. It brings you out of your own mind, just in time to hear your phone vibrate with more text messages, all still from your cousin.

Because apparently fate dropped a man in your lap that was more than ready to give you anything and everything you’ve ever wanted: unconditional love on a gold platter; fate decided that you finally deserve a break from strife and grief, that you deserved to stop eating humble pie, because lord knows you’ve done choked and damn near suffocated on that shit; that you deserved to be cherished and loved and made to be someone’s number one in their life.

You know. You fucking know what Sukuna does to you, how he makes you feel inside. You also know how he wants to treat you and the things he wants to do to you. And perhaps with you, if your gut instinct is right and he wants more than a body to warm his bed.

Who are you kidding? You know you’re right.

But it’s unfortunate for you that all you’ve learned to do is bottle up your feelings and act like they don’t exist. Because you’ve never been loved, not romantically anyway. Especially not like this, from someone like this.

How were you supposed to love? What did it really mean to be in a relationship? You’ve never been in one. Not one that ever really was going to go as far as this. Was what you were feeling all temporary? And if you did get into a relationship, what if he didn’t like you when you got comfortable? What if he didn’t like it when you laughed too hard, or any of the habits you have? What if he was just wanting to play savior and ended up leaving you a few months from now?

You toss your head back and groan. Why? Why was this happening to you?

You opt to spend the day inside, rather than go out like you had planned. You have to text Shoko and Utahime, letting them know that you’re not going to be able to participate in their plans of going out and visiting shrines for the new year. The latter is reasonably mad, but Shoko calms her down in the group chat. Although she does make an innuendo about spending the day with someone else “cozied up in bed” rather than them. You send her a side eye emoji in return on her personal thread.

You change out of your pajamas and into some casual clothes — a dark red long sleeve and some black sweatpants, switching to house socks to regular socks — despite not intending to go out for the day. You do end up on the couch for most of the day, switching your attention from the TV and the messages on your phone more than you care to admit. You hardly eat, and don’t realize it until you can feel your stomach against your spine each time.

All day is basically wasted in front of the television, trapped in your own mind. Trapped in the whirlwind that Sukuna has made of your heart and emotions.

You graze through your entire stock of sweets in less than a day, uncaring if it was unhealthy. Dusk settles on the horizon before you know it and you’re anything but tired. In fact, you’re wide awake.

“What do I do…?” you ask into the open air. You feel stupid doing it, but apparently fate has a response for you.

It’s 9:18 at night when several strong knocks rap at your door.

It’s 9:20 when you decide to finally answer the door.

It’s 9:24 when you realize you’ve got a guest at the front door, the very same man who’s been making you question yourself and your whole life ever since coming to this country.

It’s 9:30 when you question to yourself why you let him in. You didn’t think it through, that much you’re sure of. How could you be when he’s thrown your heart all topsy-turvy and mushed it into goo?

Just looking at him from his back floods your mind and makes your heart race, something you hope you’re able to hide by what you hope is a face of indifference and calmness. You can see the tattoos peek out from his turtleneck, and you have to gulp down your nervousness.

The large mug of fruity tea you’ve poured has now chilled, the ice just barely clinking in the glass. You quickly open the cookie jar on the counter and shove two snickerdoodles in your mouth to stress-eat being prepared for what was coming next.

“I…” you begin, and embarrassingly realize you have to swallow the cookies to talk. “I wasn’t expecting you to… show up.”

Sukuna’s silent for a moment, then replies stoically, “Neither was I.”

You gaze at him longer than you intend to. Your attention is mostly on his tattoos, the little bits that are peeking out from the deep crimson of his form-fitting turtleneck. You watch him readjust the watch on his wrist, partially revealing the tattoo inked onto his wrist. To your surprise, Sukuna actually doesn’t like showing off his tats. He used to in his younger years; he’s still proud of them, but he isn’t as much into flaunting them to the world nowadays.

Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Have you… gotten my gift?”

You bite your lower lip. You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yeah… If you mean the one involving my grandmother, then yes.”

“I do apologize if I crossed any lines doing such a thing,” he says. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I can imagine you don’t,” you reply, knowing full-well that him regretting anything was a very rare occurrence. “But… Why? Why would you do that? Go through such trouble to help me… and my family? Just… Why?”

His ginormous frame turns to face you to look into your eyes and answer with nothing short of honesty, “Because I want you to be cared for. I’ve seen happiness in your eyes and I want to keep you happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

“Buying my love will only get you so far,” you say.

“I know. I want to do more for you. I want… to be more for you. Not just… this. Whatever we have going on,” Sukuna admits casually, crossing his burly arms over his chest. But he doesn’t make eye contact. In fact, he keeps his eyes to the floor, away from your gaze. “I know what I want, although I’m not quite sure how to describe everything I feel… when I’m with you and when I think about you. It’s… I know what it is, I’m pretty sure, but at the same time… I don’t.”

“It’s new for you,” you mumble. Surprisingly, he actually hears you and nods. He doesn’t lie. Not with you.

“I’ve been with many women over the years, all for the same reason. I’ve never felt like falling in love or that it would ever matter. I know lust, I know what comes with that. With you, it’s anything but. At first, yes. But your immediate rejection, you continuing to keep your distance from me and your distaste known made me stop and think.”

You raise your brows. “All it took was a girl with some strong boundaries to make you realize you can’t live off being just horny for then rest of your life?”

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. A bright smile crosses his handsome face as his shoulders shake with laughter. He tries to cover it up with a hand, but all it does it muffle it into loud chuckles. It takes a good couple minutes before his chuckles finally fall into a simple smile of amusement. That’s when you admit your own truths. If you were going to be hurt, you might as well get it over with.

“In a way,” Sukuna admits. And then he admits even more, opening his heart and putting it on his sleeve. “You’ve reminded me that there is more to life, that I can be genuinely happy beyond office walls and red light districts. You have made me remember what feeling excited, what being on my toes feels like. You make the air lighter… happier, every time I see you. You… I care for you.”

Sukuna’s last words of admission are watered-down and you both know it. Then again, he says he is new to these kinds of feelings. And at this point, you believe him. You wonder if he knows that you’re just like him — exactly the same: that you’re new to the feelings of love, what it means to be in love. It’s confusing, really. You’re not sure where to begin when it comes to saying the things that Sukuna has seemingly had no problem admitting to you. You can’t just say, “Ditto” and make out with him.

Well, you could, but that’s beside the point.

You swallow the frog in your throat and look at him. He isn’t looking at you but at the ground, almost like he’s unsure of himself.

“You’ve made yourself a cozy place inside me, too,” you speak softly. Your hands don’t leave the mug as you set it on the counter. “We’ve only known each other for barely half a year, you know? You make me wonder if what I’m feeling is love, most of the time. I enjoy you; I enjoy your company. I enjoy the thrill you bring into my life. I… enjoy how weightless you make the world feel. I… I like the thought of being… prioritized. I’m just… confused on whether or not these feelings are rooted in love or something else entirely.”

“And I apologize for making you feel that way,” he replies. “That isn’t my intention.”

You’re quick to your words before he can continue. “Don’t apologize. Please. It’s not your fault. I… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what love is or what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve never been loved, and I’m not quite sure how to reciprocate it. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up. Say the wrong thing, not do something right.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. “There is no right or wrong way to be in a relationship — just yourself.”

“I’ve heard that, just as much as I’ve heard otherwise.”

Silence fills your apartment. You tap your nails against the glass mug, little tinks! resounding. You can’t look at Sukuna now. Not after just admitting to having never been in a romantic relationship. Now, you must seem more of your age than you ever have in his eyes.

“Any insecurity you have is not invalid. I would never disrespect them,” Sukuna finally says, sheer conviction making you shiver.

The giant man stands to take his place not even a foot from you. Magnetism draws you to his face and you cannot look away. His hand comes up and brushes his large fingers across your cheek.

And like an open book, he reads you from the front cover to the very last word, reading off your exterior cover and the interior pages you’ve hidden away. “You’ve carved yourself from early maturity, into someone that your loved ones have needed you to be. You’ve never been able to truly be yourself, be free. You’ve always had to be the rock that everyone has needed, when no one has been for you. You desire to be loved, but not at the expense of heartbreak nor sacrificing the person you’ve molded yourself into for the people you love. You desire to be free above all else, not wanting to be loved unless there’s someone who can love you and give you your freedom at the same time.”

You gape, eyes almost as wide as saucers with your eyelids lined with burning tears. You dip your head and sniffle.

“I want that. I want that for you. I want to be the one to give that to you,” Sukuna continues. “The time we spent together not even a week ago, I want more of that. I no longer want to live the way I’ve been living. I want to live with you, do those kinds of things with you. That sounds corny as fuck coming from me of all people, but that’s the truth.”

You can’t help but laugh. His tone of exasperation at himself was just too funny not to.

“And what happens when you give me those things? Will you be done with me? Move on to the next person?” you ask. “Once you’ve played the part of the savior, won’t those feelings end?”

“I’ll never be done with you,” he answers instantaneously, like it was nothing short of law. “You’ve captivated me, all of me. I’ve already tried pulling myself away a multitude of times. But then one little word of anything about you and you’re all I think about for the rest of the day.”

You sniffle again and laugh. “Did you practice this? You sound like a poet.”

“I can be one if you’d like.” You giggle at that. It’s silly, but you feel like Sukuna would oblige you if you said yes. “But I mean it, every word.”

You nod and whisper, “I know you do.” Because it’s the truth. He’ll never not mean anything he says. Brutal honesty is apart of Sukuna.

The emptiness of your apartment is deafening, it’s silence almost palpable to the point where you feel like you might being to suffocate. But large, firm hands cup your cheeks and bring oxygen into your lungs again.

His hands are warm, so warm. The feeling of being touched like this, so intimately, makes all the blood flow to your cheeks to the point where you think you’ll overheat.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, tone quiet, voice deep and baritone that makes shivers roll up your spine. “At least once?”

You can’t help but bite into your lower lip. The suffocating feeling has returned, just for a different reason. But your instinct goes first — action taking the initiative over the brain — and you nod once more, mumbling out a small “yes” that you chastise yourself for being so meek.

Sukuna’s free arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you to your tippy-toes. You’re running on instinct, one hand resting on his chest, the other circling behind his neck, eyelids slowly closing as he dives in for the kiss you’ve allowed. And when his hand cradles the back of your head, his lips meet yours, and you swear to everything from heaven to hell that you’re about to explode and die in this man’s arms.

Everything feels like it’s on fire… until it doesn’t. That fire slowly simmers down to a gentle flame, one that brings a sense of contentment.

Sukuna tilts his head, moving your lips and deepening the kiss. You allow it, and it feels like the kiss has sunk to a new depth of desire. Dare you even think or say it be devotion. His lips are warm and sweet on yours; his kiss isn’t one of urgency, but perhaps the desperation of longing. It’s not slow and controlling, not greedy. Whatever this kiss is and all the emotions contained within, you know it makes you at peace and content.

Everything feels perfect.

You both part for air, lips slow to disconnect. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so out of breath, but hearing the slight heaviness of breath coming from the large man makes you feel less awkward.

“Thought you said you hadn’t been in a relationship before?”

Your reply is breathless, “Never have.”

“Then you must be a naturally good kisser.”

That makes you laugh. You press your head to his chest and giggle away, to which you hear what you think is a chuckle from his throat.

It’s 11:20 at night by the time you look at the clock again. It’s too late for Sukuna to go home. That’s the excuse you use anyway. He’s seemingly more than happy to use the excuse right along with you to spend a night with you.

Come morning, however, things shift back to the way they were before: confusing and lonely. The couch was just as empty as the apartment. Under you was not Sukuna’s body, but a stack of pillows from your bedroom.

The note on the counter about being called in for an important meeting doesn’t do his absence justice either, instead sending every one of your walls back up, twice as high and just as thick as they were before.

Your phone dings with new messages. Utahime and Shoko, both of which declare they’re coming over to drag your ass out of your apartment to go shopping like you should’ve yesterday.

You text them back, telling them you’ll meet them at the mall, that you’re going to get ready and this time you aren’t going to miss out.

You don’t know what to do or what to think. You don’t know if one night of vulnerability means anything more than just being open with another human being. All you know is that you need a break, from yourself, your confusion, from life, and especially from Sukuna.

You need the clarity of a shopping trip and good friends for company, because your hopes for what’s coming next are getting far too high and you’re beginning to really fall in love with Sukuna Ryomen.

taglist: (no longer adding)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #modern! sukuna #modern! au #jjk sukuna #sukuna fluff

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mountainsandmayhem · 7 months ago

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Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom!

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs.

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”.

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth.

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing.

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water.

Focus!

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back.

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much.

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears.

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life.

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you.

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?”

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.”

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf.

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder.

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him.

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you.

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?”

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger.

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep.

“Smooth,” you say teasingly.

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.”

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.”

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now.

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?”

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.”

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list.

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities.

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.”

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart.

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.”

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce.

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf.

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says.

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.”

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.”

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.”

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before.

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her.

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need.

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say.

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human.

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond.

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude.

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.”

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.”

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh.

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically.

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again.

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing?

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.”

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle.

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke.

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.”

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in.

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them.

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his.

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights.

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones.

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions.

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.”

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new.

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?”

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch.

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?”

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours.

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here.

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.”

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?”

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough.

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?”

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.”

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful.

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?”

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?”

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?”

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.”

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.”

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.”

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.”

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!”

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time.

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional.

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him.

Tag list:

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@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

#pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #the mentalist #pedropascal #pedro pascal #pedrohub

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azriels-shadowsinger · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I please request 1 and 16 for Cassian x reader 🥹

“He treats me well-" "Okay good for you." "-but he isn't you."

Cassian x Reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: so i couldn’t decide how i wanted to combine those 2 different prompts so i’m just writing 2 separate cassian fics i’m sorry. working on the other one right now, but for now here’s this!

warnings: angst, slight suggestiveness at the end

prompt list

Cassian was sick of it. He was sick of watching you date these undeserving males, fall in love with them, and then get your heart broken. Every single time, you run to him to console you. And every single time, he wipes away your tears and assures you that somewhere out there, there is someone who will love you and treat you right. Little do you know, he’s silently praying to the Mother that one day he can be that person for you. Not so silently, he prays that the stupid prick that broke your heart will drown in the Sidra, which usually earns a laugh from you.

Currently, Cassian was trying to keep the irritated expression off of his face as you told him about your most recent date with some new guy.

“He even paid for dinner! How sweet of him, right Cass?” You ask excitedly.

Bare fucking minimum, Cassian thought.

“That’s great y/n.” The words come out a bit more annoyed than intended, making you frown.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

“Bullshit, Cass. Did I do something to piss you off?” You try to think back over the past few hours to remember what you did to upset him, but nothing comes to mind.

“I just don’t really care to hear about yet another male that you think is your one true love, who will inevitably break your heart in a week.” You stare at him, stunned.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to talk about my love life to my best friend.” You argue stubbornly. He lets out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call getting broken up with every other month a love life, sweetheart.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” You storm off before he can even apologize.

———

Unsurprisingly, the new guy ended up being a jerk and stood you up the following evening. You had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, earning apologetic looks from the waitress.

Cassian tried to act casual while he sat on the couch at the House of Wind, waiting for you to return from your date. He picked up some random book that Azriel had left and began scanning the pages when you winnowed home. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, admiring your stunning figure accentuated by your dress. As soon as his gaze reaches your face, he notices the tears threatening to spill and stands up immediately. He debates walking over to comfort you with a hug or letting you come to him, still unsure if you are mad at him.

“I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ And I know you don’t want to hear about my dating life anymore, so I’m going to bed.” You rush from the room quickly, leaving Cassian alone once again.

Yeah, you’re definitely still mad. Cassian has to fight the urge to follow you. He knows how your brain spirals in these situations, blaming yourself and doubting your self-worth, all because of a stupid male. He wants so badly to go up to your room and console you. He wants to wipe your tears like always and say some idiotic joke to make you laugh. More than anything, he wants to reassure you that this isn’t your fault. But he can’t, so he just sighs and sits back on the couch, picking up the book again.

———

It had been a few weeks since you and Cassian had a proper conversation, both of you too stubborn break the silence first. There had been a few short exchanges, usually just during training or when others were around, but the tension was apparent to everyone.

Cassian had heard from Mor that Feyre set you up with one of her artist friends, Kallum. He can’t be mad at his High Lady for doing what she thinks is best for her friend, but gods he was pissed about it.

You had gone on several dates with him over the past few weeks. He overheard you telling Feyre about them, describing the romantic gesture that Kallum made recently.

Was this it? Would this be the male who finally stole his best friend from him for good? If this male is a friend of Feyre’s, he must be a good guy.

Cassian hurries past the sitting area, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but somehow you catch his eye. He can’t help but notice the flicker of sadness in your stare.

———

After four weeks of stubborn silence, you approach Cassian at training.

“Hey.” He turns to you, surprised.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He notices that you’re picking at your nails, a nervous habit from when you were a kid.

“So, I’m bringing Kallum to dinner tomorrow evening. To meet everyone.” You say awkwardly.

Oh.

“I know you and I are still in a weird place, but can you please be nice? I want to make a good impression and see what everyone thinks of him.” You bit your bottom lip nervously.

“Why do you care what we all think of him?” He huffs.

“Because I care what my family and friends think of the person I’m dating.” You counter defensively.

“Do you really? Or do you need us to like him in order to convince yourself you like him too?” You scowl, but Cassian has that stupid cocky smirk on his face. He’s not wrong, which only pisses you off more. You had tried desperately to like Kallum. He’s a nice guy and he seems to like you a lot, but you just couldn’t find a spark between you two.

“He’s a good guy Cassian!” Your face turns red and you are too flustered to come up with a more clever response.

“If you say so.” Cassian rolls his eyes. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.

“He is! He treats me well!” You argue.

“Okay, good for you.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent for a long moment. Cassian turns to leave, not wanting to argue any longer.

“He treats me well…but he isn’t you.” You say softly.

Cassian freezes. Surely, he misheard you. He turns back to face you and is faced with the vulnerable expression on your face.

“Seeing as you don’t seem to want to be my friend anymore, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.” He takes a long stride towards you and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Cassian presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You melt into his touch and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, and you let out a soft moan. Cassian pulls away, and you give him a confused look.

“As much as I want to continue this, sweetheart, I plan to take you to dinner first. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated on a date.” He leans in close, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “And then maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated in bed as well.” Your face turns bright red, and you nod. Cassian lets go of you, but you pull him in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the last.

“I should probably go break up with Kallum.” You giggle between kisses. Cassian growls at the mention of another male’s name and pulls you closer.

“That is the last breakup you are ever going to have. I’ve waited 500 years for this, I’m sure as hell not going to mess it up.”

Feel free to keep requesting prompts :-)

prompt list

#acotar #acotar fic #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #my writing

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, I love your fics. I wanted to request a bat!bro reader who’s 16 where Bruce has split custody with his mum (he grew up with his mum and wanted split) but it turns out his mum was just using him to get money from Bruce and is kind of neglectful? And he always gives it to her bc he’s a mamas boy?

Stay safe and don’t forget to stay hydrated <33

Thanks anon, you stay hydrated too.

Summary: (Y/N) lives with his mom, but it's not going well.

Warnings: Bruce is protective, neglective mom, brothers are worried for (Y/N), Clark is investigating too, emotional (Y/N).

Bruce noticed something about his son (Y/N). He had split custody with his mother because (Y/N) wanted to be with both of his parents equally. Bruce respected that wish and made an effort to work with his mother.

At first, his mom has agreed too and the two of them worked together to make sure that their son is happy. Bruce's other sons were happy with the results and they loved spending a week with the brother.

But now, there is something that has been going on, but Bruce couldn't quite pinpoint it on anything. He noticed that his former fling had much more nicer clothes. Bruce has sent a very hefty sum in child support for (Y/N), knowing that she is a single mom and she is not as rich as he is.

There wasn't anything wrong with buying new clothes for yourself, but he keeps seeing (Y/N) in the same clothes all the time. Bruce has tried to see it in a logical way, but there was a paranoia in his mind.

He knew that there were stories about women using men's child support to pay for themselves, especially if the men are rich and the sums are very hefty.

Just like in Bruce's case.

He didn't want to be paranoid because it would seem like he was crazy, but what if he was right about (Y/N)'s mom? (Y/N) seemed more anxious and more withdrawn. And when he wasn't in that mood, he became clingy, almost like he was deprived of love at home.

He wasn't clingy before and Bruce found it to be suspicious. He thought about involving CPS and other organizations, but he didn't have any official evidence. Just because someone starts being clingy, doesn't have to mean that they are neglected.

However, it is weird.

Bruce made sure to observe what was going on with (Y/N). The others agreed that something was off with their brother. (Y/N) has always been a happy kid, outgoing and loved to hang out with his brothers, dad and unofficial grandfather, but now, (Y/N) has completely changed.

Sure, you could argue that teenagers change and it was true. But not this quickly and not this drastic.

Bruce has officially decided to get involved, deciding to ask Clark for help. Clark is an investigative journalist and he would be able to do this unnoticed. And Clark would do anything do help his nephew.

He just adored (Y/N) and would do anything to make sure that he is okay. So, he has decided to see what (Y/N)'s mom is doing. All of this looked like a case of neglect and Clark could only hope at this point.

Hopes dies last.

But he knew that the chances are slim of that. He made sure that he followed his mom without her noticing. At first, everything was fine. Until he saw that she was rarely home. She spent her days shopping, hanging out with her friends, spending nights with random men...

And amidst all of that, (Y/N) was all alone. He had become an adult. He had to make himself meals, he had to do everything in the house. Not to mention that he had to pay the bills himself.

And recently the heating got cut off because the mom didn't pay it. Now, that was something that Clark couldn't take. His nephew doesn't deserve this.

He told Bruce that and Bruce has called CPS. Those sums are for (Y/N) and not for her. He got a lawyer too and now he had to wait. Now, she refused Bruce to see his own son.

And now she has messed up.

Bruce quickly filed for full custody, not allowing her to use his son as a weapon. Not going to happen. Absolutely not. The court hearings and preceding's were quick and efficient and Bruce was happy that (Y/N) was finally in his custody.

And it was discovered that his mom committed financial crimes and FBI was looking into her. (Y/N) didn't need to know that and he didn't need to be involved in that.

He really didn't need to be involved in that. But the one thing that makes Bruce mad every time he thought about it was the fact that she used his love and manipulated it.

(Y/N) has always been a mama's boy and she used it as a weapon against her own son. And despite (Y/N) being happy that he left that home behind, but there was this... Weird feeling.

He felt guilty and happy at the same time. He shouldn't be happy that his mother is going to jail soon, but at the same time he shouldn't feel guilty that he is now going to have a better life.

But she wasn't a bad mother at first. She was a great mom, but he knew that money has changed her. Those hefty sums were for him and yet, he gave her the amount every month.

He knows he shouldn't blame himself for it, but in the end he does. How he didn't see the manipulation of his love and adoration for her? How could he have been so blind?

So stupid too?

Bruce knew that he had to talk with (Y/N) about the situation. He started living with them full time a little over two weeks ago. It has not been easy for (Y/N), knowing that his mother was a criminal now and completely changing the way he lived.

He was still withdrawn and Bruce knew that he had to talk to (Y/N). He needed to make sure that (Y/N) knows that he is not at fault. Not happening.

He went to his room where (Y/N) was reading and Bruce gave him a smile as he entered the room sitting next to him. (Y/N) marked the page and put the book down.

It has been silent and (Y/N) couldn't really look at Bruce. And what does Bruce does? He brings (Y/N) into his lap, allowing him to finally find some comfort. (Y/N) didn't want to be clingy anymore, but he wanted comfort.

" Now, I want you to just listen and not talk, okay? " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" None of this is on you. She didn't take good care of you and none of this is on you. Whatever you might see in the media, is not true. You don't have to, no you shouldn't feel guilty. " Bruce has started, gently rocking his son.

He loved to rock him, even when he was a baby he rocked him. (Y/N) loved it a lot and it would always calm him down.

" Now, you mother made her own choices and now she has to answer for them. I know that you feel guilty and once again, you shouldn't feel guilty. You are going to have at least 3 warm meals with us, you won't have to do any chores anymore, you won't worry about bills and more importantly, " Bruce paused, glancing down at his son who was softly shaking while sobbing.

" Now, if you ever need something, do not hesitate. We are all here for you. All of us. From Damian to Alfred. All of us. " Bruce has said, giving him a soft kiss to the side of his head. He nodded to his sons who were waiting outside of the room.

They have entered and hugged their brother tightly, making sure to let him know that he is not at fault. Damian was the one who was the most vocal about it.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed with emotions, but was happy to have so much support in his life. He didn't really have that support with his mom and all of this has made his head spin. All of it.

But he was happy none the less.

" Thanks guys. Love you all. " (Y/N) said so quietly and Dick openly cooed at (Y/N). Everyone felt their heart bursting from the sheer happiness.

Now they had their brother back. With a little bit more time, he is going to be his old self.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #batkids #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

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azsazz · 9 months ago

Text

Dead by Dawn (Part 16)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3,157

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15)

Notes: okay i forced myself to finish this part so it's a little shitty and not at all edited.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The forest goes completely still.

There are no moanings of zombies in the distance, no rustling of leaves on the trees. Even the wind has silenced with your words.

Surprise shocks the group around you. Nesta’s eyes narrow into a piercing glare. The untrust is clear in the way that she readjusts the knife in her hand, and Azriel shifts next to you, his intention to block her path to you should she lunge. Cassian looks like he could growl.

The man at her side flicks his russet gaze to his lover, a frown of concern on his face. He looks like he’s ready to step in front of her as well, but if you know her from any of the stories Feyre had told you, she’s much too stubborn to allow that to happen.

Her eyes are cold and calculating as they flick back and forth between yours, staring you down.

The zombie that they must have been taunting suddenly lurches from behind a large oak and you gasp a little, but Nesta doesn’t do so much as flinch. Instead, she keeps those sharp eyes pinned on you, Azriel, and Cassian while her companion turns to take care of the undead being stumbling behind them. It’s missing both of its eyes, a thick slash leaking black blood across its forehead and into its unseeing sockets. The smell that follows it has your stomach churning, your quick snack from earlier threatening to make a reappearance.

It’s kind of incredible, watching how easily the copper haired man slays the zombie, all while Nesta guards him from the three of you. She has the utmost confidence in him, that he will keep her safe, and she doesn’t need to turn away from who may potentially be the bigger threat, whether she knows it or not.

The man kills the zombie with ease. One quick jab of his knife into the base of its skull has the undead falling limp to the forest floor with a crunch that you’ll never get used to. The man grimaces a little when he wipes his knife clean on the calf of his pants, then returns to Nesta’s side, awaiting her lead.

No one speaks, and it’s a little unnerving. The sun has already started its descent into night, and there isn’t going to be much time for you, Azriel, and Cassian to find shelter for the night if things here don’t go well. Nesta had mentioned something about the middle sister, Elain, but you don’t hear a thing, so she must not be around. Is she with others? Have Feyre and Rhysand made it to Eryef before you?

“Right?” you blurt, because no one’s speaking. “You’re Feyre’s older sister. Have they made it to you?”

“They?” Nesta questions and you deflate, knowing that they haven’t.

Cassian places his free hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“Who are you?” the man next to her asks, and you watch his gaze dart to where the sun hangs low in the sky. He doesn’t seem to tense at its position, so you glean that wherever they’ve taken shelter must be close. No one wants to be caught out here after nightfall if they can help it.

“I’m (Y/N),” you offer and gesture to the men with you. “And this is Azriel and Cassian. I’ve been traveling with Feyre for a while now, and we joined forces with these two and their friend, Rhysand.”

“Then where is she?” Nesta bites and you want to flinch, to duck away from the accusation lining her tone. It is your fault that your group has split up now, that you’re too far away for the walkie talkies to work.

Neither you, Cassian, nor Azriel have an answer for her.

“She’s with our friend,” Cassian tries to console, because Azriel’s gritting his teeth so hard you think they might crack. He’s in a defensive position, and doesn’t like the way that Nesta is speaking to any of you. “They went back to our van but we couldn’t stay in the house we found because it was…infested. We left a note telling them where we went, and if they follow that, they’ll find your directions pointing to Eryef. When they get close enough, we can contact them on the walkies but as of this afternoon, they’re still out of range.”

“Rule number one of the fucking zombie apocalypse,” Nesta spits, “Don’t split up.”

You swallow roughly, fighting the pricking stinging your eyes. You know this and yet you’d been so stupid. The three of you should’ve waited for them to come find you, surely you could’ve survived in that house a few more hours—

You gag at the thought, turning away from the group. Cassian moves a few paces away with you, leaving Azriel to deal with Feyre’s sister and her counterpart as he tends to you. It makes something warm in your belly, the way that they fall back so easily into their roles; Azriel the menacing force, Cassian the caring charmer.

“You okay?” Cassian murmurs, his hand warm as he rubs your back. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, weary of the newcomers and how Azriel is going to handle them. He’s not very trusting, and everyone’s about to find that out the longer he’s left alone with them.

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiping your mouth. Nothing had come up but the motion seemed necessary. “I’m fine.”

He’s not all too sure that you’re fine but he ushers you back over to the rest of the group when you seem steady enough. He’ll ask you again later, when you find some privacy.

The group opposite you watches as you return. Azriel’s harsh stare keeps them from asking any questions.

“Where is Eryef?” Azriel asks simply. Nesta blinks.

“Why should we tell you, when you don’t even have my sister with you?” she asks, raising a brow. A flicker of emotion crosses through her pale blue eyes but you can’t make out what it is.

“Surely you didn’t think painting a sign with the name of your safe haven would go unnoticed by everyone besides Feyre,” Cassian adds. “Do you turn away all of those who come seeking help?”

Her eyes narrow once again but it's her companion who answers the question.

“No one has tracked us down before.”

You share a look with your men. It’s not unusual to not have run into many humans out here…at least trustworthy humans. Maybe they’d run into the same problems as your little group, meeting those who wanted to kill. Or maybe their camp is so well hidden that no one really takes notice of it at all.

“Well, now you’ve got us,” Azriel states, “And we know Feyre, have a way of communicating with her should they be in range, so you either show us to Eryef or tell us to leave, because the sun is setting fast.”

The authority in his tone has you shifting on your feet, warmth dancing in your veins. Where this attitude of his had been an annoyance to you when you first met Azriel, now that it’s directed at someone other than you, it’s kind of hot. It also makes your stomach swoop when he speaks like this to you and Cassian during the intimate moments you share.

The copper haired man makes the decision for the both of them, in what seems to be much to Nesta’s dismay.

“You can come with us to Eryef, but if Feyre and your little friend don’t show within two days time, you’re out.”

And yeah, that seems fair enough.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Eryef isn’t just a house, it’s a mansion.

Located within the confines of a gated community, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to miss something like this had you and your men come across it. The large, gold gates keep others out while expressing just how much money went into doing so. The streets are lined with brick, some loose in areas from lack of keep up during the apocalypse. They’d make for great weapons, should you need any, and it was smart thinking on Nesta and her companions' part, you think.

Inside of the gate house is a zombie who bangs on the window when you pass. Nesta hadn’t warned you about it, and since you’re traveling in the front of the group so that the two can keep their eyes on you, you startle, stumbling over your feet.

Azriel steadies you with a hand around your bicep, giving you a gentle squeeze to which you nod in response, letting him know that you’re okay. He shoots a sour look over his shoulder but Nesta is as stoney face as ever.

“We kept him alive in case anyone tried coming this way,” she explains, slipping through the gate, her hand tucked in her companions for help. He takes on the role of shutting the gate behind him and securing it with a padlock and thick chain. “Showing them that this place is as infested as the others will keep wanderers away.”

“Is this place infested?” Cassian asks, checking your surroundings as you all walk, the scraping of the zombie in the gate house getting softer as you move through the streets.

“There used to be a lot more,” is all Nesta says, taking the lead. She tosses over her shoulder, “But keep an eye out, just in case.”

“We spent some time trying to corral the monsters,” the man with the freckles explains. He seems a little more open to your presence, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the front Nesta is putting up or if he’s trying to get on your good side for an eventual backstab. “Cut off the arms of some, jaws of others,” he grimaces and your stomach churns. You slow your pace, not liking what you’re hearing. “The ones roaming around inside shouldn’t be able to harm you, but it’s not a guarantee.”

So instead of killing the zombies infesting this once pristine neighborhood, they’ve mutilated them further? The thought makes you sick. You’ve seen some things since the end of the world, been through worse, but this…this is new.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly. You don’t have the highest hopes that he will answer.

His russet eyes soften as he answers you. “Eris.”

“Nice to meet you, Eris,” you offer a gentle smile. “I’m (Y/N), and this is Cassian, and Azriel.”

Said men keep you tucked between them as you follow Nesta and Eris to wherever they’re staying. You let your eyes wander across the houses you pass. It’s like the world has gone frozen around you. There is no movement inside, no sign of distress from any of the homes in the community.

You wonder if any of them had been like the situation you found at the last house you thought was safe. The family trapped in the basement.

You feel a bit queasy as you think of what happened down there, the horrors you saw when you opened that safe room.

You shove the thought from your mind the deeper you wander, down roads of loose brick. The houses only become bigger and bigger, looming over the streets. Some of them are even surrounded by their own fences, though this doesn’t seem like the kind of place one would be wary of their neighbors, only about the money they’d once been drowning in.

Now, you see the fence around the houses as a second line of defense.

You pray that Feyre and Rhysand make it here safe, because if you can add to your group, get them to trust you enough to let you stay, you think one of these properties could be the place where Cassian might be able to start his garden.

You can tell that he’s thinking the same thing because of how bright his hazel eyes are. He’s alert and drinking in everything that he can, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he envisions his own paradise, his own place where he can keep you and Azriel safe. His gaze is warm when they settle on you and a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach. Enjoying the warm feeling, you delve into better thoughts while following along. You’re so lost in your head that you hardly even notice the group coming up to what you think is the biggest house you’ve ever seen.

Craning your neck back, you take in the large, forest green house. There are columns of wood on the expansive porch, wrapping around the side of the mansion. There are a few rocking chairs creaking softly with the wind, and it looks picturesque, the thought of sitting out there with a warm cup of coffee on an autumn day, Azriel on one side of you with Cassian on the other—

“Welcome to the Woodland House,” Eris says, unlocking the door with a set of keys. You suppose it’s not uncommon to have a set of keys for a mega mansion in the middle of the apocalypse, but you do wonder where he found them…if they were sitting out on the counter or if he took them from a zombie's pocket.

You follow the pair inside. It’s like entering another world. Despite the home's large nature, the inside is warm and welcoming, so different from what the world has come to.It makes your chest ache.

The furniture is oversized and cozy, mis-matched pieces that make the entire space look lived in. There’s a stocked fireplace in the living room with a large woodpile beside it, ready for the long winter.

“We’ll speak more after dinner,” Eris tells you when his tour comes to an end. Nesta had darted off up the stairs while Eris offered to show you around. Nesta had thrown over her shoulder that it was pointless to do so because you will be gone if her sister doesn’t show up, but Eris only rolled his eyes in response. “This is where you’ll be staying for the next few nights.”

You brace yourself as he opens the door to the basement of the house. You tense a little as you stare down the stairs, brought back to the last scene of the large home you’d been in the basement of. Eris must mistake it for something else because he’s quick to continue. “I know how it must look, but you’re still intruders in our home and we must be careful. If I could put you somewhere else I would,” he promises. “When Feyre returns to her sisters we can give you something that better suits your needs.”

“It’s alright,” Cassian answers, his thick hand falling to the small of your back in a comforting motion. You release the air caught in your lungs and follow Azriel down the stairs. “Thank you for your generosity, Eris.”

He smiles, looking pleased. “Of course. Dinner will be in one hour. See you then.”

He shuts the door softly behind you and you’re tense, waiting for the click of a lock, trapping you inside, but it never comes.

Your shoulders droop with relief. Cassian is already halfway down the stairs by the time you and Azriel have shared a look and turn to follow.

“Holy shit,” Cassian breathes, “This place is fucking insane.”

It is. It’s a fully furnished space and it’s the size of another house. You almost don’t want to step off of the last stair into the carpeted cream carpets with your dusty shoes. It looks so soft you think if you lay down you’d be asleep within minutes.

There would be no need to do that, though, because in the middle of the room sits two large sofas that look like clouds. There’s a large screen and projector for movies and if this place had power it would be the place everyone would hang out at. You just know it.

Exploring further, drinking in its luxury. There are two bedrooms and an office, all fitted with pristine furniture and so clean that it feels like there’s no apocalypse happening outside of these walls.

It seems like Nesta and Eris have been here since the beginning, unless they’d managed to take over this mega-mansion and keep it from being looted, defended, and stocked. You suddenly wonder if there are more to their party.

It’s a safe haven, if Feyre and Rhys can make it here.

On a whim, you find yourself digging through drawers and searching through offices, the bedrooms, trying to find anything you can for an insight on what is going on here. Who owned this house? Where are the signs of humans?

You pull open one of the closets, shoving the winter coats out of the way but also taking note of them for when the summer winds down and the winter sets in. You’ll need warmth, especially if they don’t allow you to stay. You’ll have to speak with Cassian and Azriel about what you’re all going to do, how you’ll manage to get away with some extra necessities.

Getting down on your hands and knees you crawl further into the space when your gaze snags on a cardboard box shoved as far into the corner as it can. You drag it out, sitting back on your haunches, ripping open the flaps.

It’s memorabilia from what seems like another life.Trophies and sports ribbons, a signed baseball. There’s an old science project, a replica of the planets in space.

Digging further, your fingers brush a picture frame and you pull it out, examining the family. It was taken in the great room upstairs, the loving parents behind their seven smiling sons. One is getting his ear pinched by the father, a twist of pain on his face and you frown eyes moving up to the culprit, the vile person who could treat their son this way—

Beron.

You’d recognize the face of the man who wanted to eat you anyday.

The frame falls from your grasp with a crash.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Cassian asks urgently, as both of the men dart to your sides. Bile sits high in your throat and your breathing is short, shallow because you’re under the roof of what is his home. “Sweetheart?”

You can’t speak. Your heart races in your chest and your hands tremble even when Cassian pulls them into his strong, reassuring grip.

Azriel shoves the fallen frame away from the photo that’s loose, glass clinking loudly throughout the basement. He stands, staring at the picture, his fingers clenched so tightly at its corners that it begins to crumple under his unbridled rage.

You squeeze your eyes shut as Azriel shows the photograph to Cassian. You can’t look at it again, can’t see those hateful eyes staring back at you, taunting you—

“Oh, fuck.”

Oh, fuck indeed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo@kemillyfreitas@5moremin@dream-alittlebiggerdarling@waggel36 @bionic-donut@queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer@reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24@poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020@jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi@ochiolism@secretly-here@harrystylesfan2686@i-am-infinite

#dead by dawn #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x cassian x reader #acotar zombie au #azriel x reader #cassian x reader

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yuzukult · 7 months ago

Text

crush 04 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 04 pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 5.9k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: lmfao idk when the last chapter was or if you've long forgotten me but i have arrived... i'm praying that this is good enough :(

The air is cold.

The stiffness of your cheeks and the tinge of pink on Seokmin’s nose speaks volumes, the thin cardigan you decided to run out with wasn’t much help to combat the briskness. You’d been so quick to grab him out of the restaurant that you didn’t get a chance to snag your coat—why the hell did he just show up here? It’s almost like he’s asking for a fight.

You huff. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your location,” he says calmly, almost like it’s a normal thing to do. He shows his phone to you, the screen bright and displaying the maps feature with a little icon of a picture of you by the restaurant, the blue dot beside it being his own. “I figured I was in the area, so I decided to stop by and surprise you and your friends. You know, as… boyfriends do.”

You grit your teeth. Seokmin is far from being your boyfriend, especially with the acts he’s been performing lately—so pulling out this ‘boyfriend’ card just because he sees the back of Wonwoo’s head feels low. The location you shared with him was for the time you were stranded on the side of the road, the car battery completely depleted. You must’ve forgotten to turn it off, but nonetheless, it wasn’t something for him to take advantage of. “I thought we weren’t dating.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. Eyes skimming the area, he shoves his phone back into the front pocket of his jacket. If he truly was your ‘boyfriend,’ he should’ve offered you his coat by now. (Well, he also never said he was a good one either).

“We aren’t, but in the future we will. We agreed,” Seokmin’s gaze is on you now—those irises that used to sparkle underneath any light, including the stars in the sky, are suddenly dull. “I just don’t get it. I thought you said you’d wait for me. Why am I finding you with him?”

Him. There he goes again, the bitterness he has for Wonwoo is practically seeping out of his skin. The pronouns used to identify him even got a taste of the hatred.

“He’s a friend,” you state, arms crossed over your chest. It’s freezing out here. “I’m allowed to hang out with friends. Plus—does it really matter if I date around? You’re doing it.”

Seokmin scoffs. In disbelief, too! He contradicts himself more frequently than not now, especially with Wonwoo in the picture. “You’re kidding, right? I told you why I’m like this.”

You sigh. Truthfully, it’s becoming emotionally exhausting when it comes to Seokmin; your heart doesn’t seem to palpitate as it used to when he looks at you, instead you feel it racing from all the anger pent up. You still long for him from the distance, wishing it was you who made him laugh and smile in that way that makes his eyes twinkle as you feign ignorance to his irresistible charms, but the reality sinks in and the clouds cast their shadows when it smacks you in the face that Seokmin isn’t doing that for you. He’s doing those things for another girl, someone who he hadn’t promised his end game to, and it leaves you wondering if he actually means when he says you’re the one he’ll finally come home to.

“I just…” There’s a part of you that wants to end all of this, end all the suffering he’s caused you and the feeling of suffocation in your chest. It’s like he’s got your heart chained and locked, himself being the only person with the key, and you’re stuck in this position until he tells you to go. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to tell me how to live my life while you get to freely live yours.”

“You could’ve had anyone else,” he retorts with a soft whisper this time. “Why’d it have to be him?”

“He’s nice to me,” you shrug your shoulders. “And… right now, maybe I just need someone like that to heal me.” You don’t really know what you mean by heal, but something in you felt like… that was the right word to describe Wonwoo. He’s caring, sweet, and he tends to you when you’re having a rough day—no words exchanged, just quick glances and he just knows.

“Heal you?” Seokmin’s voice raises this time around, his brows furrowing in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking, right? A guy like him? He’s an asshole—he keeps secrets and hides shit from people. People he’s close to, people who he claimed to be his family. And he goes behind my back and steals my girl? Do you see how he is?”

He—what? You’re the one confused now. “What are you even talking about?”

Visibly, his vexation lowers along with his stance. “Nothing, just—I don’t trust that guy. I need you to wait for me, just a while longer—”

And before you could ask, ‘how long?’ with smoke whistling out of your ears, a pretty gal with bleach blonde hair and lashes that touch the clouds in the sky eagerly grabs onto Seokmin’s arm.

“Minnie, our table is ready! Oh—” her face brightens at the sight of you. “Hi! Are you Minnie’s fan? I’m Kaykay!” she extends her arm eagerly as you shake her hand gently with an awkward smile. “Well, we have to get going, do you guys want a picture together?”

Your jaw twitches.

There’s something worse about being identified as ‘the girl who Seokmin keeps on the backburner,’ and you’ve never run into it until today. A fan. You’ve been demoted to a fan. You’ve chased him around for so long, in hopes he’d throw away his current lifestyle for you, despite what he says about how he’s so grateful that you’re waiting for him.

All to only be downplayed and lowered to the level of a fan.

“Actually, it’s okay,” you wave her off politely and glance over at Seokmin before slowly making your exit. “He gave me his autograph earlier, but I appreciate it.”

Truthfully, Seokmin knows he fucked up.

He knew from the moment your lips curled into that warm smile, an effortless laugh erupting from your chest, and when you dip your chin bashfully at a compliment thrown your way without him being the one responsible for it. He messed up big time. And if he’s too late, he’ll never forgive himself for it.

The best solution is to give you up—and in reality, if this was another person, he’d straight up tell them that they missed their chance and it’s time to move on. Yet, he looks himself in the mirror every time and the words never come out. He can’t do it. He can’t let you go. In the forefront of his mind, he’s fully aware of how selfish he’s being for asking you to wait for him without a timeline.

But he can’t help himself.

He wants you.

It can’t be anyone else but you.

In all honesty, he ponders if this exact scenario played out with a different love interest would have him this angry. Would he be equally as fueled? Or was there something more because of his own personal history with Wonwoo? Either way, that didn’t help, and putting you in the middle of it was doing more harm than good.

The history that the two of them have is one that’s been inscribed in his brain—he remembers it as if it was yesterday when a group of intimidating men enter the garage that both of them worked at. The leader snickered at the sight of Seokmin, spitting the toothpick that hung on the side of his mouth with a smirk dressed upon his face. “Is this the fresh meat?” he asked, dark eyes observing Seokmin’s face as he grabbed his jaw between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said coolly, wiping his hand off a rag before tossing it onto his tool cart. “He’s still fresh, so don’t scare him.”

Seokmin relives the feeling of fear—his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his hands began to perspire. “I’m the boss ‘round here,” he spat. Hair slicked back, doused in so much gel that the lights reflected on the strands. Clean shave, smelled like expensive cologne (although he definitely squirted half the bottle), he wore a tank top that displayed the plethora of tattoos that decorated his skin. “That’s all you need to know. I’m the boss.”

Wonwoo lied to Seokmin; he told him that he’d take care of him, help him earn some money and make an honest living.

Working for a guy who has done more illegal things that Seokmin is aware of doesn’t sound like making an ‘honest living’.

He felt embarrassed, finding himself in a position where he could’ve been just any old regular mechanic but instead as a front of a fucking drug lord’s secret business. When the nights came around, the sun disappearing along the horizon, he smelled the stench of cigars and weed permeating through the cracks of the walls and doors. The hollering of gamblers were faint underneath the concrete floors, but the evident line of expensive vehicles that hid behind the building were enough to give it away. Any idiot would know what was happening there.

But the city was so corrupt; a newly graduated high school student who severely needed a job had to settle for a shady ass job couldn’t even go to the cops about it. He recalled frantically waving his arms to express his story at the local police station, only for them to scoff and turn the other way.

It earned him slashed tires the next day. A threat. A warning. Lee Seokmin would then go as Dokyeom at the shop, just in case they wanted to go any further.

Seokmin spent years trying to cut ties with them.

“Hey baby,” her soft voice spoke, reaching out from under the covers to lay her hand on his chest. “What’s on your mind?”

And here he is again.

In the sheets with someone else.

She interrupts his thoughts and she only stirs them more. He can’t remember her name, only that when she says it and calls you a fan, the expression on your face made it clear that you didn’t want to stick around any longer. Seokmin hates how he pains you every time he does stupid shit like this, but some masochistic part of him can’t seem to stop. He needs to stop, especially with Wonwoo at arms length to you, ready to catch you when you fall.

“Nothing,” he replies curtly. She’s not you. He wishes he could tell you all the things that happened, all the things that run through his head, and how much he wants to break out of this cycle but even you, the girl who has his heart, can’t even take him out of his own despair.

Just your luck.

Dodging potholes should be something you’re familiar with considering how frequently you drive in and out of the city, but it’s evident that it’s still a skill you need to improve on.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. The gash on the side of the tire is so big that you felt the hissing of the air blowing into your face. “You can’t even patch this.”

You’re supposed to meet up with Wonwoo in fifteen minutes. The traffic had gotten heavier, and Google Maps suggested taking the local route but of course it had to be the street with the most unpatched potholes you’ve ever seen. Where the fuck were your tax dollars going into?

You sigh in distress. Running your fingers through your hair, you puff out another heavy breath. Maybe you should do what you learned—yeah, after all, Wonwoo taught you for a reason, right?

Just then, your phone dings twice.

(2) New Messages.

One from Wonwoo, and one from Seokmin.

Both said the same thing, coincidentally, reading: “where are you?”

It’s easier to copy and paste the text in return, letting them both know where you were and had a flat.

As you pop open the trunk, you roll up your sleeves. Thankfully, Wonwoo’s first date idea is more useful than you thought. Although, there’s a part of you that ponders if Seokmin would ever come. He promised, you think to yourself, because the charming words he spewed always meant that he would be your Knight in Shining Armor in any time of need.

Would he come?

You sort of wish that he did, just to feed that little glimmer of hope still in your heart but a huge part of you knew he wouldn’t. He’s different now, not the same Lee Seokmin you once knew. So why are you wondering if he’d be here?

There’s a latch inside the trunk, and just when you’re about to flip it open to grab the tools and your spare tire, someone’s lights shine from behind.

Is… Is this your Knight in Shining Armor?

Turning around, the headlights are blinding, and it makes you squint in the direction. The door opens, and a figure comes out—brown hair, built frame, and driving a sedan, you wonder if it’s really Seokmin that comes to your rescue.

With the slam of the door and the figure coming in closer, that’s when you feel your stomach churn and your heart drop.

“Hey, pretty,” he says, voice deep and smooth as honey. “I saw your text. I was on the way, and I spotted your car on the side and recognized you. I guess you could say it’s fate.” That cheeky smile already has you swooning.

It’s… Wonwoo.

“How’d you even know it was me?” You laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “What if you were wrong and it wasn’t?”

“Then I’d have to let you know that I ended up having to help someone with a flat,” Wonwoo grins, tapping your shoulder to move you aside. “But I knew I wasn’t wrong. How could I forget the silhouette and the car of a girl I’m crushing on?”

And with that, Wonwoo makes you forget.

There’s something about Wonwoo walking out of the fog (in this case, blurry and bright headlights) that makes you feel like he’s bringing you with him because at the end of the day, he’s here and not Seokmin.

Should you set strikes for him? Things that Seokmin does that has you reconsidering even waiting for him anymore, and if it was worth your time being put on the backburner for a man you didn’t even know anymore. Did his dreams and goals even align with yours? Did he still want to settle down and have a family? Did he still want you to meet his mom?

Did he love you or did he like the idea of you?

“I can help, you know.”

“Yeah, but I only really taught you so you’d know. Not so that you can do it yourself. Now hold my tools and don’t stand too close to the lanes, gotta make sure you’re all in one piece so I don’t have to eat alone tonight,” he winks playfully.

Maybe… Maybe being with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ma’am, are you sure?”

You blink blankly at the boy who stands behind the counter.

Recently, you’ve come to terms that your Toyota had little life in it left and with your current promotion salary, maybe it’s time to turn in the fella in exchange for something new and durable.

And maybe slightly flashy.

The dark grey Lexus IS 350 F-Sport is a complete 180 from your aged Toyota; an affordable, casual, everyday car that took the cheapest gas option and for the most part, fuel efficient to a luxury vehicle of the same parent company. Sleek interior, leather beige seats, tinted back window—there’s even a functional Apple CarPlay! The Toyota’s radio didn’t even work, and the air conditioner was a gamble to get running. But the new car had heated and cooled seats, an entire class upgrade.

Wonwoo had the car sitting idle in the yard of his auto shop. It was barely used, to the point where the temporary tag taped to the rear window was still there, crisp and clean just like it was just bought off the lot.

Because it was.

“Look, I’m so over this car,” you remember hearing while eavesdropping from inside the auto shop. “Plus, I’m selling it to you for cheap. Get rid of that Honda Fit and take this instead. Boss would kill me if I couldn’t convince you to take it.”

Wonwoo raised a brow suspiciously to the man with long luscious blonde hair that stopped at his shoulders. “I drive a Prius,” he clarified and the other male just rolled his eyes. “You’re charging me $2k for a brand new car, Jeonghan. I’m not doing that. And I’m not paying what the market price is for this car.”

Weird. At the time, you pondered why this guy Jeonghan was working so hard to convince Wonwoo to buy the car, but with each attempt, Wonwoo kept rejecting him.

That is, until Jeonghan saw you peering out of the garage opening.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked in a teasing tone, nudging Wonwoo jokingly before waving in your direction. “You might as well buy this off of me so you can show it off to her—but also get Boss off my back.”

Who the hell is this Boss they’re talking about?

But before your thoughts could go on any further, Wonwoo was shoving Jeonghan away with a head nod in annoyance. “OK, OK, fine fine I’ll buy it off of you, maybe you can get off my back.”

Little did you know, he only really agreed to buy the car because of you.

Not in the way Jeonghan had suggested but rather for you to buy off of him because he had reached the point where he felt like the Toyota wasn’t sustainable enough anymore. “You’re gonna end up spending more on this car than if you just bought this car off of me,” he warned. “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor ‘cause the longer this stays on this lot undriven, it’s gonna fucking mess with the battery and engine.”

So, you finally agreed after some more convincing. He suggested you to get new tires, mostly because they were low-profile tires (and, you quote “Even though it’s gonna look funny, at least you won’t get a flat tire every time you a hit a pothole.”)

Which brings you here—standing in front of Wonwoo’s new hire.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“These tires aren’t what is spec’d when you buy ‘em off the dealership lot,” he says, watching you warily. “I’un know about selling you these. I mean, they already installed them and all, but… I’unno how it went through.”

“It’s fine,” you clarify again, resting your arm on the counter. Slightly frustrated, you close your eyes momentarily before taking in a deep breath. You’ve been at this for ten minutes now and he still keeps coming back with the same responses. The tires are on the car now! “Let me pay for it. I got exactly what I requested—let me be the one to face the consequences if it gets fucked up.”

“I get that,” the new hire doesn’t let up. “But if my boss finds out that I went against my judgment and something does happen, then that’s my fault.”

“Your boss was the one who recommended this to me in the first place!” you exclaim, but he stays stoic. “Listen, I just want my car, go home, and—”

“Jonathan, what’s going on here?” Wonwoo comes out from the back; in his navy overalls with his name tag that reads WONWOO in blue stitching to match, he’s wiping his hands off on a used rag with oil and dirt stains all over. He looks over at you with furrowed brows in confusion, tossing the material over his shoulder. He’s… kinda cute like this. “I thought you said you gotta go.”

“I did,” you emphasize, eyes darting lasers at the new hire. “Something came up.”

Wonwoo pats the new hire to move over and he takes over the computer.

Then, that’s when it happens.

“What’s wrong, love? Let me clear this up so you can get going. Can’t have you miss your client presentation, can we?”

All the anger dissipates immediately.

The storm above your head clears, and your gaze is glued onto Wonwoo.

Did… did he just call you ‘love?’

And why did you like it so much?

“I-I-um,” he’s got you stuttering over your own fucking words. Shaking your head from the thoughts, you regain yourself again. “Jonathan said the tires I wanted installed weren’t the styles you get at the dealership. He said he didn’t trust it.”

In the midst of it all, Wonwoo reaches for a lollipop from the candy bowl, unravels it and pops it in his mouth. The stick hangs out from the corner of his lips, sucking and shifting as it makes clacking sounds against his teeth. “Oh, alright,” he begins, turning to look at Jonathan. “Is that so?”

Jonathan gulps with a slow nod.

“Good job, kid,” Wonwoo grins, turning back to the computer. “I want you to be honest if you don’t think something is recommended or preferred. But for this situation, I made the call so we’ll just let this one slide, yeah?”

The new hire’s face heats up.

And somehow from the exchange, he makes your heart tighten too.

“Alright, pretty,” Wonwoo hands your keys over to you. “Your car is out front. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

You tilt your head. “But—I didn’t even pay yet.”

“On me,” he’s got that slick smirk on his face again. “I just want you to be safe.”

“You’re gonna go bankrupt if you keep having to pay for me. Let me pay—”

“For you, I’ll go bankrupt. Now, head off to your presentation and give me a call after.”

Uneasy, you check the analog clock over their heads that ticks obnoxiously loud. It’s so close to 10, and your presentation starts at 12, a solid 1.5 hours away. If you head out now, you’ll still make it.

“Fine, fine, only ‘cause if I stick around any longer, I’m gonna be late,” you narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. “I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” Wonwoo counters, hands in the pockets of his overalls. He knows how flirtatious he is, he does it on purpose but you brush him off to prioritize getting to your meeting on time.

And faintly in the back as you push the front doors of the auto shop, you hear the new hire ask Wonwoo if you were his girlfriend.

Oddly enough, you… sort of wish you were.

“Can I show you how cars are more than just a means of transportation? Or just a fast toy you can play with on a racetrack?”

He looks so sweet when he asks; the fronts of his brows curl up in question, in hopes that you’d agree to his proposition.

“Mm,” you hum, fiddling with the pen in your hand. It’s mostly teasing when you hesitate, only because an eager, anxious Wonwoo is adorable. He wants to show you his perspective of things, how he portrays beauty, and the excitement that rushes through his veins when he convinces you to give him a chance to share is wholesome. “Sure. Where are you taking me?”

When Seokmin introduces you to cars, they’re fast and flashy. The need for speed is a priority and so is how exorbitant they are. Whenever you’d ask, the value he discloses had an obligatory minimum of six zeros behind the first digit. “They’re sexy,” he describes them, their aesthetics and price a main concern. “Who wouldn’t want a car that drives like the ones on the track?”

Although when it’s Wonwoo, the discernible way he illustrates his cars verbally is different. He doesn’t brag about the acceleration or shares the name of the brands—he talks about the drive, how he loves how the wind blows through his hair and it hits his fingers when his arm hangs out the car. Cold starts in the winter, there’s something familiar about the loud roar of the engine; it brings him back to the old days where his dad would toss him the keys to warm up the car when it snows. A silver 1993 Ford F-250 with an open truck bed for him to hop in on summer days, sleepovers on cooler nights, and a place to sit underneath the stars to draw out his dreams that once felt unattainable. He romanticizes moments with cars while Seokmin showcases adoration for the vehicle itself.

“My favorite thing about old cars,” he begins, unlocking the doors to a champagne beige 2003 Honda Accord before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Is the wind-up windows. They don’t make those anymore, and this car unfortunately doesn’t have one, but I love them.”

“What do you love so much about it?” You ask, following in suit in the passenger seat. “It’s so inconvenient. You’d pull up at the last second at the drive thru, try rolling down your windows while the worker asks for your order but you’ve barely made it halfway down.”

“Because the lack of tech makes time slow.”

Wonwoo makes this point detectable when he’s going through a drive thru, and you could hear the workers snicker through the speaker. He takes longer than usually anyone would these days just to get the window down, but the expression on his face shows enjoyment instead of frustration.

Then with a turn of his head, your heart nearly stops at the sight of his charming smile and sweet voice. “What do you wanna eat?”

There’s something so familiar about sitting in the parking lot of a burger joint; food sitting on the dashboard, windows down and the sun roof pushed open, the sun sets in the horizon in blends of different hues or oranges, pinks, yellows, and blues. The colors remind you of an old summer love, one that’s so in-the-moment, you get lost in someone else even if it’s for the season and you’d have to part ways after August. The shared ice cream cones, hands linked on the boardwalk by the beach, and never forget the romantic Pier rides and attractions, where you’d hold their arm in fear and they’d squeeze you for reassurance.

Wonwoo makes you feel… homey.

“I know we’re not dating, but this is my favorite kind of date,” he admits cheekily, warmth rushing to his cheeks. “No crazy distractions. No drama. Just… me and you. And of course, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack,” Wonwoo smacks the player a couple times. It’s been stuck in there since the last owner. “I don’t have the heart to actually uninstall this because this CD is a banger.”

You snort. “Is this your favorite?”

“Mm, only ‘cause it’s the origin of Fabulous. Otherwise, if we’re talking about the whole soundtrack, I’d say HSM3 is my top.”

Wonwoo makes you laugh—genuinely laugh. He says what’s in his heart and in his mind, regardless of how he’s depicted. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you felt as light as this and you wonder if this is how people come out of meditation like.

Cars used to be just a means of transportation to get from point A to point B to you. Either that, or an ostentatious hunk of metal that Seokmin loves to flaunt.

Wonwoo… gives you the perspective of cars in a different light these days.

Another day, another car.

This time, it’s a white 2009 Volkswagen Beetle.

When Wonwoo lets you sit in the driver’s seat, the smoothness of the leather underneath your fingertips is a reminder of what he says about cars. It’s the experience, the feelings that you get during those fleeting moments in your life and how they're so easily forgotten with the daily work grind taking up most of your thoughts.

With an early 2010s Spotify playlist blasting through the speakers, the vibration brings you back to a different place. Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men on a CD was in the background, your irises melted into a boy’s who sat in the front seat of his car, palms cupping your jaw as he leaned in, nose bumping into yours amateurly. Your hands were sweaty, breath stolen from your lungs because of all the nerves, and keeping your gaze locked with his was harder than it seemed. He was your first love—now your first kiss.

The fog of your childhood memories dissipates; that boy you fell for in high school with his long dark skater hair and cheeky braces smile is replaced with the view of a boy from today. Eyes that curl into the shape of moon crescents, voice sweeter and thicker than honey, he goes, “how do you feel?”

Happy.

Nostalgic.

You sort of want to kiss him.

There’s this sudden shift in the air when Wonwoo is around; the weight on your shoulders abruptly lifts, allowing you to stretch and move freely. You never once noticed how prettily the sun peers through the sheer white curtains of your apartment on those Saturday mornings where you get to sleep in for a couple more hours after slamming the snooze button once more. His presence at your front door, a bag of groceries in hand as he offered to cook breakfast—everything about him gives you a new outlook on life.

As he sits beside you, in a car that Seokmin would never let you behind the wheel of, Wonwoo watches you eagerly with no hint of fear that you’d hurt the most valuable thing to him… you want to kiss him.

“Can I…” you hesitate, but he’s patient nonetheless.

Wonwoo furrows his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinks blankly. “You… You wanna kiss me?”

Quickly, reality sinks in. What’s wrong with you? Why would you ask him that, especially sitting in the driver’s seat of his car like that flag girl would’ve wanted, asking him to make out with you like some horny teenager?

Before you could apologize, Wonwoo places his hand underneath your jaw gently, pulling you in close. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispers against your skin, eyes hooded as he leans in more.

His lips are soft, pillowy, and they’re minty from the Altoids he had earlier; his touches are delicate, gingerly moving down toward your neck to bring you in, head tilting to the side to avoid bumping noses. Wonwoo even smells good. Being this close gave you a whiff of his cologne; notes of peach, blood orange, subtle hints of rum and patchouli leaves, you think it’s the Witch’s brew for a love potion, falling victim under his spell.

Drawing back just barely, your bated breaths ghosts over each other’s faces. Forehead pressed against yours, his hand reaches to push back a couple strands of your hair behind your ear.

“I know what you think this means,” Wonwoo says softly, almost like he’s sharing a secret but the words that spill are nothing but obvious to everyone. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to jump all in this with me. If you decide after this that you don’t want to be with me, I’m okay with that too. Just… take your time, okay? We’ll go at your own pace.”

But I’m scared, is what you want to admit but it never comes out. The silence fills the air, the whooshing of cars driving over the wet asphalt being the only noise, it’s strangely soothing despite the current event. Wonwoo makes your heart stutter, and it’s been a long time since you’ve felt this nervous around someone. Not even Seokmin.

He pecks your lips cautiously, thumb rubbing against the softness of your cheeks. “I want you to resolve your relationship with Dokyeom.”

That’s when you retreat.

“What?” you furrow your brows frustratedly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wonwoo sighs, leaning back in his seat before pushing his hair back. “Whether or not we pursue this thing between us, I think you need to figure out your situation with Kyeom.”

“I just asked to kiss you,” you retort. “That’s a clear indication that I like you. Why did you have to bring Seokmin into this?”

“Because I don’t just like you, I love you.”

You freeze.

This drive was supposed to be just a mini trip—a time to get away from the city, enjoy the fresh breeze by the shore, and try out driving his Volkswagen for the first time. The stickiness of the air accumulates a layer on your skin, tacky and sweaty, oftentimes causing discomfort but nothing about now feels uncomfortable.

Did… Did Wonwoo just tell you that he loves you?

Maybe it’s an oversight, you think, because he spills it so naturally. Sometimes people accidentally say things outside of what they mean in the spur of a moment, especially this moment, because you found yourself asking him for a kiss just seconds before.

“I mean it,” he adds. When he turns to look at you, his irises are like pools of warm hot chocolate, bringing the same satisfaction as holding a cup of it by a lit fireplace on a cool day. “I love you. And I know you’re barely just figuring things out, but I think for you to fully move on, you gotta talk to Kyeom.”

“This is sudden,” you pause, fiddling with your fingers. “Why are you saying this now? I barely confessed, we even kissed, and—”

“Why couldn’t you tell me you liked me?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why,” he reiterates, gaze never leaving yours. “Why couldn’t you tell me how you feel? Why do you feel like… you have to apologize for wanting to kiss me? Even though I’ve clearly stated my feelings?”

Rolling your lips, you turn to look at the horizon.

“You’re holding back because of Kyeom. If—If I’ve been overstepping boundaries, you would’ve told me by now. That's the kind of person you are. You wouldn’t lead me on, kissing me, coming by my shop, and taking all my advances if you didn’t feel some type of way. But you’re holding yourself back.”

“Seokmin doesn’t control my life. He doesn’t need to know anything about us. He doesn’t deserve that.”

That’s when Wonwoo reaches to hold your hand.

“And you’re right, he doesn’t. But… you’re letting him… own your feelings. Own your love. You’ve been sitting here with me, and your heart is with him. I’ll take whatever—I’ll give you all the kisses you ask for, I’ll take you on all these drives, you can be behind the wheel of every car I own, but I can’t… I can’t have you because you’re still with Kyeom.”

“So… what now?”

“This kiss was a reality check for me,” he discloses, tapping his feet against the mat on the floor. “Not that I want to push you away, but… to make things clear between us. I love you, and I’m not gonna pressure you to date me. But if you’re gonna kiss me like this, like you’re in love with me too, I need to establish my own boundaries. I’m your friend, but if you want anything more, I need you to fix this thing with Dokyeom.”

And somehow, it always goes back to Seokmin.

#gyukultfics #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #dk x reader #wonwoo fanfic

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ayeforscotland · 10 months ago

Note

Trying to limit and monitor kids’ social media usage would make so many problems so much worse and I need people to think about it objectively and not take it into consideration just because the concept is a knee-jerk reaction from a grieving mother being exploited by everyone around her.

— Kids already lie about their age, so an age limit is already unenforceable unless you literally require legal ID, which is an incredible breach of privacy with even further safety risks.

— Vulnerable children including LGBTQ kids living with bigoted families would be put in real-life danger of abuse or homelessness if their families had a way of knowing when they’re seeking support.

— The internet and technology is a requirement to navigate the world around you at the most basic level. That is a fact and schools know it too. Limiting access to that in this day and age would be massively limiting one’s knowledge, safety and basic life skills, especially if their family is neglectful or abusive.

— What constitutes as social media cannot necessarily strictly be defined. Some people consider WhatsApp to be social media despite the fact it’s a texting app, and the people you communicate with there are presumably people you’ve spoken to before if you know their numbers. Kids need a way of communicating with people for both practical and safety reasons, and blanketing almost everything as ‘social media’ and limiting access to it inhibits that.

— If you put a ban on all ‘social media’ until the age of 16 and then suddenly allow access, what you end up with is a child who has zero knowledge or experience of something suddenly being thrown into a world where anything is possible. It’s like when teens are forbidden alcohol their whole lives and the day they turn 18 they go on a massive binge not knowing their limits and end up either sick or in the hospital. It’s a recipe for disaster. They NEED exposure so they can learn.

— Let’s be real, kids would find a way around a ban through VPNs or other means anyway. We all figured out how to dodge the website blockers at school when we were 12. I doubt this would be any different.

While the fact that one of the killers watched gore on the dark web is indeed concerning, I really feel the spotlight is being shone on entirely the wrong issue here. Their conversations about the murder were all on social media and provided significant proof for the case. What kids need isn’t for adults to try to control them and read everything into their lives, it’s for adults to communicate with them and make them feel comfortable enough to talk to them when they have a problem. And that’s ignoring the, you know, whole transphobia thing.

(Sorry to write a dissertation in your inbox but despite my deepest sympathies and compassion for Esther seeing people put any stock into her awful, awful idea when that’s so clearly not the problem does quite frustrate me and I need everyone to know just how illogical it is)

I don’t need to add anything to that besides saying this line of argument is very similar to the people who campaign for an internet where no one can be anonymous, it puts so many additional people at risk.

Thanks for taking the time to share!

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asterifish · 7 months ago

Note

Helowwww can you do a song Mingi x male reader of them dating for years, Mingi and male reader are childhood friends before mingi met Yunho, Mingi and reader started dating when they are 16, lemme add up that reader is rich rich rich being an heir of a Korean family (you choose the last name) and the CEO of their family company. Reader proposed to Mingi before they went to Coachella.

After week 2 of Coachella during their after party, Mingi finally comes out of the closet, before stating that he is engaged to someone, which the members ask on who he is etc. Yunho and majority of the staff know so they are laughing, before Mingi shows the picture of reader and the members are shookt!!!!

You can add more LMFAOOOO

HEY!!!!! omw I cant wait to write this AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I hope you don't mind if I do a little bit of backstory, so this'll be pretty long compared to my others 🙏

I hope u don't mind that I made it a lil angsty in thee beginning its for the plot 🦶🦶

I really like long plots like this!! Tysm for requesting it!

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

You're all I've ever wanted. (2k words)

Story under the cut!!

Flashback to when Mingi and M/n were 5.

“Gigi, do you think we’ll get married when we’re older?” m/n asked, tilting his head up at his friend. It was a hot summer day, and they were currently at the beach. M/n had needed a break from his parents, so he’d met Mingi by their rock. Something you probably didn't know is that M/n is an heir to the Han family. They own many buildings in South Korea, and expected him to be the next CEO of their main company, Han Electro.

Mingi couldn’t help but smile at the question before squatting next to the younger. “How about we make a promise? If neither of us are married at the age of 23, we’ll get married, okay?” M/n smiled and nodded, reaching up to hug his friend. Just as they let go, a man came up to them and grabbed m/n’s arm. “You stupid brat, what have I told you about running off? How can we expect you to run a company successfully if you keep doing this?” This stupid man was m/n’s father. M/n sighed and got up, dusting off his legs before smiling and waving to his friend, “Bye gigi! I’ll see you soon!” Mingi waved back and then after a few minutes he went home.

Fast forward 10 years, and now they were both 15. In a few days it was Mingi’s birthday, and he was looking forward to it. At this time, he and M/n barely hung out, but M/n always sent Mingi small gifts and clothes and stuff. Expensive stuff. For his 15th birthday, m/n have sent him a Louis Vuitton bracelet and a jacket to go with it. A few years earlier when m/n was on a business trip with his parents, Mingi had met Yunho, and the rest of ATEEZ. They had all teased Mingi when he told them that m/n was the one that had bought them for him.

A few days later, On Mingi’s 16th, M/n had showed up at his front door with a bouquet of flowers, and a sign that said ‘Will you go out with me?’ Mingi was overjoyed and obviously said yes. AFter that, they were closer than ever. M/n had told his father that he needed a break for a bit, so he was allowed one week of freedom. The two went on movie dates, dinner dates, and even spent nights with each other. They cuddled and watched movies before falling asleep.

When m/n had gone on a business trip again two weeks before ATEEZ was to leave for Coachella, he’d come back with a Kawasaki H2R (sports motorcycle). “Baby… are you trying to win me over?” Mingi had asked, a smile on his face. M/n had a guilty smile on his face as he nodded. After they put the bike in the garage, they sat on the couch together, m/nin Mingi’s arms. “You don’t have to win me over, you’re already mine.” Mingi whispered, and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. Fast forward to present day.

ATEEZ was about to fly out of Korea, getting ready for Coachella. M/n knows this (Mingi tells him everything), and was racing towards the airport, hoping to catch them outside. He was lucky enough to spot paparazzi, and then ATEEZ’s van, skidding to a stop behind it. Mingi was clearly happy to see m/n, but tried to ignore him since he was already in the airport and surrounded by paparazzi. M/n slipped a little box into his pocket, and then stepped inside the airport. (I should tell you now that M/n had drawn some of the paparazzi away, since he was also a famous CEO(the youngest ever)) With the paparazzi pushed away from ATEEZ and Mingi whispering something to staff, the two were able to slip away into a secluded area. “M/n! Why are you here? Are you going on another business trip? Where are you ba..” Mingi was interrupted by the younger kissing him. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I just… I can’t keep seeing you and not tell you…” M/n sounded nervous, and flinched when Mingi wrapped his arms around the smaller.

“It’s okay m/nie! You can tell me anything!” Mingi smiled, but even he sounded nervous, not knowing what m/n wanted to talk about. When m/n finally stepped away from his boyfriend, he slipped the small box out of his pocket. “Min…. I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while… but… will you… marry me?”

Mingi’s hands flew to cover his mouth, stepping back from the smaller. M/n clearly wasn’t expecting this reaction, because he seemed scared, but all fear left him as Mingi kissed M/n, and didn’t let go until he was gasping for air, a smile on his face. “Of course I will, M/n, I would love to marry you!” Mingi then rambled about the rest of ATEEZ finally getting to meet the love of his life, but M/n softly stopped him. “Ming… you know I can’t come with you… but.. Promise you’ll call okay? I’ll be watching you on TV, I promise.”

Mingi nodded and pulled M/n into another hug. “And I promise I’ll call you. When we get back can I introduce you to the others?” M/n nodded, and kissed Mingi one last time before the staff found them. M/n was silent on his car ride home, smiling really wide. After their first week at Coachella, Mingi and M/n were on a call. Mingi had told M/n everything that he’d done that week, and M/n was gushing over how Mingi had done a great job during performances.

It was now the second week, and today was their last day performing. Mingi had practically run offstage after saying goodbye to fans, wanting to tell M/n all about it. He was reaching for his phone, but got pulled away by San, who wrapped him into a bear hug. “Mingi you did great!” He shouted, still being controlled by adrenaline.

Mingi just let himself be swung around by San before Seonghwa demanded that he put Mingi down because he seemed like he was about to throw up. “I feel like this performance was much better than our other ones, good job guys!” Hongjoong said. They were now all in their van, heading towards where their afterparty was gonna be. One of the staff members had asked to see Mingi, and they were now talking about the airport situation.

“You know I'm bad at keeping secrets, M/n I couldn’t help it! They were teasing me and I just…” Mingi’s voice trailed off as he heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “Baby are you laughing at me?” Mingi’s voice cracked a bit as he asked this, his throat still hurting from when they performed Geurilla.

“No, no of course not baby..!” M/n answered, trying to keep his giggles to himself. Mingi had called M/n right after he’d reached his hotel room, and had told M/n everything. He’d told M/n that after the staff had talked to him, the members started teasing him. They’d bugged him about why the staff had talked to him, and he’d given in. “I’d told them… I was like ‘Okay guys… so there has been this secret I’ve kept from you guys..’ and they fell silent! Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I was like ‘It’s regarding my private life, and I need you guys to be chill about this..’” Mingi sighed after saying this, putting his head in his hands.

“I guess they weren’t quiet about it, huh?” M/n’s voice sounded really far away through the phone, and Mingi guessed that he was in the kitchen making ramen. “Well of course not! They bugged me even more! San almost choked me because he’d jumped on me, thinking he could get the answer out of me first!” Mingi ranted, now pacing the hotel room.

M/n’s laughter bounced off the walls as Mingi put him on speakerphone. “And then what?” M/n asked, his voice louder as he stood near his phone again, the clink of glass on the counter loud. “Well…. I was like ‘Alright.. So I’ve been seeing this guy… and he makes me really happy.. And recently, before we left for Cali he.. proposed to me.’” M/n had scoffed at this, giggling as his boyfriend sighed again. “I guess you can tell how this went.. They laughed at me and I sat there like ‘What??’ but I looked at the staff, and they seemed to catch on about the Airport situation, but didn’t seem to believe me. Wooyoung asked me for a picture of you and I..” Mingi’s voice trailed off as a door opened behind him.

“Mingi? Who are you talking to?” The voice belonged to the member he was rooming with, Jongho. Mingi held his phone up to the other, showing him the screen. “Oh! Is that.. your fiancé?” The boy seemed to still not believe it, but M/n smiled to himself before saying hello, assuming he was on speakerphone. “Hey! I’m Han M/n, nice to meet you! Sorry I'm not there in person to shake your hand.” He laughed. He listened carefully as he heard sounds of Mingi pushing the other out of the room, and laughing as Jongho left. “Okay.. where was I.. Oh yeah! So I pulled out my phone and showed them a picture of you! You know the one where you were cuddling with our cat?” M/n made a sound of acknowledgement before Mingi continued, revelling over the fact that “the members had gone nuts, asking if you were ‘The famous M/n, CEO of Han Electro.’”

M/n laughed at this, now sounding far away, as he walked to the sink to wash his bowl. “Okay Min-min, I know it's late there, and you have to be tired. I’m gonna hang up, okay? You get some rest and call me in the morning.” M/n said, walking back to his phone. “Okayyy.. Goodnight M/nie! Before you hang up… promise you’ll let me introduce you to the members?” Mingi yawned at the end of his sentence, sheets ruffling as he slipped into bed and turned on his side. “

Of course baby! I can’t wait! Now get some sleep, I love you!” You could hear M/n’s smile through the phone, and Mingi loved that. The next day, ATEEZ were heading home. They’d had a long day of traveling, but weren’t tired. They’d heard from Jongho that they were going to meet M/n when they got back to Korea, and had been restless ever since. Mingi on the other hand, slept the whole flight back, having been restless the night before.

When the plane landed, Mingi had jolted awake, almost hitting his head on the low ceiling above him. It took the members a while to get off the plane, but it was worth it because of who was waiting for them. Standing near the terminal where they landed, was m/n. He was dressed in all black, a mask and glasses covering his face. San noticed him first, practically bounding over to the younger. Mingi followed suit, and M/n took his mask off to give his boyfriend a kiss.

They hugged and rocked back and forth while the members surrounded them, already asking lots of questions. “Okay okay guys calm down please, we’re attracting attention.” Hongjoong sighed and shook his head. Mingi was still Hugging m/n, now resting his head on the smallers shoulder with no intent of letting go. M/n smiled at the other members, running his hand through Mingi’s hair. “Hello! It’s nice to finally meet you all, Mingi’s told me a lot about you guys.” M/n detatched himself from Mingi so he could bow and shake hands, but Mingi grumbled and pulled m/n into a back hug instead, seeming to fall asleep a few seconds later.

They stood in the terminal and talked while the staff were taking their bags to the van for transport. The staff was okay with Mingi leaving with m/n, so after saying goodbyes, they parted ways, ATEEZ to KQ and Mingi and M/n going home.

◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕

Hey!! Its the way I could have gone on and on about that Kawasaki but didn't (im so proud of myself for that), I really love motorcycles guys.

Anyway!! I hope this is what you wanted!! I might have added a bit too much backstory, and cut out the fact that Yunho and staff knew about m/n, but honestly i think it makes it a bit better. I hope the ending was okay! I was debating on adding the wedding so I just left it as it is now, with m/n meetinf ATEEZ finally.

Spotify must have known I was working on this because ATEEZ was playing nonstop and I rarely hear ATEEZ even though theyre in all my playlists💪💪

Works belong to @asterifish | reblogs help me a lot!

2023 | © @asterifish

#asteri's🪐fics #kpop male x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader fluff #ateez x male reader #mingi x male reader #song mingi #somg mingi x male reader #male x male reader #sub male reader #childhood friends #angst with a happy ending #slight angst

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bunniehunn · 29 days ago

Text

Happy birthday to me!!

Well, happy EARLY birthday! I’m turning 16 on the 13th of November, and to celebrate that, I’m doing a DTIYS!!!!!! Yuubeni is just perpetually 17 lol. This is my first time doing something like this so… 🥲

I just want to say, I’m super grateful to all the amazing people in the twst community and Tumblr who have made my short time here so amazing since the start! I’m forever indebted to yall for being so kind and welcoming. I’m so happy I can celebrate my birthday this year with you guys!!!!!!!!! Love yall <33

More info about the event and some context from Yuubeni (my yuusona) under the cut!

🦋: A surprise party just for me?!

🦋: I got a mysterious text to, quote, “wear something nice and come over to the botanical gardens” it totally freaked me out, the contact wasn’t even named.

🦋: I’m glad I bought this dress a while ago. I saw it while I was off campus one time and HAD to buy it. It was pretty expensive though, and I did have to buy some cheaper dinners to be able to feed Grim, though. Heh, consequences…

🦋: I screamed way too loud when everyone surprised me. I think I startled a lot of people... I could see Idia’s soul practically jump out of his body!

🦋: You know, I don’t really like birthday parties. I don’t like all the attention being on me, it gets me all stressed out. I always dreaded birthdays back in my own world but, here… I guess it’s not so bad with all my friends.

🦋: W-what? I-I’m not crying, this cake is just… r-really… good…

★彡

Now for info!

So, you all know the gist of a DTIYS. As long as you keep the outfit Yuubeni’s in, and the setting (the NRC botanical gardens), you can go crazy with poses, camera angles, throw in canon or oc characters if you like! You can send birthday wishes or oc interactions, fics if you want, whatever media, but only your main DTIYS art piece will count.

There will be three winners, first place will get a fully colored piece, second place a shaded single color sketch, and third just a silly unshaded doodle. My art is available everywhere on my page if you want to take a look. All three winners are two characters max. I’ll do oc + canon, canon + canon, and oc + oc (ships included) as long as it’s all twst related.

Entries will be open from November 1st to November 16th, so you’ve got a while! After that, I’ll be working on the pieces, but my schedule isn’t rigid.

RULES.

NO NSFW. Both me and Yuubeni are minors.

No suggestive content, no weird remarks. Yuubeni’s personality and looks are based off of me, and I really would prefer if no one made any weird comments.

No romantic material regarding Yuubeni in the entries.

Adults are allowed to participate.

For the winners, I won’t draw nsfw, suggestive or gory content. Keep it pg, please.

Everyone is allowed to participate, mutuals and followers alike.

Tag me when you submit your entry! —> @bunniehunn and use the tag #BotanicalBday

Reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged! I want this to reach a lot of people! <3

Here’s a (messy) sketch of her full outfit!

HI MOOTS! @cheerleaderman @gimmeurmoneyagh @theolivetree123 @skibidibabygirl

@beneathsakurashade @moonyasnow @fell-e @screamintoad @amatsuchan-eiliniel

@babyghoul138 @h0neybane @boopshoops @the-rini-rush

@skriblee-ksk @angelwishezz @amai-sakura-chan @mirioho @buttholesparkles

@taruruchi @scint1llat3

/NF

tell me if you don’t want to be tagged 😊

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #artists on tumblr #twst oc #twst art #twisted wonderland oc #oc #oc art #BotanicalBday #birthday event #twst yuusona #yuusona #twst yuu #disney twisted wonderland #twst fanart

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everythingharrypotterblog · 11 months ago

Text

charmed [16]: 'cat, rat, dog, and dove' (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: WELCOME BACK TO CHARMED. WE ARE HERE. we have arrived to this moment. BUCKLE THE FUCKING FUCK UP.

brief summary: the year has culminated into this one fateful night at the shrieking shack. word count: 9k

series summary: if you're here, u know what this series is abt im not gonna waste space and recopy it here THIS CHAPTER IS ALREADY TOO LOADED.

series masterlist here

join taglist here

16.

The sun was out. Its rays peeking through the leaves of trees, their heat was much stronger in this month of spring than it was in autumn, when Y/N and Remus took their first early morning walk to escape from the Castle. It became a habit they maintained all school year, and it was so hard to believe that they had already walked their way to final examinations season. Two terms had rolled by, laying down all the tiles needed to strengthen their relationship even more.

Y/N’s arm was around Remus’ bicep. It was warm enough now for them to abandon their jackets, and they strolled through the Castle grounds in simple button-ups.

Remus peeked down at Y/N, who by reflex caught his eye. He shut an eye tightly in an exaggerated wink. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his arm for a second.

“Can’t wait for our kid to experience all that is Hogwarts.” Remus said.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together as she beamed up at him.

“Rem…”

Their chests burned from elation as they continued in their stride.

“Thinking a bit ahead though, don’t you think, we’ve got more than 11 years before we get to that point.” Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, you’re right. Before that, it’ll be you n’ me teaching them.”

“I agree with you. Sending them to Muggle primary school seems way too risky for exposure.”

“I do worry about socialization though.”

“Hmm. Me too. We should probably get in touch with other wizard families that have children the same age as ours.”

They came to a small halt as they overlooked the train tracks.

“I can’t wait for our kid to get on the train for the first time.” Y/N sighed.

Remus patted her hand in his. “What did you feel your first time on it?”

“Terrified.” Y/N chortled. “I was anxious even as a child. You?”

“Me too. But I guess, something really deep inside me- I don’t know. I just felt like my life was going to change, I guess.”

Y/N smiled softly at the gentle man before her.

“And we have to take that train really soon again.”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy.”

They continued walking, the castle of Hogwarts standing tall against them, hovering and watching over them as it has done for so long.

As the year continued to draw to a close, the exam season proceeded on. Today were the Charms finals for the 3rd-years, as well as the 5th-years’ OWL’s. Even the Weasley twins had been spotted with their books open, working in a corner of the library.

Y/N downed the last of her tea, as she rifled through a pack of fresh grading sheets. She waved her wand, and yesterday’s 2nd-year evaluations floated upwards, inserted themselves neatly in a folder, and slid themselves into her briefcase.

She clapped her hands together and got up to the door, opening it to a crowd of her 3rd-years.

“Ready?”

She let them trickle in and take their seats at the individually separated desks. Walking through the aisles, she placed an exam sheet on each one facing down.

“Alright, everyone, please get your things straight and then leave your bags up here in the front. Remember, you’re only allowed your quills for the written part.”

“You guys have one hour. Don’t forget to check both sides of the paper. Time starts… now.”

A synchronized whoosh of 30 papers being flipped over echoed across the room, followed by the etching of quills.

Y/N hated the written exams. She had nothing to do but to count the tiles in the classroom and twiddle her thumbs.

She was on her 5th recount of how many tiles spanned from one wall to another when a figure flashed in her peripheral.

Remus had passed by and judging the complete silence, assumed Y/N was sitting an exam. He waved cheerily, happy he had opted for practical examinations. Y/N rolled her eyes when she spotted him. Remus turned back around and passed the classroom door again.

“STOP.” Y/N mouth silently, gesturing to her students.

A few of them looked up and laughed, leading to a few more turning their heads.

“Enough.” Y/N shook her head, waving her wand and the door slammed shut, Remus disappearing from their sights.

“Professor Lupin’s just gloating that all his finals are over.” Y/N hushed the group. “Now get on, I’m not giving you extra time.”

She winked at the end, and the students returned to their scrolls, the atmosphere in the classroom noticeably lighter.

Light filled the room as Y/N clicked the lamp open. She turned to her side to find Remus wide awake as well.

“Can’t sleep?” She muttered.

“Nope.”

Y/N huffed, stacking her pillows and coming up to a seated position.

“It’s the full moon soon. How are you feeling?”

“The usual.” Remus yawned, turning on his side. He examined the grey circles under Y/N’s eyes through his wrinkle-decorated own. “I just feel a bit weird.”

“Hm.” Y/N responded. “Me too.”

“We’re probably just tired from so many back to back exams and all the grading.”

“Yeah. And my heart is kind of hurting. I just can’t really believe this year is ending. This has been the best job I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

Remus slid his hand under the covers to find hers.

“All good things must come to an end, my love.”

Y/N smiled sadly.

“What are the odds Flitwick needs another year off, eh?”

Remus chuckled.

Y/N clicked the lamp off and the two laid back in once again total darkness. Outside their window, roamed the creatures of the night. Centaurs, unicorns trudging across the Forbidden Forest, Dementors floating outside the Castle perimeter, and strolling stealthily in the Hogsmeade village; a ginger cat and its newfound friend, a big shaggy black dog.

Remus strolled along on his daily walk of the Castle grounds. Y/N had opted to stay in bed well into the afternoon that day, feeling more tired than usual.

He found a tree stump near Hagrid’s Hut and installed himself comfortably under it. He pulled a book from the pocket of his robes and opened it to the page he had last marked. About three quarters of an hour passed when he noticed Harry, Hermione and Ron come down and go into Hagrid’s. He returned to his book.

A small while later, he noticed more figures make their way to that direction. One sported a bowler hat, which he recognized as the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, and two wizards followed him. One of them had a shiny axe attached to his belt, which glistened when it caught the sun.

Comprehension dawned upon Remus. He had heard of Hagrid’s Hippogriff case with Malfoy and the Ministry, and Y/N had told him in passing of the Harry and his friends’ interest in the outcome.

They emerged from the hut and crossed paths with the men. Remus closed his book. Those three better not involve themselves any further with the case, he thought. He didn’t want them to be exposed to the execution.

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE

MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANTS AID, GREATER AND

MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OU... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER....

Harry dropped the crystal ball he was supposed to return to Professor Trelawney and ran.

Thus began a very fateful night.

Remus walked through the Castle that evening and felt a weird shift in the air. Exams were over sure, but there was a certain trio that seemed the opposite of celebratory. Making his way down to the Great Hall, he took a seat next to Professor Sprout.

“Evening, Lupin.” She said happily.

“Good evening, Professor.” He responded kindly.

“Y/N coming soon?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not sure, she’s taking a nap now. She’s been awfully tired this past week.”

“That’s okay, classic end-of-year burnout” she replied, then proceeded to ask him how if he had finished all his grading.

Remus conversed with her a bit distractedly as he watched over the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were visibly pre-occupied and were huddled away from the other students, discussing seriously.

“Have you heard from Hagrid? Poor thing, his Hippogriff’s been sentenced to death today. It’s going to happen tonight, any minute now actually I think.”

Remus turned to face her. “Really? That’s horrible…”

Professor Sprout pursed her lips in agreement before taking another bite of chicken.

Remus looked over at the trio again. They were standing up hastily, walking out of the Hall with quick little steps. He frowned. What were they up to?

He took the time to finish his dinner calmly and bid the fellow staff goodbye. Making his way back into his office, he pulled out his things quietly as the bedroom door was still shut; Y/N was probably still asleep.

He took a seat at his desk and pulled out what looked like an old used piece of parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The map opened and unfolded as traces of ink bled upon its pages, forming its intricate content. He scanned it quickly, before turning his attention to Hagrid’s Hut. Hagrid’s dot was there, along with Dumbledore’s and other names he assumed were Ministry officials.

Running along the path to his Hut, he stopped at the two dots moving right under the Whomping Willow. It was Harry and Hermione. Where was Ron? What were they doing by that tree?

A thought popped in his head and his stomach sank. He moved up the map, praying to God that his far-fetched conjecture wouldn’t be true. Landing on Hogsmeade Village, he looked for the Shrieking Shack. The weight in his stomach sank even further. Ron’s dot was there, accompanied by none other than… Sirius Black.

His hands shook. He had to go help him. But as he watched the dots move, a third one came into view.

It was labelled “Peter Pettigrew”.

At that second, the blood had left Remus’ face. His hands grew cold. He shook the paper. He rapped his wand at it. He blinked and blinked again. The dot was still there, labelled with that name as clear as day.

In that very moment, a 13 year-old puzzle just came together with this one final piece. The web wove itself to completion. He understood… Stuffing his wand in his pocket, he jumped out of his chair and sped out the door.

In the Shrieking Shack, blood pressures were high.

Ron lay in the corner, with his weight off his broken leg, clutching his rat Scabbers. Hermione stood in the corner, quiet and pale.

Harry was fuming, frozen with his wand lifted and pointed to a ghastly, ghost-like Sirius Black.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding.

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes.

"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story."

"The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't.... You don't understand...."

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that... you did it...."

Crookshanks jumped in between the two and sat itself at Black’s feet, looking back at Harry with deep yellow eyes.

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent.

And then came a new sound -

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor — someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!"

Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted.

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.

Y/N woke up to a dark room. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her entire face felt scorching hot and her mouth was dry like she hadn’t drank in days. She rolled over in the bed. She had crawled under her blankets in the evening before dinner for a quick nap, but judging by the chill and dark air outside, she must have slept into early night.

She felt a tightness in her pelvic area, like cramps. She placed a hand on her abdomen.

Pulling herself out of bed lazily, she head to the bathroom. Her period was supposed to start a few days ago, so this must’ve been it. However, as she sat down on the toilet, there was nothing.

Suddenly, a realization jolted her mind awake.

She ran back to the bedroom, rummaging through her drawer for a pregnancy test. She went back to the bathroom and waited for the result.

Positive.

She put down the test swiftly, looking away as she felt her heartbeat quicken. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Slowly, she picked up the stick and read the result once more.

Holy shit.

She looked around her and it occurred to her that Remus was nowhere to be found. She checked the clock. It was well past 10pm.

Where the hell was he?

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Remus spoke in a tense voice, cutting through the weighted silence that took over the Shrieking Shack.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron.

Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" -- Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "-- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on --?"

But Harry wasn’t able to finish his sentence, as what followed knocked the wind from his throat.

Remus lowered his wand. He walked to Sirius’ side, seized his hand confidently and pulled him to his feet. He gazed deeply into his eyes for a second, before the two men pulled each other into a deep embrace.

“I don’t believe it—“ Remus gasped, voice muffled.

“God, it’s been so long,” Sirius muttered back, “my friend.”

"DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You -- you --"

"Hermione —"

“— you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down —"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —"

"Hermione, listen to me, please'" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —"

Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain...."

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- he's a werewolf!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

Where the hell was he?

Y/N’s head was spinning as too much was happening at the same time. She glanced around hurriedly for signs of Remus, then remembered she was clutching the positive pregnancy test and looked back at the positive result, then saw the Marauder’s Map was splayed across the desk, still open.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She stuffed the test in her pocket then headed towards his desk. She’d be able to find where Remus was on the map, then would go back to sleep.

It took a while for her eyes to scan the entire Castle for his name, to no avail. Where the hell was he? Surely he was not outside… It then dawned on her that tonight was the full moon.

Shit.

She looked over to the Shrieking Shack and nothing could have prepared her to see what she saw. Not one, but six dots. One was Remus, but he was accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as…

Y/N felt her heart freeze. Sirius Black? And… Peter… Pettigrew?

None of this felt possible. It couldn’t be. Grabbing her wand, she rushed out the office.

With this new information, the full moon had completely been replaced in her mind. Unfortunately, the only one who did seem to still remember was a certain Potions professor, on his way up to their office right now, where the map laid wide open.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Remus said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead.” An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!"

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant.... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do."

“The staff? Does Professor Y/L/N know?” Ron gasped.

Sirius let out a howl of genuine laughter. “Professor Y/L/N!” He cackled.

Remus scratched the back of his head, suddenly slightly bashful. “Professor Y/L/N and I… have been married for over 10 years.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped.

Silence fell over the room once again, as Remus stood there not knowing what to say next and Sirius standing by his side with his arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.

“Well, we knew that!” Hermione exclaimed, finally. “That was more obvious than the werewolf thing! The whole school talks about it—“

She was interrupted as a new set of footsteps echoed from the staircase. The kids froze as Remus and Sirius turned to face the door, wands at the ready.

In burst Y/N, as if right on cue in a play. She was flushed and was panting, it appeared she had ran the whole way there.

“Remus!” She cried out upon seeing him. “YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO—“ She took a step forward until she spotted his company, and slowly took the step back. “What…” She murmured shakily, “is happening here?”

“Professor Y/L/N.” Hermione gasped softly.

Her eyes hovered over Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were in shock to see their Charms Professor, before landing upon Sirius. Something unrecognizable flashed across her gaze. She couldn’t believe what, or whom, she was seeing. She had thought the map made a mistake.

Y/N didn’t hear her. “Siri…?” she whispered, fixated on the man in front of her.

That’s when Harry lost it.

“‘SIRI?’ I TRUSTED YOU TOO! SO THIS WHOLE TIME -BOTH- OF YOU HAVE BEEN HELPING HIM?”

Y/N jumped from the sudden outburst and Remus came by her side to put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Remus, you better explain and you better explain quick.” She said tensely.

“We have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —"

He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned.

“There”, said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —“

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote —?"

Y/N caught Harry’s eye and gave him a confirming nod.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?”

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet.

"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry--"

"How d'you know about the cloak?"

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it...," said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black.... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily.

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you.”

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared.

"What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard.”

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

"You're both mental.”

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me... not this time, though!"

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg.

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain --"

"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off.

Y/N joined and stepped in front of Sirius. “Sirius, please!” She put both hands on his shoulders, causing him to flinch. Her voice was shaking. “They deserve to know the full picture.”

Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, ad bleeding hands. “Fine. But make it quick. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”

"You're nutters, all three of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

“Ron.” Y/N said sternly. “Sit down. I’m not joking, you’re going to listen.”

Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly.

"But Professor Lupin... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't..."

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows.

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list."

Lupin and Y/N laughed.

"Light again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

Y/N cleared her throat.

“Sorry, four Animagi. Although we didn’t really know back then about you, my love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Still, wanted to make sure you got the number right.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wider if it was even possible. “Professor Y/L/N, you’re an Animagus too?!”

Y/N nodded and gestured to Remus to proceed.

"All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, I only know how it began..."

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there…"

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted.... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently.

"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. “

Hermione noticed a hint of sadness as she watched Y/N listen to her husband’s story.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school...." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came

to Hogwarts. This house" -- Lupin looked miserably around the room, -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

"My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor.... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...."

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter."

Y/N sniffed.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth...."

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times

of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded.

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the

Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

Y/N bit her lip as she dared to watch her old friend. She wanted to go touch him, comfort him, after so long… but she remained frozen on the spot as Remus continued.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did.... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal --?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness."

I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..."

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me... and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

“Don’t put it all on yourself,” Y/N said grimly. “The blame’s to share. We both decided to not go to Dumbledore.”

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore A year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly

killed him, a trick which involved me —" Black made a derisive noise. Y/N shushed him.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t go defending him now—“ Sirius chuckled.

“I’m not! I’m just— Rem, continue the story.” She said, crossing her arms defensively.

The two exchanged looks between each other, a bit of playfulness coming from Sirius’ end whereas Y/N still looked conflicted about being in his presence.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we -- er -- didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be -- er -- amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it -- if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf -- but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was...."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin.

Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock.

Y/N gasped and clutched her stomach. Black slowly grabbed her shoulders and placed himself in front of her protectively.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you...."

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus --" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout — and you too Y/L/N. Here you are helping him out, a real criminal couple you two are…”

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry --"

"Three more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “Though I do feel bad for you, Y/L/N, you never should have gotten involved… in the first place…I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this.... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf —"

“Don’t - you - fucking - dare—“ Y/N said through gritted teeth, wanting to lunge forward to strike Snape, but Sirius and Remus caught her arms, holding her back.

“How sweet.” Snape said sardonically.

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. Y/N screamed, throwing herself down to check on him. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes.

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape -- it it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w -- would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

Y/N whipped her head around, hearing the way Snape was beginning to speak to Hermione.

"But if -- if there was a mistake --"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent.

“ENOUGH!” Y/N jumped up, pulling her wand out and pointing it straight at Snape. “Hermione, get back.”

“Step aside, Y/L/N. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He grunted.

“I said, get back, all three of you.” Y/N snapped, Harry and Hermione hurrying and backing up to where Ron laid.

“Severus, I’m serious, you need to hear them out.” Y/N said. Her voice was steely. She moved out from behind Sirius and inched her way closer to Snape, softly but steadily like a cat.

Snape ignored her. Remus struggled against his binds, his eyes not leaving Y/N. But deep down, he knew he didn’t have to worry. He had seen her fight during the first Wizarding War, and he knew how much more powerful of a witch she had grown into. Snape unfortunately, did not, as he returned his attention to Sirius.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you...."

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" -- he jerked his head at Ron -- "I'll come quietly...."

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black... pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay... I --"

What little color there was in Blacks face left it.

"You -you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat -- look at the rat --"

But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that had never been seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too —"

“Severus.” Y/N warned, wand still at the ready.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door.

“Harry!” Y/N cried.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin --"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape.

"Get out of the way, Potter."

"YOURE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN --"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too

arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black -- now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"��

“Okay, I said ENOUGH!” Y/N raised her voice.

With a wave of her wand, the floor tiles under Harry’s feet rolled upwards in a wave, and sent Harry tumbling back to the back of the room where Ron and Hermione were.

“Snape, I told you to listen,” She said, advancing on him with her wand. “I told you, I don’t want to have to do this. But you have clearly lost your mind.”

Snape turned to face her. His dark eyes darkened even more. “And I told you, to get out of my way.a What are you possibly saying, Professor Y/L/N, you really think I’m going to duel you?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Why, you scared you gonna lose?” She said in a volume just above a whisper.

Snape jerked his wand and a spell flew at her, she whipped her own wand and deflected it. It bounced to the wall and knocked an old painting down.

With her empty hand, Y/N reached out to the trio and conjured a sort of bubble around Ron, Harry and Hermione. It was a protection spell.

Remus screamed in muffled yells as his mouth was gagged, and Sirius tried to free him but to no avail, there was no untying magical ties without a wand.

Y/N’s chest was heaving as she felt her heartbeat quicken.

A rapidfire of spells followed, bouncing between the two like fireworks. Y/N waved her wand, deflecting those Snape sent at her, conjuring out some of her own in the milliseconds in between.

Snakes shot out of Snape’s wand, flying toward Y/N. She waved her wand and they turned into pink satin ribbons, falling through the air. She flicked her wand one, two, three different motions and jets of orange, red and purple shot toward him. He deflected two of them and managed to physically dodge the third. Snape rose his hands and a ring of fire encircled Y/N.

Remus let out another muffled yell, struggling terribly against his restraints.

“Don’t-“ Y/N muttered through gritted teeth as she began to make effortful circles with both her wand and her non-dominant hand. The others watched in terror. “Piss - me - OFF—“

The molecules of water vapor surrounding her had liquefied and splashed down onto the floor to put out the flames. “The shack’s made out of fucking wood, Snape, you want us all to DIE?”

She raised her wand high above her head, the water getting picked off the floor and she pushed the wave into him. It slammed his body into the wall behind him and with another wave of her wand, the water froze; trapping him there, suspended.

Remus watched from the ground in awe. He had forgotten how powerful Y/N had become and it was magnificent to witness.

Snape’s head had knocked back and it drooped down, hanging from his neck. He had been knocked unconscious.

Sirius found Remus’ wand and untied him.

Y/N took a deep breath and lowered her wand. She waved her hand, and the protective barrier in front of the trio disappeared. Remus jumped to his feet and rushed to her, capturing her in a soulful hug.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He said, taking her face in his two hands, searching and scanning for signs of distress.

“I’m good, I swear.” She said, steadying her breath.

After what seemed like forever, finally Remus let her go. They immediately turned back around to heightened squeaking noises, coming from a very distressed Scabbers, still stuck in Ron’s tight clutch.

“Professor Y/L/N…” Hermione began.

“That was amazing.” Ron breathed.

“How you used the Freezing charm to- to- Oh God, Professor Snape.” Hermione gasped once she saw what state he was in.

“This still doesn’t mean I believe you.” Harry said firmly.

Y/N, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Then it’s time we gave you proof.” Remus said, advancing.

“Ron, give us the rat.”

#charmed #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #prisoner of azkaban #professor lupin x reader

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blissfullyecho · 9 days ago

Note

Hey echo!! I’ve been following you for a while on my old tumblr account and even bought your book and toolkit which has been a game changer! Was wondering if you have some tips on looksmaxxing for black women- I do agree that looking the prettiest does get you far in life. Also where can I preorder your book? Thank you for the advice you post- I love how you keep it real! I used to be one of the girls that believed in manifestation, affirmations and subs, but you brought me back to reality!

Looksmaxxing Tips

Source: I’m from Miami and currently live in LA.

Disclaimer: I already know I’ll get cancelled for this but this is for the girls who get it.

Hey! Aw you don’t have to be anon 🤍 thank you so much for your support!! Like truly that was very nice and I’m happy you’re still around after my hiatus. First things first, this post is going to get me in trouble but… I’ll do it lol. Remember that time I was cancelled for saying we should be shaving our underarms?

YOUR BODY IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR FACE

You know it’s true. You know when you look like you take care of yourself, people treat you better. Yes, you NEED to make sure you’re at a healthy weight. Your face can be absolutely busted, but if you have a nice body, you get a pass. I’m half Hispanic, and my background and your background tends to get on the heavier side pretty quickly. There is so many scientific research about how we develop Type 2 Diabetes quicker and we’re globally at a higher weight. So this is the part when I’m gonna get cancelled: you have to be fit. You have to be in shape. You have to have muscle. You have to be tight and toned.

———- WORKOUTS I RECOMMEND

1. Pilates $$-$$$

2. Barre $$-$$$

3. Running/Sprinting/Walking/Stairmaster $-$$

4. Kickboxing $-$$

5. Solid Core, Barry’s, SoulCycle, Pelaton, etc. $$-$$$

6. Growing Anna Nas (YouTube. For some reason I can’t link YouTube links) $0

7. Pamela Rief (YouTube) $0

8. MadFit (Youtube) $0

——— MY DIET TIPS

1. I eat whatever I want, but I eat so in moderation. It’s so important that you don’t deprive yourself because this should be a lifestyle. I get lunch portions, kids meals, the smallest size of unhealthy foods (like I would get a small fry for example), etc. Ben & Jerry’s has the really tiny ice cream cups that I’ll get if I want something sweet. But food known to cause weight gain, I’ll still eat them but I won’t have normal portions of it because normal portions of those kinds of foods are literally 1,000+ calories.

2. I’m against drinking my calories unless it’s a meal replacement (like a smoothie)

3. I practice intermittent fasting. I’ve done 18:6, 16:8, 20:4, and 23:1. They are all great. I think it’s healthy to give your body a rest from eating throughout the day to allow it to digest. I eat from 12pm-6pm some days, but some days if I’m going out to dinner, I push it back to maybe 4pm-10pm. So many benefits to this, do your research.

4. I don’t eat carbs for dinner. Carbs are essential for energy. Why do I need energy at night? Protein, healthy fats, and veggies is what I stick to. I limit carbs to my smoothie and lunch. But my main dish is never a carb; I like fat and protein as my main dish with a SIDE of carbs like rice or a side pasta dish.

I don’t recommend Ozempic or other alternatives! You’ll get the Ariana Grande sunken in face and look absolutely insane. That’s the side effect that scares me the most, and it usually happens later on after being on Ozempic for it to take affect. I want to keep my face plump.

DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE SURGICALLY

I’m always a fan of a good rhinoplasty, but make sure you come to LA for one. NYC has really good doctors too. Never, EVER get your surgeries done in Miami. Business is so shady in Miami that I don’t trust it. I’m not telling you to get a nose job— I’m saying that’s the only procedure I’m actually for and not against.

I used to get Botox and I stopped. The problem with Botox is that is prevents muscle movement, which will develop muscle atrophy. Meaning, your face muscles will lose shape and strength sooner than normal, and your face will start to sag. My credentials is that I have a nursing degree and I dated a plastic surgeon over the last year.

I’m sure you don’t need lip filler, but a little (like half a syringe) to make your lips go out further is a GAME CHANGER. Just make sure you dissolve filler each time you decide you want a touch-up.

Another trend is buccal fat removal— I don’t know WHY people are wanting the snatched face because it makes you look so horse-like and old. I’m only talking to those who don’t naturally have a snatched face. There’s a difference between looking puffy, and having face fat. Face fat is good, it keeps you looking youthful! So don’t get that done.

Stay away from all other fillers.

COME TO LA FOR BODY PLASTIC SURGERY

I’m the biggest advocate for breast augmentations. I got my boobs done because I wanted them to look more perfect. You just have to make sure you go to a good doctor. Don’t be cheap with it. But getting your boobs done just elevates your look but don’t get crazy. A perky C cup is fine, even a perfect D cup is fine. Get the boobies up and perky. Push-ups and other chest workouts are good to start doing but they’re not going to be total game-changers. If you like your boobs, great. But if you want that perfect body inside and outside of clothes, get the girls up. Give them some volume.

If you have extra flab or skin, go for the non surgical procedures!! I got Morpheus8 done on my inner thighs because I had a bit of loose skin from weight loss (it was like 50lb weight loss and I lost it fast) and my thighs are sucked in and cute now). But it depends on what they have but go to a medical spa ran by a plastic surgeon. Don’t go to the commercial med spas or anything.

Body Gua-Sha is really good to do as well to help shape you up a little. I do this after every morning shower.

GET A SPRAY TAN

Yes, you should get a spray tan. I know you don’t need one, but your skin tone would pop so much more if you got one and they hide so many imperfections on your skin. Everyone looks better tan— everyone. It’s giving summer vibes all year round and I’m here for it. My black friends get spray tans and I’ve seen the difference in real time. Skin just looks so much healthier and younger with a spray tan. But it has to be a spray tan, it has to be a little artificial to look good lol. I know people swear the sun is the best but when I go out in the sun, I turn grey!!!! I turn such a weird color but because I fake tan, I keep my golden color without looking moldy lol. It’s giving that SpongeBob episode when he had the suds. Try it once and tell me how it goes lol. I swear you’ll be obsessed. I actually want you to message me and lmk.

MAKEUP, LASH EXTENSIONS, MICROBLADING

Your lashes should be undetectable. Classic natural set with a wispy and individual mix ONLY. Lashes should only be used for a thicker lash line, NOT for length. If you get strip lashes, make sure they’re natural and WISPY. The more natural and effortless the better. You also look younger and classier too. I’m a fan of a natural looking micro blade, but keep your brows natural. Don’t fan them out or fluff them, but don’t have IG brows. You want to fool people into thinking you’re just naturally like this. Obviously when you go out, do the brows or lashes, but on a normal Wednesday 2pm, it’s not necessary. Makeup should always be glowing. Matte makes you look like a grandma. A subtle glow in the cheeks or nose just gives healthy. Matte gives chalky.

HAIR

Keep it SAFE with hair. Natural color, natural length, healthy hair. How you style it is up to you but make sure it goes with your face shape. Hair that’s too long can be too much and hair that’s too short can make you look a little older. I don’t know if you wear your natural hair or if you install, but if you install keep it at an appropriate length. Think VS model. If your hair is natural and you wear it out, scratch everything I just said :) but keep colors natural and your hair healthy!

—-

I’m running out of space to type, but I’ll say this. Your BEST template is a Victoria’s Secret Angel. Not the new ones lol that show was embarrassing. I’m talking about the OG VS. That’s if you want to be universally stunning. Everyone will turn heads at a VS Angel. You want to give classy, but you also want to give youthful and sexy. Look at paparazzi photos of them being off-duty. Gain style and look inspiration off of them. They got CANCELLED for not being inclusive and it hurt feelings. Now they aren’t making nearly as much money before and the brand is tainted because a few insecure women decided to be all emotional. See what happens when you listen to insecure toads?

I didn’t want this post to be something you can find on the internet because there’s so much about this on the internet, but I gave you some opinions based off things I see that I agree/don’t agree with.

🖤🍸Make sure to check out my book called The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life for a fresh perspective on reinventing yourself for 2025. You’ll receive immediate access after purchase.

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

Text

cw body image discussion. self ship coded. f!reader is feeling insecure and gojo is there to help work through the blues. he's mildly possessive and reader is really down on themselves. reader and gojo are in a semi established relationship (aka idiots in love). wc 1.6k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always

The third time you pull a blouse over your head with a huff and toss it to the ground below your feet is when Satoru finally realizes that something is not right with you today.

It wasn’t the instant frown upon waking up that alerted him, in fact that’s kind of just normal so he ignored it, but he has noticed you’ve been wound tight from the moment your eyes have opened. Your shoulders are hunched, he’s worried you’re going to give yourself a headache with all that scowling, your coffee sits on the nightstand getting cold while you glare at your reflection in the full length mirror against the wall.

Flipping onto his stomach and stretching horizontally across your bed, he appraises you where you stand. Even grouchier than usual, you’re dazzling. You’re wearing nothing but your least sexy nude colored bra and high waisted black trousers, bare feet stomping across the wooden floor as you rush back and forth from the closet back to the mirror.

He knows what’s happening and that he has never quite been good at stopping it but he wants to try, if only to make you smile at his failed attempt at comfort. You know him well enough to know that there’s meaning beneath his flippant words and veneer, something that saves him from a lot of trouble on any given day.

“Princess?”

His little nickname captures your attention and you shift from glancing in the mirror to him for just a moment, eyes narrowing slightly when you take in his relaxed posture. It must be nice to be him - ever the bored boy king watching the rest of us mortals folly. Raising your brows, you fold your arms over your chest defensively and stare at him.

He knows this defensive position better than anyone ever could. You’re internally wounding yourself and curling into your own torso, covering where it hurts the worst with your arms. Your heart breaks and he can see it on your face, eyes still narrowed and shoulders rounded forward. Trying to make yourself smaller, broken into pieces, something you feel will make you more palatable.

He hates it but he knows you don’t do it on purpose. You spend a lot of your time lifting others up and it’s easy to forget yourself in the fray. He sees it as his responsibility to step for you when you can’t do it for yourself and he cannot imagine allowing anyone else to ever do so.

He’s yours, in name, in body, in heart, and it’s his job to remind you of how perfect you are even when you forget.

“C’mere,” he wags his head, motioning for you to join him on the bed while he pats the spot next to him. You sniff unenthusiastically and shuffle to the side of the bed, sitting and letting your legs hang off the edge of it. You don’t want to join him in his all too comfortable state but you realize quickly you are going to be left with no choice when he sets his head on your thigh and wraps his arms around your waist.

You feel yourself soften when you look down at him, all white lashes and big eyes and hair over his forehead as boyish as you remember it being when you were 16 and he was 17 and he laid his head in your lap just like this. It feels like a lifetime ago, years and tears that have passed, but part of you even knew then that it would end up just like this for the two of you despite the constant denial of those feelings.

Even still, you deny his affection for you out of some strange attempt to hurt yourself rather than him. It makes no sense and you sigh. How anyone puts up with you is truly a mystery yet here the one person who puts up with you the most sits, cloudless sky eyes searching you for answers. He foolishly believes he may yet solve you someday.

Unfolding your arms, you reach out and pet the strands away from his face. Remembering you’re supposed to be having a fit, you frown and he smiles up at you. It feels like the sun moving in from around a cloud and you chuckle.

“You gonna make it?” He asks and you know what he means.

What do you need from me? How can I make this better?

If asked, he’d swear you’re the only one who actually listens to what he’s saying instead of picking out what you want to hear. If someone were to ask you, you think you’d say the same about him. Nobody understands you the way he does, a fact you used to resent but now welcome with open arms. Isn’t the core of being loved just being understood at the end of the day?

You think for a moment before flopping backward on the bed, his head still in your lap and his arms still looped around your waist. Satoru shifts slightly, pulling one arm out from under you and using it to gently pet your cheek.

“Probably not,” you finally respond and he looks across your body at your face and smiles, shaking his head and rubbing his freshly shaven cheek over your pants.

“I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I’m the butt of every joke,” you lament, gaze shifting directly to the ceiling to keep from looking at him while your eyes mist over with tears. Speaking the things you think about yourself only makes them feel more true but he doesn’t let you lament for long, unlooping his other arm from your waist and grabbing your hand.

He sits up and you look up at him. He looms the way a god does and he looks just like one, something that makes you rush to try and cover yourself up. It’s a pity he wastes his time with you, meant for something far better than hanging out with you. You feel a tear slide down your cheek and sniff, covering your face with your forearm.

“None of that is true and you know it.”

He remains hovering over you, backlit by the sunlight in your bedroom, but you refuse to look directly at him and settle for gazing through the tiniest crack in your vision that your forearm isn’t covering.

“Everyone loves you so much it makes me feel jealous sometimes.”

Despite your sadness, you giggle. He’s so funny sometimes that you wonder if it’s intentional or not.

“There’s no reason to. People are just being nice.”

He scoffs and before you can blink, he’s on his knees and sliding his oversized form across the bed. Straddling your hips, settling either of his thighs on the side of yours, you groan and let your arm flop at your side. He isn’t putting his full weight on you but you sniff and make a face anyway. You’re still only partially dressed and he licks his lips at the sight, soft skin warmed by sunlight.

“Do you know how many threats I’ve had to make to keep people away from you?”

Shaking your head, hair dragging across the blanket beneath your body, you wonder if he means it. He has alluded to this exact scenario many times in jest but you always assumed it was just that - a joke. A little chuckle shared between the two of you.

“I’m not joking,” he replies seriously, eyes giving him away. “You’re not just liked you’re desired, pretty girl.”

Your cheeks heat and your belly stirs despite how the rest of you feels. Shifting your head so that you’re no longer looking at him, he reaches down and cups your cheek with the same gentleness he always does but guides your face back in his direction. His thumb caresses the soft round and you bite back another smile.

“I’ll keep doing it, too,” he mutters with a grin and a nod and you raise your brows. You don’t really care that other people desire you, knowing that the issue with how you feel lies solely within your own heart, but it’s nothing less than sexy that he insists on throwing his weight around in his longstanding mission to make you love him as much as he loves you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers and you smile, leaning into his touch despite all of your previous attempts to shrug it off. “The smartest person I know, brave, dependable…”

He trails off and leans over you, stopping himself with his forearm on the bed and kisses your forehead.

“I could go on forever but I don’t want to make you later than you’re already going to be after four outfit changes,” he offers and you laugh. A real one. The kind of laugh that makes a big smile stretch across your face and he places his thumb in the divot of your dimple as you do.

“You’re right.”

He beams, pressing his thumb so deeply you feel the inside of your cheek against your teeth.

“Obviously.”

The rebuttal only makes you laugh harder and you kick your legs out beneath him, trying to shove him off of you.

“Get off, I’m gonna be late,” you warn and now he plants some of his weight over your hips, both big hands cupping your face as he repeatedly dots your face and cheeks with kisses.

“Nope, I’m gonna make you even more late and you’re just gonna have to live with it.”

And live with it you will as his lips travel from the round of your cheek and tip of your nose to your own lips, tongue brushing against the seam insistently.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #kendall writes #the way this is my metaphorical pacifier and i feel better #shaking my own rattle etc

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