#I hope everyone can still read after this...

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twenty One

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 CW: 18+ mdni, discussion of kidnapping, sedation. Angst.

“Da?” Penny points at the guest room. “Bunny?” 

“Aye lamb, Bunny.” He tries not to look at the door, tries to push away the avalanche of despair. If he could dig it free it from his brain, he would. He’d take it away from everyone, you, Si, himself. He’d rewind time, take it all back, start from the beginning and fix it all. 

The memories burn like fire. They’re ash in the back of his throat. 

“We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.” 

 What a lie. Who were they kidding, doing this? Pretending they were some knights in shining armor, coming to rescue you? 

They became everything you feared. 

Pen nestles into his neck, gripping his shirt as she wiggles. “Story?” 

“Jus’ one alright?” She signs okay, and sighs. 

“Gus?” He grits his teeth. Penny's love for Gus has been a tiny bright spot in an abysmal expanse of misery, but her obsession just reminds him of everything else. 

“Gus is downstairs, it’s nap time.” He can feel the tumultuous slope of a tantrum, Penny’s mood ratcheting up and up until it explodes. She’s tired, and stressed, too much like her Dad, reading the emotions in the house like its second nature. She knows something is wrong. 

“Gus Gus,” her lower lip trembles, legs kicking. “Wan’ Gus Gus.” 

“Ye’ll see Gus later.” She doesn’t understand anything that’s happened, and the guilt eats at him, at what they’ve done to their family, what they’ve brought into their home. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

He holds her tight, kisses her forehead. “I love ye, Penny.” She sniffles. 

“Luh you.” 

 “Not at all?” 

“No idea mate. Looked at me like she’s never seen me a day in her life. A bit bizarre if you ask me.” Simon rubs a hand over his face. “But she also pointedly avoided looking at me. Tried to make herself smaller.” Johnny grimaces. They've moved as fast as they could, but you didn't make it easy.

In a weird way, Johnny is proud of you.

“How does she seem?” He knows this answer. To not recognize Kyle you must be tired beyond belief, operating on autopilot, frozen stiff with fear. 

“Skittish. Exhausted. Scared.” His shoulders slump, entire body sinking into the cushions of the couch. Your frightened face haunts his dreams, a little rabbit running for her life. He can't imagine how you must feel, believing you were betrayed by them, running away with their babe in your belly.

In another life, maybe they’d stay in Scotland with you. He’d show you all the things he loves about it, all the things he still calls home, the same things he showed Pen. Maybe it would be different. 

“Did you get it done?” Simon interrupts his spiral, redirects their focus. 

“Yeah, managed to slip it into the little pocket at the top, she had no idea. It’s online and I sent you guys the link; you should be able to see the ping. I’ll stay on her until you get here.” 

“From a distance.” Simon reiterates, and Kyle scoffs. 

“Do you think I’m an amateur?” 

Penny isn’t in her room after her nap. 

She gets up at the same time everyday without fail, dependable clockwork that they work their lives around. 

Johnny’s heart jumps into his throat. Logical thinking starts to fade away into panic, fear, his fumbling fingers swiping at his phone just as her little giggle echoes from down the hall, and relief rushes through his bones.

She's in your room. Curled up in your side, feet in your lap, little palm on your belly, staring up at you like you hung the stars in the sky. 

“And then the cow said-” 

“Moooo!” He’s sick at the sight, another tidal wave of grief pulling him out to sea, reminding him of things they’ll probably never have now, your love, your trust, a family with you.

But you haven't left, a desperate voice in his head reminds him, you've had plenty of opportunities, but stays here. Why? 

Maybe all hope isn't lost.

“That’s right,” you brush her wispy curls back from her face and smile, “you’re such a smart girl Pen.” She pats the curve of your stomach, and then signs. 

“Baby?” Your hand folds over hers, and Johnny’s throat is so tight he can barely breathe. “My baby.” You laugh, and she giggles as you hug her close, kissing the top of her head. 

“This is your baby brother or sister Pen. What do you think? Boy? Or girl?” Penny shrugs, giving you a sheepish look. 

“Gus?” 

“Didn’t you see Gus earlier? Did you feed him breakfast?” There’s some shuffling, and she wiggles down to the floor, waiting patiently as you groan and swing your legs over the bed. “Alright, he could probably use some more fish flakes anyway.” You look tired, weary, but still your smile is soft for Penny, gentle and encouraging. 

It fades when you catch him in the doorway. 

“Hey.” You nod, the small spark in your eyes dying immediately as you watch him cautiously. Like he’s a threat. 

“How long have you been standing there?” 

“Er, not long.” What’s another lie in the long list of transgressions at this point? 

“Pen wants to see Gus so… I thought I’d take her downstairs.” You shift uneasily, and he steps aside. Penny’s hand is tucked in yours, and a vision of one of you falling, tripping, and taking the other down flashes in his mind. 

“Be careful on the stairs Pen.” She goes down on her knees now, backward, sliding her stomach across each step in a slow but methodical process. One that could trip you up. “I can take ye down-” 

“No,” she vehemently refuses, “I do it.” 

“She can do it on her own.” You back her up immediately, both of his girls united in solid opposition against him. Bleedin’ Christ. Penny points downstairs. 

“Da. Gus.” She signs for both, for once oblivious to your agitation, and he winces when you shoot him an annoyed look. 

“I’ve got her Johnny.” 

“Okay,” Penny’s already started on her descent, and you hold onto the banister, still glaring at him. He gulps. “Ye be careful too.” For a second, the storm breaks, the thunder rolls over the hill into the distance, torrential downpour turning a drizzle, and the sun tries to peek through the clouds. Sadness and longing, flickers in your eyes, so clearly displayed that it urges him forward, a step too close. You back away. 

The sun is gone, and the storm rages. 

The prefilled syringe glints in the sunlight where it sits on the table. Johnny tries not to look at it. 

“Are ye sure-” 

“No,” Simon snaps, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’m not. But I don’t see what our choices are. We can’t leave her on her own with Graves at large. I promised… I promised she’d be safe. That I’d take care of her.” 

“We both did.” 

“Well we did a shit job.” He pales when he looks back at the needle. “We’re one hundred percent sure? It’s not going to harm them?” 

“Aye, triple checked. Safe for mum and baby.” They sit across from one another in silence. Simon is far away, somewhere even Johnny can’t reach him, and when he speaks next, his voice cracks. 

“She’s going to be so scared. She won’t understand what’s happening.” He covers his face, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. “She already thinks… she thinks we’re a threat. She’s not going to listen to anything we say.” 

“I know.” 

“We have to do it this way.” He’s whispering, locked in an endless battle of wills with himself, and Johnny reaches for his hand. He doesn’t know what else to do. Sick with dread twisting his heart, he knows the options are limited. He knows this is a good course of action, possibly the safest, the most rational. 

Even if it will turn them into your monsters.

“I know, Si. I know.” 

You’re on the patio. 

He’s found you there a few times, curled up on the outdoor couch, sun on your face as you read or scroll on your phone. 

He wants to go to you, encouraged by the sliver of something he saw in your eyes earlier, but he knows he can’t. If he pushes too hard, it will only make you retreat.

“She’s been out there for an hour.” Simon stands at his side, and if you look up, you’ll see both of them staring. Watching. 

“Did ye talk to her?” 

“Tried. She ignored me.” 

“Did ye actually?” His patience is thin today, a fine thread threatening to fray. “Try?” Johnny knows what it truly is, this avoidance of you. Simon brings you meals, checks in, but keeps away, holds his position at a firm distance. 

He can’t live with himself. 

“Johnny,” it’s a warning shot, but he chooses not to pay it any attention. 

“Did ye? Try at all? Because I haven’t seen ye try since we got home, since that day she woke up.” Simon stiffens. 

“She doesn’t want me.” 

“She doesnae want either o’ us Si. What did ye think would happen? That everything would be fine and she would forgive us? She would trust us automatically?” He’s on the verge of yelling now, and instead of trying to soothe him as usual, Simon scowls and turns away. Johnny snaps. “We said it’d take time an’ work but ye’re jus’ runnin’ away now, every chance ye get, an’ leavin’ everything to me!” 

“I…” He’s never seen his husband so lost. These past two weeks, every day he’s slipped further and further away, and nothing Johnny says or does brings him back. “I can’t, Johnny.” 

“Ye have to try.” For her. For me. For your family. Simon shakes his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Jesus.” The heel of your palm goes to your temple, and he holds his breath. “What-” You trail off as you look up, take them in, guilty as sin. 

If only his Ma could see him now. See what he’s done. 

You shoot upward, scrambling towards the head of the bed, eyes wide and frozen with fear. 

Shaking and terrified. A little rabbit caught in a snare. Their snare.

You watch them like they're executioners leading you to the block. 

“Wh-what…” 

“Listen to us sweetheart, just listen,” Simon soothes, voice low and cautious but fast because he knows they’ve got to get it out, establish the truth right away. “You’re safe, everything’s okay, you and the baby, you’re safe here.” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“You… b-brought me back?” Your voice cracks. “You brought me back and n-now he’s…” you break apart on a sob. 

“He’s never going to touch ye ever again, bunny. We swear it. I know,” you try to scoot off the bed, but Simon holds you still by your shoulders. They have to get this out, have to get through this part no matter how difficult it is, no matter how much you don't want to listen. You have to hear the truth, the reasoning.

“I know you don’t believe us, but we can prove it.” Johnny pulls out his phone and clicks open the secure email attachment. It’s the mission report from when Graves betrayed them outside the Mexican Special Forces base, and it’s only partially redacted thanks to Kate.

It’s a risk. 

It will confirm your fears and dissolve them. It will tell you who they truly are, what they truly do, while proving they’re telling the truth. 

It’s a gamble. 

“Read this,” Simon pushes it into your hand and you recoil. It doesn’t stop him, he wraps your brittle fingers around it and then stands, Johnny right behind him. “Take as long as you need. We’ll be here.” 

“Did ye like it?” You refuse to look at him, half of a pot pie eaten and sitting at your side on the tray. No answer. 

You blink at the ceiling. 

“Wanted to check in, see if ye needed anything?” Please, say something. Say anything. “Somethin’ else to eat, maybe? Si said ye didnae eat much of yer lunch. Are ye feeling sick again?” You’ve been having bouts of nausea, which you’ve told them is normal. You said you brought it up with your midwife at your appointment last week, she wasn’t concerned, and left it that. He knows you only supplied the information because they were badgering you about it, and as you told them the other day-

“I’d do anything to get you to leave me the fuck alone.” 

When you turn to look at him, he almost wishes you hadn’t. 

There’s a lifetime of pain in your eyes. Anger. Distrust. Hurt. All of it caused by their hand, their decisions. 

He tries anyway. He has to. 

“Did ye know goldfish can grow up to ten inches? Researched it when we…” he swallows the lump in his throat, “when we got home.” Still nothing. Your fingers twitch on the edge of your kindle, and he’s overcome with the urge to place his hand there, to hold yours. “Ye know, Si an’ I were talking, it might be good for you to come down for a meal? Maybe ye could come downstairs for breakfast tomorrow? Pen asked.” Using Penny is wrong, he knows that, but he’s drowning and he doesn’t know how much farther they can sink at this point. 

But it all falls on deaf ears. 

You give him one last long look, another glare overflowing with malice, more rage, more despair, everything twisted up into a complicated knot. 

He's well practiced with bombs, confident, rarely makes a mistake-

but this is one he's terrified to defuse.

“Johnny… just... leave me alone. Please.” No, he wants to tell you, no, I'd rather have you scream at me for hours on end, I'd rather have you throw another mug at my head, over all of this... this agonizing silence.

“Okay,” he whispers, “I’ll… leave ye be.” 

“Upset?!” You cover your heart with your palms. “Upset…” 

“Sweetheart-” Simon hangs back behind Johnny, allowing him to take the lead, again, but still trying to coax you to calm, and you look at one then the other, shaking your head, tossing the phone on the bed.

“You… you hid all of this from me. I knew you were military but this…” You’re angry, but beneath it, fighting for freedom, is pain. Pain caused by them, by this betrayal. “Phillip aside, you kidnapped me!” 

“We had no choice,” Johnny’s voice wavers and he scrambles for control. “We couldnae leave ye alone and unprotected, an’ we knew ye wouldnae listen to us if we just… showed up.” 

“I wish I had better aim,” you spit, staring daggers at where Simon’s arm sports a fresh bandage, covering the stitches. He flinches. 

“We would never hurt ye-” A bitter laugh cuts him off, and you throw your hands up, gesturing around the room. 

“What do you call this then, Johnny? What would you call drugging me and hauling me away from my home?” 

"That wasnae yer home! Yer home is wit' us, bun." You stare at him in disbelief.

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think this... this could be my home now."

“I promise-” Simon starts again but you glare at him. 

“Your promises mean fuck all, Simon Riley.” 

“We’ve never lied to ye, bunny, an’ if we had known from the beginning, we could have protected ye, made sure he never came near ye again.” It’s low to use your own evasion against you, your own survival instincts, but he’s grasping at straws. He’s not sure it’s possible to tell you how sorry they are anymore, they’ve said it a thousand times. You snort. 

“You’re unbelievable. Both of you. And you’re no better than him.” 

“That’s not true.” Simon cuts, sharp edge slicing through your declaration. “We would never, ever hurt you. We love you.” Your swallow is audible, and for a second, you falter. A tear falls. Johnny steps forward. 

“Bun-“ 

“I want you to go.” 

“Ye have every right-” 

“Get out!” You scream it, pointing at the door with a shaking finger. “Get the fuck out.” Simon doesn’t take a single second before turning his back and disappearing, leaving Johnny alone with you. 

Defeated. 

“I love ye.” He murmurs softly, and you scoff. 

“Fuck your love, Johnny. It means nothing.”

The scream wakes them both at zero two hundred. 

It’s blood curdling, could shatter the windows, shake the house down to the studs. 

Simon’s faster than him lately, gets the drop- 

But he bypasses your room. 

“I’ll take care of Penny.” Of course. She’d be awake. That would’ve woke anyone. 

The door creaks when it flings wide, and then he’s sitting at your hip on the mattress, holding you, calling your name. The whites of your eyes shine in the dark, pupils slowly adjusting as he flicks the light on next to the bed. 

He braces for a fight, shores his defenses, readies himself for the venom, but the only thing you give him is the trembling of your lower lip, and your tears, your hand stretching for his. “Shhh, ye’re okay, it’s okay. Was jus’ a dream bunny, jus’ a dream.” Your chest heaves. 

“I… Phillip...” 

“He’s no’ here, it’s just ye and me. Simon and Pen down the hall.” He’d be lying to himself if he said this isn’t making a sick part of him happy, this need you seem to have for him, for comfort, even if it may be fleeting. “Ye’re safe, pretty girl.” A moan escapes you, working its way into a sob, and you curl forward. 

Into him. 

In this darkness, the early hour of the morning, the two of you are suspended in time, alone in this world where nothing bad ever happened and you’re safe in his arms. Like the man he sees in the mirror doesn’t disgust him, like his remorse isn’t a living, breathing thing, a reaper waiting to take him away. 

And when your nose presses to his chest and you wet his shirt with tears as he rocks you, promises you’re safe, that they’ll take care of you, that he loves you, all the words they’ve said since the day they met you, the guilt threatens to drown him-

And his own tears drip from his face. 

[minh907]

A YANDARE JINWOO WHO GETS OBSESSED WITH A ERANK HEALER READER WHO DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHO HE IS OR BIG HUNTERS ARE LIKE SHE JUTS WANNA SAVE LIVES.

(idk if u do yandare though😓)

Whatever this feeling is.

Yandere!Jinwoo x E-rank Healer!Reader.

____________________________

You never thought of becoming a hunter.

In fact, if you could, you would rather live a normal life like everyone else: go to work in the morning, come home in the afternoon to eat with your family, read a few pages of a book and go to sleep.

But this world is not for 'normal' people. When the gate appears, when monsters start to flood across the border, you are forced to choose: either become prey, or become part of the war. You are an E-rank healer - not enough power to fight, cannot lead any party, and are often left behind in raids.

But you don't care. You don't need the power to kill monsters.

You just want to save as many people as possible.

___________________________

The first time you met Jinwoo was in a C-rank dungeon. The party was short of people, and you and Jinwoo were thrown in to 'make up the head count.' They didn't expect anything from you. It was only natural, you were weak, healing magic was like a drop in the ocean.

Then everything became chaotic when a high orc suddenly appeared. The party disbanded, everyone ran away. In the chaos, you saw a person with a severe injury on his arm, curled up near the stone wall, blood pooling at his feet.

No one came to help.

They didn't want to help him. You knew that he was someone of the same rank as you. Jinwoo was only an E-rank, even called The weakest hunter of all mankind, so everyone thought it was useless to save him.

But you didn't think so. 

Your determination to save everyone never wavered even though hope was barely visible to you because you valued each person's life as if it equaled one thousand pieces of gold. Your belief in saving him compelled you to rush toward him before you dropped to your knees. Your hand trembled from anxiety while you pressed it against his bleeding wound to stop the bleeding and save his life.

Stay motionless and wait patiently for only a short time because everything will turn out fine. I'll heal you," you said, not looking up at his face.

A light glinted from your palm - weak, small, but strangely gentle.

You didn't see the way he looked at you - as if you'd opened a crack of light in his thousand-year darkness.

"Are you...a healer?" He spoke in a raspy tone which made his question sound like he had not interacted with anyone in days.

"Yeah. E-rank, nothing special." You gave him a small smile, as gentle as a touch to a wound.Then you give him your handkerchief so he can wipe the dirt off his face.

And he didn't say anything else. He just looked at you. Silent. Silent to the point of suffocation.

__________________________

After that day, you didn't think too much about it. The dungeon ended, you went home, took a shower, ate instant noodles, and went to bed early for tomorrow.

And yes, everything was still going on normally, you had also gradually forgotten about the E-rank hunter who was on the brink of death and was saved by you.

Little did you know that from the moment you bent down among the blood and stone dust, the faint light from your hand touched the body of a person who seemed to have been abandoned by the world, you became all he had left.

Little did you know that Jinwoo wanted to die that day.

He entered the dungeon to earn money, to support his family, to try to earn at least some money to make his life better. But that day, after being attacked by the high orc, he lost his faith in life. The title of 'weakest hunter' hung over his head like a curse, turning him into a shadow of himself.

Until you came. Not with a weapon. Not with a look of disdain. Just with trembling hands and a choked voice, you said "I will save you."

No conditions. No expectations. No matter who he was.

For the first time in his life, Jinwoo felt alive.

____________________________

Weeks later, things continued as usual.

You took on a few healing missions for low-rank hunter groups, or simply went whenever someone needed another hunter to fill the space. You ate cheap sandwiches for breakfast, drank cold coffee, and then went to the guild to sign up for the next mission. Life was simple, steady.

You didn't think about Jinwoo.

It wasn't that you tried to forget - it was that you never thought you were important enough for anyone to remember. In this world, an E-rank healer like you - no one remembered your name, no one bothered to notice.

And at that time, the whole country was buzzing about the appearance of the country's 10th S-rank hunter.

You don't know who he is. And you don't really care.

Honestly, you don't really care about the names of famous hunters. To you, names like Choi Jong-In or Baek Yoonho are just wind. The same goes for this new S-rank hunter. After all, you're just an E-rank healer, and those stronger than you aren't interested in a lowly rank like you. Right?

The moment after that incident you began to experience unusual feelings.

The feeling of being watched accompanied you throughout your time outside the house. Your steps became trapped by a weighty stare which clung to you as if it were an endless moonless darkness.

______________________

Snow falls lightly outside the window, creeping through the thin curtains like white ghosts. You tighten your coat as you step out of the subway station, the cold air stabbing your neck like hundreds of needles. You exhale a thin puff of smoke and walk quickly towards the training area where an F-rank team has asked you to help them recover today.

A normal day. A normal mission.

...It's just that the feeling doesn't go away.

It feels like an invisible gaze is watching. The behavior remains neither threatening nor welcoming. You feel trapped inside a glass enclosure while an unseen observer watches you from outside.

You turn around again.

It's still the same familiar street, a few people walking by in a hurry, an old woman selling fried fish balls is playing an old radio. Nothing strange. No one.

You tighten your lips while reassuring yourself before keeping your stride.

A hazy dream awoke you during the night although you could not recall its contents. During your dream you ran through a dark corridor while behind you heard slow footsteps following you. No matter how you ran, it was still behind you, each step, each breath close to your ear.

You turned on the lights in your room, trying to find peace. But the warm yellow light couldn't dispel the cold feeling that had clung to your spine from deep within.

Little did you know, at the same time, in another part of the city, a man stood in the darkness, looking at you through the eyes of a shadow soldier in your shadow that you couldn't tell when or how he had placed it.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, as if if he left, you would disappear. Jinwoo had found you. A long time ago. He just hadn't shown up yet.

Because he was waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting until you couldn't run away. When you have nowhere to run.

Wait until you belong to him.

_________________________

Today's job is to support a new group of hunters. You stand by the dungeon entrance wearing a light cloak while holding your elbows tight to stay warm. A gust of cold air passes through your collar opening while you shiver although the real cause of your goosebumps stems from something else.

It's the feeling.

You feel someone standing near your back although no one actually stands there.

You turn around. There are only a few hunters checking their weapons, passersby walking by, and a stray cat sitting under a tree licking its paws.

No one is there.

You exhaled, reassuring yourself. 'I'm just tired, maybe I need to rest.'

You had no idea that a dark figure remained hidden in the building shadows just meters behind you while keeping watch with shadow soldier eyes.

From his position in front of the big window, Jinwoo gazed down at the city below while fixating on a spot only he could perceive.

He whispered softly "My angel" with a broken voice.

His hand gripped the cold coffee cup. Not because of the cold. But because his palm was shaking.

Not because of fear. But because of desire.

From the first time you touched him - with that trembling hand, that faint light - something inside him had cracked. Or rather, woken up.

No one had saved him. No one had ever taken him seriously. Just you.

Just you.

______________________

You get used to the feeling of being watched.

You accept it in a way that does not provide comfort. You learn to accept the marks that will never heal like bruises or scars you wish to forget. You don't tell anyone, because who cares? E-rank healers have no power, no reputation, and no one around long enough to listen.

Your dreams will not allow you to ignore what is happening no matter how much you try to pretend otherwise.

Someone stands near your bed while you sleep in your dreams. You dream of a shadow moving in the corner of your eye every time you turn your head. Someone whispers your name in a gentle voice which sounds confident just like a thousand previous times of naming you.

You woke up during the night to discover a slightly open window even though you had double-checked its locked position.

Your world shows signs of reality merging with dreams because each day makes the distinction harder to discern.

A strange event occurred to you when you embarked on a D-rank dungeon quest.

The monsters avoided you.

You realized it while hiding behind a tall warrior, shoulder to shoulder with your comrades in battle. A spider-like monster suddenly rushed forward, its legs long and sharp as blades, its sound echoing like a knife scraping on stone. The group readied their weapons, preparing to receive the attack. But then it stopped.

The moment its red eyes met yours.

In that brief moment, you saw the monster freeze. Its eyes widened, not from predatory instinct, but from fear. A primal fear, almost desperate. A shrill howl escaped from its mouth before it turned to flee while its feet pounded against the stone surface creating a loud echo in the dark hallway.

The group was stunned. You were also stunned.

"What the hell?" someone exclaimed.

A hunter turned to look at you, his brows furrowed. "What did you do?"

"N-No, I just stood there," you stammered, not understanding what was happening. Your heart was pounding. You looked down at your hands, nothing out of the ordinary. No aura, no new abilities, no strange signs.

But deep down, a strange feeling began to creep in. It felt like something that didn't belong to you was following you.

You began to notice.

The single spider was not the only one. The monsters that emerged in the group's progress chose to observe you instead of their typical assault behavior. Each of them made a turn before fleeing from the scene. The creature took refuge in a corner while trembling like it sought mercy from an unseen power.

It was then that you truly felt something was wrong.

You look down and this time, in the flickering light of the torch, you catch a glimpse of your own shadow.

Not in shape, but in temperament. A dark undefined form resembling a wild creature rests behind you with its half-open black eyes observing the world through darkness.

A blink, and it's gone.

You swallow. A chill runs down your spine like a silent stream of water filling your chest.

Little do you know that, from the moment you entered the dungeon, all the monsters inside have been marked by an ancient power, a mark you can't see, can't feel, but that's covering everything you pass by. It's not coming from you but from another being that's in your shadow, or worse, watching through you.

________________________

Sung Jinwoo stood in the middle of a dungeon filled with chill – not because of the wind, but because of the presence of death that surrounded him. Hundreds of shadows swirled silently like a silent storm, not a sound, but all focused on him, loyal, absolute, and alert.

He stood alone in the center.

He held a small object in his hand, an old handkerchief, the edge of which had a friend's name embroidered in silver thread. A sign of ridiculous gentleness in this hellish space.

"Do not touch her," Jinwoo said, his voice as deep as the abyss, each word as sharp as a cold knife. "Only observe and protect."

The shadows said nothing, but one stepped forward, Beru. Beru knelt on one knee, his wings folded, his eyes glowing like two turquoises under his black mask.

"My King..." Beru hissed softly, "May I ask?"

Jinwoo did not look at Beru. His deep eyes gazed at the handkerchief while showing an unusual softness.

"Why don't you come to see her?" Beru bowed slightly. "I can feel your heart screaming for her."

The pale blue illumination of shadows fell upon Jinwoo's face. He held the handkerchief with gentle pressure while feeling each individual thread without causing any wrinkles. He whispered. "...She's not ready."

Beru raised his head, his eyes flashing with confusion, a rare emotion for a Shadow.

"Your Majesty, but she's weak. She's alone. You can protect her. You have to go-"

"No."

Jinwoo's voice cut in, soft, but the room froze. Jinwoo breathed slowly. His eyes closed for a moment, as if forcing himself. "If I come now, she'll hide."

There was a moment of silence, then Jinwoo raised his head. Those eyes, the color of night, but burning, like a furnace without oxygen, were now locked into nothingness, as if looking through time, through space at you.

"But soon."

He lowered his face to gently kiss the border of the handkerchief.

"She will understand."

Beru said nothing more.

He just nodded, then turned back to the darkness, where the Shadows silently continued to circle Jinwoo, who was holding onto a small piece of cloth as if it was the last piece of his soul that kept him from going insane.

____________________________

You never intended to join this raid.

Today was supposed to be your day off, a rare luxury, when you could sleep until dawn. But then the guild called, the voice urgent on the phone. "We need a healer. Just one more healer. This is a C-rank dungeon, easy to clear, high pay."

You hesitated, but the mention of high pay made your empty wallet feel lighter. Rent was due next week, and the cures weren't much cheaper.

A new group of strangers were standing at the dungeon entrance and you too were standing there. Upon your arrival no one took the effort to learn your name.

"Just stay behind and don't get killed," the leader told you with a dismissive wave.

You nodded silently. You had already experienced this kind of treatment before.

A jagged opening in the mountainside serves as the entrance to the dungeon which appears dark and foreboding. You feel unease rising in your chest as you enter with the group.

Something's not right today.

But before you can voice your concerns, the entrance slams shut behind you with a loud bang. The group freezes, weapons half drawn, eyes wide with shock.

"What the hell?" someone shouts.

Then it happens.

The walls around you glow an ominous crimson, illuminating shocked faces in a bloody light. The earth trembles as you stand on it. A terrifying ancient sound resonates within the cave which produces no resemblance to any known animal roar.

The leader's arrogant tone fades as he utters "A red gate. It's a fucking red gate."

Everyone knew what that meant. There was no escape. There was no rescue. Either clear the dungeon or die trying.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a caged animal. Red Gates were deadly traps. Even S-rank hunters avoided them if they could.

"Move!" the leader barked, regaining his calm with trained discipline. "Regroup, stick to the plan. We'll get through this."

But you could see the fear in his eyes. He didn't believe his own words.

The C-rank dungeon was said to have transformed. The hallways expanded into darkness while the atmosphere became heavy with rotting odors. Deformed monsters emerged from the shadows instead of typical goblins or wolves because they moved too quickly and attacked with brutal force.

The warriors formed a wall of steel and flesh while the mages rained destruction from behind. You do your part, channeling every ounce of your healing power to close the wound and numb the pain.

But it's not enough.

One by one, they fall.

First the youngest warrior, then one of the mages. The leader holds out longer, his sword flashing like mercury until a barbed tentacle pierces his chest. You watch, paralyzed with horror, as the life drains from his eyes.

You run.

It's shameful, it's cowardly, but your body moves on its own. Your lungs burn as you run through the winding passages, the screams of your companions fading behind you.

Finally, you collapse in a small cave, your legs giving out beneath you. Your body hugs the freezing wall as you attempt to minimize your size. Your healing kit lies forgotten beside you, barely used. What good is a healer who can't save anyone?

In the dim crimson light, you see your own hands shaking. Useless. Weak.

You close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The monsters will find you soon. A lone E-rank healer in a red portal - there is no happy ending to this story.

That's when you hear it.

Footsteps.

Not the sound of fleeing monsters or the frantic running of survivors. Deliberate steps moved through the tunnels with controlled pace and sound.

You kept your breath trapped while pushing your body against the wall to avoid detection. The footsteps grew closer. A shadow fell across the entrance to your hideout.

You expected death. You expected pain.

You heard a familiar voice which had been absent for months yet constantly disturbed your sleep. 

"Found you."

Jinwoo waited at the dungeon entrance beneath the red light. But he was different from the wounded E-rank hunter you had saved. His power emitted like scorching furnace heat which felt dark and powerful. His eyes which had previously shown fatigue displayed an unnatural blue glow which penetrated deep into your spiritual core.

"You're...Sung Jinwoo!!?" You whispered.

He stepped closer, and you noticed something strange. The shadows surrounding him displayed themselves as more than simple shadows as they became animated with glowing eyes and sharp edges. His body produced these fluid entities which functioned as extensions that moved with purpose just like natural limbs.

"My Angel," His voice sounded deeper than you remembered while expressing an emotion which escaped your understanding. "I've waited so long."

His gaze produced a deep primal dread within you that differed from disgust. These weren't the eyes of the broken E-ranker you'd saved. The predator's eyes stared at me as he had finally caught his prey following a prolonged hunt.

"This is a red gate!!" Your voice shook as you struggled to understand his arrival  "Everyone's dead. How did you get in? The gate was closed-"

"I turned it red," he interrupted, his voice cold and calm.

Your heart stopped for a moment. "What?"

"I turned the gate red." The shadows moved excitedly as Jinwoo approached. "I want to find you. Alone. Undisturbed."

Horror washed over you as his words sank in. "Y-You killed them? All of them?"

His expression didn't change. "They were in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"Us."

The solitary word remained suspended between us with deep significance. Your legs trembled as you pressed against the wall to stay upright. "Jinwoo, this isn't right."

His face brightened with a disturbing expression that seemed unnatural. "I had specifically wanted this outcome." He revealed his true nature as the person he wished to become. He reached out to you. "And you made it happen."

You shook your head, backing away until you hit the wall behind you. "No. I didn't do anything."

"You saved me," he insisted, eyes narrowing. "When no one else wanted to save me. When everyone else left me to die because I wasn't worth saving. You were the only one who chose to stay."

His next step brought panic as you understood there was no escape. The only escape was behind him.

He spoke in a soft voice while saying "I searched everywhere for you."

A cold realization hits you. "It was you. You were watching me."

His smile widens. "Always. My shadow follows you everywhere."

All the previous experiences in the dreams along with the sense of surveillance and abnormal monster behavior now seem meaningless.

"Why?" Your voice cracks with fear. "Why me? I'm nothing."

Jinwoo makes a swift forward movement with remarkable speed. The wall next to your head receives his first blow as he stands before you then he grabs your chin with brutal force. He glares at you as he says through clenched teeth "You will never say that to me again. You're everything. The only light in my dark world."

His eyes fix directly on yours as his pupils expand showing a strange blue light. His eyes reveal the madness which transforms into his delusional belief of love.

He whispers. "I'll protect you. Keep you safe. Forever."

You struggle to break free from his grip. "Jinwoo, please. You're hurting me."

He maintains his position yet lets go of your chin right away. His touch on your face becomes so delicate that it creates a feeling of unease. "I'd never hurt you. Never on purpose."

Pushing against his chest, you muster the last of your courage. "Give me a break. I want to go."

His face briefly flashes with what appears to be pain. Then it hardens into determination. "You don't understand yet. But you will."

The moment he stepped away you felt a tiny bit of relief but the shadows appeared. These icy chains started at your ankles before they began their slow ascent up your legs.

"What are you doing?" You panicked while attempting to shake off the shadows yet they refused to budge. The objects felt strange because they remained unbreakable as if they combined smoke and stone properties.

"Make sure you don't flee." Jinwoo's head tilted slightly as he watched you struggle with mild curiosity. "I have exercised patience. I can't wait anymore."

A deep rumbling noise spread through the dungeon before the dungeon floor creaked from approaching footsteps. Monsters, drawn by your fear and Jinwoo's strength.

"They're coming," you said desperately. "We need to go!"

"Yes," he agreed calmly. "We must leave."

The cold darkness enveloped you completely when the shadows that surrounded your feet disappeared. Your spinning head combined with blurring vision led to unconsciousness.

Your last vision showed Jinwoo's face with shining eyes while he displayed an evil look of victory.

He said softly. "You can sleep now, my angel. We'll be home when you wake up."

__________________

You come to in a nurturing surface with dim light penetrating the heavy drapes. A few seconds of disorientation sweeps over you regarding which place you have landed. The building you are in does not resemble your cramped studio space with wet roofing and noisy flooring. 

An avalanche of past experiences surrounds you. The red gate. The massacre of your group. Jinwoo's confession.

You bolt up, heart pounding in your chest.

You crawl out of bed, running to the window. It doesn't open. Of course it doesn't. Next, you try the door. It's locked. You use your fists to knock on the door while yelling for help but the heavy wood remains unmoved from your strikes.

You beg for help before you drop to the floor with your back against the door. "Someone. Anyone."

Someone behind you responds with "There's no one here anymore."

You turn around with a startled yelp. Jinwoo stood in the middle of the room, though you were sure he hadn't been there a moment ago. He had changed - now wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look like the CEO of some shady corporation.

"Just us," he continued, flashing that gentle, terrifying smile. "And my shadows, of course. But they won't bother you unless I tell them to."

"How did you get in? The door's locked."

Jinwoo's smile widened. "This is my territory. I can go wherever I want."

You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to put as much distance as possible. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?"

He moved toward you with the gentle pace of a person who wanted to avoid disturbing a wild animal. "I want exactly what I've always wanted in life. You."

"You can't just take people," you said, your voice shaking. "This is kidnapping. This is wrong."

"Wrong?" Jinwoo appeared confused as he examined your perplexed expression. "The protection of personal belongings seems inconceivable to you."

"I don't belong to you!"  Your words escaped before you could recover.

You saw a flash of dangerous predatory energy cross his face before it disappeared again. A quick move had him standing directly in front of you.

"Yes," he said softly and dangerously. "You do."

His hand reached out, surprisingly gentle as it cupped your cheek. You flinched but couldn't pull away - the solid wall behind you.

His words continued "When your light shone on my darkness, your beauty claimed me from that first touch of your hand on my wound. You used to remain beyond my possession."

Shadows curled around your ankles, cold as a winter stream. More shadows gathered in the corners of the room, watching with countless shining eyes.

"But now," Jinwoo's thumb traced your lower lip, "I have all the power in the world. I finally can show my love to you."

You tried to reason with him. "Jinwoo, this isn't love. This is obsession. You don't even know me."

"I know everything about you," he countered immediately. "I know you drink coffee with two sugars but no cream. I know you read science fiction when you can't sleep. I know you volunteer at the pediatric ward at Seoul National Hospital every other Sunday." He looked you straight in the eye.

You experienced a feeling of terror when you understood the full extent of his surveillance. "Did you observe me during this entire period?"

"Since the day you saved me. Every moment. Every breath." His whispered words came closer to your ear. "You're never alone."

Your legs gave way and you slid from the wall onto the floor. His gaze never wavered as Jinwoo sank to his knees beside you.

"Why?" you whispered. "Why this obsession? I barely did anything."

He explained that people had never seen him before because they only looked through him. "People ignored me as if I did not exist. I was invisible. Worthless." His hand squeezed your face lightly. "But you saw me. You touched me without repulsion. You saved me without expecting anything in return."

The desolate quality of his voice approached a state where you almost sympathized with him. Almost.

You began to speak with deliberate intent to Jinwoo "Your current actions destroy all the kindness I have ever extended to you."

Something changed in his expression, hardening like concrete. "You don't understand yet. But you will." He stood abruptly, pulling you to your feet. "I will help you understand."

You pled for freedom while desperately trying to escape his hold. "Please. I will keep this secret between us both. Just let me go."

"Let you go?" He looked genuinely confused by the offer. "Back to what? Poverty? Danger? Being used by groups of people who don't even remember your name?" 

He clenched his fists. "I can give you everything. Safety. Comfort. Power."

"I don't want power," you said. "I just want freedom."

"Freedom is an illusion in this world," he said disdainfully. "The strong rule. The weak must serve or die. That's the truth I've learned."

His eyes softened a little. "But you will never be weak again. Not with me."

Tears welled in your eyes because the worst part was that he was right. In this world of hunters and monsters, of daily survival and constant struggle, you had become isolated. Alone. The perfect victim.

Your voice weakly emitted a single pleasless request. "I just want to go home."

Jinwoo stated in a firm voice "You are already at your home."

You pushed against Jinwoo's chest, breaking free from his embrace. "This isn't home! This is prison!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have bestowed upon you comforts which surpass everything you have experienced before. Safety. Protection. What more could you want?"

"Choice!" you shouted, anger finally overcoming fear. "My own life! Not to be a pet or a possession!"

Something snapped in Jinwoo's expression, the careful control giving way to something darker, more primal. Shadows exploded from his body, filling the room like smoke, eyes flashing from every corner. A sudden temperature drop resulted in condensed breath vapor forming in the air.

Despite the surrounding shadowy scenes he spoke with a composed voice to ask "Do you know what I am?"

Shadows writhed around him like an aura of living darkness. "I command an army of the dead. I can flatten cities. Destroy countries. I am becoming something beyond human."

He moved toward you, each step leaving frost on the expensive hardwood floor.

He whispered as he continued "But you are the one thing I want most even though I cannot acquire you with ease. Your willing acceptance. Your..." he hesitated, searching for the word "your heart."

The darkness retreated a little, shrinking into his body as he regained control. He reached out, his fingers hovering just above your cheek, not touching.

"I could force you," he said softly. "I could use my darkness to bend your will. Make you think you loved me. Make you forget everything else." He let go. "But that would be a lie. And I've waited too long for lies."

You looked at him, trembling. "Then let me go."

"No." The word was absolute, excluding any objections. "You'll stay. You'll learn. And eventually, you'll understand that this is where you belong."

He turned away, walking toward the door. "This room is yours. This entire floor, actually. You'll find clothes in the closet, food in the kitchen. Books. Entertainment. Anything you need."

Jinwoo paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "This world is changing faster than you know. The portal is just the beginning." His eyes met yours, burning with that strange blue light. "War is coming. A war unlike any humanity has ever seen."

He opened the door. "When it happens, you'll understand why I did this. Why I need you to be safe."

"Jinwoo," you called as he stepped through the threshold. "This isn't love. Whatever you think you feel for me - it isn't love."

He paused but didn't turn around. "What is it?"

"Obsession. Possession. Control." You swallowed. "Love doesn't imprison people."

He was silent for a long moment. Then, so quietly you almost didn't hear. "Maybe you're right. Maybe what I feel isn't human love."

Finally he turned, his eyes shining in the darkness of the door. "But I'm becoming less and less human. And whatever this feeling is, it's the only thing keeping me clinging to my humanity."

The door closed behind him, and you heard the lock click.

You found yourself locked inside your elegant prison while an unknown beast used his obsession toward you until he became a grotesque entity. 

 You crashed to the ground while hugging your knees against your body. Outside your window, Seoul went on as usual, unaware of your situation. Somewhere out there, you are being declared dead, another victim of the red gate incident.

No one comes to save you.

And the scariest part? A small, shameful part of you wonders if Jinwoo is right. In a world filled with monsters and gates, daily death and constant danger - is freedom really worth more than his absolute protection?

You push the thought away, disgusted with yourself.

But in the corner of the room, the shadows watch with shining eyes, patient as the grave.

They have all the time in the world. And so do you.

Because Sung Jinwoo, the Shadow Monarch, has decided that you are his. And what Jinwoo has declared, he will keep.

Forever.

__________________________

I'm tired and exhausted af but I can't stop writing

I already know what will happen after this, no inspiration to write -> can't stop writing -> no inspiration

Anyway, hope you like this 💗

[project-sekai-facts]

doubt you'll ever update that tierlist about how canonically attractive the proseka characters are but just wanted to say that shiho is called a cool beauty (alongside haruka and kanade) and l/n meiko is called handsome in the cheerful live party names if that counts for anything

that post is old as shit so i'm redoing it from the top hope you don't mind anon

Tier 1:

Shizuku and Haruka are the most attractive in-universe, this is pretty obvious if you've read some mixed events with them in. Most character's first reaction to Shizuku is to comment on/react to her looks, and a few characters have had this reaction to Haruka too (most notably Kohane). Shizuku seems to be more conventionally attractive, while Haruka is generally described as being cool and handsome. Shizuku is also treated as more attractive generally but Haruka is treated as more attractive than the other characters as well so I let them share tier.

Tier 2:

One of Ichika and Kaito's kizuna titles is "ikemen whilst performing". EN opted to translate ikemen as cool, but it still encompasses the idea of handsomeness.

Mizuki comments on Honami's looks in Caring Companion, and in Honami's Unseen Feelings card story, her classmates say she has an "aura" that might make them fall for her (ty to @/itsgreatmp3 for this one and Saki/Emu/Nene)

One of Ln!Meiko's cc names is "ikemen captain".

Shiho, An and Kanade have a cc team name called "cool beauties". An and Kanade have also both been scouted for modelling.

Minori says that Nene looks pretty in a wedding dress in the Wedding Live event, and also comments on her hair and makeup.

Mafuyu is incredibly popular at miyajo in part because of her looks. She often is given lots of valentines and birthday gifts.

Ena has a social media account dedicated to posting selfies of herself and has a decent following.

Tier 3:

Akito and Toya are called handsome in a puchiseka episode and in the sanrio collab by kuromi. Neither of these are canon but considering they were said about the characters in official media it is probably true.

In the 2021 vday vlive rui mentions getting valentines chocolates in his locker (one could possibly be friend chocolates from Mizuki but he received multiple). Based on the context of the conversation and the gag of it, these were probably given with some level of romantic intent. However, it could just be Tsukasa's assumption. The game also keeps giving him yumebait cards so I think they designed him with the intent of being attractive.

Tier 4:

Minori, Airi, and Kohane are all called cute by various people in-universe. Mizuki dressing cutely is a huge part of her character. MMJ!Luka calls her WxS self cute in a 2022 april fools area convo. She calls herself cute in the same convo. Airi calls Saki and Emu cute in Operation Secret Valentine.

Tier 5:

All the idols can be considered cute or handsome or pretty. Depends on the character. They definitely have been called these things in universe I just don't have specific examples to hand. Whether or not their idol aura affects how they're perceived is unknown, since the idol aura can represent different things based on context. For example, Minori sees an idol aura for Len and KAITO because she's a huge idol fan, but she otherwise only expresses attraction towards women. Akito and Rui see the idol aura from Luka in april fools 2024 because they see her as far more reliable than their sekai's Lukas. Kohane sees the idol aura from Haruka and Shizuku in BFST and Wishing For Your Happiness respectively because she is attracted to them.

Tier 6:

Coming back to the valentines vlive from tier 3. In that Tsukasa brags about getting chocolates from girls after Rui reveals he was given some. However he gets carried away and ends up revealing that the only chocolates that he received were from girls who gave them out to everyone (ie he got friendzoned). That said Asahi seems to like him to the point of using ambigous-but-romantic-leaning language to describe how he feels towards him (or. a character Tsukasa depicted. but up until he said "i fell in love with him" he had been talking about Tsukasa). This was also changed significantly in the English translation. He's also canonically babyfaced (inferred from character design being different to the other boys) but I'm not sure how this affects things.

Men like him, women think he's mid.

[er1nne]

hellooo!

no pressure at all, but i was just wondering if there’s going to be a continuation for “the interview with drew goes viral” (after the part 2)

i really love your writing :)

hope you’re doing okay, have a nice weekend!

drew starkey x reader

summary: it’s been weeks since the interview blew over, and your mornings have finally settled back into something quiet. but one ordinary coffee run at your usual hour turns into something you didn’t see coming.

warnings : none just standard fluff, banner by @anitalenia

word count : about 2k, give or take a few words

author's note : i loveee getting request y'all pretty please send more. hope you all enjoy, lol was not expecting this to be a series but i don't mind

(do not copy or plagarize, original work)

it’s been weeks since the interview. weeks since your phone stopped vibrating with notifications, since your face stopped showing up uninvited in other people’s stories. the buzz has settled, the comments slowed, and your life, somehow, stitched itself back into a quieter rhythm.

the world moved on. it always does. even viral moments, no matter how loud, eventually quiet down. you started sleeping with your phone on do not disturb again, started opening apps without fear of your own face popping up. even the coffee shop barista had stopped asking, “was that really you with drew starkey?” every time you came in for your usual.

and you hadn’t thought about him in at least… a day.

okay, maybe a few hours.

fine. maybe that morning. but in your defense, his voice was everywhere—an ad here, a podcast there, some new trailer playing on loop in the background while you folded your laundry. the internet might’ve let go, but your algorithm definitely hadn’t. and besides, it’s not like you were holding onto anything. it was just a moment. a clip. a like.

nothing more.

you’d replayed it a few times in your head, sure. but only because it was weird, right? not because you were obsessing. not because you could still hear the way he’d said, “you’re good at this,” like it wasn’t just a compliment but a fact. like he knew you needed to hear it. like he meant it.

you told yourself it was all part of the job. the electricity, the nerves, the almost-flirtation that slipped between the cracks of professionalism. actors were trained to charm, and you were trained to stay grounded. or at least, you were trying to be.

still, there were moments—quiet ones, like when you brushed your teeth or rode the bus home from work—where his voice would creep back in. soft. sure. unshakable.

you knew better than to read into it. you did.

and yet.

the bell above the café door jingles as you step inside, the smell of roasted beans and sugar instantly warming your senses. you shuffle into line, tugging your hoodie up slightly and rubbing your hands together. it’s cold, and your brain is foggy from staying up too late scrolling through job emails and watching old episodes of reality tv you swore you’d quit. you’re here out of habit more than anything—this place is your go-to around 9am, that perfect pocket of time when there’s just enough people to feel like a soft buzz of life, but not so many that it’s overwhelming. not so few that it’s awkward if you drop your phone or your charger clatters to the floor. it’s the kind of space where you can blend in, plug in, get things done, maybe eavesdrop a little if you’re bored. you’re already rehearsing your order in your head and wondering if you should finally cave and try the seasonal flavor everyone’s been raving about.

your phone buzzes once in your pocket. some newsletter you forgot to unsubscribe from. you ignore it.

the person in front of you is taking their sweet time deciding between hot and iced, and you sway gently on your heels, eyes scanning the chalkboard menu as if it’s changed since yesterday.

you’re not thinking about him. not really.

okay, maybe a little. maybe there’s a flicker of him in the back of your mind, tucked between thoughts of oat milk and how long it’ll take your laptop to update. but not enough to matter. not enough to make your heart jump.

not until you catch a glimpse of him.

at first, it doesn’t register. there’s a table by the window, and someone’s sitting there—hood pulled low, head tilted down, a book open in one hand and a to-go cup in the other. you glance past him and then back again. your brain hiccups.

holy shit.

no. it couldn’t be.

except it is.

your feet stop moving. your breath forgets how to do its job.

drew starkey. in your coffee shop. the coffee shop you frequent every day like clockwork at 9 am. He's never been here at 9 am. like the universe just spun the wheel of chaos and landed on the most improbable option.

he doesn’t see you. not yet. and you don’t move. don’t breathe. don’t blink.

you consider leaving for a fraction of a millisecond. backing out the door, disappearing into the street like a ghost. but your feet are cement, your curiosity louder than your fear. you’re here now. and so is he.

and if this is just a coincidence—some glitch in the matrix—you’re not going to be the one who turns away first.

your heart drums against your ribs as you take one careful step forward, then another, trying to act normal—even though your version of normal currently includes borderline hyperventilating in line for caffeine.

you glance back toward the window. he’s still there. still tucked into the corner like a secret. hood still low, but his profile is unmistakable now that you’ve seen it—strong jaw, slight scruff, eyes flicking over the page like he’s reading but not really reading. his fingers tap against the side of his cup, and you can tell from the way he shifts in his seat that he’s not used to being still for long.

you wonder what he’s doing here.

this place is your 9 a.m. ritual spot—just enough of a crowd to not feel awkward, but not so many people that it turns into a social circus. it’s the kind of place where dropping your phone or spilling your coffee isn’t met with a spotlight. just a few regulars, some tired students, a playlist that never changes. it’s your hideaway in the chaos.

but him?

he doesn’t belong in a 9 a.m. scene. not because he’s out of place, but because you know he’s never here then. you would’ve noticed. you would’ve noticed.

you’ve heard from the staff—overheard, really—that he pops in sometimes. usually around 11, sometimes at 6. always late, always off-peak, when the shop is practically empty and nobody’s around to squeal or ask for photos. he slips in, grabs his drink, and slips out like a shadow. no fanfare. no trace.

but he’s here now.

and just as you’re wondering why, he lifts his head.

and sees you.

his eyes lock on yours almost instantly, like some part of him had already known you were there. the recognition flickers in his expression—first surprise, then something softer. and then he smiles. slow. cheeky. warm.

you swear your knees actually weaken a little.

he raises a hand, not waving exactly—more like a casual, almost shy acknowledgement, like you’re an old friend he’s bumping into on accident. except you’re not friends. not really. just an interviewer who went viral. a stranger with a mic.

you consider pretending not to see him. just ordering your drink and slipping into a corner, like you do every morning.

but then he stands.

and your brain short-circuits.

he pulls his hood a little lower, adjusting the bill of his cap as he walks over, glancing around like he’s making sure no one else has clocked him. when he finally stops in front of you, it’s like the whole room gets quieter.

“hey,” he says, voice low and almost bashful. there’s a smirk playing on his lips, but his hands are in his hoodie pockets like he’s trying not to fidget. “you always come this early?”

you blink. for a second, you’re sure you heard him wrong. your mind scrambles, trying to reconcile the fact that drew starkey—drew starkey—remembers you. remembers this. it had been one interview. one night. the clip hadn’t even gone viral. you weren’t even sure he’d looked at you long enough to lock in your name, let alone your routine.

the surprise must flicker across your face, because his smirk curves up a little more—sharper now, like he caught you off guard on purpose. your breath catches. he remembers me.

you try to play it off, smoothing your expression as your voice finally catches up. “uh—yeah. yeah, every morning. kind of my ritual.”

he nods, shifting on his feet. “i figured. i’ve been coming later. eleven-ish. or evenings. easier to go unnoticed.”

you raise a brow, teasing. “guess you didn’t expect to get caught slippin’ today, huh?”

his grin grows, sheepish but not embarrassed. “nah. i was feelin’ risky.” he leans in a little, voice dropping like he’s telling a secret. “figured i’d finally see what the hype was about with the early crowd.”

you laugh, more at the way he says it than the actual words. it bubbles up, unfiltered, and his eyes linger—like he’s trying to memorize the sound in real time. there’s something kind in the way he looks at you. focused. like the rest of the world blurs a little when you’re the one in front of him.

“well,” you say, arms folding loosely in front of your chest, “i’m flattered that my caffeine schedule is what convinced you.”

he shrugs, leaning back just slightly, but the smile stays. “it wasn’t just that.”

your heart stutters. something warm spreads across your chest like sunlight through fogged-up glass. the moment stretches, held by something invisible and quiet between you.

he tilts his head, then gestures with a chin nod toward the counter. “you got a second? i was just about to order another. figured we could… catch up?”

you nod before your brain even has time to catch up. “yeah. yeah, sure.”

“cool,” he says, already turning toward the register before looking back. “what’s your order? i’ll grab it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” and there’s no hesitation. no performance in it. just the kind of soft insistence that makes your stomach dip.

you tell him your order—your usual—and he repeats it under his breath with a little grin, like he’s pocketing it somewhere in the back of his mind for later. when he steps up to order, you catch yourself smiling. like, really smiling. and the worst part is, you can’t even pretend to be annoyed about it.

he returns a few minutes later, balancing two cups and the smallest possible smirk.

“hope i got it right,” he says, handing you your drink. “this place has a million milk options. i panicked.”

you take a sip, trying not to look too delighted. “nailed it.”

he looks stupidly proud of himself. “guess i gotta come earlier more often.”

you raise a brow. “what, just in case i’m here?”

he holds your gaze, lips quirking. “i mean, clearly the early crowd has its perks.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s hopeless. you’re already cheesing. just a little.

the two of you settle into a table in the corner—your usual one, and he doesn’t even ask before gravitating toward it. the conversation is easy, smoother than you remembered, even with the chaos of the last few weeks between you. he tells you about a new role, you mention something vague about work, and then suddenly you’re laughing again—at something dumb he said, or maybe just the way he said it.

you glance over your cup, trying to hide your grin. “you really don’t mind being seen like this? just… out in public? with me?”

he shrugs, glancing around. no cameras. no whispers. just the quiet murmur of people too busy living to notice anything out of place.

“it’s not so bad,” he says. “kind of nice, actually.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he says, eyes on yours. “besides, if i get caught, i’ll just say i was here for the coffee. or…” he pauses, leaning back a little, like he’s testing the waters. “maybe i’ll say i was here for the girl who always comes at nine.”

and that’s it.

that’s the line that gets you.

because it’s dumb. and bold. and a little bit cheesy. but it’s him. and it’s real. and it’s the exact kind of moment you’ll end up thinking about later—when you’re brushing your teeth, or walking home, or lying awake at 2 a.m. wondering when the shift happened. when something that started as a clip turned into a conversation, and now maybe something a little more.

you look at him over the lid of your cup, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

ahh got it! let’s flip the tone to match that dynamic—she’s the regular, he’s the one switching it up for her. here’s a revised version that keeps it cute and slightly cheesy, but true to their roles:

“guess you might have to start showing up at nine more often.”

his smile tugs up slow, like he’s trying not to make it obvious how much he likes the idea.

“yeah… i’m starting to think nine might be my new favorite hour.”

he glances at you over his cup, eyes warm.

“funny how that works.”

[titans-and-jla-mini-fics]

Batman gives a good example as to why he has the contingency plans he has to the Justice League. This isn't hate to any of the heroes in this either. I love the JLA, but after reading many of these comics and watching the shows I can see why Batman has these plans, prep times and slight paranoia of those he sees as friends or associates. Also I'm a big fan of Aquaman too so... Fair warning there's some Aquaman praise in this.

Batman turned his back on the Justice League members who were scolding him, their voices rising as they told him to get rid of his contingency plans or at least make them less brutal. Ignoring their protests, he whistled sharply, the sound cutting through the tension in the room.

With that, he strode purposefully toward the window in the JLA meeting room, determination in his step.

Batman: You know, when four of you got Jokerized and attacked me, I was recovering from fear toxin. That made things even worse that day.

Batman went silent for a second, the other members backing away until only Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman remained front and center.

Batman: I don't like having to fight you, but I almost died that day. I actually feared some of you, and that’s saying a lot since I rarely take you seriously. You were in hospital beds for two weeks, wearing those sick, twisted smiles and completely unmoving. I could've been killed if I didn't have my plans. You could've died yourself from the Joker toxin and God knows the damage you four could do to your own cities.

Batman cracked his neck and took a deep breath. Wonder Woman looked down at the floor, ashamed. Flash frowned, his shoulders slumping. Superman struggled to find the right words, and Aquaman felt the same weight of the moment.

Batman: I have these plans so you don't kill me. I have these plans so you don't kill the people in your cities. I have these plans to protect everyone on Earth! I want to not have them and I do see you as... friends... Associates.. colleagues to a degree, but you haven't given me a good reason to put my life on the line for any of you.

No one spoke for a few seconds. Superman cleared his throat hopeful what he said wouldn't sound bad.

Superman: I mean if you could just make them less intense.

Green Lantern (John): Man, that was actually the worst thing you could've said.

Batman turned to face the group, his expression neutral, but the fury inside him was boiling over. He was at his breaking point, the metaphorical water slipping from the pot. While he regretted having to raise his voice, he felt he had no other choice.

Batman (shouting): I am a Justice League member and I will work with you, but if you don't stop pestering me about my contingency plans, I will go insane and I am taking you all with me!

Most of the Justice League: …

Batman: If the next person who talks says something that I find even a little irritating and makes me have those insane people's thoughts, I'm taking away every single vending machine in this building as well!

Aquaman: Hey, just speaking for the group here, but you seem to be going through some stuff and we're exacerbating that frustration. You're still mad at some of us for getting Jokerized and attacking you.

Batman: Which led to me contemplating death more and losing my memory.

Aquaman: Yeah, we said some rude things.

Batman (deadpan tone): Wonder Woman said she always hated me.

Wonder Woman: I wasn't in my right mind.

Batman: Superman talked like Bizarro and almost killed me.

Superman: I am really sorry about that, buddy.

Batman (glaring at the speedster): Flash… go to hell, Barry.

Flash (saddened): How come mine wasn't descriptive?

Batman (to Aquaman): And you ... I actually find you pleasant when you're not insane so I'm not that mad.

Wonder Woman: Why did that wound me?

Aquaman: While I appreciate that, you have every right to not trust us for a while. You saved us and kept us safe while we got better. I can't believe what I'm about to say... Batman, after what I went through, I get why you have those plans.

Batman: You do?

JLA members: You do?

Aquaman: I do now. Batman, first, thank you for saving us after we went Joker levels of insane. I'm sorry for attacking you and all the awful things I said which weren't true. The others are sorry as well.

Batman: You're forgiven, I wasn't mad at any of you since you weren't in your right mind that day, but my contingencies are what I keep for a reason.

Aquaman: I don't blame you, they came in handy; you got us an antidote before we got worse and although my face hurts from smiling that much, I'm glad that I'm better now. If it weren't for your incredible paranoia and quick thinking, I wouldn't be back with Mera and my son. For that, I am eternally grateful and again deeply apologize for dismissing your plans earlier.

Batman blinked, crossing his arms, secretly relieved to hear this, even if he did get called paranoid. That paranoia had helped him in the past.

Everyone else stared at Aquaman, some at how charming he was, the others annoyed he was siding with Batman. Superman was just jealous.

Wonder Woman: I often forget you're a king until you start talking like that. Impressive.

Aquaman: I'll take that as a compliment. Batman, if we hold back on criticizing most of your contingencies can you give us a tenth chance?

Batman closed his eyes, mentally debating what to say next.

Batman (clearing his throat): Apology accepted, Arthur. Thank you for understanding my plans. I can find it in my heart to give you all a hundred and twentieth chance. But don't mess it up.

The JLA members nodded, voicing their gratitude for the second chance. Batman sighed, feeling a headache forming.

Aquaman: Alright, thanks. Now, will I see you for movie night this Friday?

Superman: Movie night?

Batman: Yeah, I don't find you nearly as annoying as everyone else. Especially Hal.

Hal Jordan: I didn't even say anything! And I didn't even attack you!

Superman: You don't find him nearly as annoying as everyone else? I'm not included in that am I?

Batman: Most of the time.

Batman walked past the group, heading out the building.

Superman: Most... Most of the time? Okay I can accept that, but look at him! He looks like a surfer dude! No offense Aquaman.

Aquaman: That's not an insult to me, thanks for the compliment.

Flash: Hm, I see it now.

[jackce]

I was commissioned by a mysterious person to work on 6 Prussia themed months 🖤🤍🖤 First is February was inspired by Valentines day ofc, but the main focus is Prussia's dissolution 😭 (That's a funeral flower arrangement, he's a prisoner after WW II and has just been informed of his fate) I wrote an small one shot in case you want to read it, it's Prussia's POV (English first / Español al final):

FEBRUARY

— The celebration is not on time, true, but you still have to look presentable.

I didn't ask what was so special about celebrating Valentine's Day on the 25th, in the Soviet Union they don't even celebrate that date, they said it's because it is a capitalist invention, but if you ask me, I think it's because they don't understand what love is.

Is not like I wasn't curious while they cut my hair the way it was when I arrived, while they shaved my beard and handed me a suit that could barely hide the kilos I've lost. But I learned the hard way not to open my mouth too much, something that I'm sure everyone who knows me would have wanted impossible. Ivan is miraculous, I suppose.

— You'll receive the visit you've been waiting for, see? I'm not as bad as you think — Still, Russia seemed eager to pique my curiosity.

"He's playing with me," I tried to convince myself. But when I mentioned it to Ukraine after she brought the first decent meal in years to my cell, she reacted with joy.

— It's your brother for sure!

She doesn't know, but even though my heart twisted with joy, the hope was painful.

But two years had passed already... And even though Russia had played me in other ways, it was the first time he tried too hard to make me look presentable, as if he wanted to cover up the dealings he's been having with me. "You're the only person who has a villain role and who he can vent to," Belarus had excused him once.

I tried not to think, but I still couldn't get rid of that bad habit. I was going to show myself to someone, that was for sure. But who? Maybe it wouldn't be one of us... Maybe just a politician, or even some errand boy. But... What if it was West?

Surely my brother had been asking about me all these years, if there's one thing he has, it's that he's tireless. I'm sure he hasn't given up, I'm sure this little meeting is the fruit of his efforts, just a glance to know that I'm fine, that despite the division of my territory, that every day I'm more just a name... I'm fine.

— I'm fine, West —I murmured to the broken mirror they lent me, joining the theater that Ivan wanted so much to present. Despite everything, I didn't want to worry Ludwig... I didn't want him to see me with pity.

— Let’s go. —Russia in person came for me, and for the first time in a long time I left my cell without chains or ties to hinder me.

He took me to a dining room where three places were set, my heart tortured me again when I confirmed that it was a visit.

Ivan asked me to sit down while he went to get the guest, he knows well that I no longer try to escape, besides, I don't want to escape, not now that I'll see...

— West... —I got up as soon as I heard the door open.

But it was just Russia, his victorious smile.

“I'm so sorry, it seems he's had other more important matters... But don't worry, he sent you a present.” He was hiding something behind his back, but I could see the flowers from there.

I managed not to make any expression, neither anger, nor shame, nor sadness, I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing that his stab was accurate. Braginsky didn't wait for me to say anything and showed me the decoration of lilies and chrysanthemums. It was a wreath that followed the shape of a heart, a ribbon with my name crossed through the center...

I must have lost the ability to hide my emotions, because the smile of the man in front of me widened.

The funeral arrangement could only mean one thing...

... I'm not even a name anymore.

----

FEBRERO

— La celebración se atrasó un poco, sí, pero tienes que estar presentable. No pregunté qué tenía de especial celebrar San Valentín el 25. En la Unión Soviética ni siquiera celebran esa fecha, que por qué es un invento capitalista, pero si me lo preguntan creo que es por qué no entienden lo que es el amor. No era que no sintiera curiosidad mientras me cortaban el cabello a la manera en que lo tenía cuando llegué, mientras rasuraban mi barba y me entregaban un traje que poco podría disimular los kilos que he perdido. Pero aprendí por las malas a no abrir demasiado la boca, algo que seguro todos los que me conocen habrían creído imposible. Iván es milagroso, supongo. — Recibirás la visita que tanto esperabas ¿Ves? No soy tan malo como crees — Aun así Rusia parecía ansioso por pescar mi curiosidad. "Está jugando conmigo" intenté convencerme. Pero cuando se lo mencioné a Ucrania luego de que trajera a mi celda la primer comida decente en años, ella reaccionó con felicidad. — ¡Seguro que es tu hermano! Ella no lo sabe, pero aunque mi corazón se retorció por alegría, la esperanza fue dolorosa. Pero habían pasado ya dos años... Y aunque Rusia había jugado conmigo de otras formas, era la primera vez que se esforzaba demasiado por qué yo me viera presentable, como si quisiera tapar los tratos que ha estado teniendo conmigo. "Eres la única persona que tiene un papel de villano y con quién puede desahogarse", lo había excusado Bielorrusia una vez. Intenté no pensar, pero aún no lograba quitarme esa mala costumbre. Iba a mostrarme ante alguien, eso era seguro ¿Pero quién? Tal vez no fuera con uno de nosotros... Tal vez solo un político, o incluso algún recadero. Pero... ¿Y si si era West? Seguro que mi hermano había estado preguntando por mi todos estos años, si algo tiene él es que es incansable. Seguro que no se ha rendido, seguro que está pequeña reunión es fruto de sus esfuerzos, solo un vistazo para saber que estoy bien, que a pesar de la repartición de mi territorio, que cada día soy más sólo un nombre ... Estoy bien. — Estoy bien, West —Le murmuré al espejo roto que me prestaron, uniéndome al teatro que Iván tanto quería presentar. A pesar de todo, no quería preocupar a Ludwig... No quería que me viera con lastima. — Andando —Rusia en persona vino por mi, y por primera vez en mucho tiempo salí de mi celda sin cadenas o ataduras que me entorpecieran. Me llevó hasta un comedor donde estaban puestos tres lugares, mi corazón volvió a torturarme al confirmar que se trataba de una visita. Ivan me pidió que me sentara en lo que iba por el invitado, sabe bien que ya no intento escapar, además, no quiero escapar, no ahora que veré a... — West... —Me levanté en cuanto escuché que la puerta se abría. Pero solo era Rusia, su sonrisa victoriosa. — Lo siento mucho, parece que ha tenido otros asuntos más importantes ... Pero no te preocupes, te mando un regalo —Escondía algo tras su espalda, pero podía ver las flores desde allí. Conseguí no hacer ninguna expresión, ni rabia, ni vergüenza, ni tristeza, no iba a darle el gusto de saber que su puñal fue certero. Braginski no espero a que dijera nada y me mostró el adorno de lirios y crisantemos. Era una corona de flores que seguía la forma de un corazón, un listón con mi nombre atravesado al centro... Debí haber perdido la habilidad para ocultar mis emociones, por qué la sonrisa del hombre frente a mi se amplió. El arreglo fúnebre solo podía significar una cosa... ... Ya no soy ni siquiera un nombre.

[sheyfu]

speak of the devil

pairing. pro athlete isagi yoichi x podcaster reader (fem)

summary. speak of the devil and he shall appear in the form of a man named isagi yoichi

includes(s). established relationship, mentions of flashing, non-lore accurate events, the use of pics w real ppl (these dont depict any of d characters in here!!), my stupid ass mentioning bastard munchen as its irl counterpart i cri (lets ignore that please), lmk if i missed anything else!!

note. this is relatively short bc i literally have no idea how to flesh this out \\ i had a vision but that vision didnt translate into this but we ball

yourusername recently added to their story!

[caption: ‘speak of the devil’ airs in an hour !! thanks to all my lovelies for helping me w the set!! (also peep the new home set up 😮‍💨 lets hope nothing goes wrong 🙏)]

anriteirei replied to your story: thanks so much for inviting me!! i’ll be there soon!! (also sorry i wasnt able to help w/ the set up DD:)

yourusername HII ANRII!! don't worry about it^^ how could i make my guest help me with setting up D: 😆 by anriteirei

isagiyoichireal replied to your story: can i crash your podcast

yourusername do it for the clout isagiyoichireal ure such a user 🙄 👎 by you

bachismegurugerald replied to your story: CAN U INVITE ME NEXT PLSPLSPLSPSL !!!!

mikagereo14 replied to your story: I will pay you 40,000 yen to slander Isagi Yoichi on live and call him slurs

chihyo has replied to your story: IM SO EXCITED 😻 by you

themuse.studio recently added to their story!

[caption: A few minutes more until @.yourusername goes like with @.anriteirei ! Any guesses on what they're going to talk about? 👀]

isagiyoichireal me

user34 MICHAEL KAISER PLSPLSPSLPSLPSL

user89 About how Blue Lock was basically prison.

bachismegurugerald will they talk about my monster?

mikagereo14 Can you please tell [name] I'm going to pay her 40,000 yen to slander Isagi live and call him slurs 🙏

user023 your mom

user12 Can we hear about [name]'s skincare routine

—

yourusername has recently added to their story!

[caption: thats a wrap for 'speak of the devil' ! thank u sm @.anriteirei for joining me in today's EP !! love u lots mwa 💛 (also this is what actually happened after we ended the live 🫶 i am never going to talk about my boyfriend on live television ever again!!)]

isagiyoichireal sorry for crashing your podcast! but look everyone!! look at my girlfriend!! isn't she the prettiest? we've been together for 8 years :DDDD can u believe that!!!! tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername i hate you. 💓 by author

user85 this is a monumental event we should have a holiday for it

mikagereo14 I WILL GIVE U 40,000 YEN TO BREAK UP WITH HIM

isagiyoichireal mikagereo14 just bc ur man left u doesnt mean u need to be a hater nagiseishiro isagiyoichireal lol mikagereo14 A bunch of BULLIES

isagiyoichiupdates i hope u know im still not over this. 💓 by author

isagiyoichiupdates oh.

chihyo congrats i hope u make me best man thnx xx

bachismegurugerald does this mean im invited to the next episode????

yourusername bachismegurugerald sure

isagiyoichireal bachismegurugerald depends

user909 speak of the devil fr

itoshi_rin u guys r cute or whatever 💓 by author

celebritycentral recently added to their story!

tagging: @whatisnureotypical, @itoshivy, @lalaufey, @levihanmyotp, @katzline, @imhere2dosomething, @rybunnie, @definitelynotanalien, @arwawawa2, @anqelkoz, @duckydee-0, @sugacor3, @deidre-marie, @saekisserfr, @koffe-anon, @irethepotato, @yukari1k, @vampireg1rl, @luvlynabi, @paleocarcharias

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, you can either access the taglist below! thank you and hope to see you there <3 (GUYS WE'RE GROWING ILYASM AAAAA)

© sheyfu on tumblr

[taesanluv3r]

how do you think idol!woonhak and nonidol!reader met? i love ur little series for them🥺

tysm for ur ask!!! i havent had the motivation to write in a while but this ask made me think of the cutest scenario >3< hope u like it!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the way we met.

trainee/soon to be idol!woonhak x non-idol!reader

no warnings, cutesy fluffy stuff! lowercase intended. pls excuse any spelling or grammatical mistakes.

wc: 1,579

starts under the cut!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ding~

the bell above the cafe door rings, alerting the single employee working there and the two customers sitting inside that a fourth person had just walked in.

the barista, who stood behind the counter, lifts her head up to greet the boy who had entered. "hi, welcome to bread and butter! what can i help you with today?" she asks, her voice the perfect balance of confidence and charm. "hi! ummm..." he responds, then pauses to read the menu placed above both their heads. she uses this time to examine the guy in front of her.

this was the first time she'd ever seen him. strange. working part-time in that little coffee shop for the past two years, the girl thought she had practically met everyone who lived in the area - he must be from somewhere else. come to think of it, he did look a bit different from everyone else. his hair was evidently damaged - maybe he had bleached it before - and he wore a mask that covered half his face - strange, considering the virus had ended over a year ago at this point! he wore an adidas tracksuit, the top and pants a matching black set, and he looked like he had just worked up a sweat - ah! he probably came from that dance studio nearby...that makes sense. most of the kids her age that hung out around this otherwise old-people area all came from that dance studio...i mean, there's really nothing else around here to do anyways. if it weren't for the fact that she had to care for her lonely grandmother, she wouldn't choose to live here either.

"um...excuse me?"

the male voice shook her out of her head. "huh?" she responds, eyebrows furrowed. "yeah, um- i'm ready to order now...sorry, you were kind of zoning out" his sentence ended with a little giggle, still muffled from the contact of his lips to his mask. for some reason though his smile was crystal clear, maybe cause his eyes squinted into little crescent shapes as he spoke - or maybe, it was the fact that he had such a happy-sounding voice in general.

"oh! sorry...force of habit...what was it that you wanted to order? sorry" she rambled, her cheeks tinted red from embarrassment. "i'll have one iced americano and an almond croissant, please" she nods, beginning to input his order into the screen in front of her. "and would that be dine in or take out?" there was a moment of silence as the boy thought shortly about his answer. "i'll eat here, please" they share another silent nod. "alright, here's your total, just tap your card or phone when you're ready" the boy pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping the backside of it against the 'tap to pay' machine.

"alright, take a seat wherever, i'll bring your food out in a second!" - "alright, thanks!"

the boy settles down in the table closest to the barista bar. he removes his mask as he takes in his surroundings. he had never been to this place before, despite practicing at the nearby dance studio for a while now. one of his friends recommended it to him, said the coffee was delicious and the barista working there was just as sweet as the pastries. he agreed with that, eyes wandering over to the girl who expertly began to press and drip his iced americano into a glass - she must've been working here long, everything she did in the bar looked so natural. her hair was tied up in a little bun, and it bounced along with her as she walked over to the tray of croissants. the brown apron she wore fit snugly around her waist and not after long the boy catches himself staring - only a second after she had caught him too.

"alright...here's your iced americano, and your almond croissant!" the barista girl - who doubled as the waitress today - smiled, placing the coffee and pastry onto the table. "wow~ thank you...er- huh..." the boy's puzzled expression confuses her. "what's wrong?" she asks, wondering if it were something she did or had said. "oh! sorry, i was just searching for your name but you don't have a name tag. and i've just- i've never met a barista with no name tag" he laughs awkwardly, this time his smile is fully visible. the girl scans his whole face for the first time, "...cute"

"what?"

her eyes went wide. "shoot! did i say that out loud?" she mentally slapped herself in the face. the boy laughs, amused at her sudden confession. "sorry...what i meant was that...um..." she didn't know what to say, so he spoke for her. "that you think i'm cute?" he asked, a snaggle-toothed smile still holding onto his lips. the girl sighed, pressing the serving tray against her chest in defeat. "yeah...i guess you are pretty cute- what are you, a trainee?" she giggles, shaking her head as if her words were so totally far from the truth.

"and what if i am?" he asks, lifting a single eyebrow up in question. "then...then i guess it'd make sense. i've never seen you before, but i've met some kids from the studio nearby- they say a few idol trainees practice there and i mean you're fit, handsome, and you kinda have that star quality vibe so...i guess...yeah"

the compliments laced in her speech-like ramble made the boy feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "well you're right, i am a trainee" the girl smiles, feeling prideful from her correct assumption. "cool! well, um...enjoy your croissant and...good luck! you know, with the training and stuff...hope you debut soon!" he shot her one last toothy grin, before she returned to her counter. "thanks"

for the next hour or so, the boy remained seated in the little coffee shop. he had finished up his croissant, and was about to finish the rest of his coffee too. the whole time he was sitting there, he couldn't help but watch the barista girl at work. he watched the way she smiled warmly as she greeted customers, the way loose ends of her hair would fall against her cheeks as she prepared cups of coffee, and the way she would occasionally steal glances at him, making them both shy as they looked the other way.

the guy only decides it's time to leave when a banner appears brightly on his phone, alerting him of his next practice hour. as he goes to swipe the notification away, another one comes in. a text from his friend, the same friend that had recommended this cafe to him before.

sanghyukie hyung: yo can u get me an iced choco to go plz. and dongmin wants an iced americano. thx 😁

he sighs, rolling his eyes as he replies with a single letter.

k 🙄

the boy gets up, making his way back to the counter. "hey, what's up?" the girl asks, a smile on her face. "hey, can i get an iced choco and an iced americano to go, please? i have to head to practice but my friends asked me to get them drinks while i'm here" she nods, finding the defeated expression on his face quite cute.

"okay, just tap when you're ready!" the barista girl says, pointing to the payment machine. "yup" the trainee boy replies, tapping his phone against it. "oh! and i'm gonna need a name for those drinks" she says, grabbing a sharpie from the pen holder to her right.

"oh, right! it's woonhak." there's this little glint in her eyes when he speaks, like she was a lot happier to learn his name than she should be. "okay then, your drinks will be ready soon!" - "yup, thank you"

just about 7 minutes later, the sound of his own name being called out nearly made the boy jump out of his skin. "iced choco and iced americano for woonhak!" he got up from the chair in the waiting area, and walked right up to the pick-up counter. "here's your drinks to go, enjoy- or, tell your friends to enjoy" she giggles, and he smiles (again. they're a very smiley pair). "thank you...um..." he trails off, eyebrows furrowing again. "oh! wait!" she exclaimed, catching him off guard as she disappears below the counter. she jumps back out a seconds later, "tada~" she cheers, pointing at the spot on her apron right next to her chest. the boy laughs, moving closer to finally learn the name on her tag.

"ah...thank you, yn"

there was something about the way he said it that made her stomach do flips. "you...you're welcome" they stared at each other for a bit, their gazes lingering - as if the rest of the little coffee shop was moving in slow motion. "um- well, uh...i have to go back to practice now...thank you, again" woonhak laughs softly, finding it silly how shy he was being around her. "right! um...fighting! come again soon" he nods, "i definitely will"

"it was nice to meet you, woonhak" the barista girl says finally, possibly the warmest smile she had ever smiled on her face. the trainee boy reciprocated, "right back at you, yn" waving softly as he began to leave.

little did the two smiley idiots know that this would be the start of a very sweet romance.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

THANK U AGAIN FOR THE ASK!!! haven't written in what feels like AGES so this was such a good way to get back <3 i think this little scenario suits hakie sm TT speaking of hakie HAVE U GUYS SEEEEN THE CONCEPT PICSSS they all look so good, cant wait for this cb!!!! thx again anon for giving me writing material :3 luv u! love, kona.

[lemonsummersoda]

back to friends

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: you and rafe cameron were something undefined—more than friends, but never lovers. after leaving the outer banks behind, you try to move on at college, but some memories refuse to fade. when you see him again at a party, everything you try to bury rises back to the surface. some love stories never get a name, but they leave a mark.

content warning: slow burn, drug use, overdose, emotional distress, toxic relationships, and family conflict. 18+

notes: hello! this is my first time writing, and english is not my first language. i'm still learning, so it might not be perfect—but i hope you enjoy it. feedback is very welcome, and i’d really appreciate it if it’s kind and useful. thank you so much for reading! (I just finished watching Normal People, and I wanted to write something sad 😔)

"I want us to pretend we don't know each other," rafe cameron's voice echoed in your ears as you sat dazedly on his bed, still holding his hand—until he gently pulled away. you looked up into his eyes.

"I don’t think i can do that, Rafe," you said quietly, weariness clinging to your voice. your relationship with rafe had always been undefined. more than friends, but never quite lovers. statusless. secret.

rafe looked away, then down, rubbing his face with his hands like he was just as tired as you were. "please," he whispered, eyes flicking back to meet yours.

you stared at him, wounded. you’d always believed birds weren’t meant to be caged. he wasn’t yours to hold onto.

"I won’t forget you," you said at last. "you can ignore me all you want, but i won’t forget us."

•

a new season arrived. the start of the term. you and rafe were both in college now.

you hadn’t spoken since you left whatever you’d had behind in the outer banks. you’d thrown yourself into your studies. you were smart. once antisocial, you had slowly learned how to open up.

rafe was on campus too. you knew that. you’d seen him sometimes—passing by, catching glimpses, cheering him on from the bleachers during football games. he was popular. rafe was still rafe.

•

one weekend, a close friend invited you to a party. you didn’t like loud noises. you didn’t like crowds. but you told yourself one night out wouldn’t kill you.

you wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans—simple, understated, but still attractive.

you sat on the edge of the room, tucked away on a sofa, watching everyone around you. people dancing, laughing, drinking, flirting, fighting. life moved around you. you sipped cheap wine from a red plastic cup and scanned the room.

"hi, what's up?" you heard your friend call out to someone walking by. the disco lights made it hard to see, but when he sat down beside you, you recognized him instantly.

rafe cameron.

"hello," you said softly.

he looked at you, as if gauging your reaction.

"Oh, right! this is Y/N," your friend said, gesturing between you. "She’s from the Outer Banks too."

rafe gave a tight, awkward smile, lips twitching. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rafe Cameron."

you let out a small, bitter laugh and downed the rest of your wine.

"Nice to meet you," you replied, voice low, eyes turning away.

but the memory of him—and of you—still lingered, sharp and unforgotten.

•

"What's your next plan?" your voice was soft as you asked rafe. you were lying on his stomach, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair. he moved it to lightly squeeze your cheek as you lay sprawled across his bed.

"I don't know, maybe drugs?" he joked, earning an eye roll from you.

"Seriously?" you turned to face him, unimpressed.

rafe met your eyes for a second before sighing. "Probably doing business."

he didn’t say much about ward. the name alone made his mood shift too easily. you knew better than to push. instead, you shifted upward to wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest.

"I'm gonna miss you, though," you mumbled playfully.

rafe leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head.

but later, you were screaming his name.

"Rafe! Rafe!"

you shook him, slapped his face, tried everything—but he wouldn’t wake up.

he had passed out on the couch, a pile of cocaine sitting on the table nearby. he was stressed—had been arguing with ward more than ever. you were terrified. terrified that he was dying right there in front of you. he was overdosing.

within minutes, the ambulance came and rushed him away.

that was the incident that pushed ward to send rafe to college. he thought it might teach him a lesson—give him a reason to live. find purpose.

rafe had asked you to forget him.

not to tell anyone about his messed-up past.

and you didn’t. it was easy.

he needed you.

but he also believed you deserved better.

Y/N, who always deserved better.

rafe cameron believed money could fix everything.

he’s not clean. not really.

he's still using.

still dealing.

college students? they’re no different.

teenagers are teenagers—chasing popularity, parties, girls.

it’s all fun and games.

until he sees you again.

rafe noticed you the moment you walked into the party.

he went to greet one of your friends, keeping his cool, before your friends pulled him deeper into the chaos.

part of him wanted to wrap his arms around you, tell you he’d missed you every single day.

but another part—the darker, heavier part—didn’t want to drag you back down with him.

How can we go back to being friends When we just shared a bed?

How can you look at me and pretend I'm someone you've never met?

thank you for reading! i know it’s not fully developed yet, but i’ll work on it. ♡♡♡

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (16) - We are Alphas

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 16 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 6,822

Work count for Story: 130,009

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, Alphas fronting, and discussions of the past. There are cuddles in this one, figured it was needed after the last chapter. FYI, I swear the Bangtan boys wrote this chapter, not me!

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Sit down, Taehyung-ah,” orders Namjoon just as the tiger hybrid is about to get up and follow you to your den. “You already have given her enough to deal with. Tailing after her could very well push her in a direction, and with how things are, we don’t know if it will be a good one or not.”

With a frustrated sigh and a pout, Taehyung says, “I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He then turns around and leans against the couch instead—his thoughts, along with everyone else's, spiral in several different directions. The internal loud silence that fills the living room reveals how flustered and perplexed the seven hybrids are. 

“Can someone please convince me that our ladymate didn’t just tell us, in a roundabout way, that she wanted to stay with Hyung and me this morning?” Jimin asks in a soft but desperate voice. His fluffy, striped tail switches between an excited swishing to a nervous flicking motion while he waits for someone to agree with him out loud. 

Unfortunately, his request is met with an even louder silence. Their thoughts, having agreed with Jimin’s, have played out more than what would be considered an unhealthy amount of possible outcomes from that particular situation. While this seems to be a step in the right-ish direction, the pack is still in what they consider unstable and uncharted territory. 

Well, to be honest, this whole situation was uncharted territory for the seven of them because their new mate was A—a female and B—a human. So much information has been gathered in such a short time that has to be processed and addressed, but how? When?

Those who went to the pack meeting with your Family pack haven’t had the chance to share what they learned with the rest of the bonded mates, which allows them to have a better understanding and even more desire to soothe, heal, and support you. However, it was agreed that they would wait until they could guarantee privacy from staff. 

As the silence continues in the living room with their minds occupied, their ears intently focus on you. They can’t hear anything from your den, which indicates that you, like them, are a bit off-center about this meeting, or so they hope. 

After what seems like an eternity, the soft padding of your footfalls finally indicates that you have reached some point in your thoughts that allows you to move and not be frozen. It allows a release of the tension surrounding the bonded mates. As the energy becomes less heightened, Jungkook crawls into Yoongi’s lap with a hand stroking Taehyung’s hair, seeking comfort. The soft exhales from some of them break the silence, along with the rustling of clothes as they relax into their seats. 

“I think,” hesitantly starts Hoseok. “I think we need to do a few things with her. We can’t just keep thinking that she is fully educated on hybrid customs and behaviors like our past playmates because she isn’t. She isn’t educated properly, nor is she a playmate.”

“I also think she needs to learn to love herself more,” frowns Hoseok, his eyes drilling holes into the carpet.

“You noticed that, too? I think her family did an excellent job of crushing any kind of self-awareness or self-love for herself,” Yoongi says with a hint of snarl in his voice. “As her Alphas and her mates, it’s our job to ensure that she not only understands how exquisite she is to us but she also needs to see it with her own eyes.”

Nodding, Hoseok adds, “I think I can help that. I mean with my self-image issues from before, I have a personal perspective on what it’s like to experience that kind of pressure, more or less. Also, maybe in time, I can use some of my shibari skills to help with not only her body image issues but her trust as well.”

A collective hum comes from the pack. It’s been several years since Hoseok fought his demons when it came to his looks. For Seokjin and Namjoon, when those pictures of their mate bound in a mask find their way back into circulation because Army does those ‘glow up’ or 'where they started’ comparison shots on TikTok or Instagram, the feeling of failing to support their mate as the leader and the oldest surfaces.

As Jimin sits more comfortably in Seokjin’s lap, he looks at his mates confidently before offering assistance, saying, “I could teach her about nesting, specifically what it means at the hybrid level with all the differences between a den nest and a pack nest, along with the boundaries and such?”

“That is a good idea, Jimin-ah, but you must be delicate about it because of her past,” warns Hoseok. “You can’t just burst in and take over. I don’t want us to treat her like a kit, but at the same time…”

“Her ideas and thought processes are similar to how you were when you first joined us because you were both raised with misinformation or misguidance on acceptable behaviors,” says Yoongi. “I am not sure why her mother’s side of the family would have even associated her ‘blanket forts’ with a nest, though. I guess it was just too close of a behavior.”

Looking at Jimin, Yoongi continues, “I think she can learn a lot from you and Kook-ah. However, I think that, based on how you were raised, you might connect with her better.”

Unlike Jungkook, Jimin doesn’t necessarily like to discuss his past because it is something that he would very much like to forget. It took him almost a year to share details with his bonded mates. Now, lost in his thoughts, Jimin wonders if he should be upfront and detailed about it with you or just allude to what happened.

Jungkook whines at the thought of being unable to connect with you on a deeper level, prompting Taehyung to push against the bunny hybrid’s hand in his hair, saying, “Don’t worry, Kookie. You already have a connection with Y/n that is stronger than the rest of us. I think you might even have a better connection than Yoongi-hyung does.”

Tilting his head up from Yoongi’s lap, Jungkook peers over the arm of the couch at Jimin and snarkily says, “Speaking of my level of connection with Y/n, apparently it isn’t strong enough to garner an invitation into her nest.”

All eyes look to Jimin with hints of jealousy and curiosity, but mostly envy. Putting on a sly smirk and leaning into the eldest’s hold, the memory of your body tangled with his is still fresh in his mind, causing his scent to spike with sweetness. Jimin curves his body against Jin in a way that he knows will get his mates going, but the soft nip from Seokjin on his shoulder makes Jimin roll his eyes and shake his head, saying, “She had a nightmare about her past and the nest.”

“I had decided to sit on guard outside her door because I wanted to be the first mate she saw when she woke up due to what happened when I stepped on Taehyungie’s tail and ruined your night, Namjoon-hyung,” the red panda explains. “I knew something was… wrong when she had gone to sleep on the window bench, not the nest I made for her.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to reassure the younger, but the slight shake of Seokjin’s head stops him, allowing Jimin to continue, “It hadn’t been long before I heard her softly crying and making pained noises as if she were being attacked. When she didn’t respond to me calling her by name, I entered her den and saw…”

Jimin pauses with a gulp. “I saw her in the tiny ball crying, clutching her stomach and whining. I literally had to shake her awake. She took a moment to realize where she was and who I was, but the next thing I knew, she was in my lap,” recalls Jimin. “She didn’t want to talk about it then but wanted the pack meeting to discuss everything with everyone.”

“While this is all and good to know, it doesn’t explain how you ended up sleeping with her,” flatly says Taehyung, who gets a smack to the back of the head by Yoongi. To which he whines, “well, it doesn’t.”

Giggling at the two, Jimin nods, replying, “You're right. When I asked her why she didn’t sleep in the nest when she returned, she answered that it was too perfect to sleep in. So, I carried, not without her complaining of her weight, over to her nest and put her inside.”

“She seemed still tense and expressed how we are so close that she doesn’t want to ruin anything. I explained that she wouldn't ruin anything because she wasn’t a typical playmate but she still didn’t relax in the nest. It worried me, so I… ah… well, I tested the bond,” Jimin says, trailing off. 

Shifting to look at Jimin better, Seokjin questions, “Jimin-ah, what did you do?”

“Please tell me you didn’t push yourself on her?” Hoseok asks darkly.

“No! I…” Jimin scoffs. “I asked her if I could join her in the nest. I even told her she could say no, but she didn’t. She relaxed almost immediately, even while keeping a respectful distance aside from holding her hand.”

“You didn’t look so respectfully distant when I found you together this morning,” pointed out the eldest.

“I will get to that,” Jimin rushes out with blush-tinted cheeks. “I shared a bit about our past with playmates. I figured it would help her not to feel so vulnerable with me so close, and it worked because when I went to leave, she asked me to stay. After a rather cute and telling discussion of sleeping arrangements, she had me sleep between her and the door for protection, under the blanket for warmth, and facing each other, but she didn’t give a reason.”

Tilting his head, Jimin continues, “I think it was mostly because she doesn’t want to over step but after today that may change. Anyway, she warned she moves alot in her sleep and I am pretty sure that is how we ended up so entangled.”

“She smelled interested when I joked about having to tie her down if she became a human tornado, Hobi-hyung,” Jimin says, wiggling his eyebrows.

With that, Hoseok grabs Jimin’s hand to head up to his den to discuss how to enact their part of the plan and check to see if Hoseok even brought his ropes with him on this trip—only pausing long enough to look to Namjoon for permission to leave the pack meeting. 

Taking in the more relaxed scents of his mates, aside from a spike of nerves and arousal from various makes, Namjoon thinks there isn’t much more that can be done right now. Standing, the Prime Alpha says, “Since Y/n left, I believe the pack meeting can conclude. I encourage everyone to reflect on what was discussed, and if you have a suggestion on how to help or have concerns about anything, you can always reach out to me.”

Seokjin heads to the kitchen to keep busy. Baking is one of the ways he can zone out to process things while still feeling like he hasn’t checked out of being a good mate. Some fresh cookies, non-chocolate, sound like a good idea and can be made on autopilot, or maybe making something for lunch would be good.  Opening the fridge, the eldest Alpha decides to make lunch and cookies while he deals with everything from finding Jimin in your bed to the topics of both meetings. 

Yoongi pulls Jungkook into his lap more, and the two cuddle into a ball. The attentive jaguar hybrid praises the youngest Alpha for being brave and sharing his past with their new mate. Jungkook blushes and buries his face into Yoongi’s neck with his little fluff of a cotton tail wiggling happily. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall into a light nap as they bask in each other’s warmth after the emotionally draining morning. 

Taehyung appears to be deep in thought. The influx of information has affected him more than he outwardly shows. His tail twitches out from under the couch in flicks as his thoughts bounce from one fact to another. He knows that hunting down the ex and the abysmal excuse of a family you have isn’t allowed, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining all the ways he could nor what he would do once he has his claws in them.

Namjoon watches Taehyung with concern etched on his face. After taking in his lack of movement and the warmth of his ebony scent, Namjoon doesn’t think the tiger will do anything, so he leaves him be– for now.  Even though Yoongi is focused on their youngest and napping, Namjoon trusts him to wake up and react if Taehyung’s scent changes. The Prime Alpha also trusts the others to help by reining the quick-tempered tiger in or seeking help if anything arises. With a soft sigh, Namjoon decides this might be a good time to discuss a few more personal things with you.

Making his way to your den, the wolf hybrid strains his hearing to try and pick up your heartbeat and breathing since your stressed-out scent is still lingering in the hall. He leans into his instincts as an apex predator and an Alpha to ensure you are, at least physically, in a good spot to take visitors. Unfortunately, it doesn't let him know if you are emotionally or mentally ready for it.

As he listens to your gentle, measured breaths and your calm, rhythmic heartbeats, Namjoon knocks on the door. The rapid footsteps approaching the door make the Alpha question if you had been expecting someone. When the door swings open, Namjoon offers a friendly smile and adopts what he hopes is an open posture to indicate that his visit has a positive purpose.

“Oh, Namjoon, I wasn’t,” you start to say, seemingly caught off guard that he is the one who came. “I mean, is everything okay? I know I kinda rushed out of there. I didn’t even close the pack meeting, I just more or less bolted which isn’t proper of me. I should know better, I mean, I do know better.”

“Y/n, Angel, everything is good. I think the meeting was a good idea and we covered a lot of… deep topics,” He answers, trying to reassure you. “May I enter your den?”

Jumping slightly and scooting out of the way, you gesture for him to enter, saying, “Of course, how rude of me. Sorry. Umm… you may sit where you wish, Alpha.”

“No need to be sorry. I just wanted to have some…” Namjoon’s voice trails off as he walks in and sees your Jimin-built nest on the bed. He can tell that it’s been used, which gives him a sense of pride because you must find their sense comforting and, hopefully, safe. He knew you slept in it, but seeing it hits differently.  Taking a slow, deep breath, he inhales the scents from the nest. The mixture is much richer since adding your sweetpea, almost as if it had been absent the whole time.

You leave the door slightly ajar and turn to face Namjoon. With a tilted head and raised eyebrow, you ask him, "Some?”

His eyes flick between you and the nest before he smiles. Walking to sit on the window bench, he continues his train of thought, “Some time to speak with you again, minus the flashing lights of the red carpet and the other packmates. That is, if it is okay with you?”

“Sure, I will always try to find time for our Prime Alpha,” you answer, missing the flash of forest green eyes at the subtle but unknowing claim you said. As you pull one of the pillows from the window bench to sit on the floor, Namjoon gently tugs on the other end, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gestures to the space beside him. Smiling shyly, you pause mid-squat and sit beside him on the window bench. 

Turning to face you, the Alpha looks at you in a way that makes you feel like he is looking through you. It is a look you have seen from Derek and Evie when they are trying to figure you out without actually asking you. His breathing is steady and deep, which tells you he is trying to catch how your emotions are by your scent. Luckily for you and him, your scent is soft sweetpea with the undertone of vanilla, showing that you are no longer flustered or anxious from the pack meeting.

“How are you feeling? After the pack meeting?” asks the Prime Alpha, his instincts leading him to ensure he understands your scent's basics. “Your scent seems to be almost neutral. I assume my being in your den is why there is a perfumed edge to your natural sweetpea.”

Sitting up straight, you shake your head, arguing, “No! I don’t have a problem with you being in my room… ah den. I mean, you are the Prime Alpha and it is your packhouse that I am in. So, you have every right to be able to come into this space.”

“Actually, no. That isn’t correct,” frowns Namjoon. “I will say this, and Jimin will get more into the depths of it later: your space is your space. At any time, if you want to be left alone or not to allow any of us to be allowed into your den you have that right.”

Holding your hand between his two larger hands, he looks at you with a serious but warm gaze. “This is every bit your packhouse as it is mine, Yoongi-hyungs, or any of us,” he says, stroking his thumb across your hand. “You have a voice as strong as any of us regarding your comfort, well-being, and needs.”

Your eyes widen at his statement and cause you to shift in your spot. Swallowing, you shyly smile and answer, “Umm… I sort of got that impression. I know myself well enough to remind myself this is all a temporary thing, but sometimes, with how you all talk, it’s like… I don’t know, Namjoon. It’s just different.”

He has to bite his tongue and try his hardest not to correct your perception of ‘this thing,’ which is very much not just a thing nor temporary. Namjoon wants to confirm that no shit it’s different because you are their mate. He decided it was best not to get into that issue right now with everything you have heard so far, but he is afraid that you won’t hear it from him in the right way if he told you it to begin with. He already botched this once; he doesn't want to do it again. After a moment, Namjoon redirects the conversation to one of the reasons why he came in. 

“I wanted to thank you for attending the Gala with me last night,” Namjoon says while looking at your still connected hands. “I also wanted to commend you on how well you handled the situation with the carpet. I should have been in better control of myself but, then again, I haven’t ever taken a… a playmate to an event alone before. That was a first for me.”

Your scent fluffs a bit sweeter as you smile at him. “Thank you, Prime Alpha. I had hoped I did the right thing. I didn’t realize how much my scent would affect you, or I would have tried to keep it calm or turn it off, not that I know how to do that,” you say with your smile faltering. “That was a first for me too, the LACMA Gala and the Alphaing out thing. I am just glad that Jennie-ssi and Jung Jae-ssi were there to show me where to go.”

The memory of Namjoon's koalaing to your back causes you to giggle, which makes said Alpha look at you with a raised eyebrow, and you can’t help but laugh more. “You, ah, got very clingy. You reminded me more of a Koala hybrid than a Wolf hybrid then,” you smile. “It was cute and calming.”

A faint blush colors Namjoon’s face as he pulls his hands out from holding yours. You, however, reach out and hold his hands in yours instead. His eyes are looking at you with a hint of shock and curiosity.

“Namjoon, Prime Alpha,” you start with a soft expression, hoping your scent conveys your sincerity. “I know we started on the wrong foot. Not just you and I, but the whole pack and I. How I became your playmate wasn’t ideal, but it was what you thought was best for your packmates at the time.”

Namjoon goes to jump in, only to have you cut him off and continue by saying, “I know Hoseok thinks you need to grovel and beg me for forgiveness, kinda like how Taehyung is doing, but as the Luna of my family pack, I understand why you did what you did, more or less.”

“No, Y/n,” quietly says Namjoon with a slightly pained look. “It was wrong of me. Utterly wrong of me.”

Now it was your turn to be cut off from trying to excuse him out of feeling guilty when Namjoon stood up and walked away. Without turning back to you, he says, “There is so much… I mean, there are things your family has taught you about hybrids that are a bit awry. I am sure that your family pack has tried to help teach you more things but then again, it’s hard to change something that someone has lived with their whole life.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shifting in your seat. “I know about hybrid stuff. I don’t know about Alpha-specific things, but I can see if I can take a class for that. I am sure PMS will pay for it.”

Shaking his head, Namjoon turns to face you. He looked to the ceiling and ran his hand through his hair, stopping to scratch the back of his wolf ear before he answered, “You have a pack full of Alphas that are more than happy to teach you more accurately than any class will. Jimin-ah said he would enjoy teaching you the hybrid way of nests and boundaries. Hoseok has some ideas about other things, and I am sure the rest of us will find our things to show and teach you.”

“We,” Namjoon pauses, mumbling something about why words do not seem to work well around you before he looks at you and continues, “We don’t want to push you too far too fast, and I am worried we might. Please remember that you always have the right to stop anything we do. If any of us make you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to come to me, and if it’s me, you can talk with one of the hyungs, okay?”

You look at the floor with scrunched brows. “Why is that a recurring thing with you?” you ask, looking up at him with a very concerned look. “Every time we talk about something or do something, someone brings up that I can stop things and say no. Are you trying to make sure I know or are you all trying to remind yourselves that I can?”

Your accusatory tone and the point of your question take back Namjoon. It makes him pause and stare at you as your scent turns more into its perfumed side, meaning he has done nothing towards settling things with you and only makes you worry more. Rubbing his hand down his face, he lets out a low growl of frustration at himself.

Knock Knock

Namjoon spins around to your door, his growl deepening at the interruption before he sees Seokjin standing there. With a huff, Namjoon stops growling, and his shoulders sag at seeing the eldest mate. 

“I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready,” Seokjin says with narrowed eyes and a slightly turned head as he takes in Namjoon’s reaction to a simple knock on the door. Looking past his Prime Alpha, he takes in your stiff posture, instinctively making him take a deeper breath. 

Namjoon’s leather smells like it has been left under the sun for too long, and it mixes with your perfumed sweetpea, but there remains the hint of the vanilla mate scent. Shaking his head, Seokjin steps inside your den to stand beside the wolf hybrid, who follows his movements with a pleading look. 

Putting his arms around Namjoon, Seokjin looks at you with a soft smile. “I take it the pack meeting didn’t stop in the living room?” he asks.

You roll your eyes in an almost agreeing movement, turning your head away from the two. Namjoon just lets out a soft whine and leans into the elder mate. “I see,” says Seokjin. “Well, there have been a lot of deep discussions and apparently unanswered questions or mixed feelings remain.”

“You got that right,” you mumble under your breath. Both hybrids hear it. Namjoon looks at Seokjin with wide eyes. His scent turns more into a burnt version. 

With a sigh, Seokjin maneuvers Namjoon to start heading out the door, instructing, “Joonie-ah, go and gather the pack for lunch. I am sure our muscle bunny has probably already started, but get the rest to settle in. Y/n and I will join in a few, but don’t wait.”

Opening his mouth to object, wanting to help resolve what he assumes is another fuck up on his part. Seokjin raises his eyebrow and holds up a finger, causing the Prime Alpha to close his mouth and quickly walk out of the room. His actions pull an amused hum from you, bringing the eldest hybrid’s attention back to you. 

Looking up, you look back down quickly, saying, “Sorry. Never thought I would see a Prime Alpha back down and leave without a word like that.”

“Oh,” giggles Seokjin with a wave of his hand. “Namjoon is the Prime Alpha but every once in a while he needs his Hyung to get him to listen. He really is a lap puppy under all that tough, leader persona.”

Noting that your scent hasn’t changed much, even with Namjoon leaving, Seokjin asks, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

Looking back at the eldest hybrid, you think for a moment. Are you okay? Technically, yes, you are, but you are also full of questions that keep zipping around while feeling lost but not at the same time. A tap on your forehead causes you to blink your eyes and quickly lean back when you see Seokjin just inches from your face. 

“I lost you for a bit,” comments Seokjin. “Are you hungry or do you think you can wait for a bit?”

“Umm, well, I am not starving,” you answer. “Why?”

“Good, come with me,” Seokjin said, grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet and out the door. In a booming voice, he yells, “Jungkook, Yoongi! Nesting room, now!”

Hissing at him, you say, “Jin! They are eating, what are you doing?”

“Just be a good girl and come with me,” he smirks. The sound of chairs scraping and shouts of agreement come, but your brain is shorting out on two simple words– good girl.

You have been called many things before in your lifetime, but a good girl has never been one of them, at least not that you can remember. The tingles that it gave your brain decided to trickle down your back like a teasing caress, and that was something you weren’t expecting. Then again, after only being around these men for about a week now, you should be used to the unexpected. The question you will have to unpack later is, was it the name ‘good girl,’ was it how Seokjin said it, or was it because Seokjin said it that caused that reaction?

For Jin, your scent doesn’t give away your internal reaction to those words as much as your sudden lack of resistance does. Glancing over his shoulder as he leads you down the hall to the nesting room, he can see your eyes have fallen to your feet while your cheeks have become rosie.

Inside the nesting room, Seokjin sits you on the edge of the nest and kneels at your feet. After looking at your soles, he shakes his head, grabs a wet wipe from one of the drawers, and starts wiping off what you think might be grass and dirt from your walk outside this morning. Seokjin was muttering something about dirty feet and Taehyung having a heart attack if he knew as he cleaned you up.

While he is doing that, Yoongi walks in, followed by Jungkook, who is still holding a sandwich. Both seem to pause for a second before the perfumed sweetpea hits them. With a shared look, Jungkook quickly scarfed down the sandwich and ran to the kitchen to get everyone bottled water and the mango package they had the staff bring just for you. 

Without a word, Yoongi moved into the nest and rearranged the pillows and blankets. After smelling the hint of leather and the state of your scent, his goal was to lessen Namjoon’s presence in the nest while still keeping it there enough that you would start to associate it as something safe. Pulling Jimin’s, Taehyung’s, and Hoseok’s scents towards the middle, hoping to give you a subconscious signal that your mates are with you right now. 

You watched everything happening with a soft smile. It didn’t take much to recognize that they would try and use contact comfort to help you collect your thoughts or at least slow them down. Evie’s family would do this with you often, as contact comfort was one of the most helpful in settling the scents of packmates. The idea that their wordless agreements and understanding of the situation were so in sync when it came to something like this with you made your heart warm and your scent to fluff with vanilla and a hint of pear. 

Once Jungkook was back, your feet were cleaned, and the nest was remade. Yoongi curled up to the far back of the nest while Jungkook and Seokjin stood outside in front of you. 

Putting down his snacks, Jungkook looked at you with concern, asking, “Sweets, is everything okay? Your scent is kind of confusing.” He takes a deeper breath before continuing, “It’s like, you are not rejecting what happened, but worrying about it? Yet there is something else but I don’t know what it means.”

Before you can answer, Seokjin answers, “She and Joonie had a talk in her den. I think our handsome mate still hasn’t learned how to speak without putting his paw in his mouth around a certain lovely lady.”

Yoongi grumbles from behind you before he reaches out with a hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you back into the nest. “Namjoon-ah needs to stop trying to fix things without talking to one of us,” comments the jaguar. 

“There really wasn’t anything to fix, though,” you retorted as you scooted back and centered yourself in the nest. “I told him I understood why he made me your playmate and that he was just looking out for you guys, and you could have sworn I told him that I didn’t think hybrids existed.”

“Then, when he told me about the plan to have you lot teach me the ropes about Alphas and I guess what it means to be a hybrid, he reminded me yet again that I can say no,” You huff pulling off his bathroom, which is trying to strangle you as it catches on the nesting materials. “I mean, how many times does he or any of you need to say it? Like, I got it. No means no; it always has.”

“Dear, Namjoon was only trying to ensure or reinforce that boundaries aren’t a problem,” Seokjin reiterates, to which you huff and throw the robe out of the nest. All three hybrids pause, watching as if throwing it aside signifies something more important than merely removing it and stopping it from being in the way. 

“Oh yeah, reinforce for who? I asked him,” You start to sass. “If the reminders were actually for me or him.” That garners a low, skin-tingling growl from Yoongi; meanwhile, Seokjin and Jungkook look like you just said something unexpected. 

“Princess,” growls Yoongi. “We. Are. Alphas. We are not like those trashy, self-indulgent, egotistical, unethical humans who hold the unfortunate claim to being male because they possess the right chromosomes.”

Shifting you further onto your back and leaning over you so that he is inches from your face, upside down, Yoongi continues, “But that is all they are– male. They are not men; they will never be considered an Alpha. It would be wise for you to remember that you are surrounded by Alpha men. Understood, Princess?”

Internally, you are yelling at yourself for the rush of arousal that floods your system at his nonpermissive tone of voice and darkened expression. Your scent flaring with sweetness as your vanilla mate scent thickens like a syrup, signaling the two less dominant mates in the room know that they can relax.  

You start to nod and pause when Yoongi’s eyes narrow slightly at your moments. Swallowing and licking your lip, you softly say, “Yes, Alpha.”

A smile softens his face at your reply. Slowly, Yoongi leans down, kisses your forehead softly, and mutters, “Good girl, Princess.”

There you go again, a tingle down your spine at the use of ‘good girl.’ Guess you now have your answer to the question. Apparently, the term caused a reaction because it has now happened to both Seokjin and Yoongi. God, you are gonna need to learn how to stop acting like a hormone-driven teenager around these “Alpha Men,” or you are gonna lose your job. Seriously, how do playmates do this day in and day out?

“Maybe they are just used to it? Not all of them can resist having some kind of attraction, or the partner rut contracts wouldn’t be a thing,” answers Jungkook, his ears standing tall and listening intently to everything.

You snap your head up, almost hitting Yoongi, and as you look at Jungkook with wide eyes, you ask, “Did… how much did I say out loud?”

Tilting his head, causing one ear to fold in half, with slight confusion, he slowly says, “How do playmates do this… day in and out? Did you not want an answer?”

You giggle softly and try to play it off, “I guess, I did. I just didn’t think I said it loud enough for you… umm… to hear.”

Jungkook smiles, happy to have answered your question with his exceptional hearing skills. “I can hear hushed things. It’s all part of being a prey hybrid. As a rabbit, I can hear something up to two miles away, but typically, the sound has to be in a higher pitch.”

You nod and lay back down, glancing up at Yoongi as he lies along the wall before looking at Seokjin. Seokjin and Yoongi snicker at your attempt but say nothing. 

Kneeling in the nest, Seokjin taps your leg, saying, “In your den, it seemed to me that you just need a moment to exist. Based on your actions, I also noticed that Yoongi and Kookie are your safe packmates in Bangtan.”

“I was thinking, you can take some time to lay in a proper nest with your two protectors and either relax, ask questions, explore your dynamic with them. Whatever you need right now,” offers Seokjin. “I will be here as well just to help facilitate, in case one of their Alphas front.”

“Oh, umm… Like a grounding session?” you ask to clarify. 

Seokjin smiles, agreeing, “Yes, a grounding session. Typically, as hybrids, we also scent the packmate that is the focus of the grounding session but that is entirely up to you.”

Jungkook inquisitively approaches the nest, asking, “Is it okay for me to come in? Can I lay at your back? Please?” His eyes look more like a doe than a bunny, which causes you to smile and nod because how could you deny such a simple request?

Excitedly, Jungkook hops into the nest and quickly gets in his spot behind you as you lean on your side, giving him space. While you spot Yoongi moving to take his place in front of you, you don’t notice Jungkook taking off his shirt. When Yoongi leans into your chest like a big kitten, nuzzling along the collarbones that peek out from your tank top sleepwear, you feel warm skin against your shoulders. You try to move away, but the weight of Yoongi on your chest and Jungkook’s arm wrapping around your waist stops you. 

Both of your protectors know they are pushing their actions a bit, but after the pack meeting, they are hopeful they can. At this point, all three hybrids can smell the spike perfume as they settle around you, but they wait to see what you will do. It takes only seconds for that perfume to dissipate and become more like the floral notes of jasmine. 

Yoongi instinctively purrs at the happy scent of you as it surrounds him, mixing with Jungkook’s snickerdoodle and hints of the pack from the nest. Jungkook’s cotton tail wiggles at the change in your scent—the feeling of finally having you in his arms where you belong adds to his elation. 

Seokjin, on the other hand, breathes a sigh of relief that you subconsciously or instinctively decided to accept their bolder moves. Not only is your personal scent showing your acceptance of their contact comfort, but the mate scent remains consistent and syrupy. Show each of them that your bond with the bunny and the jaguar has, in fact, grown. 

However, experiencing intimate contact with Jungkook can be slightly intimidating, especially with the entire pack home and two in the same room. It is unexpectedly reassuring once you take a moment to stop to remember the discussion from the pack meeting and then start feeling. The warmth of Jungkook’s body melding with your back is more pleasant than expected. The presence of a hybrid-sized heated weighted blanket, which Yoongi has become soothing, allows your mind to divert from the racing thoughts. 

Relaxing into their hold, you adjust to lean more against Jungkook, who happily accepts by pulling you closer at the waist. Your arm drapes over Yoongi and rests below his neck, between his shoulder blades. With a small break in his purring, Yoongi scoots closer since you moved away from him, causing your hand to slide up his neck and into the base of his hair. His furry ears twitch and almost flutter at the feeling as his purring increases. 

Taking that as a good sign, you slowly scratch at his scalp almost absentmindedly as you breathe in the spring rain of Yoongi’s petrichor and Jungkook’s sweet but spiced snickerdoodle. Your mind slowly becomes a buzz of peace and calmness you haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s not long till your soft snores are heard over Yoongi’s purring.

Seokjin finds his way around, where he knows his bonded mates can see him and catch their attention. Much to Seokjin’s prediction, he has the attention of a golden-yellow-eyed Alpha and a smokey grey-eyed Alpha. His tender and proud smile blooms at the younger Alpha’s comforting, caring, and protecting their ladymate. 

“Alpha Yoon, Alpha Kook,” Seokjin greets. “I will step out and let the pack know our Ladymate is being cared for and not to worry or bother the three of you. I will be in and out to check on you guys.”

Alpha Kook nods and pulls you closer to himself, wanting you to stay comfortable and warm. Alpha Yoon, however, looks at Seokjin like he wants to say something as his eyes narrow at the older bonded mate. 

“Yes, Alpha Yoon?” asks Seokjin, attempting to prompt him into speaking his mind. 

With a broken purr, Alpha Yoon demands, “Bring Tae. Must serve mate. Keep warm. Stay close.”

Seokjin’s eyes light with understanding. “That’s right, Alpha Yoon. Taehyung is in service to Y/n right now,” affirms Seokjin. “I will send him in next, but I will ensure he knows you two are in charge of this right now.”

After Alpha Yoon thinks about what Seokjin said, he nods and snuggles closer, prompting Seokjin to stand quietly and leave the nest in search of the pack—specifically, a tiger to send in and a wolf to have a serious discussion with. 

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[forgive00]

mutual aid request for a disabled trans person trying to survive after escaping DV and homelessness!!!! please share and reblog!!! 🍀🌱🧿

goal: 0/600

cashapp: $skyrimhead

venmo: rabbitknife

read below for more information please! thank you 🤍🤍🤍

hi, as some of you may already know, i am a domestic violence victim who in late february fled my former home after being assaulted by my abuser and becoming homeless. an extremely wonderful DV organization in my area took me in, and i had been living in a shelter until two weeks ago, when i was given an opportunity by this organization to acquire a studio apartment with the first three months of rent paid by them, while i look for a job (i was fired from my previous position because my disability unexpectedly got significantly worse and i asked to have my schedule reduced slightly so i could seek medical care). this has been amazing and i cannot stress enough how grateful i am to them, and to everyone who has helped me get here.

unfortunately, i drained my entire savings account while moving in due to buying household supplies and stuff like bedding, cleaning supplies, etc. this is currently how much is in my bank account as of 4/22/25:

i have food stamps so im not concerned about groceries, but i do need to buy more cleaning supplies, and have some money set aside for upcoming bills and also paying for transportation, i currently dont have access to a car anymore and have been relying on uber and friends who offer rides, and if i get a job that isnt in walking distance from my apartment, i need money to be able to uber to work until i can buy a car again.

i want to have at least 400 set aside so in case of emergency i can still pay rent, and about 150-200 left so i can buy cleaning supplies, pay for my hrt, pay for medicine to manage my disabilities, pay for doctors appointments for my disabilities, pay my bills, pay for transportation, and also caulk and advion to seal my apartment from pests and also kill palmetto bugs.

anything left over, or any extra money im given, will go towards helping me get things like wifi (im living off of data currently) shelving and lamps and such so i can make this space more functional.

it would also go towards fixing my laptop which is currently broken, so i can work from home more easily and not have to keep using library computers. i am very disabled and walking and standing for long periods of time is extremely strenuous and painful and has even led to partial dislocations for me before, and i dont want to risk doing it more than is necessary, the more i can do from my home, the better.

if you cannot donate, i humbly ask that you share this post by reblogging it or sending it to others. if youre interested, you can dm me and i can talk to you about offering something of equal value in return for your donation, such as a commission.

if youve read all of this, thank you so much, and i hope you have an amazing day 🤍

[bangtanjjks]

Hi hello friends. You would not believe the effort I went into to get back into this account to post this rant. So today, I was mindlessly working and said, "Ah, it's kinda hard to look for non-mc lads fics on ao3"

AND THEN! My friend just go, "Babe, get a check on that internalized misogyny before it went out of control."

?!??!?????????

internalized WHAT?

Internalized misogyny?!?! Where did that come from? Then they explained to me that I like non-MC fics because I want to imagine myself with the love interests so I'm jealous of MC and saw her as my rival and enjoyed reading fics where the MC is villainized. Hence internalized misogyny.

When I tell you my whole face is just a big question mark. No?? Where did that come from? And then I look up online and it seems like my friends belief was common?

But mayhaps I'm just a freak? Maybe I'm just a wee little masochist who loves my fanfic served bone searingly cold and bitter with enough angst and pain to kill a Victorian era maiden via heartbreak?

And what better way to get a dose of that but from non-MC fics? The insanity of doing something (falling in love with the LIs) over and over again expecting a different outcome (them not falling in love with and choosing MC) until there's nothing left of you but an empty husk of a person who's been heartbroken one too many time. The tragedy of knowing how the story ends but hoping against all hope for you to be enough to change the course of fate only for it to happen as how it's been destined anyway ??? THOSE kind of exquisite angst can only be found in a non-MC fic y'know. Or maybe a fic from an LI's POV where MC ended up with another LI.

And even if the non-MC ended up with the LI, there's still potential for pain from the uncertainty, the questioning of how long will this last? Is this a forever thing or would fate step in and fix it as how the storyline should be? Chefs kiss.

So imagine my surprise when my own friend thought I like reading non-MC fics out of envy for MC ??? Bro that's my girl. I like reading fics about her being happy but I also like mentally damaging emotional pain in my fics y'know.

Besides, I distinctly remember reading a viral post about Caleb being a favorite LI because MC was his first, because the current main plotline was their first life together (this post was made in January before his myth), and so he chose her for her, not because of a memory of a long dead woman or any other destiny. He just chose MC (kinda wonder how that OP is feeling now after his myth was released lol). The point is, when it's an LI choosing MC without any prior ties or life with her it was seen as sweet AND YET when I want to read similar story just from another perspective it's internalized misogyny?!?!? Be so for real bro...

Anyways. I hope everyone's been having a good 2025 so far, stay safe and healthy friends (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

[the-gilded]

Hi everyone, here's a bit of a life/progress update for everyone following. I wish I had more to share right now, but I hope there will be more coming soon.

I've posted several times that Chapter 2 is coming soon, and I really have wanted that to be true, but I haven't quite been able to bring myself to finish it. I did recently manage to finish drawing new official art for each of the ROs, so here's a little preview of that (sorry, I wish I was better at drawing consistently):

Also, if you want to hang out and/or watch me talk about games I love, you can find me live on Twitch sometimes:

http://www.twitch.tv/faedrian_

Further explanation/vent/plans below:

As far as why I haven't managed to finish writing Chapter 2, it's just because my life has been sliding downhill for a pretty long time now, and it's hard to find the motivation to write anything nice when I feel this bad.

I guess I noticed things getting worse last year, after I caught Covid in February. I was sick for about a month, got really depressed, lost a lot of weight, developed new complications with my endometriosis and my eating disorder got a lot worse. Around the same time, I realized that my relationship was beginning to fall apart. I've been with my partner for ten years, and it hasn't always been stable, but I've fought hard to keep us going together even when things got rocky. Last year, they decided that they needed to start cutting stress out of their life. That led to them breaking up with me twice - both times, I begged them to stay and keep working on our relationship. I was terrified by the possibility that they could just end our relationship and take my whole life away from me, forcing me to leave my home and lose everything I've built especially when I was at such a low point already.

A few weeks ago, they decided to break up with me again, and right now it's looking like it's for real this time - they signed a lease with some friends the day after breaking up with me, and decided that they would just leave me to fend for myself so that they wouldn't be burdened with the "responsibility" of caring for me any longer.

So, I'm currently facing down the reality that I will likely have to give up the whole life I've built up over the last seven years of us living together. I don't have anywhere to live here - all my friends and family are hours or even days away by car. I was in the middle of searching for a new job when the breakup happened this time, but now I guess I can't really take a job here if I'm going to have to move away. I can't afford to live on my own even with the new jobs I was applying for, and I wouldn't feel safe by myself either. I've always lived with my family or with my partner. I may be moving across the country in the next two months - going Northwest to live with some friends that offered to find a place together, and my best friend lovingly offered to pay my moving expenses. I have no money in the bank (in fact my account is overdrawn as I type this), so this is all very stressful right now. I'm hopeful that I'll find a way to work things out, to get myself settled, and to find the will to be productive with my games again.

As far as plans go:

I've been making plans to start up a Patreon and Discord once I have at least a couple months of content backlogged - it would include Beta reading access for The Gilded and my other game jam projects, BTS previews of some other, larger projects I'm drafting, monthly SFW and NSFW sketches and short stories as voted by the Patrons, and eventually a tier to get your OC written into The Gilded. If that's of any interest to you, let me know! I think it would be really good for me to see people engaging with my content again, and I could honestly use the motivation.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for following as long as you have. I still love and intend to finish this project, I just need to get through this dark place to find the light on the other side. 💜

[levanterhaze]

── coup de foudre, HYUNJIN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 artist!hyunjin x f!reader mentions of sadness and anxiety. there are scenes of discrimination that can cause triggers. the rest is just a bit of drama and fluff.

♡ synopsis ― Coup de Foudre, a flash of lightning, a love that strikes without warning. When Hyunjin, an artist lost in the weight of being misunderstood, disappears for a month, he crosses paths with a free-spirited girl named Joy, who teaches him how to breathe again. Their bond feels destined — electric and undeniable — until buried secrets and quiet betrayals threaten to tear them apart.

[5k words ]♡― oh dear, here we are again! this story is based on my favorite k-drama, Lovestruck in the City. if you've seen it, you might notice some familiar elements in the chapters. but don't worry if you're not familiar with it yet! you'll gradually understand the plot, and I'm here to make sure you're comfortable with it. if you've read Gameboy, which is a completed series, you'll see that this one uses a different language because of the plot and storytelling style. I truly hope you enjoy this story and stick with me until the end!

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED LET ME KNOW!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

How could I know One day I’d wake up feeling more But I had already reached the shore Guess we were ships in the night

AFTER

Everyone at the table was laughing—loud, full-bellied laughter that made the cutlery rattle on the plates. Jokes were being tossed like confetti, some a little crude, others surprisingly clever, all of them soaked in the easy comfort of familiarity. The seaside restaurant was all clean lines and soft lighting, the kind of place you booked when you wanted to feel like your life was more put together than it actually was. It should’ve felt perfect. To most of them, it probably did.

But for Hyunjin, the place felt like a memory. Not the warm kind. The kind that presses its thumb down just enough to sting.

He drifted for a moment—just long enough to miss the thread of conversation—before Bangchan pulled him back with a laugh and a question:

“Do you remember Paris? That night we ended up sleeping on the street?”

Hyunjin managed a laugh. Not a convincing one, but enough to pass.

Later, when the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, he moved to the far end of the restaurant, toward the glass that framed the sea like a painting. He stood there, quiet. Let his head drop. 

Closing his eyes like that might help organize the mess inside. It didn’t. It hadn’t in a while.

“So,” Bangchan said behind him, “are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to beat it out of you?”

Hyunjin looked up, then away. A half-smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t fully land. Bangchan’s sharp humor had always been his way of handing out a lifeline—something bright and biting to hold onto when everything else felt heavy.

“The hottest woman in the office is practically begging for your attention,” his cousin went on, flicking a lighter open, “and you’re over here brooding like a heartbroken poet.”

Hyunjin turned just enough to spot Chaewon laughing with a couple of colleagues. She was beautiful—sharp in all the right ways, graceful without trying, competent in that quietly intimidating way some women had. He’d noticed her watching him more than once. 

Before Jeju, he might’ve responded to that. Now, it just felt... far away.

“You’re going to be a dumbass if you don’t go talk to her,” Bangchan said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Somebody else will.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Hyunjin ran a hand over his buzzed hair, a slow, aimless gesture. The sea outside looked too familiar—too much like those days in Jeju. The scent of salt. The hush of waves. The kind of sky that felt like it was waiting for something to happen.

She was in all of it. Still. And he was so tired of trying to forget.

He looked at Bangchan again, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like maybe he could talk. Maybe if he said it out loud, it wouldn’t feel so much like fiction. Maybe it would finally belong to the real world.

“Let’s have a drink,” he said.

It was the perfect exit line. Bangchan stubbed out his cigarette on the patio ashtray and fell into step beside his cousin without saying anything. They slipped out of the restaurant unnoticed—almost.

As they passed the glass doors, Hyunjin caught it—just a flicker of something across Chaewon’s face. Not quite disappointment, not quite surprise. A shift, barely there, like the soft tug of a current underwater.

Once, that would’ve been all it took. He would’ve taken her home, kissed her in the elevator, maybe stayed up until morning pretending he could feel something again. And she would’ve let him—if only because it might’ve felt like something close to wanting.

But tonight, a quiet “Good night” was enough. Not cold, just final.

Back at the penthouse, the silence felt like fresh air. Hyunjin unbuttoned the top of his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and poured himself a drink. He dropped onto the sofa beside Bangchan with the weight of someone who’d finally given in to gravity.

“Anytime,” Bangchan said, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’m all ears.”

The whisky hit hard—burned on the way down and brought a sharp sting to his eyes. Hyunjin didn’t flinch. He just refilled the glass, slower this time, like that might slow down the ache inside him too.

“Something happened in Jeju.”

Bangchan turned to look at him, one brow raised.

“That trip in July?”

Hyunjin nodded. And then, without meaning to, he exhaled. Like the simple act of acknowledging it had cracked something open. His mind stopped spinning. His body stopped bracing.

And just like that, he started talking.

Not everything. Not yet. But enough. Enough to go back to where it began.

BEFORE

It had only been a few weeks since his father’s surgery—a procedure the doctors called routine, but no one in the Hwang family had really believed that. Not when the man who’d always seemed indestructible had come home thinner, quieter, slower.

The whole family had gathered like they used to when they were younger, crowded around the long dining table, but the energy was different this time. Not loud or celebratory. Just quiet. Tense. Everyone is trying to mask their worry with polite conversation and long sips of wine.

The Hwang & Co. had been in the family for generations—elegant hotels, strategic expansions, glossy photographs in business magazines. It wasn’t just a company. It was a legacy. And legacies had rules.

So when his father finally looked up from his notes and said, calmly, that Hyunjin would be stepping in to lead while he recovered—not Minseok, the firstborn, the obvious choice—it felt like something cracked behind his ribs.

At first, Hyunjin thought he’d heard it wrong. He blinked. Laughed, a little too tightly. Said Minseok had an MBA and ten more years of experience. That he’d always been the one preparing for this. But their father didn’t budge. His tone didn’t waver. The decision had been made.

And Hyunjin—who had always been the artist, the daydreamer, the one who’d chosen gallery walls over boardrooms—was suddenly being handed the weight of it all.

Yeji was the only one who tried to soften the blow. She reached across the armrest, squeezing his sleeve gently.

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it feels, Hyunnie. Maybe it just means dad trusts you.”

But trust, Hyunjin thought, didn’t always come without cost.

Hyunjin tried to believe it—tried to hold onto Yeji’s words like they might steady him—but the truth tugged at the edges of his mind, persistent and cold. His father’s decision had nothing to do with trust.

He knew exactly why he’d been chosen. It wasn’t confidence in his leadership or faith in his abilities. It was control. It was an attempt to course-correct a son who had always been too soft, too full of color, too unlike the men his father admired.

A good man, in his father’s eyes, was someone who ran a company with clean efficiency. Who made money, made sense. Who married a good woman and provided for her. There was a formula. A checklist. A blueprint for manhood.

And Hyunjin had always been a little off-script.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to be a good man. He did. Desperately. He just wanted to get there differently—through beauty, through meaning. Through the things that made his heart feel steady in a world that often didn’t.

Art had always been his compass. Since he was a kid, he’d been inseparable from his crayons and sketchbooks, leaving trails of color on every scrap of paper he could find. He remembered being ten and already knowing what he wanted: to see the world and draw it. To capture its motion, its stillness, its soul.

He grew up chasing that dream, and somehow, he made it real. He traveled. He sketched in city squares, on trains, in tiny cafes. He picked up a camera somewhere along the way and fell in love all over again. His home was a gentle chaos of canvases, photographs, paint-splatter brushes, and light.

And yes, it paid. It paid well enough. But none of that ever mattered to his father.

To him, it was a hobby. A distraction. Something delicate and disposable—everything a man shouldn’t be.

Hyunjin never found the words to confront him. Not out of obedience, but out of something murkier—respect, maybe. Or fear. Or just the worn-in exhaustion of being misunderstood for too long.

But when the pressure became constant—calls every few hours, demands disguised as concern, urgent meetings that couldn’t wait—something cracked. It was less a decision and more a surrender.

So he called Felix. His oldest friend. The only person who never made him feel like he had to apologize for who he was.

“I need to disappear for a while,” he said, and Felix didn’t ask questions. Just gave him the keys to the tiny trailer in Jeju and promised not to tell anyone.

Hyunjin packed light. A few clothes. His pencils. His camera.

And he left.

No exit speech. No explanations. Just a quiet goodbye to the noise, and a quiet hope that maybe, on the island, he could finally hear himself again.

Disappearing had been easier than expected. Quiet, clean, and strangely comforting. And Hyunjin liked it that way.

The trailer, tucked a few steps from the shoreline, belonged to Felix’s family, but it felt borrowed from another life entirely. It was small, meant for two people at most, but it held everything he needed—his paints, his camera, his notebooks, and just enough stillness to hear his own thoughts again.

Each morning, he woke to the hush of the sea and the sharp cries of gulls overhead. The waves rolled in like a lullaby on repeat, soft and inevitable.

One day, after waking early and restless, he wandered into a place that overlooked the beach. He’d passed it almost every day, drawn in by the smell of strong coffee and something sweet he couldn’t name.

It was quaint, a little weatherworn, with wooden railings faded from years of salt and sun. The man behind the counter looked like he belonged there—silver hair, gentle eyes, hands that moved slowly, like they had no need to rush.

Over a quick exchange, the man told him he’d lived there for sixty-five years and had never once grown tired of the view. Hyunjin believed him.

The café was full of small, beautiful things: hand-painted signs, seashell mobiles, faded photographs tacked up beside handwritten quotes. It wasn’t polished, but it was warm. Familiar. It reminded Hyunjin of something he hadn’t realized he missed—places that didn’t expect him to be anyone but himself.

He sat on the porch with a cup of coffee that tasted like comfort and sketched quietly in his notebook, letting the ocean fill the silences.

Then something shifted.

A figure in a plain apron passed through the frame of the balcony, briefly catching the attention of a girl nearby. Hyunjin barely registered it at first—just another movement, another moment. But then the girl ran.

He looked up fully. And that's when he saw you.

She darted across the sand with the kind of ease that made it seem like she belonged to the wind. A summer-blue dress danced around her knees, and her hair was pulled into braids that bounced as she moved. She wasn’t rushing—she was gliding, joyful, effortless.

“Sorry, Mrs. Bae!” she called out as she reached the café, still breathless but smiling. “I was persuading the kids to join the surfing lessons.”

Hyunjin blinked, pen paused mid-sketch.

He didn’t know what it was—the dress, the laughter, the way her presence seemed to stretch the morning open—but something about her made the world tilt, just a little.

“I know, I know. Just don’t be late again,” the older woman replied with a half-smile, her tone a mix of reprimand and affection. “We’ll be full today, and I’ll need your help.”

The girl nodded, contrite but still glowing with the kind of light that didn’t dim so easily. She made her way behind the counter and pulled a black apron from a low hook, tying it over her dress with practiced ease.

And then, she slipped into her rhythm.

Hyunjin watched as she moved between tables, balancing plates and scribbling in a small notepad, her steps light and unhurried. She smiled at everyone. Not in the way people sometimes smile because they’re supposed to, but in a way that seemed real, lived-in—like it cost her nothing and gave her something back in return.

She laughed softly with an elderly couple as she refilled their tea. She crouched next to a child to take his order like it was a secret mission. Every gesture was thoughtful. Every moment, somehow full of color.

Can people really be like this all the time? he wondered, half in awe, half in quiet disbelief.

It wasn’t just her beauty, though there was that too—something undeniably striking in the way the sun caught in the curve of her cheek or how her braids swayed when she moved. But it was more than that. When she finally approached his table, tray pressed gently against her chest, he coughed and quickly looked down, suddenly aware of how long he’d been watching her.

“Good morning!” she said, voice bright and unguarded. “Was the coffee good? Can I get you anything else?”

Her tone was effortless—kind, open. And it caught in his throat like a note too high to reach.

He didn’t answer right away. He was too busy trying not to stare.

Because she was beautiful—undeniably so—but that wasn’t what held him there.

"That's great, thanks." And he meant it. The coffee was smooth, the pecan pie warm and almost too sweet—but not quite. You could tell someone had made it with care.

“Oh, wow.” Her voice lifted with surprise, head tilting slightly as her gaze dropped to the table. Hyunjin’s eyes followed the curve of her neck before realizing what she was looking at.

His sketchbook.

“You’re an artist?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I try to be,” he said, letting out a quiet, uncertain laugh.

It always felt strange, this part—having his work out in the open, unfinished and vulnerable. Even now, with years of exhibitions and features behind him, there was something personal about someone seeing his art before it was ready. Before Felix or Jisung had the chance to tell him, yeah, this one’s perfect—this one feels like you.

She smiled, wide and effortless. “It’s really lovely. You can tell you care about it.”

He looked at her. And she looked at him like this was just another moment in her day—one of many. But for him, it wasn’t. Not quite.

“Thanks...” he managed, barely audible.

But she was already turning, already halfway across the diner, her attention now with someone else.

And just like that, the moment passed—but it left something behind.

Morning came too early again. Sleep had slipped away not long after sunrise, so Hyunjin gave up trying to chase it and went for a walk instead. The air was still cool, soft with salt and promise, and the sand welcomed his bare feet like an old friend.

His mind hadn’t entirely left Seoul. Somewhere in the back of his head, the usual worries stirred—about his father, the business, everything waiting for him back on the mainland. But here, with the sea stretching endlessly in front of him and strangers laughing as they passed, it all felt... quieter. Not gone, but smaller. Manageable.

He didn’t get far before something caught his attention. Or rather, someone.

The girl from the café was just ahead, not in her apron this time but in a wetsuit, her hair damp and clinging softly to her face. She looked different like this—sun-kissed and full of motion, surrounded by a small pack of kids who orbited her like she was the sun itself.

Hyunjin drifted closer, stopping by the surfboard rental shack, where a blond guy stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes following the same scene.

The breeze tugged lightly at Hyunjin’s hair as he watched her work—if you could even call it work. She moved among the children with ease, laughing, adjusting their stances, cheering them on as they clumsily attempted to mount their boards. She wasn’t just patient; she was invested, as if each child’s triumph was somehow personal.

One little boy finally found his footing, shaky but upright, and she clapped like he’d just won gold. Her voice carried above the waves: “You’ve got it! Keep going, you're doing great!” And he believed her. Hyunjin almost did too.

“Hey, man. Want to rent a board?”

The voice startled him. He turned, realizing the blond guy was talking to him now, half-grinning from behind the weathered wooden counter.

He looked relaxed, like someone who belonged there. Skin sun-kissed in a way that only came from time spent outside, not on purpose, just by existing in the light.

“No. I don’t surf,” Hyunjin said, eyes drifting back toward the girl. She was kneeling in the shallow water now, gently patting the little boy’s hand like he’d just conquered something big.

The guy behind the counter clicked his tongue, letting out a small laugh. “Too bad. We only teach kids.”

There was something else tucked behind his words—something teasing, maybe—but Hyunjin didn’t linger on it. Instead, he stepped off the wooden path and into the warm sand, walking slowly toward the group by the shoreline. 

Some days, that’s all he did. Watched from a distance while she ran around in the surf, laughing with kids, her voice rising above the sound of the waves. It became a quiet routine—one he didn’t admit he looked forward to.

Then one afternoon, she walked straight up to him.

Up close, he noticed something new: her hair had strands the color of sand, soft and sun-bleached. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it before.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” she said, already tugging the zipper of her wetsuit down halfway.

Hyunjin opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out fast enough. She looked relaxed, like asking a favor of a stranger on the beach wasn’t weird at all.

“Can you watch the kids for two minutes? I just need to run to the bathroom.”

And before he could say that he didn’t surf, or point out that he was in a hoodie and sweatpants, she was already jogging off. So he got up and made his way to the group of kids gathered in the shallows, damp sand sticking to the hem of his pants.

A girl with two tiny braids looked up at him and grinned. “Unkie, are you gonna surf with us?”

He chuckled softly at the title. Unkie. It made him feel older than he was, but in a weirdly endearing way.

He crouched beside her, pulling his pant legs up higher to avoid the water.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

She nodded solemnly, eyes wide with trust.

“I don’t know how to surf.”

The little girl gasped like he’d just shared the most shocking secret in the universe. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh—it came out light, genuine. She leaned closer, eyes wide with excitement.

“No problem,” she whispered back. “Teacher can help  you!”

He followed her gaze, and there she was, walking across the sand with that same bright energy she carried everywhere. Her wetsuit clung to her frame, and her hair, still damp, framed her face in soft waves. She smiled as she approached, like she was already in on the joke.

“Is everything okay, kids?” she asked, stopping just by the water’s edge.

Before Hyunjin could even blink, the little girl pointed at him and blurted, “He can’t surf!”

A chorus of giggles broke out around him. The little girl, realizing her betrayal, pressed her lips together, eyes wide with mock guilt. So much for secrets.

“Secret revealed,” Hyunjin said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

The girl laughed, arms crossing as she looked at him with amusement dancing in her eyes. “So you don’t surf.”

It wasn’t a question. Just an observation. He nodded, lips curving into a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

She glanced at the kids and then back at him. “Well then, I guess we’ve got a problem.”

Hyunjin tilted his head. “Why’s that?”

She grinned, just as one of the girls ducked behind him like he was her personal human shield. “Because I think they’ve adopted you.”

He looked down at the kid hiding behind him, then back at her.

“Then I guess I better learn.”

The kids seemed to know more about surfing than he did. 

When she tossed him a wetsuit with a raised brow and a barely-there smirk, Hyunjin knew he had no real choice. Especially not with five pairs of hopeful eyes watching him like he was about to perform a magic trick.

He wasn’t great—not even close—but the kids didn’t care. They were thrilled just to have another person out there, someone who didn’t mind holding their hands as they wobbled on boards or laughed when they wiped out. That same little girl who’d outed his secret earlier squealed every time he shook his wet long hair like a dog, splashing her on purpose.

Children were easy, he realized. Easy to entertain, easy to win over. And, apparently, he was a natural at it.

The morning passed faster than he expected. One by one, the kids were claimed by their parents, wrapped in towels and promises of snacks. He stayed back, wiping the saltwater from his eyes, when he noticed her returning—not with the kids' tiny boards, but with one of the full-sized ones under her arm.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow as she walked right past him, expression unreadable but undeniably smug. She stepped into the tide, wading out until the water reached her waist, and only then did she speak.

“You just gonna stand there looking pretty or actually learn something?”

She didn’t even turn around.

He smiled, shaking his head, then followed. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this—wasn’t her making everything look so easy. The way she moved on the board, how her body aligned with the sea like it had been built for it. She explained the basics without overexplaining, guiding his stance with a quiet kind of confidence.

It looked simple when she did it.

But Hyunjin wasn’t sure if that meant he’d be able to pull it off. The ocean had its own rules, and he was still learning how to listen.

It was frustrating at first. His legs didn’t want to cooperate, and the board felt like it had a personal vendetta. But she was a good teacher—clear, patient, never once making him feel ridiculous, even when he definitely looked at it.

Within the hour, he managed to stand without toppling sideways like a cartoon. Every time he stayed up for more than a few seconds, she clapped or called out some encouragement, her voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

When he finally felt confident enough to just sit on the board and breathe, she grabbed another one and paddled out to meet him. The sun was higher now, casting a warm sheen across the water. It was calm, the tide lazy, as if even the ocean had taken a breath.

They floated side by side, not speaking for a moment. Just watching the horizon stretch out into forever. The wind swept at their damp hair, and sunlight clung to their skin like salt.

Hyunjin glanced over and caught her with her face tilted toward the sky, eyes closed, letting the sun hit her cheeks. She looked… content. Not the kind people perform, but the kind that comes from actually enjoying a moment, quietly and fully.

There was something about the way she moved through the world—like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, like she didn’t have to. And maybe that was what pulled him in. She made being alive look simple.

The boards shifted slightly beneath them with the slow rise and fall of the water, but he was starting to get used to it—the feeling of not being entirely grounded.

She opened her eyes and smiled, turning toward him. “Thanks for helping with the kids. They really liked you.”

He held her gaze, something in him softening. “I liked them too. And you taught me how to surf, so… I’d say we’re even.”

Her smile widened, and she gave a small nod. For a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the sea.

“Have you been doing this for a long time?” Hyunjin asked, the words slipping out before he could weigh them.

He wasn’t trying to pry. But he was curious—and more than that, he wanted to understand this small piece of her world.

She pressed her lips together, thoughtful. “It’s not really a job,” she said finally, shrugging one shoulder. “I just teach them because I like it.”

That caught him off guard. Not in a dramatic way—just enough to make something shift inside him. Most people he knew didn’t do things just because they enjoyed them.

And like that she became even more interesting.

He was about to ask her name—realized then that he didn’t know it, which felt strange considering how familiar her presence already seemed—but before he could say anything, she adjusted her position on the board.

“My shift at the café’s starting,” she said, already paddling toward the shore. “You can stop by anytime. The kids would be happy to see you.”

And then she was gone—effortlessly, like the sea was part of her.

Hyunjin stayed where he was, sitting alone on the board, just a small dot floating in all that blue. He’d head back to the trailer, rinse off the saltwater and sand, maybe try to read something, maybe not. But he’d find her later.

Because this… whatever it was—it didn’t make sense to let it pass without at least knowing her name.

After finishing a canvas, Hyunjin wiped the ink off his hands and arms, then slipped into something comfortable before heading to the café. He’d found out they stayed open later on Fridays and Saturdays for karaoke nights. The food was always good, but lunch was especially memorable—warm, filling, and familiar. The bulgogi might’ve been the best he’d ever had. Something about the seasoning pulled at a quiet part of him, the way only certain things could. It reminded him of when he was younger, back when his mother still cooked for him and his siblings with careful, gentle hands.

That memory nudged him toward another—one he didn’t really want. His father.

No matter how far he came, no matter what he chose, it always came back to that weight. He didn’t want to be a disappointment. Or worse, a burden.

He had worked hard. Really hard. From the beginning, he pushed himself for the best grades, fought through the pressure of entrance exams, and earned his place at a top university. Yes, he’d had privileges. But effort? That had always been his.

And still, it never felt like enough.

Minseok had a clear path. Firstborn. Groomed for leadership. He took to the business world like it was second nature, like it had always been waiting for him. But Hyunjin was different. He knew that early on. He didn’t want to be shaped into something predictable, something safe. Something his father could be proud of only because it matched what he already understood.

That kind of life just didn’t fit. And he wasn’t sure it ever would.

Yeji had never quite felt the weight of the expectations the same way Hyunjin did. She spent years at a boarding school in Switzerland, only returning home after graduating. She pursued her own path, worked with brands, and naturally became the face of several companies. Her beauty and charm never hurt her either, and her father had never once complained about her choices. She had their mother’s backing, and in many ways, that was all he needed.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel like he had only Yeji and her friends on his side. His mother never spoke up for him or defended him against their father’s relentless pressure. Minseok, his older brother, was too busy with his own life and his own aspirations to be concerned with Hyunjin’s struggles. It felt like, no matter what, he was always trying to prove himself, always trying to meet an ideal that no one else seemed to need to reach.

He pushed the thought aside when she returned to his table, her smile as radiant as ever.

“I hope you liked the food,” she said, her voice light, almost teasing.

Hyunjin glanced down at his empty plate and gave a small, satisfied nod. “Liked is an understatement. It was amazing. Thank you.”

She followed his gaze to the table, her eyes catching on the worn sketchbook resting beside his plate, the corner of a page marked by a crooked pencil. “You carry that everywhere, don’t you?”

He blinked, caught off guard. Most people didn’t notice things like that. He thought he was just another quiet face in the crowd. “You noticed?”

A soft smile tugged at her lips, and a rosy color bloomed on her cheeks. It was impossibly charming. “Sorry,” she said, almost laughing at herself, “I wasn’t trying to snoop.”

“Not at all,” Hyunjin said, leaning in just a little, like sharing a secret. A half-smile ghosted across his face. “I guess I just like having a place to let my mind wander.”

She tilted her head, her hair slipping over one shoulder, a playful sparkle lighting up her expression. “Well, if you like letting your mind wander... and maybe singing a little too... we’re opening tonight for karaoke. Music, food, questionable singing—” she grinned, “—the essentials.”

For a moment, Hyunjin wasn’t sure if it was a general invitation or something meant just for him. The way she smiled made him hope it was the second.

“I’ll be there,” he said, and when she smiled again, he felt like maybe Jeju was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Hyunjin couldn’t quite tell if it was a personal invitation or just a casual pitch to all the customers. She probably said the same thing to everyone who walked in, but something in the warmth of her smile made him think it was more than just business.

Her smile softened, her cheekbones lifting with a blush that made him forget, for a moment, where he was. He smiled back, feeling lighter in a way he hadn't expected, watching her turn away with that easy, effortless grace.

But just as she disappeared into the back, it hit him—he let out a quiet groan, dragging a hand through his hair.

Of course. He had forgotten the most obvious thing.

Her name.

[shifterdera]

fnaf dr?? wait can you tell me about how that works (btw it sounds pretty cool!!)

Hell yeah, my fnaf dr! Actually, I have two of them, but my main is an fnaf AU.

It's based of a fanfiction I read when I was little and I was OBSESSED with it. Still am and I reread it from time to time. (Fun fact, I just finished reading it to my little sisters as a good night story!). The fanfiction is on russian, I will leave a link, but I will also shortly tell the story.

So, it's a humanisation AU of the animatronics and the storyline is difficult to retell, but Ill try my best. The story may seem childish, but it's one of my favourites and I really want to live it!

So, there is a girl named Vlada and her best friend Violetta and they are OBSESSED with the games FNaF. And once they meet at Vladas home to play the first FNaF game once again, but notice, that it's deleted. So they download it from a pirate site. Although once they enter the game, they notice, that all the animatronics are humanized. They play, but then a mysterious fox animatronic shows up and the game bags out.

The day passes, Violetta is already gone home, it's night and suddenly a portal opens in Vlada's wardrobe and the original 4 animatronics fall out. But they are all human!

The next chapters more and more animatronics appear and they all just trying to survive, get back and, of course, have fun!

It's not the whole story (not even the half, to be honest. After that there are also villains, who are trying to get rid of them all and some almost die.), but I think you got it what it's about!

So basically, while reading it, I noticed, that my favourite character is just... Mot there! The author didn't include Lolbit! And I started daydreaming how the storyline would go with her. And when i started my shifting journey... This became my script!

Yeah, Im in the role of human-Lolbit! (Of course saving everyone's asses and beeing the most charismatic character lmao, how could I without that?).

Amd the work of me there is a clown in the Circus! You know, the one from Sister Location! I love love love beeing a clown or a jester in most of my drs! O even have a "run-away with circus" dr and a Marionette dr!

And I can't wait to get there, cause it's literally almost the only one dr, where nothing traumatic happens😭

I hope that answered your questions!

And, as promised, the link to the fanfic:

https://ficbook.net/readfic/9662959

Ot is on russian, don't forget!

I was thinking about starting to translate it to english, but Im currently working on a translation of a book, which means I can't really find some free time😭

But if I make it, I will inform you all.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

'Tis The Damn Season — Part Four

A/N: it's lover day of @nestaarcheronweek and what better way to celebrate than with the penultimate chapter of this fic! I hope everyone enjoys, and this is your warning: smut ahead 😉

Read on AO3 // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian throws his arm forward, his knuckles colliding with leather. The bag in front of him sways slightly with the force of the blow, but it’s not enough. He throws a punch again and again and again. Until he can feel every hit reverberate up his arm. Until he can feel the familiar burn in his muscles. Until it feels like his knuckles are going to split even through the wrappings around them.

It had been stupid.

It had been stupid to invite Nesta into his bed the other night. He should have known better. He should have known that despite his words and promises of it being totally platonic, he’d wake up wrapped around Nesta like he needed her to breathe. He's been pulled into her gravity since the moment he met her. Since she and her friends walked into one of his classes at his gym. Since she rolled those pretty blue eyes at his cheeky jokes to get the class started. He’s been chasing that eye roll, chasing her smile and laugh, chasing her orbit ever since.

So was it really that surprising that when the sun had crept across the floorboards of the bedroom, Cassian’s arms were curled securely around Nesta’s waist, his nose buried in the golden brown strands of her hair, his heart beating in time with hers where his chest was pressed along her spine?

Stupid.

It had been even more stupid to invite Nesta back into his bed last night even after how they woke up that morning, after they dared to dance so close to that line but still never cross it while playing cards. It had been stupid to play that silly little game of truth or dare, to think it was a good idea to answer and ask so honestly. To think it was a good idea to lay his heart so bare, still bloodied and bruised and yet so wholly hers.

He works his fists harder and faster against the punching bag in front of him, the smack of leather echoing around him, thumping in time to the cracked heart beating in his chest, to the blood rushing in his ears. Over and over again, he punches. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Well, this is just sad to watch.”

Cassian huffs, not even bothering to stop his assault despite the familiar, drawling voice. “Fuck off.”

Rhys chuckles softly, stepping enough around the punching bag that he comes fully into view. He has a pair of silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of them. His dark hair is sleep mussed and sleep still clings to the corners of his violet eyes even as he watches Cassian take a few more reps against the punching bag.

“I know you own a gym,” Rhys comments, raising an eyebrow. “But 6am workouts on vacation might be a new low even for you.”

“I just need to move my body,” Cassian argues with a shrug, resetting his stance.

Rhys catches the punching bag to stop it from swinging, his eyes sweeping over Cassian’s frame. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“It’s not my fault the pull-out is so lumpy.”

“You have a proper bed.” At Cassian’s answering silence, Rhys sighs. “Don't tell me you can't even be across the hall from her so you switched with Az.”

Cassian huffs, turning away from the punching bag and his brother completely, tugging at the wrappings around his hands. What is he meant to say? How can he answer that? How can he possibly explain to Rhys everything that’s transpired over the past two nights?

“Honestly, Cass, it’s been a year now,” Rhys continues, something that Cassian is sure is meant to be sympathy coloring his voice. “I know it’s hard seeing her again, but don’t you think it’s time to finally move on?”

“You don’t get it,” Cassian grumbles, throwing his hand wrappings in the bin with more force than he probably needs to.

“Clearly. This is Nesta we’re talking about.”

Cassian growls, whirling back around on his brother. “Did you want to sub your face in for the punching bag?”

Rhys holds his hands up in surrender, taking a pointed step away from the punching bag. “Feyre will be upset if you bruise my pretty face again. It is her birthday after all.”

“You deserved it last year.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Rhys sighs again, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t want to have this fight with you again.”

Cassian sighs as well, moving to where he left his water, taking a deep gulp of it. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries to center himself, but this whole weekend has simply been a mess. No point making things worse by rehashing old arguments with Rhys.

He can still remember the sneering comments made after that fateful night, after all the truths were revealed and Nesta had left. He can still remember the rage that had boiled through his veins, the feeling that thrummed to life and writhed in his chest, the demand to defend and to avenge. He can still remember the distinct crunch as his knuckles met Rhys’ face, the black eye his brother sported for weeks.

“I think I’m going to head out, after gifts,” Cassian finally says, turning to face Rhys fully again.

“Come on, Cass. Don’t be like this. There’s more snow blowing in this afternoon. You really want to be driving the mountain roads in that? One more night isn’t going to kill you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s already killing me,” Cassian tells him, pushing a hand up and through his hair roughly at the crack he can hear in his own voice, at the emotions he can feel clawing up the back of his throat and stinging behind his eyes. “I can't… I'm never going to love anyone else the way I love her. She's always going to be it for me. Always going to be the best damned thing that ever happened to me, and I was an idiot and blew it. And now, I have to be here, get to have her so close, but… but she's still not mine.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slides her fingers across the paper, across the penguins on skis there, before she carefully pulls it apart, revealing a spiral journal wrapped inside. She pulls it out completely, flipping through the different pages.

"It's a reading journal," Feyre explains, watching Nesta with bright eyes. "When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect for you. And I included a bookstore gift card in there for you too."

"Thanks, Feyre. This is perfect."

Feyre smiles at the response, turning her attention to her own gift in her lap. She tugs free the tissue paper and tosses it aside with abandon, the birthday pom-pom antlers adorned on her head shaking with the movement. She pulls out a crew-neck sweatshirt of some kind, and when she unfolds it properly, she laughs loudly at what she finds.

"Cassian, I cannot believe you!"

Feyre turns her gift around so everyone can see, and Nesta snorts softly at the embroidered words in the fabric: Painter? I hardly know her!

"Only the best for you, Fey," Cassian offers, pressing a smacking kiss to Feyre's cheek as he walks past her to hand another gift to Azriel.

Nesta can't help but track him across the room. She feels like she's been doing it all morning. Their conversation from yesterday, their silly little game of truth or dare, it all still weighs heavy on her mind, still weighs heavy on her chest, like a pressure expanding between her ribs and digging into her lungs. She barely slept after Cassian all but fled the room. Every time she closed her eyes, it was his face haunting her dreams, those hazel eyes clouded with emotions and marred with cracks of pain.

She'd considered, briefly, chasing after him, considered running through the hallway and begging him to stop. But she had no idea what she would possibly say to him if she did. She'd even dared to imagine a scenario where Cassian came bursting back into the room, where he made some grand declaration and the two of them really went back to how things were before, just like a scene out of one of her favorite romance novels.

But she'd long learned that was merely a fantasy, that reality was nothing like the stories weaved between ink on pages.

And besides, it's not like she's even had a moment to speak with Cassian, or even get him alone, since last night, between the boisterous spread of breakfast to now opening gifts. The only thing Nesta has truly been left alone with is her own swirling thoughts, with the words that sit heavy on her tongue. In fact, all she really has to show for the previous night, for the whole weekend really, is the crystallized claws wrapped tight around her heart and opening old wounds until they fester.

Cassian hands over the gift in his hands to Azriel, and Nesta watches as he dares to glance over his shoulder, dares to meet her gaze, but then he's quickly looking away again and moving across the room. Moving away and putting as much space as possible between him and her. Nesta has to swallow down a sigh, toying aimlessly at the corner of her new reading journal.

She tries to focus on the gifts being handed out and opened, tries to focus on Feyre's excitement as she's deservedly showered in Solstice and birthday gifts alike. It, at least, gets easier once the cake is brought out. She can focus on nibbling on the slice she's given, on the sweet, chocolate taste that blooms across her tongue with every bite.

But the taste quickly turns sour when she notices Cassian slip from the room completely and head for the stairs. She counts in her head, waiting for an acceptable amount of time to have passed before she quietly excuses herself. When she reaches the end of the hallway upstairs, she finds the door to Cassian's guest room already closed, and she pauses in front of it, hand raised to knock, but…

She still doesn't know what to say. Still doesn't know how to untangle the mess of old feelings and current feelings, of old wounds and scars. Still doesn't know how to sort through the way her heart still stutters at the sight of those hazel eyes and soft smile, the sound of that warm laughter. Still doesn't know how to put into words the yearning that twines between and around her ribs as surely as a golden thread she swears draws them together.

With a quiet huff to herself, Nesta shakes her head, spinning on her heel and instead retreating to her own guest bedroom. She's sure that a few minutes to clear her head, to sort through her thoughts will do the trick. But everything eddies out of her mind when she notices there's a gift placed neatly on the center of the guest bed.

She steps toward the bed slowly, frowning curiously at the simple brown paper wrapping. It looks so inconspicuous, carefully placed in the center of the bed, but the handwriting spelling out her name is unmistakable. She picks up the gift and unwraps it, and there's no stopping Nesta's gasp at what's inside. Before she can stop herself or even think twice, she storms out of the bedroom and across the hallway.

"Where did you get this?" Nesta demands, holding the book in her hand aloft.

Cassian pauses what he was doing, looking toward Nesta and raising an eyebrow. "… a bookstore?"

Nesta rolls her eyes, opening the book in her hands to the title page. "It's personalized and signed. And you and I both know that Sellyn Drake rarely does book signings."

"A lucky bookstore?"

"Cassian."

Cassian sighs softly, straightening and pushing a hand up and through his hair. "It wasn't that far. Besides, you know I like to drive, that the open road always helps clear my head."

Nesta blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around what he's saying. "You drove all the way to Athelwood to get me a book?"

"What else was I supposed to get you for Solstice? I wasn't exactly going to be able to fit bookcases in the back of your car for you to take home." Nesta's heart skips over itself at his words, the memory threatening to crash forward at them, but Cassian's almost self deprecating chuckle draws her right back to the present. "Don't give me that look. I know you, Nes. I know you still have those shitty Ikea shelves. They're going to start sagging under the weight of all your books. You need proper wooden ones."

Nesta swallows hard around the lump pressing against her throat. It's what he always promised her. Cassian was good with his hands, in more ways than one, and he swore that he was going to build her bookcases. Swore that he'd help bring her dream library to life.

It's too much that he still remembers that. Too much that he went out of his way to get her a signed book of her favorite author. It burns too bright in her veins and threatens to claw right out of her skin. She needs a distraction and fast, and when she glances around the room, she notices what had Cassian's attention before: his duffel bag.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Cassian sighs softly, turning back to the duffel bag as well, zipping it up. "Got to get back to the gym."

Nesta scoffs at that. She knows running when she sees it. She used to be damn good at running from her problems, pushing everyone away and shoving everything down deep where she'd never have to address it again.

"Bullshit."

Cassian lets out a sound somewhere between a huff and a humorless laugh, practically shoving at his duffel bag before he whirls on her. "What do you want me to say, Nesta? I can't do this. I can't…" Cassian swallows, shoving a hand up and through his hair. "I know I crossed a line last night, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But you're it for me. You're always going to be it for me, and if it were up to me, we'd—" Whatever words were going to finish that thought, Cassian chokes them back. He shakes his head and turns back to his duffel bag, settling the strap over his shoulder. "It's better for me to just go."

He moves for the bedroom door, but Nesta is quick to step right into his path, blocking his way. "You should stay."

Cassian closes his eyes, and Nesta can see every emotion written so clearly across his face, every etch of pain that's echoed in the cracks through her own chest and heart. They're broken is so many of the same places, in the same way, and Nesta is tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of pretending she doesn't miss the way things used to be.

Pretending that she doesn't miss him.

So she sets the book in her hand aside and steps closer into Cassian's space, settling her hand on his chest, where she can feel his heart fluttering just beneath her palm. "I'm asking you to stay."

The sound of Cassian's duffel bag dropping to their feet is overly loud in the quiet of the room. His hand reaches up to curl around her own, his touch warm, grounding, where his fingers squeeze her wrist. His gaze dances over her face, searching, and Nesta just prays that he finds what he's looking for in her expression.

"Just for the weekend?" Cassian asks, his voice quiet and rough. "Or…?"

"You always were a big idiot."

Nesta's own fingers twist into the fabric of Cassian's shirt. She uses the grip to tug him down, tug him further into her, at the same moment she presses up onto her toes. It's like coming back home, slotting her lips against Cassian's. The press of his mouth, the taste of him, it sends a comforting familiarity twining warmly up her spine. Cassian sighs into her mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle her jaw, and Nesta practically melts into the kiss. Melts into him.

"I missed this," Cassian tells her, his lips skating across her jaw, down her throat. "Missed you."

His teeth scrape teasingly across her pulse point, and Nesta whines high in the back of her throat. "Cassian."

"Definitely missed you saying my name like that."

He draws his mouth back to hers, kissing her slow and deep. Nesta's pulse starts to flutter, and she swears Cassian must be able to feel where it pounds beneath his palm, where his large hand still spans across her jaw. She feels dizzy with the way Cassian kisses her, the sensuality of it, the way his tongue presses into her mouth and curls around her own.

When he pulls back again, his hands reach for her hair. Nesta can't decide if she should be surprised or touched that he still knows exactly where to find every pin buried amongst the golden brown strands. He tugs each one free until her hair tumbles down her shoulders and along her spine, the strands whispers against her cheek as they fall.

"Still so predictable," Nesta teases him, her voice quiet.

"And you're still so beautiful with your hair down."

Despite their time apart, it's almost practiced ease that Cassian walks them back toward the bed, that he sends Nesta tumbling back against the blankets. He kneels up onto the bed as well, caging her in with his large frame. As he kisses her again, Nesta's hands reach up beneath the hem of Cassian's shirt, dragging across his warm skin, dragging up the fabric. He pulls back enough that he can fist the back of his shirt, tugging it off completely and tossing it aside. Nesta practically moans appreciatively at the sight, daring to curl her nails against Cassian's shoulder, to bury her other hand amongst the dark curly strands of his hair.

"Your turn, sweetheart."

His hands make quick work of removing Nesta's sweater, her bra, and even her pants. It feels unfair, their comparative states of undress, but it's hard to focus on that when Cassian is looking at her the way he is. With his lips parted and his eyes dark, it's almost as if he's never seen her naked before.

"Fuck me," Cassian whispers, seemingly more to himself than anything.

He leans back down, latching his mouth to her throat. His lips drag across her skin, down over her collarbones until he reaches her breast. The hot press of his mouth against her skin only stokes the fire in her veins higher, like an echoing heat being brought to life. She arches up against him, burying a hand in his hair and dragging her nails against his scalp.

"Always flushed so pretty for me."

He switches his mouth's attention to her other breast, his hand finding home and continuing his previous ministrations, and Nesta is putty beneath him. She's always been so sensitive there, and the way his tongue swirls over her nipple, the way the stubble along his jaw scrapes against her skin, the way his fingers knead at the flesh, it all goes straight between her legs.

Nesta whines when Cassian pulls back, but he merely continues his path downwards, sliding down the bed until his shoulders are cradled between her thighs, until he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of her panties. He drags them down her legs slowly and tosses them aside before his fingers dig into the skin of her thighs, spreading her wider still.

It's unfair that one man can look so good between her thighs, with his hair already unruly from her own fingers, with his eyes dark and pinned directly on her, with that cocksure smirk of his beginning to peek through. It's unfair that she missed the sight of this so much.

"Fuck, look how wet this pretty cunt already is," Cassian groans, one of his thumbs skating over her teasingly.

"Cassian, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips against his hold.

"That's a good girl. Listen to how you beg."

Just the words have Nesta's toes curling, but even more so when Cassian rewards her begging. He sweeps the flat of his tongue over her, tracing a line all the way to her clit. He repeats the motion again and again, his lips closing around and teasing her clit with each pass. Nesta's fingers scrabble for purchase in the dark strands of his hair, her ankles slipping against his shoulders.

Cassian groans against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure he draws out of her. She swears there's nothing like this, the way he works his mouth and devours her, the way he makes her absolutely dizzy with it. Nesta tries to rock her hips, tries to ride his face, but Cassian's grip on her thighs is too firm. He keeps his eyes on her the whole time, as he builds her higher and higher.

He's like a man starved, a man on a mission, and Nesta certainly isn't complaining, not when her entire body feels like a live-wire from the way he continues to eat her out. That all too familiar pressure builds low in her gut, and Nesta whines, Cassian's name bubbling up at the back of her throat, but she's unable to press it forward, unable to warn him before the dam breaks and her release tears through her. Her thighs squeeze around Cassian's head, pleasure burning though her veins like a wildfire.

But Cassian doesn't stop his ministrations. His mouth continues to slide against her, his tongue pressing into her cunt where it still clenches and flutters with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Nesta whimpers at the over stimulation, trying to squirm away, but Cassian merely tugs her right back toward his mouth.

"Cassian… fuck…"

Cassian finally pulls his mouth away, that cocksure smirk of his still firmly in place. "I almost forgot how gorgeous you are when you come."

He turns his head to press sweet, soothing kisses along her inner thigh, and Nesta melts back against the mattress and the blankets. But her reprieve is short lived when Cassian buries two fingers in her cunt. Nesta gasps at the sudden intrusion, at the way the thick line of his fingers drag against the walls of her cunt.

"That's it, sweetheart."

Nesta has to bite her lip hard to keep her sounds in when Cassian starts to move his fingers, scissoring and spreading them. All their time apart and he still knows exactly how to play her body, how to thrust and curl his fingers until she's keening and moaning.

"Taking my fingers so well," he tells her, squeezing in a third finger beside the first two and curling them.

The praise goes right to Nesta's head, the motion of his fingers flaring straight through her veins. Her hand snaps down to curl around Cassian's wrist, nails biting against his skin as she holds him, keeps him right there with his fingers buried deep. He groans at her response, his forehead dropping against her hip bone.

"Are you going to squeeze my cock as tight as you're squeezing my fingers?"

"Take your pants off and find out."

Cassian chuckles softly, his hazel eyes flaring when he tilts his head to meet Nesta's gaze properly again. "Still so bratty. Don't you want to be a good girl for me, Nes?"

He curls his fingers again as he said the words, but Nesta swallows down her gasping moan, refusing to back down. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Cassian slides back up Nesta's body, his fingers never ceasing their brutal pace. He drags his nose over her collarbones, up her throat, until he can press a kiss to that spot behind her ear that always has Nesta shuddering, until he can sink his teeth into her earlobe.

"If our whole family wasn't just downstairs, I'd punish you for that," he whispers right against her ear, hot breath curling against her skin. "Have you screaming and crying until you're absolutely begging for my cock. But we'll just have to save that for when we're back home."

Pleasure is a flame twining all the way down Nesta's spine, and she turns her head enough that her nose bumps against his. "Promise?"

Cassian's smirk and the spark that flares through his hazel eyes feels like answer enough. He shifts enough that he can pull his fingers free, and Nesta whines at the loss, at the emptiness, but then he's clambering off the bed. Those fingers of his make deft work of his belt and pant button, and he shoves his jeans down his legs, kicking them aside. But then his hands pause in the waistband of his boxers, his expression slackening.

"I don't have anything."

The words have Nesta frowning in confusion, and she pushes up onto her elbows, watching him. "What?"

"I don't… I mean I didn't exactly expect this to be how the weekend went. Well, I'd hoped." Cassian sighs softly, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. "But I mean it felt a bit like putting the chicken before the egg if I packed—"

"Oh."

Silence falls between them and in the room. If Nesta listens hard enough, she can just hear the sounds of everyone still downstairs drinking and laughing and celebrating Feyre and the holiday. She doesn't have much to offer Cassian. She certainly didn't pack any condoms in her bag for this weekend.

"Wait."

It's all Cassian says before he turns on his heel, practically sprinting out of the bedroom door. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him, and Nesta hisses out his name after him, scrambling to cover herself with a blanket. At least the open door gives her the perfect view of exactly what Cassian is doing, to watch him dart into the room across the hall and root around in what Nesta presumes must be Azriel's bag. When he finally returns to the room, he has a condom poised between his fingers, his smile wide and triumphant as he closes the door behind him.

"Who knew Az and Eris fucking like rabbits all weekend could be beneficial to us too?"

Nesta snorts softly. "Won't your brother notice you've stolen from him?"

"I doubt he's keeping count enough to notice," Cassian offers, kneeing up onto the bed again. "Besides, I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

Cassian shakes his head fondly, but he obliges to her request, leaning down and connecting their lips again. Nesta buries her hands in his hair, kicking the blankets off her body so that she can wrap her legs around his hips and pull him into her. Cassian groans into her mouth, teeth teasing her bottom lip.

He pulls back enough that he can finally shimmy out of his boxers, quickly tossing them aside. His lips are back on hers as soon as he's slipped the condom on, tongue pressing into her mouth and drawing a moan from Nesta's throat with every flick and curl against her own. The calluses of his hands slide across her skin, down her thighs, until they hook beneath her knees, hiking her legs higher around his waist.

He moves his lips along her jaw, her throat. The head of his cock drags against Nesta's cunt, and her whole body shudders in anticipation, but he doesn't press forward. He does the same motion again, teasing her, and Nesta tightens her grip on Cassian's hair with a huff.

"Cass, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips up against him.

"There's that pretty begging."

He lines up his cock, and with a snap of his hips, he buries himself in her cunt, both of them moaning. Every nerve ending in Nesta's body zeroes in on where they're joined, where his cock stretches her and presses deep.

"Gods, I almost forgot how good it feels to have you wrapped around me."

He pulls his hips back just to rock them back forward again, building up a hard pace of thrusts. Nesta moans with every drag of his cock against the walls of her cunt, the way he fills her so completely. It has her clenching down hard around him, has her tilting her own hips up to meet every snap of his.

"That's a good girl," Cassian groans against her throat. "Squeezing me."

The praise only adds to the haze taking over Nesta's mind, the constant loop of pleasure and Cassian. She's little more than a mess of moans and whimpers and his name, little more than a puddle melting into the blankets beneath the press of his body above her. She barely even registers the pleas tumbling past her lips until Cassian's low voice cuts through again.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Keep you stretched and full."

His hand reaches down between their bodies, finding her clit with practiced each. Each tight circle he traces with his fingertips, each snap of his hips as he continues to fuck her, it only drives Nesta higher, her whole body on pins and needles and primed to fall head first over that ledge.

"Now be my good girl and come for me."

Nesta can do nothing but give in to the command. Spots dance behind her eyelids, and she clenches down hard as she barrels through her release, Cassian continuing to move his hips and elongating it as he chases his own. Even in her blissed-out state, Nesta makes sure to reach a hand up and into Cassian's hair, to tug just the way she knows he likes. Just the way to have his hips stuttering, his whole body shuddering as he comes with a groan.

When Cassian pulls out and shifts off of her, Nesta takes a moment to catch her breath. She pushes herself off the bed, picking up Cassian's discarded shirt off the floor and tugging it on. The large size keeps her mostly covered, the hem falling halfway down her thighs, but Nesta still pokes her head out the door, making sure the coast is truly clear before slipping down the hallway to the bathroom.

She takes the time to clean herself up, to splash water on her face and fix her hair in the bathroom mirror. When she steps back into the bedroom, Cassian has shifted to lay completely beneath the blankets, his hand tucked casually behind his head. There's no stopping the way her heart trips and stumbles between her ribs when his eyes meet hers, when that slow, soft smile she knows is just for her tugs across his face.

"Shouldn't we get dressed and go back downstairs?"

"Nap first, family time later," Cassian tells her, folding down the blankets in clear invitation.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but they both know it's fond, both know she was never going to do anything other than climb back into the bed. She's barely settled beneath the blankets before Cassian is shifting into his favorite position, arms tight and secure around her waist, his head pillowed on her chest.

"I almost forgot how cuddly you get after sex."

With how they're pressed so surely together, Nesta feels more than she hears the low rumble of Cassian's answering chuckle. Feels the soft puff of air as he sighs contently. Feels the way his arms squeeze.

"Better get used to it, sweetheart, because you're never getting rid of me now."

The words are barely more than a mumble against her chest, but Nesta still has to bite her lip around a smile. Wrapped up here in this bed, with him, she feels truly at peace. Feels warm and safe and happy. She raises her hand enough that she can card her fingers through the dark strands of his hair, dragging her nails just enough that she has Cassian all but purring, both their hearts slow and steady and whole.

"Good."

—

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