#I swear it’s like these people have never seen an animal before

[toast-the-corgi]

Why is it that every time I see a new “ground breaking discovery” in animal research it’s always like “guy you’ll never believe it but we actually found out that animals experience a range of emotions and being mean to them effects them badly” like yeah girl I knew that already when are you going to find a way to read a ferrets brain waves and tell me their favorite color

[no1ryomafan]

I’m always in and out of mega man circles and lore is a subject I’ve come to loathe sometimes as I enjoy the lore in this series but the gatekeeping was unreal over a series that didn’t have anything planned out-like most old video games trying to establish lore-so alterations to canon should be acceptable next to “aus exist for a reason” but maybe it’s just cause the fandom as is doesn’t like/give star force a chance, I wish low key people would be more accepting of the idea of “turning the FM-Ians into robots akin to the Stardroids” because that would be such a raw concept for them to still exist in the robot timeline but as more space alien robots we never saw but I know people would get hissy at this idea not being “canon” when this doesn’t invalidate the network timeline, it’s just saying “what if these aliens both coexist” (cause I also fuck with the stardroids also being FM-Ians or space Navis if duo.exe can exist, but I feel like someone would’ve done that by now but definitely hasn’t done this idea)

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[makismei]

❝ ALL YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ geto x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers, college!au suggestive content, modern! au, fluff, minor angst, MEN YEARNING, failing out of college, reader needs academic validation to live apparently

synopsis: he’ll love you, just as you are— even if you’re too soft for the world, he’ll gladly be your shield

suguru’s in love with you. it’s no secret.

as you lay on his chest, sweat slicked skin on skin, suguru wishes this pre arranged arrangement was more— he wishes you’d let him in, so he could love you more.

he tries, really. he wants to know you. anything about you.

at this point, he knows your body like the back of his hand. but your favourite colour? no idea. he would guess pink, but that’s only because you own a lot of pink tops.

you like sweets. recently, you’ve garnered a fascination for mochi donuts.

but all this information has come from his observant nature— you’ve never opened up to him, except for that one time, when you cried in his arms, seeking connection, another person’s warmth.

that was also the day you became friends with benefits.

whenever he tries to conduct a mini interview on you, you shut him out, telling him he doesn’t need to know those things.

he knows that you know he loves you.

he’s said it one too many times, when he’s most vulnerable, buried in you. but not once has he heard it back.

but it’s okay. he has a feeling that you’re starting to fall in love with him too.

you’ve started telling him about your day, as well as extremely vague plans for the next. suguru know he’s grasping at air, but he swears he can feel it in his hands.

“can we try?” he whispers, uncertain. to tell you the truth— suguru, as suave and handsome and perfect as he is, isn’t immune to insecurity. girls throw themselves at his feet, but he couldn’t care less because they’re not you.

you sit up. your warmth leaving him shatters his heart.

his room, air humid with sweat and sex, suddenly feels icy. but he gazes longingly at your back, at the scars on your elbows that probably have stories behind them— stories he craves so desperately to know.

“what’s so bad about it?” he continues, “is it me?”

“don’t ask stupid questions,” you retort. but he hears a shaky breath leave your lips, quiet cries filling the room.

he sits up, hand on your back. “look at me.”

he’s got you.

you shake your head, mindlessly bringing a finger to your lips, picking at the dead skin— a nervous tick.

“don’t do that,” suguru says, fingers cupping your jaw, gently turning your head so he can see your face. his thumb runs along your poor bottom lip, catching blood on his finger.

“i get overwhelmed easily,” you mutter, eyes glancing down in shame, “i shut people out when i feel too vulnerable and i’m mean.”

he huffs a laugh, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “you’re protecting yourself and that’s okay.”

“i’m a shut-in, i don’t like leaving the house and i’m not romantic at all.” you continue and he nods, gaze never faltering.

“you like shoujo anime. especially the episodes with trips or big events.” he whispers, watching you pout. how cute, he thinks, like a petulant child who just wants to be noticed.

a tear streams down your cheek, wetting his thumb as he tries to wipe them away, but it’s like rainfall, so he lets you feel it out.

“i failed out of college,” you voice breaks, “the only thing i was supposed to be good at.”

you’re sobbing, head down in shame and suguru just pulls you into his arms. he rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back, heart absolutely shattering at the sounds of your cries.

“your failures don’t define you,” he mutters, “you’re still smart, capable and hard working. that doesn’t change.”

you pull away, staring him in the face and suguru thinks you’re so beautiful, so vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“how do you know?” you sniffle, “you don’t know anything about me.”

he smiles, nodding. suguru wipes your tears, “i wonder why.”

you click your tongue, mustering a glare that holds absolutely no malice. he breathes a quiet laugh, “you’d bend over backwards for your so-called friends, even though none of them realize what you’re going through right now.”

“i don’t want them to know.” you refute.

“i bet you didn’t want me to know either,” he chastises, but it’s soft and his hands are so warm. “but i know now, because you’re important to me. i don’t want you to go through it all alone.”

you’re still glaring, but the crease between your brows have softened. “do you have a saviour complex?”

he shakes his head, “just a thing for damsels in distress, i guess.”

you pinch his arm. he takes your hand and it brings it to his lips. you feel warmth flood your body, but you don’t know if you deserve it.

“what if this ends up being the worst decision you’ll ever make?” you whisper and it’s the first time he’s heard you sound so insecure.

suguru cups your face in his hands, long black hair framing his face. his hair is so long that it tickles your skin, what would your parents say, when you bring home a guy with hair this long?

you can’t find it in you to care, because you know this guy loves you wholeheartedly. you don’t even know what you did to deserve it.

“it won’t be.” and it’s resolute, “haven’t i told you enough? that i love you?”

you nod slowly, tears finally drying.

he leans in, lips brushing against yours. “i’ll put in the work to make you believe me, to trust me.”

you laugh, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

you realize here and now, that out of everyone in your life so far, suguru is the only one who doesn’t ask anything of you. he just loves you and it feels unbelievable.

suguru laughs, his forehead touching yours. “i should be telling you that.”

manga panel from my love story with yamada-kun at lv999 ^.^

[heliosundercover]

Batboys and

how they talk about you

Bonus fic as a thank you for allowing my jason fic to do well 💋

Dick Grayson-

, who talks about you like a goddess walking the earth, loves you more than words. The type to talk about you so much that people doubt your real

 

“My girlfriend is so sweet, guys. Today we went to that one library I like. Guys, have I told you even her favorite book is adorable?”

It doesn’t help that he tends to get caught up in certain details, completely ignoring other ones. No one knew your name until a week into dating.

 

Jason: “If you asked me before, I would’ve never believed him; weve all gone a little insane, but now that Ive seen proof, I'm happy for him. He gets to be well-dick, and she gets to smile and nod, but I swear she enjoys it. They’re weird together.”

 

Tim: “We love Dick. A lot, but we were looking at a wonderful facility that has an in-patient gym in the beginning. But the way he looks at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did miracles.” 

 

Damian: “At least I believed him at the start. He was smitten and absolutely whipped. I thought it was just like Dick. I don’t know why I, of all people, was the only one that caught it.

 

Bruce: Yeah, I knew she was real. Why would I ruin everyone’s fun? I mean, Dick is a bit. Aloof sometimes… I'm not exactly surprised; he’s not exactly amazing socially sometimes, but with her, he’s extra awkward, and I watched him flirt with men and women. But look, as long as he’s happy, we’re happy for him.”

 

Dick is a completely drunken idiot, with so much training thrown out the window. 

(Can you tell I'm not a fan of a playboy dick😞 im sorry i love a good love stuck man)

 

Jason Todd-

, who is extremely protective of his peace, sometimes acts as if you’re fragile. He was the type to invite you to a family game night where he called a family meeting an hour beforehand, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior. Needless to say, it was awkward, but one uno round later, he realized you fit in just fine. 

 

“I knew my girl would win. She's a gangster.”

boast when you absolutely dominate everyone playing in the game. You never quite beat the cheating allegations.

 

Dick: "I don’t know how he did it, but he found someone who brings out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. No one is that good at uno; naturally, at least, I think she’s a meta. I'm not saying that non-metas aren’t good at uno.”

 

Tim: "You know how in movies the girl animals just have lashes, and how the boy is always darker and the girl will be like a lighter color? It's like she was made for him. I'm glad he found his anamorphic girl, Wolf. But, can I be honest? I think Alfred was telling her our cards.”

 

Damian: "I'm glad Jaybird is happy. He’s definitely earned it. Even if she cheats at UNO, they’re perfect for each other. Hell, the cheating is what makes them perfect for each other.”

 

Bruce: "I'm glad to see Jason happy. The sparkling in his eyes, the boyish smile, is the same joy I saw after he hit me with a car iron and ran off, giggling. I like her.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne-

is proud to show you off publicly. He’s not one to spoil someone, but sometimes he can’t help but pick up trinkets for you. Sometimes you’d wake up to keychains, jewelry, or even clothes somewhere in your shared room. 

 

He tried so hard to be there for you and protect you from his line of work. Some nights, he wouldn’t come to bed at all to avoid waking you. Some nights, if you worried too much, he would send Dick out in the Batman costume so he could be by your side. 

 

"Shh, baby, its ok... Tonight, I'm staying with you, okay? I love you; do you know that? And I know sometimes the risk scares you, but I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Dick: "It's nice knowing Bruce isn’t constantly brooding about it. Well, I knew that fact already, but this is different. I only see a light in his eyes when he’s doing stuff he absolutely loves. Like when he talks to his parents tombs and we pretend we don’t see him.”

 

Jason: "i think that man would come back from the dead more dramatically than I did for this woman. And I waged like 3 wars.”

 

Tim: “Sometimes I see them sitting in the library together in silence. All they do is enjoy each other’s presence. Its adorable”

 

Damian: “Dads earned it. And when I say he’s earned it, I mean he’s earned it!”

 

Bruce isn’t the easiest to be with, but he always makes up for it.

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[hxney-lemcn]

The Dragon's Savior — Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you were tasked with slaying the dragon...so how did you end up living with the fae prince?

tw: death (?), idk (if I miss something tell me)

a/n: I'm so tired and I wanted this to be done, so sorry if the ending is a bit rushed.

wc: 3.9k

Master List

The dungeon was dimly lit, dank, and eerily silent. You were unsure how the torches were alight as this dungeon had been long abandoned. A plume of green flames in the distance seemed to answer your curiosity. You had been ordered by the high king to slay the beast. You were no knight or hero, but it seems like they were running out of men to send. Honestly, you didn’t want to do this. Everyone who’d entered this place hadn’t been seen again, and you didn’t want to become another victim of the scaly beast, yet it was either death by dragon or locked in prison for life. You’d take your chances with the chained creature. 

You weren’t sure how such a creature was chained down. As you continued on, you wondered why they only locked it up instead of killing it. As you continued through the giant halls, you paused at the entrance of a giant room. Large pillars rose on both sides, the room empty except for the metal of armor and bones that littered the floor…well, there are the previous knights and heroes that had their try at the dragon. Unlike them, you stood in just your tunic, a small sword and a satchel of miscellaneous items you brought just in case. As your eyes roamed the cavernous room, they landed on ink black scales, green slitted eyes narrowed on your figure. 

As you stood there, staring at the beast as it snarled at you, you felt your heart twist and break. You had never seen anything so beautiful before. A muzzle laid hazardously over its snout. The metal of the muzzle twisted and singed, the leather straps frayed if not completely snapped. You could hardly call it a muzzle as it rested above its snout, not covering its snarling mouth in the slightest. Perhaps whomever put this creature here planned for it to starve? Then your eyes landed on the chains that were clasped around its four limbs, a shiny silvery color, glittering gallantly under the green puffs that threatened past the dragon's lips. You were surprised it hadn’t killed you already, the two of you watching the other cautiously. 

Rage had started to consume you. It reminded you of a dog that had been abused and was going to be put down. A cornered animal that was merely trying to keep itself alive against whatever threatened it. Such a beautiful creature, whether it was a danger to people or not, had no right to be treated so inhumanely. You’ve only read old tales of dragons, they had nearly been wiped out, and the ones left remaining were in hiding. Apparently they lived for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you wondered what all the dragons in front of you had witnessed. How long was its life spent in a cage, hunted and threatened? The dragon was clearly here first, humans had no right to put them on a leash. 

Slowly, you lowered your sword to the ground, “Hello.” It’s ear twitched, eyes never leaving your form. It let out a huff and you took that as your cue to continue. Telling the creature your name, you felt a little silly, but it seemed to comprehend what you were saying, “I was sent here to kill you.” Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that as the being snarled, the frills on the side of its head standing. “W-wait, sorry, I just want you to know I’m not going to do that!” Its eyes narrowed, not seeming to trust you. Perhaps someone’s done this before, but tried to kill it when they got close enough. 

“I swear!” You exclaimed. “Here, I’ll kick the sword out of the room so I’m harmless.” When you did what you said, the dragon slumped down once more. It felt unnerving, having such a scary beast watch you so intensely, but you decided to continue on, even if you ended up becoming the beast's next snack. “Can I take your muzzle off?” You hoped that would show your intentions were pure, that you’d put your trust in the beast’s claws so it would let you help it. If you were going to jail for life for failing to kill it, you might as well let it free, no? You fidgeted as it watched you for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate your offer. You never realized how smart dragons were, it was almost like it wasn’t just a beast.

You jumped as the dragon set its head on the stoney ground and let out a small huff. Hesitating, you asked if that was it agreeing, in which it nodded. Taking in a deep breath, you felt yourself shake with each step you took. It really set in just how big the creature was when you finally were face to face. With its head fully on the ground, the top of its head (excluding its horns) reached up to your thighs. You stated your next move before you did anything, not wanting to startle it. Gently, you managed to remove the muzzle although it took a bit of work with the frayed edges. Out of nowhere, the dragon hit the piece of metal, quickly tossing the offending mouthpiece out of the room with a growl. The quick movements caused you to jump back, lifting your arms in a weak defense. When its mini tantrum was over, it let out a low grumble at you, its head once again resting on the ground. Blinking owlishly, you realized it was trying to calm you, almost looking sorry for its previous actions. 

“I…I can try to get y-your chains off,” You mumbled, trying to calm your shaking limbs. Its head tilted, so you explained, “I-I don’t have a key or anything, but I brought my lockpicking set. I’m pretty good at it, so I can try to remove your chains…” 

With its huff of approval, you dug through your satchel, taking out your lockpicking set. Kneeling down in front of one of its powerful front arms, you took in the type of lock and what best to use. Expertly, you stuck in two picks, slowly moving your tools until you heard the soft clicks. After a few minutes of trial and error, you managed to get the lock to open, and you gently tugged the metal off its wrist. To your horror, its scales seemed to have rubbed off, its skin a bright red. You felt yourself fret, now searching for anything you may have brought that can ease pain. What lowly, disgusting people to harm such a creature. Your scowl diminished when the dragon lightly nuzzled you with its nose, its eyes brightening slightly, then it motioned to its other wrist. Against your wishes, you ignored the chafed wrists of the being, focusing on lock picking the three remaining chains instead. 

When you finished, you weren’t sure what to expect. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy to the dragon, that you were worth to be left alive. Though, you wouldn’t blame it if it swallowed you whole, as it probably hasn’t had anything to eat in a while. To your shock, the dragon laid flat, fluttering its wings lightly. It stared at you expectantly, its head motioning to its back. Wait…it wanted you to ride it? You saw your life spiraling before your eyes…perhaps it was the moment it was declared you were to kill the beast. Between going to jail for life or…being a dragon's friend (?) you decided the latter wouldn’t be too bad. So you carefully climbed onto its back. You felt like you were on top of the world as it walked through the dungeon. As it climbed up the steps, you realized this dungeon must’ve been made specifically for dragons as everything was to scale for the giant beast. 

The bright sun shone on you both, the inky black scales turning an iridescent purple, its green eyes glittering. Your heart swelled at the sight, if you thought it was beautiful before, it is absolutely stunning now. You were quickly snapped out of your reverie when it snapped its wings, lifting off the ground with a gust. Trembling once more, you wrapped yourself around the dragon to your best ability to keep yourself from falling to your doom. You weren't sure how long the flight was as you kept your face in its neck, only glancing out every now and then. Your surroundings grew darker as clouds filled the sky, looking out, you noticed a castle that was surrounded by thorny vines. You blinked as that seemed to be your destination. The castle looked abandoned…and you suppose it was since the dragon was held prisoner. The place looked uninviting. Your dragon friend landed gently on the land in front of the castle, and you slid off slowly. Your legs shook, unused to riding any type of mount, but it didn’t seem to mind you holding onto it for stability. The stone bridge that led to the castle was completely covered in the thorny vines, the stones crumbling slightly. It seems the only way in or out was to fly. 

Once you trusted yourself to walk, the dragon led you into the castle. The dark bricks that built the castle made the space feel small even though it was grand, the silence felt unsettling and you felt a shiver run up your spine at the chill that filled the space. Even for how old the place seemed to be, it was still mainly all intact. Some debris here or there, but the stairs you passed seemed safe to climb and the walls weren’t crumbling. The dragon stopped in what seemed to be a throne room, two empty chairs sat up ahead, dust collecting over the room. Sitting, the dragon faced you, its eyes blinking at you like a lost puppy. If anything, you were the lost puppy here.

Before you could speak up and question what the course of action was now, a figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He looked human, but some of his features were warped. Pointed ears, slitted eyes, fangs. You felt your heart jump when you realized he was a fae, a being that was thought to be wiped out, the only proof of their existence being dilapidated buildings (that were slowly being taken over by humans) and mentions in history books of the great fae war. You coward next to your dragon friend, watching as the fae knelt to the ground, his next words shaking your entire being.

“Prince Draconia, it’s good to see you back.”

Prince? Prince of…the fae? You…what have you got yourself into? The surname Draconia has been drilled into your head when you read history books. The terrible Fae War that was meant to save humanity. To fight against the Draconia lineage and get rid of fae once and for all. Apparently the books had missed one important issue. And now you were in the dragon's den, literally and figuratively. 

“It seems like you’ve brought a friend,” The fae continued, crimson eyes falling onto your figure. 

The dragon beside you shifted, his form turning more human in nature. He could’ve fooled you if it weren’t for the horns that sat on top of his head or the green slitted eyes that seemed to stare through you. 

“This child of man broke me free from the prison they held me in,” Draconia explained, his bright eyes softening when they landed on you. “A truly strange individual indeed.”

“Should I prepare a room?” The fae responded, his smile seemed more mischievous than anything. 

“Yes,” Draconia nodded calmly while you felt like you were going to explode. This was all happening too fast. You thought you were going to be eaten by a dragon for Pete’s sake! Not end up saving a prince that humans wanted dead and end up as a guest in his palace! Although you felt like a whirlwind was storming through your mind, you were too meek to speak up, left to watch the events unfold before you. 

“I shall inform the servants of your return then, my liege,” The fae nodded. “Silver and Sebek shall be here shortly.”

Then in a poof, the fae disappeared. You turned to Draconia, unsure what to do or say. You were a mere peasant. A pickpocket, a lockpicker. You were not prepared for such a situation as you found yourself in. 

“Thank you, dear child of man,” The fae prince bowed his head towards you. “If not for your kindness and bravery, I would not be here for my people. In return, you will be granted whatever your heart desires.” Once again, you found yourself blinking owlishly, and saying the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s a dangerous offer.”

Stupid. Why the hell would you say that? Now he’s going to think you’re a threat and-

Is he…chuckling? Why was his voice so smooth? What the hell is going on? You needed some time to yourself to clear your thoughts. 

“Perhaps it is,” Draconia nodded, a fond smile resting on his lips (his fangs made it look a bit sinister but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be intimidating). “But I have trust in someone who was selfless enough to save not only a prisoner, but a dragon.”

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to ask for, “That’s a lot of trust for someone you don’t know.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, his amusement shining through his eyes. “Then perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

Damn he was smooth.

…

You found yourself not so easily forgetting about your past. The life on the streets, swiping food when you could, stealing others hard earned money. You weren’t proud, in fact, it was always like a cloud hung over your head. You could never keep a job, not that they paid well. And when you got the notice from the high king to slay a dragon you knew it was karma for living a dastardly life. 

But now you found yourself living in luxury, something you found hard getting used to. A bed bigger than you’ve ever seen, sheets so silky you felt like you were sliding around, meals so extravagant your stomach hurt just looking at it. Not to mention the handsome prince who’d watch you like you’ve hung the stars. 

It all felt wrong. Like you were an imposter. You have hurt people. It didn’t matter if you felt guilty because innocent people still dealt with the consequences of your thievery. How many went hungry because they ‘lost’ their coins? How many only broke even because you got your hands on their food without them noticing? You didn’t deserve the royal treatment you were currently receiving. Especially when your original goal wasn’t to save any prince or prisoner. You were sent there to kill a beast, and you merely found yourself empathizing with it. It was like stumbling upon a poor rabbit stuck in a trap, it would feel wrong to let it struggle until it died.

You felt sick as beautiful fabric draped over you, tailored to fit your every curve to the t. Jewelry covering any spots that may show skin. You weren’t stupid, you saw the way the servants would gaze at you coldly, the whispers that they carefully covered as small talk. Not only were you terrible to humans, but you were also a human. To fae that was the harbinger of doom. Apart of a people who attacked the fae for merely being different. Yes, fae were more powerful, but they kept to themselves. 

You were practically drowning in riches, and you could only think about the people who could use it more than you. Sure you’ve had your fair share of going to bed hungry, sleeping outside and being dirty more than you’d like to think, but you weren’t the only one. Perhaps you weren’t as built for living rich like you thought you were, you couldn’t help but muse. Oh how naive you were when you dreamt of riches beyond your imagination. 

Malleus observed your downtrodden state. How reluctant you were during meals, or how you looked at the jewelry adorning your body with so much disdain he could nearly feel it. You had managed to worm your way into his heart. Like in those human tales of the knight rescuing the royal, he found himself falling for his savior. Not because you were tasked to save him, or that you could’ve killed him but didn’t (it was clear the power imbalance between you both). It was because you saw him, in his full powerfully dangerous glory, and instead of choosing to kill, you chose to help. Something he hadn’t seen in any human before (not that he’s met many).  You continued to surprise him. You were clearly not from noble descent. Your ragged tunic and chipped sword were clear indicators of that when you both met. Not to mention how you seemed so afraid to touch anything, even after he stated you could have what you want, you were still considerate of him and his property. Instead of asking for riches or gems, you seemed lost. Unsure of what you may desire. During your stay, your personality truly shined. You were naturally polite, treating the servants and knights like they were people instead of objects (something even most nobles failed at). So when your curious shining gaze turned into one of guilt, Malleus couldn’t just do nothing. 

It was a gloomy afternoon. Briar Valley wasn’t the sunniest of places, you had learned. Malleus had invited you to have some tea in the palace garden, and who were you to deny him? You both sipped at your tea in a pleasant silence.

“How has your stay been?” Malleus was the first to break the silence. His bright green eyes watching you intently.

“More than I could ask for,” You replied, gaze falling onto your teacup. 

“...and that is a bad thing?” He read you perfectly.

“I…I just don’t feel like, like I deserve any of this,” You muttered. “I’m not a good person. Not in the eyes of my people or yours.”

“So that’s the problem,” Malleus hummed. His features softened, but determination shone clearly in his eyes. “I promise you that you are not as bad as you view yourself, child of man. You have been nothing but lovely since the day I met you. Your heart is truly bigger than most, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong. I couldn’t think of a better person to spoil.”

“I think you have a bias,” You grumbled, trying to recover from how easy it was for him to fluster you.

“I think you have one as well, dear child of man,” Malleus chuckled. 

…

You felt yourself slowly warm to your new life. Looked forward to seeing Malleus in the morning, seeing him off to his princely duties (as well as bidding farewell to Lilia). Although Silver and Sebek were Malleus’ retainers, he had ordered them to watch over you. At first it was daunting, but Silver was a sweetheart, and you slowly learned that Sebek didn’t actually hate you (hopefully), he was just very invested in Malleus’ wellbeing. 

Over time, you found yourself wanting one thing. One thing that seemed impossible for Malleus to grant. You wanted to stay. Not just as some random human who saved the fae prince, but as a part of the weird family that they seemed to shape. You hadn’t felt so happy in a long, long time. You couldn’t recall the last time you had no worries, felt relaxed, found someone so comforting. And as you sat at the dining room table, pushing around your food, Lilia decided to point out the very thing you’ve been avoiding.

“So,” The pink and black haired fae said your name mischievously. “Have you thought of what you desire from Prince Draconia?” This question caught the attention of said prince, his gaze steady like he was pinning you down. 

“Not really,” You smiled, waving off the question.

“Really?” Lilia asked with a fake pout. “‘Cus I’m pretty sure you thought of something quite specific.”

You tensed, shoulders raising, could he read minds? Was that even possible? Is he bluffing? Did your body language give you away? 

“Did you have something in mind, child of man?” Malleus joined in. When you glanced at him, you noticed how he seemed a bit deflated. 

“W-well…I have…” You stumbled. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s something you can grant…”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask~” Lilia chirped with a wink. “Malleus can grant more than you could imagine.” 

“Lilia is right,” Malleus agreed. “There is little I won’t give you.” Your heart raced at his deeply sincere vow. You kept yelling in your mind that he didn’t mean it romantically. 

Biting your lip, you decided to spill your wish, “I want to stay here…with you all…”

“Is that all?” Malleus asked, a bright grin tugging at his lips (it would be quite off putting as he always seemed so stoic, but you were too lovesick to think such a thought). “I would be delighted to host you here for as long as you wish.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Won’t that be weird? I’m no noble, or royal, or related to anyone here.”

“If that is a problem for you, there is a way to solve such a problem,” Malleus declared. 

“Khehe~” Lilia giggled. “It seems we’ll have some planning to do.”

You stared at the two confused, and they refused to elaborate. 

…

“Thank you,” You spoke up one evening as you stared at the roses that littered the garden. Malleus stood by your side, watching you lovingly. “For everything. You’ve done so much for me I can’t even explain it all.”

“I must thank you as well, child of man,” He replied in kind. “You have also shaped my future to be significantly brighter.”

“I suppose being freed from prison does that,” You teased, but Malleus didn’t smile nor did he laugh. 

“You’ve done much more for me than merely unbuckling chains,” Malleus stated, gaze intense with an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on. “You have also unburdened my heart from its lonely cage, each day is brighter with your smile, with your love, with your kindness. I wish for you to stay by my side for as long as you’ll have me.”

You hadn’t expected your small gratitude to be taken to such an extent. You felt your heart flutter and your knees get weak. Just what was he leading up to? There was only one end in sight and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such a proposal. 

“Would you do me the honor of ruling Briar Valley by my side?”

“M-mal…” Your voice trembled. You stared at him wide eyed, all the ways this could go wrong running through your head. “B-but I’m human…” 

“Such trivial things do not matter to me.”

“But your people!” You exclaimed. “Th-they’ll riot!”

“My people trust in my judgment,” He muttered. “Besides, isn’t this like your human tales? The knight marries the royal and they live happily ever after?”

Malleus was right. You were truly living in your own fairytale. Sure, it was a bit backwards, but as you stared into his bright green eyes, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, what knight wouldn’t choose the dragon?

[itgirl-111]

OFFENSIVELY ATTRACTIVE VAUNT

Why do I have to be so offensively attractive? Everything about me from top to toe is perfection. You've never seen a face as pretty and flawless as mine. No cause why do I have to look this hot? I'm fr the hottest girl on the planet. Everything about me from top to toe is pure perfection, my individual features are perfect and flawless but when they come together they are so harmonious? Like everything just fits my face so fucking perfectly like it's meant to be there. Every inch of my face and body is gorgeous and flawless. I am a walking masterpiece, I'm a work of art. Everyone is obsessed with me the first time they see me, I am so drop dead gorgeous that people literally double take and gasp once they lay their eyes on me. I mean, I'm always the center of attention because why wouldn't I be? I high key give off real main character vibes, it's like I straight up walked out of an anime. It's near impossible for someone to look this humanely beautiful but I do because I'm just too damn stunning. I literally take everyone's breath away. I am so offensively attractive, people find it difficult to not look at me, I swear all eyes turn only to me because I'm literally the most beautiful ever. It's only once in a blue moon that you'd get a chance to see a person as attractive as I am, Im once in a lifetime afterall. I get complimented every single day, I hear everyone call me beautiful more than my own name. I am too painfully attractive, it's indescribable. I'm the typa girl who you see once and never forget. I literally got everyone feeling some type of way they never felt before. I am literally so utterly mesmerizing. I got everyone simping for me fr. I'd be literally breathing and everyone would be down bad for me, Literally down bad. I got universal sex appeal, meaning everyone regardless of sexuality is down bad for me . I am so sexy people genuinely cannot get over it and everyday I just get 100x trillion times hotter. I am just sooo damn fine like I've got too pretty of a face and even more powerful vibe. I believe in my supremacy fr. Sometimes it's just so hard to grasp the fact that a person as attractive as I, is living on the same planet as everyone else, everyone is damn lucky to be born in the same generation as I am. It's ridiculous how many simps I have, like damn I really got everyone down bad for me huh. I am the pinnacle of God tier beauty and charisma.

There's something about my vibe which is just so uniquely mine, like my vibe and energy is so one of a kind, everyone can feel my vibe even before I walk into the room. I give off an expensive, powerful, hot girl vibe who straight up walked out of an anime I swear lol. My energy is way too magnetic and irresistible, it speaks volumes. My presence is literally out of this world. The way I carry myself, the way I talk, the way I do things, the way I think, the way I look, my energy, my mannerisms, my habits, all of it is way too unique to be replicated. Everyone wanna study me like their favourite subject. It's impossible to mistake me for another one, I stand out and outshine literally everyone with my beauty, charisma, and interesting personality. The fact that it comes to me so naturally and effortlessly? Even better. I've got such amazing wit and humour, I'm so personable that people genuinely love to be around me even though I may seem intimidating at first. I always know how to spark interesting and amazing conversations, I know when to speak and be quiet, I got that perfect balance between loud and quiet confidence. My intelligence and the way I keep learning new things so easily? Even hotter!. I am an ICON. My energy is actually so magnetic, I have that little something, that is just so insanely attractive and captivating that it cannot be described in words, only felt. I truly believe in my own supremacy.

[fullsunstrawberry]

SCREAM FOR ME

synopsis: Jisung orders a Ghostface costume after hearing you confess how hot masks are on guys.

pairings: Jisung x reader

warnings: SMUT, a little bit of CNC, Blind fold, Use of a knife, mention of handcuffs (not used), cream pie, cunnilingus, chocking, no condom mentioned, grinding, grinding on jeno/jaemin, drinking, swearing, and probably more lol

word count: 5.3k

a/n: happy halloween <3

You and your friends have always looked forward to Halloween. It was the one time of year when you could dress up and let loose. This year, you were especially excited. Drunkenly admitting why you were excited for Halloween this year to one of your friends, Jaemin, seemed like a fun time in your tipsy brain.

“I’m telling you, Jaemin,” you said, swaying slightly in your seat, “it’s not about who wears the mask. I just want someone in a Ghostface mask. I don’t even care who it is. I’d find it so hot.”

Jaemin laughed, leaning back in his chair. “What’s wrong with you but I get it, masks are hot!”

Secretly, Jisung, who had been quietly observing from a corner of the room, had heard every word. His heart skipped a beat. Jisung, being shy, had always admired you from afar. He knew you were older and had never seen him as anything more than a younger friend. But hearing your wish sparked something in him.

But he was too shy to execute it, right? Maybe he’ll just order the costume just in case…

“A cheerleader, huh? How original, Y/n,” Renjun teased, rolling his eyes.

Haechan nudged Renjun with a grin. “Come on, she looks hawt! You’re the one dressed as a children's book.”

“Moomin’s cool,” Renjun mumbled defensively.

“Cool? You’re just wearing a white shirt and ears!” Haechan retorted.

You laughed at their playful banter and glanced around to see what the others were up to. Jeno, sporting dog ears and a collar, was carefully draping fake spider webs around the room. Bunny eared Jaemin and basketball player Chenle were setting out snacks, and Jaemin kept stealing glances at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“What’s so funny?” you demanded, marching over to the table and pointing at Jaemin.

Jaemin raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just admiring your costume, that’s all.”

“Sure, and what’s the real reason?”

Jaemin chuckled, “You’re really putting in some effort to get laid tonight.”

A mischievous smirk appeared on your face as you twirled around. “Am I giving off the perfect victim vibe?”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Chenle yelled, his eyes wide in disbelief.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at you and Jaemin. Jaemin’s laughter erupted uncontrollably, while you shushed Chenle with a grin.

“What’s happening?” Spider-Man Mark asked as the rest of the group gathered in the dining room.

“Y/n’s on the hunt for someone in a Ghostface costume,” Jaemin explained between laughs.

“DAMN IT, I should’ve worn a Ghostface costume!” Haechan said huffing at his cowboy outfit, only to wince as Renjun playfully punched his shoulder.

“Stop talking about my love life!” you huffed. “But if any tall, attractive Ghostfaces show up, send them my way!”

The guys laughed and shook their heads before returning to their tasks.

“Oh, where’s Jisung?” you asked Chenle, noticing his absence.

“He’s running late. Said he’d be here later,” Chenle replied.

Jaemin smirked, “Probably just trying to avoid setting up,” he joked.

You chuckled, shaking your head before turning back to finish arranging the party.

The house quickly became alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and the buzz of conversation. People in all sorts of costumes filed in: animals, witches, superheroes, and a lot more. But no Ghostface in sight …

You moved through the crowd, catching up with friends and admiring their costumes. As the party gained momentum, you started to let loose, dancing and laughing with Jaemin and Haechan.

Every so often, though, your thoughts drifted back to your earlier conversation. Your friends had laughed it off, but a tiny part of you wondered if a Ghostface would actually appear tonight. You shook your head at the silliness of it all and got back to enjoying the party.

“Y/n, come take a shot with me!” Haechan called, dragging you over to the kitchen.

Smiling, you clink your glass against his and downed the shot, feeling the warmth spread through you.

Just as you placed your glass down, the door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. The partygoers around you barely noticed, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the white mask. Ghostface.

You couldn’t help but smirk, nudging Jaemin who stood beside you.

“Look,” you whispered.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, glancing at the new arrival.

“Who is that?”

“No clue,” you admitted, heart racing a little. “But they’re definitely hot as hell.”

The figure remained near the doorway for a moment, scanning the room with eerie calm. Then, slowly, the Ghostface started making his way through the crowd, but his gaze—hidden behind the mask—was locked on you.

Each step he took felt planned, like he was taking his time to make his approach. Your stomach twisted, was he really making his way over to you?

“He’s coming over here,” Jaemin muttered, clearly amused.

“Looks like your wish is coming true.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, though you couldn’t hide the shy smile on your face.

The Ghostface finally reached you, standing just a foot away. The mask tilted slightly, as if studying you. You crossed your arms, trying to appear unfazed, though you could feel your pulse quickening.

“Nice costume,” you said, breaking the tension. “Going for the silent type?”

The figure didn’t respond, only tilting their head again in that unnerving, playful way. Then, without a word, they extended a gloved hand toward you.

You glanced at Jaemin, who shrugged, clearly entertained by whatever was happening. With a deep breath, you accepted the hand.

The Ghostface pulled you closer, and you found yourself standing just inches away, your heart racing faster than you cared to admit.

Whoever was behind the mask leaned in slightly, their movements slow. You couldn’t see their face, but you could feel the intensity in their gaze.

“Okay, I have to admit,” you said softly, trying to maintain some control over the situation, “this is kinda hot.”

The Ghostface’s shoulders shook slightly, as if laughing silently, and then, without warning, they twirled you away, leaving you standing there, stunned and a little breathless.

As they disappeared back into the crowd, you turned to Jaemin, who was grinning ear to ear.

“I told you,” he said smugly, “tonight’s gonna be fun for you.”

You laughed, though your mind was still reeling from the encounter. Who was under that mask? And why are you already so hot and bothered.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd, looking for any sign of the mysterious Ghostface.

The interaction had been brief but left a strange, exciting feeling buzzing under your skin. You found yourself drawn into conversations, but your mind kept drifting back to that masked figure.

At some point, Jaemin nudged you again. “You okay, missing your killer?”

You shrugged, trying to act casual. “I haven’t seen him since.”

“It’s weird seeing you this horny over some guy in a mask” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully shoved him away. “Stop. You’re making this weirder than it has to be.”

But in truth, Jaemin wasn’t wrong. You couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever was behind that mask knew exactly what they were doing, playing into your earlier confession. It was kind of scary— but you were enjoying it way too much.

As you made your way toward the back of the house, needing a breather, you passed by Renjun and Chenle, who were deep in conversation about some horror movie.

The sliding glass door leading to the backyard was slightly open, and you stepped outside, welcoming the cool night air. The distant hum of the party continued inside, but out here, everything was quieter.

You leaned against the porch railing, staring at the dark sky, when you heard soft footsteps behind you. A glance over your shoulder revealed the masked man, standing at the edge of the patio, just watching.

“Seriously?” you muttered, though there was no real irritation in your tone. If anything, it was curiosity.

The Ghostface took a few more steps toward you, closing the gap, but still maintaining that frightening silence. The party noise from inside seemed to fade as you locked eyes—or rather, your gaze locked on the mask.

The figure took off their gloves slowly, stuffing them into their back pocket, and for a split second, you wondered if they would finally reveal themselves.

“Okay,” you said, turning to fully face them. “You’ve got my attention. What now?”

Without a word, Ghostface reached out and, gently but firmly, took your hand. This time, there was no hesitation. You let them pull you closer, so close that you could hear the faintest sound of their breath behind the mask. Your heart pounded in your chest.

In the dim light of the backyard, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. The Ghostface raised their free hand slowly, brushing a lock of hair from your face with surprising tenderness.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, they lifted their mask just enough for you to catch a glimpse of their lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

Whoever it was—they were about to kiss you. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, your mind racing with the mystery and excitement of it all.

But then, just as you thought they would make their move, the sliding door burst open with a loud thud.

“Y/n!” Haechan yelled from inside, half-drunk and waving a beer bottle. “Come on! We’re about to do shots!”

You blinked, the heat of the moment shattering as you turned toward the noise. When you glanced back, Ghostface had already lowered their mask and started backing away, disappearing into the shadows of the yard.

You stood there for a moment, dazed. Wondering if you would ever see him again.

Haechan stumbled out onto the porch, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“What are you doing out here? Come back in! The party’s not over yet!”

“You sure know how to ruin a moment,” you muttered, glancing over your shoulder one last time. But the yard was empty, The mystery Ghostface was gone.

“It’s party time!!” Haechan was too drunk to even understand your words.

Back inside, your friends gathered around the kitchen island, laughter echoing through the house. Jaemin raised an eyebrow when he saw you return.

“No Ghostface this time?”

You shook your head, pretending like you didn’t care.

“Looks like he got bored.”

“Wait, there’s really a Ghostface here?” Jeno teased, nudging you playfully.

You nodded, sighing. “Yeah, but he’s been stringing me along this whole time.”

Jaemin smirked. “Why not make him a little jealous, then?”

“I doubt that’ll even work,” you said, shaking your head. “I never actually see him around the party.”

“Trust us,” Jeno grinned, grabbing your hand. “We’ve got this.”

Without another word, he pulled you into the

crowded living room, playful determination in his eyes.

Jeno tugged you into the living room, where the music was louder, and party goers crowded the space. Jaemin followed closely behind, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Alright, Y/n,” Jeno said, spinning you around to face him.

“Let’s make sure Ghostface knows what he’s missing.”

Jaemin smirked and nodded toward the group of people dancing. “Just go with it. If he’s been watching you like you said, this’ll make him show up.”

You shot them both a skeptical look, but before you could protest, Jaemin slipped his hand onto your waist, and Jeno grinned before pulling you into him. The three of you swayed to the beat, your friends fully committed to playing along, their movements exaggerated as if trying to draw all the attention in the room.

Jaemin leaned in, his voice low near your ear. “You said you wanted the perfect victim vibe, right? Let’s give him something to chase.”

You laughed, shaking your head at how over-the-top they were being. But as the song picked up, you let yourself get swept up in their antics, moving with them and enjoying it. Jeno twirled you once before pulling you close. Jaemin pulled and spun you back toward him, his hand lingering a bit longer on your waist.

Suddenly, you felt that familiar tingle of being watched. You scanned the crowd but couldn’t immediately spot the Ghostface. However, the weight of someone’s gaze followed your every move.

Jeno noticed your eyes darting around. “He’s watching, isn’t he?” he murmured, leaning close.

You nodded subtly. “Yeah, I can feel it.”

“Good,” Jaemin whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. “Let’s keep it going.”

The three of you kept dancing, playing up the flirtatious act just enough to make it obvious that something was happening. Your heart raced—not just from the dancing, but from the excitement of what might happen.

Would the masked man reveal himself, or was he just going to keep watching from the shadows?

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it: the white mask, half-hidden behind a group of people near the far wall.

He was there, standing perfectly still, his attention fixed on you. Your pulse quickened as your eyes connected through his mask.

Jaemin followed your gaze and smirked. “There he is.”

Jeno didn’t waste a second. “Alright, let’s give him something to really think about.”

He pulled you even closer, his hand sliding around your waist as he pulled you into him. Grinding into you as he placed small kisses on your neck.

As you look back to the far wall, you caught another glimpse of Ghostface—this time, he was shaking his head.

You felt a pang of something—disappointment, maybe—twist in your stomach as the Ghostface broke eye contact and turned away, disappearing down the hall toward the spare bedrooms.

Jeno’s playful touch felt distant now, your attention completely drawn to the masked figure who had just walked away.

Jaemin, noticing the shift in your expression, leaned closer. “Looks like he doesn’t want to have any fun tonight.”

You stepped back slightly, disentangling yourself from Jeno’s hold. “I’m going to get a drink,” you muttered, your voice clearly showing how disappointed you were.

Jeno raised an eyebrow, “Hey don’t think about him anymore, just let loose and have fun.”

With one last glance at your friends, you made your way through the crowd, slipping past dancing bodies and the noise of the party. The music and laughter grew muffled as you moved down the hall, the atmosphere growing quieter, more intimate. The spare bedrooms were tucked away at the end of the corridor.

Your heart raced as you reached the first door. It was slightly ajar, and you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The room was dimly lit, the shadows stretching across the walls, but there was no sign of the masked man.

You stepped further inside, your breath catching as you scanned the room. Just as you were about to turn back, the door clicked softly shut behind you.

You spun around, and there he was—Ghostface, standing in the doorway, silent.

“You left,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Why?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The air between you was filled with tension, and you felt the weight of his gaze behind the mask.

Your heart raced, “Are you really going to keep this act up the whole night?” you asked, tilting your head as you held his gaze, your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest.

Ghostface’s hand moved to his mask, and for a split second, you thought he might finally reveal himself. But instead, he paused, his fingers trailing over the edge of the mask before letting his hand fall back to his side. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you, his body inches from yours now.

You swallowed, “Say something,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Instead of using his words, he grabbed your hips and pushed himself onto you. You could feel his erection pressing against you.

You gasped slightly, caught off guard by his sudden movement. Your heart raced, and you felt a mix of surprise and heat as you tried to process everything.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he moved against you, his masked face hidden in your neck. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to react. Then, slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the soft fabric of his mask. A small part of you wanted to uncover his identity, but another part of you was okay with the mystery.

As you pressed yourself against him, he groaned softly, his voice deep as his gloves fingers dug into your skin.

“Please, more” you breathed into his ear, your heart pounding in sync with his.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he moved against you more urgently now, his breathing becoming even faster.

As he continued to grind against you, your own urges started to take over. You couldn't help but get lost in the moment as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and edge.

“Pease,” you whispered again, your voice barely above a whisper as you softly grabbed onto his mask.

He shook his head firmly, gripping your hands as his eyes scanned the room. Spotting the dresser, he reached over, pulling out a pair of fluffy handcuffs, letting them dangle in front of your face.

“I’m not going to let you handcuff me…I don’t even know who you are!”

You protested, but there was a hint of teasing in your voice. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

Turning around, back to the same dresser, he pulled out a long knife. Did he plan this?

Tension hung heavy in the air as he turned back to face you, the knife glinting in the dim light of the room. Your heart pounded frantically in your chest, fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you took a step back, your eyes fixed on the sharp blade in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with confusion. How did things change so quickly?

The masked figure remained silent, his masked face giving away nothing as he took slow, deliberate steps toward you. The gleam of the knife seemed to shine, sending a chill down your spine.

Instinct kicked in, and you turned to bolt for the door, but before you could take more than a few steps, he lunged forward with surprising speed. Grabbing at your waist and putting the knife near your neck.

You gasped, your eyes widening in terror as you felt the cold steel press against your skin.

As he pressed the knife to your skin, you realized that it wasn't sharp, it was dull.

You started to giggle, the absurdity of the situation hit you all at once, and the laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, filled the room

The masked figure’s grip loosened slightly as he seemed taken aback by your sudden laughter. His masked face tilted slightly, almost as if he was confused by your reaction.

“No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

The masked figure's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and slowly, he lowered the knife, his posture relaxing.

“Wait, did I ruin the moment?” The masked figure shook his head, brushing your hair with his gloved hand.

Slowly his hand rested on your cheek, and then slowly made its way to your neck. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fear you had moments before. You stared into the eye holes of the mask, searching for any idea who he was.

Suddenly he put pressure on your neck, his touch firm but not suffocating. You froze, the lack of oxygen felt so good.

You gasped for air as his hand tightened around your neck.

His masked face hovered close to yours, his gaze only on you. The room seemed to shrink around you, the only sound echoing in your ears being the hammering of your heart.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he released his grip on your neck, his hand falling away as he took a step back. You stumbled slightly, falling onto the bed.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you looked up at him. His gaze never left yours as he went back to the dresser and pulled out a blindfold.

With a mixture of hesitation and thrill, you allowed him to place the blindfold over your eyes, slipping you into darkness.

You heard shuffling and felt his gloves as he grabbed your hands that were searching for him. Pulling your hands to his mask, feeling how warm it felt.

You fiddled with the fabric of it, as a silent way of asking for permission to take it off. He doesn't do anything as you pull his mask off slowly.

Once finally off he takes you into a deep kiss, a kiss he’s been waiting for this whole night. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands roamed your skin, tracing patterns of fire along your curves. As you were tracing his features with your fingers, trying to figure out what he could look like.

Lost in the heat of the kiss, you felt him pull away slightly, his breath mingling with yours. There was a softness in his touch now, unlike before.

As you leaned in for more, your lips seeking his once again, he chuckled softly against your mouth before pulling away completely.

You heard rustling in the distance, you try to pull the blindfold off your face to see what was happening.

But strong hands stopped you, holding the blindfold firmly in place. You felt a warm breath against your ear as he whispered,

“Not yet.”

The voice was deep, kind of familiar but you were too lost in the moment to really place it. The sound of footsteps echoed in the room, growing louder and more distinct.

You strained against the blindfold, trying to hear what was going on.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of lips press gently against your neck. You couldn’t help but let out a moan. You felt a shiver run down your spine as the lips trailed along your neck.

“Fuck, I need more, please!” you begged, your voice shaking.

You reach for him, expecting to feel the cloth of his costume, but instead you are met with his soft skin. He was lean and you could feel he had a bit of muscles.

"Are you ready for the next part?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You gasped and nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his next move.

His kisses started to trail down, his tounge gently tracing a path along your skin as he moved further down.

As he reached the sensitive skin just below your waist, you let out a soft whimper. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.

Suddenly, you felt the warm sensation of his breath on your skin, followed by the gentle pressure of his lips. A soft breath escaped your lips as his tongue traced delicate patterns on your heat.

You were lost in the sensation, your mind hazy. You gripped at the sheets beneath you, your body arching to meet his every movement.

“More, please, need you.” you whispered, feeling the words catch in your throat.

He responded by cupping your heat with his hand. With one hand, he gently spread you open.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his fingers stroked you, driving you crazy. You felt him slip a finger inside you and then another, stretching you in the best possible way.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

Each touch sent another wave of pleasure crashing over you, building you up higher and higher.

"I’m so close," you begged, your words barely coherent as you clung to the sheets for dear life.

He responded by increasing his pace, his fingers pounding into you with a rhythm. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation overwhelming. As the pleasure built and built, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

"I'm going to cum," you cried out, your voice shaky. "I'm gonna cum."

His fingers never stopped their relentless pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, baby.” His voice normal, no longer changing his voice.

You knew that voice.

Your heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned on you. "Jisung?" you gasped, the blindfold still firmly in place.

No response came from him as his fingers continued their pace, driving you higher and higher towards your release.

“Oh my god, Jisung!” You cried out as you finally reached your climax. Your body arched against his touch, you moans ringing through the room.

Panting and gasping for air, as you lay there, you let a smile spread across your face.

Your hand reaches up to grab the blindfold, already knowing who the mystery masked man is. But Jisung grabbed your hand, stopping you, again.

“Wait,” His voice filled with insecurity. Not knowing how you were going to react to seeing his face.

You can feel the warmth of his skin under your touch and you can tell that he's tense.

“Jisung, I need to see you, please…” You pleaded, and for a brief moment, he seemed to hesitate. But then he quickly regained his composure, taking your hand and gently removing the blindfold from your eyes.

You squint for a moment as your eyes adjust to the dim room, taking in the sight of Jisung's maskless face. He looked at you, you could tell he was worried. He wasn’t making any eye contact.

You can't help but smile at the sight of him, still panting from your intense orgasm. You reach up to trace your fingers along his jawline.

"You look so hot right now," you whisper, your voice still heavy with lust. "Even hotter without the mask."

He chuckles softly at your comment, an appreciative smile spreading across his face. "I'm glad you think so," he says, his voice confident and husky.

You took a long look over his body, taking in every detail. His chest heaved with each breath, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. You traced your fingers down his chest, feeling the definition of his muscles.

Your eyes locked onto his again, a smile playing on your lips as you crawled towards him. He watched you intently, watching how your body moved towards him. .

As you straddled him, you leaned in close and whispered, "I want to feel you inside me."

He nodded eagerly, his hands immediately reaching up to undress you further. He helped you out of your clothes until you were both naked, skin touching skin.

You positioned yourself above him, feeling the warmth and hardness of him against your heat. You couldn't help but moan slightly as you felt him ready to enter you.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his breath hot against your ear as he waited for your response.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice breathless with desire.

"I'm ready."

With one swift movement, he entered you fully, filling you completely. You both moaned as he began to move, thrusting into you with a rhythm that made you shiver.

Your eyes locked onto his, making your heart race. You felt him hit a sensitive spot inside you, each thrust hitting the same spot.

"Oh god, Jisung," you gasped, your voice shaking with passion. "You feel so good."

He responded by increasing his pace, driving deeper and deeper into you. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he moved, each thrust sending another wave of pleasure. You could feel your core starting to tighten.

“You like that baby?”

"So good," you moaned.

His hands gripped at your hips, his fingers digging into your skin ever so slightly.

As you rose to meet his next thrust, he groaned softly, his eyes locked onto yours. He looked like he was in a zone, completely focused on pleasing you as much as he was being pleased himself.

"More," you begged, feeling pleasure building up inside of you. Your breath was ragged from how good he was making you feel.

Jisung responded by increasing his pace even more, his movements becoming more aggressive. Your body arched against him.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you close to him as he moved. You could feel every inch of him inside you, driving you closer and closer to your climax.

"I'm going to cum again," you cried out, your voice shaking with passion. "I'm gonna cum!"

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned. His pace quickened, his movement became more desperate. He could feel his own climax building.

"Cum for me, baby," he groaned, his eyes locked onto yours. His words were the final push you needed, and you let out a long, loud moan as you reached your climax. Your body tensed, every muscle straining.

Jisung's movements became erratic as he felt you cumming around him, the pressure building up inside of him threatening to take him over the edge.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. "Fuck im going to cum," he groaned, thrusting into you one last time. His body tensed and then shuddered, his cum filling you completely.

Your body shuddered and your eyes fluttered shut. You clung to him as the intensity of your orgasm started to fade, you felt him soften inside you. His weight pressed against you, his breathing heavy and uneven.

You laid there, panting and gasping for air. Your body still trembling.

Jisung's arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close as he caught his breath. His breathing gradually slowed down, his heart rate returning to normal.

Slowly, your eyes opened, fluttering to look up at him. You smiled.

"That was... amazing," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jisung smiled back at you, a proud grin that made your heart flutter. “I’m glad I overheard your conversation with Jaemin.”

You giggled, "That’s how you knew I liked masks?"

He chuckled, his hands pulling you closer to him. “I was afraid you wouldn’t like me.”

"But I do like you," you said, looking deeply into his eyes.

"A lot."

Jisung's smile widened, and he pulled you even closer, his lips brushing against your forehead.

You nestled closer to Jisung, feeling safe and secure in his embrace. His fingers gently traced patterns on your back as the two of you lay there in the afterglow.

He leaned in close, brushing his lips against yours lightly.

"I want to do this again... and again," he whispered.

"Me too," you responded, your voice filled with satisfaction.

You traced your fingers along the curve of his shoulder, as you relaxed into him.

The room was quiet except for the sound of both of your breathing, the steady heartbeats, and the music continuing on outside. Laying there for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes.

Finally, with a sigh of reluctance to end such a perfect moment, Jisung pulled away slightly.

“We should get cleaned up.”

You nodded in agreement, slowly disentangling yourself from each other's embrace. As you stood up, Jisung's hand reached out to help you steady yourself.

"Let’s take a shower," he said, offering you a hand to help you up.

As you reached the bathroom, Jisung started the water. You stood there, taking a moment to compose yourself before stepping inside. The warm water washed over you felt relaxing.

As you let the water drip down your skin, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. This was definitely the best Halloween.

Jisung joined you in the shower, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your neck gently. You leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace as the water fell down both of your bodies.

“What are we going to tell everyone?” you asked as Jisung rinsed your hair.

He chuckled, his hands moving gently through the water. "The truth, that you’re mine.”

© 2024 fullsunstrawberry all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!

interacted with preview: @jwiloves @yeosin16

Dream/General Taglist: @haechansbbg @lostinneocity @talkingsaxy @naqkja @haolovre

[solxamber]

Hello! I have two things to ask:

1, Do you have a Yuusona? If so, what’re they like?

2, Neige request; A Neige with a reader a lot like the delinquent stereotype in anime. Like piercing, cutting class, riding a motorcycle, etc.

Even if you’re not still open for requests, please remember to pace yourself and take care of yourself when writing! You don’t want to burn yourself out, and there’s nothing wrong with taking a break! Remember that you are the person you should aim to please most in your writing, so it should be done on your own timeline. I hope you have a great day :)

hi! i do not have a yuusona rn! and i will take breaks when i need them, thank you for the incredibly kind message!

also this barreled out of control but i hope you like it!

Campus Scandal || Neige LeBlanche

Neige: hopeless romantic. You: begrudging (absolutely willing) participant.

or: Opposites attract— you, the resident delinquent and Neige, the campus golden boy, fall for each other.

w.c: 4k

The classroom was empty when you arrived, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on the rows of desks. You glanced at the clock, scowling when you realized you’d somehow arrived thirty minutes early.

Mandatory classes weren’t your thing, but attendance on the first day was non-negotiable. Not that you cared much about school rules—your 2% attendance record spoke for itself—but you figured showing up on day one would keep the advisor off your back for a little while longer.

With a sigh, you dropped into the farthest seat in the back, kicked your feet up on the desk in front of you, and pulled your jacket over your head. Might as well get some sleep if you were stuck here. The soft hum of the air conditioning was surprisingly soothing, and soon enough, you were out like a light.

By the time other students began filing in, you were dead to the world, a picture of absolute delinquent indifference. Your tattoos peeked out from under the rolled-up sleeves of your shirt, the silver of your piercings catching the light. The sight of you—motorcycle helmet resting on the floor beside your desk, boots propped up like you owned the place—was enough to send whispers rippling through the room.

“Is that them?”

“Yeah, the one with the bike. I heard they got in trouble for skipping finals last semester.”

“Do they even go here? I swear I’ve never seen them in class before.”

The whispers grew quieter as more students trickled in, each one taking great care to avoid the seat next to you. Nobody was brave enough—or foolish enough—to risk waking you up.

Enter Neige LeBlanche.

Neige was never late. He was the type to set his alarm thirty minutes early, leave the house with a perfectly packed bag, and still have time to pick up pastries for his classmates on the way to school.

So, naturally, he was horrified when his alarm didn’t go off that morning. After rushing through his morning routine at record speed, he burst into the classroom, cheeks flushed and hair slightly out of place—a rarity for him.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was full. The second thing he noticed was the empty seat in the back, right next to someone who looked like they’d walked straight out of a biker gang recruitment poster.

Neige hesitated, clutching his notebook like it was a lifeline. He’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. You were the mysterious rebel who showed up just enough to avoid expulsion, with a motorcycle that could be heard roaring across campus at odd hours of the night. You were intimidating, sure, but Neige wasn’t one to judge people based on appearances. Besides, he didn’t really have a choice.

With all the courage he could muster, he approached your desk and tapped you lightly on the shoulder. "Um… excuse me?"

You stirred, one eye cracking open to glare at him from under your jacket. “What?”

“Ah, sorry to wake you,” Neige said, his voice as soft as ever. “But… is this seat taken? It’s the only one left.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, taking in the rosy flush on his cheeks and the faint scent of sugar and flowers that seemed to follow him. He looked like the kind of person who helped old ladies cross the street and spent his weekends rescuing stray kittens.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, dropping your feet from the desk in front of you. “Do what you want.”

Neige practically beamed. “Thank you!”

He sat down, carefully placing his notebook on the desk, and tried to focus on the professor who had just started lecturing. Tried being the operative word.

From the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help sneaking glances at you. Everything about you screamed cool—your half-lidded eyes, the way your piercings glinted in the light, the lazy slouch of your shoulders like you couldn’t care less about anything or anyone. Even the scowl on your face seemed effortlessly stylish.

For the first time in his life, Neige LeBlanche felt self-conscious. His usually immaculate white sweater suddenly seemed plain. Was he staring too much? He was staring too much. What if you noticed? What if you thought he was weird?

Meanwhile, you were too busy trying to stay awake to notice anything. You caught snatches of the professor’s lecture, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. The only thing you did notice was the faint, almost nervous energy coming from the guy sitting next to you.

“Stop fidgeting,” you muttered, not even bothering to look at him.

“Ah—sorry!” Neige straightened in his seat, cheeks pink.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing more, settling back into your slouch. Beside you, Neige tried not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. For someone so intimidating, you sure had a way of making his heart race.

And class had only just started.

Neige was screwed.

Absolutely, completely, irrevocably screwed.

Because this—this dizzying rush of warmth in his chest, this fluttering in his stomach, this unstoppable urge to look at you every other second—wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him.

He’d been on stage in front of thousands without breaking a sweat. He’d received countless love letters and confessions, always accepting them with gentle grace before kindly turning them down.

He was not supposed to be this much of a mess over someone who, as far as anyone knew, only appeared on campus about twice a month. You were a phantom, a ghost of the school roster, a local cryptid people whispered about in the hallways.

And yet here he was, sitting in his room after class, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out how the universe had conspired to throw him headfirst into whatever this feeling was.

It was your fault, of course. If you hadn’t looked so effortlessly cool napping in that back corner, he wouldn’t be in this situation. If you hadn’t let him sit next to you with that lazy, unimpressed nod, he wouldn’t be losing his mind. And if you hadn’t existed, period—well, Neige wasn’t sure how to finish that thought.

When he walked into class the next day, he half-expected you to be gone, vanishing back into the mysterious ether like you always did. That’s why he nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw you in the exact same spot as before, jacket thrown over your head, looking as indifferent and untouchable as ever.

His heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn’t a big deal. He was just sitting next to you because there were no other seats. No other reason.

(That was a lie. He absolutely could’ve sat somewhere else. Half the class had seats open now that attendance was starting to dwindle. But Neige LeBlanche wasn’t one to lie—except, apparently, to himself.)

He made his way to the back of the classroom, his footsteps soft as he approached your desk. You shifted slightly under your jacket, one arm draped over your face, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Good morning,” Neige said, his voice gentle.

You peeked out from under your jacket, your expression groggy but still sharp. He thought you might tell him off, tell him to get lost or take another seat. But instead, you just gave him a single nod, as if to say, Whatever. Do what you want.

Neige couldn’t help it—he smiled. Wide and bright, the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle and his cheeks flush. “Thanks,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you.

You froze.

It wasn’t like you cared what people thought of you. You’d spent years being judged for your tattoos, your piercings, your habit of rolling into campus on your motorcycle with exactly zero regard for the stares or whispers. It didn’t bother you. You liked being the outsider, the delinquent, the one who couldn’t care less about anyone or anything.

So why the hell was your heart pounding so hard just because Neige LeBlanche had smiled at you?

You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to focus on some invisible speck on your desk. It was just a smile. A stupid, friendly smile. Nothing to freak out over.

But it wasn’t just the smile. It was the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way the soft flush on his cheeks made him look even more radiant, the way he looked at you like you were something more than a rumor or a passing shadow.

“What's that stare for?,” you muttered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Neige blinked, startled. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, still avoiding his gaze. “Just… nothing.”

Neige nodded, biting his lip to keep from smiling again. He didn’t want to push his luck. But as he opened his notebook and started jotting down the professor’s notes, he couldn’t help stealing another glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You were sitting there, pretending to be unfazed, but the corners of your lips were slightly quirked.

And suddenly, Neige didn’t feel so screwed after all.

It was freezing.

Neige tightened his scarf as the cold bit at his cheeks, his breath visible in the night air. He shuffled down the street, the empty to-go cup in his hand a sad reminder of his dorm’s coffee machine betrayal.

He couldn’t believe this was how his midterms week was going—a late-night coffee run because he couldn’t stay awake long enough to finish his notes.

The streets were quiet save for the occasional car passing by. Neige adjusted his scarf again, grumbling softly to himself, when the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine split through the silence.

He turned his head just in time to see a bike pull up beside him, its rider clad in the usual mix of leather and defiance that made you impossible to miss.

“LeBlanche,” you called, your voice cutting through the cold air. “What the hell are you doing out here at this hour?”

Neige blinked, startled. “I, um…” He held up his cup like it was a shield. “The coffee machine in the dorm broke. I needed—”

You rolled your eyes. “Get on.”

“What?”

“Get. On.” You jabbed a thumb at the empty space behind you. “I’ll drop you at the coffee shop and back. You’ll freeze your ass off walking like this.”

Neige hesitated. It wasn’t like he was scared—okay, maybe he was a little scared—but it wasn’t every day someone offered him a ride on their motorcycle.

“C’mon, it’s cold,” you added, impatience flickering in your tone. “You don’t want to get sick before midterms, do you?”

That was all the convincing he needed. Awkwardly, he swung his leg over the bike and settled behind you, clutching his cup like it was his lifeline.

“Hold on tight,” you said, your voice firm.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Neige hesitated again, then gingerly wrapped his arms around your waist. His cheeks flushed as he realized how close he was to you. The warmth of your jacket, the faint scent of leather and something faintly sweet—it was… distracting.

When the engine roared back to life and the bike shot forward, Neige yelped and instinctively clung to you tighter, practically burying his face in your back.

You felt his grip tighten, his forehead resting against your shoulder, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you didn’t tell him he could’ve just held onto your shoulders instead.

The ride was quick, the cold air biting at your face as you sped through the empty streets. You pulled up outside the coffee shop, parked the bike, and glanced back at him. “C’mon.”

Neige scrambled off, looking a little dazed but mostly exhilarated, and followed you inside. The warmth of the shop was immediate, and the sweet scent of coffee and pastries filled the air.

You both walked up to the counter, and Neige looked over the menu. He ordered some kind of overly sweet monstrosity with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, while you stuck with something more straightforward.

When he tried to pay, you shoved his hand away and slapped your card onto the counter instead. “I got it.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, LeBlanche,” you said, cutting him off.

He looked at you for a moment, then relented with a small, flustered smile. “Thank you.”

The two of you found a table by the window, the silence between you surprisingly comfortable as you sipped your drinks.

Neige, though, was fidgeting. He glanced at you, then down at his mug, then back at you again. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Would you… maybe want to do this again sometime? I mean, not because of the coffee machine breaking or anything, but just—”

You raised an eyebrow, cutting him off with a laugh—one that came out louder and more incredulous than you meant. “You’re insane, you know that?”

The way Neige’s face fell made your stomach drop. His shoulders slumped, his smile faltering as he looked down at his mug, and for the first time, you realized how fragile he could look.

You cleared your throat, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, yeah. Sure. We can do this again. Whatever.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze and hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered you were. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But when he smiled—radiant and genuine, like he’d just been handed the moon—you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your answer.

Neige had a way of looking at you that made your chest tighten, like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. It wasn’t the kind of look you were used to—there was no judgment in it, no wariness or fear. Just pure, unfiltered awe, like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

And it scared the hell out of you.

You weren’t blind. You’d seen the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—the soft smiles he tried to hide behind his coffee mug, the way his face lit up when you walked into class, even on days you were late. It was written all over him: Neige was smitten.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same. How could you not? He was… everything. Kind, warm, patient in a way that didn’t feel forced or performative. He saw the best in people, even you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neige was sunshine, pure and untouchable, and you… well, you were the storm cloud everyone avoided. People whispered when you walked by, flinched when you spoke too sharply, or straight-up bolted if you so much as scowled. You were used to it. Hell, you encouraged it. It kept people at arm’s length, where they couldn’t get close enough to disappoint you.

But Neige had never been afraid of you. He talked to you like you were normal, smiled at you like you were someone worth knowing. And now, every time you caught him staring, every time his voice softened when he said your name, you could feel the weight of his feelings pressing down on you.

You wanted him. God, you wanted him. But you knew yourself, and you knew your reputation. People like you didn’t get to keep people like Neige. He’d see the cracks eventually—the temper, the flaws, the parts of you that didn’t match the person he thought you were.

So you let him look. You let him smile. And you let yourself pretend, just for a little while longer, that none of it meant anything.

It was better this way, you told yourself. Better to let him think you were clueless than to risk ruining what you had.

But then he’d smile at you—bright and genuine, like you were the only person in the world—and for a moment, just a moment, you wondered if maybe you were wrong.

The shift in campus perception was honestly more amusing than anything. People used to scatter like birds at the sound of your motorcycle engine; now, they smiled at you nervously, whispered in tones laced with intrigue rather than fear.

You had Neige to thank for that—his perpetual sunshine seemed to have melted the icy rumors that clung to you like a second skin.

Not that you cared. Let them think you were some misunderstood rebel who just needed the "right person" to bring out your hidden soft side. Whatever. As long as no one tried to cross your boundaries, they could make up whatever fairy tale they wanted.

You were mid-thought, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets, when someone bumped into you. Instinctively, you reached out, steadying them before they could stumble.

"Ah, thank you!" they said, looking up at you with wide, shy eyes, a faint blush coloring their cheeks.

And then they smiled.

That was new. Usually, people avoided eye contact like their lives depended on it, let alone smiled at you. You stood there, blinking, thrown off by the sheer normalcy of the interaction.

It was in this moment of confusion that you noticed Neige in the distance, his usual radiant expression frozen mid-bloom. He was staring, though his smile quickly returned—but something about it was... sharper. Too sweet, like honey laced with arsenic.

Before you could process it, Neige was suddenly beside you, his sugary demeanor dialed up to eleven.

"Ah, pardon me," he said with a voice so warm it could melt glaciers. He turned to the person you'd caught, his hand gently pulling theirs from your grasp. "Thank you for keeping them company, but we'll be on our way now!"

The stranger opened their mouth to protest but quickly thought better of it under Neige’s disarmingly sweet gaze.

Without missing a beat, Neige hooked his arm around yours and steered you away, his grip firm, yet not tight enough to hurt.

"Coffee?" he asked brightly, as if nothing had happened.

You at him, raising a brow. "You good?"

His smile didn’t falter, though his hold on your arm didn’t either. "Of course! I just thought we’d get a head start before it gets crowded."

You weren’t buying it. His cheerful tone was laced with something you couldn’t quite place—possessiveness? Jealousy?

Whatever it was, it made your heart skip in a way you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

The weight of Neige's silence sat heavy between you as you parked your bike and pulled him gently to a quieter corner of campus, away from prying eyes and ears. His hand was still gripping your arm like a lifeline, but he avoided your gaze like he thought it might shatter him.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you asked firmly, voice softer than you thought yourself capable of. “Just spit it out, Neige. What happened?”

He shook his head, his hair falling slightly into his eyes, still refusing to meet your gaze. Frustration bubbled up, but it wasn’t directed at him—it was at the tears threatening to spill over in his red-rimmed eyes.

You sighed, stepping closer, and placed your hands on his face, tilting it up so he couldn’t avoid you anymore. “Look at me,” you urged, voice gentler now. “Neige, tell me what’s wrong. Who hurt you?”

The dam broke. Tears welled up and fell freely, and he didn’t say a word before throwing his arms around you, burying his face in your chest. His grip was tight, desperate, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, shielding him from whatever invisible storm he was weathering.

“Neige,” you murmured, your voice soft yet insistent as you ran a hand over his hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe, alright?”

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his body trembling against yours as he clung to you. Slowly, his breaths evened out, and the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

When you finally pulled back enough to look at him, his eyes were still glassy, his cheeks flushed from both the crying and how close you were holding him. You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, your touch careful, your voice low. “Tell me what happened.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching your face like he was committing it to memory. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. His lips were soft, desperate, and warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze, completely blindsided. But then everything you’d been holding back—every stolen glance, every lingering moment, every unspoken word—burst out of you all at once. You grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer, kissing him harder, pouring all the feelings you’d been too scared to admit into that single moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, lips swollen and faces flushed. Neige’s wide eyes met yours, his voice trembling as he finally spoke.

“I-I thought I was losing you,” he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve liked you since the day I said hello to you, and I thought—when I saw you with someone else—that maybe I wasn’t as special to you as you were to me. And it hurt. It hurt so much.”

Your heart clenched as you cupped his face again, your thumb brushing gently along his cheek. “Neige, you’re the most special person in my life. I’ve liked you too, but I held myself back because of your reputation. I didn’t want to ruin how everyone sees you.”

His brow furrowed, and for the first time since you’d known him, Neige looked genuinely upset—though it was more at your reasoning than at you. He raised a hand and gave you a weak punch to the shoulder, his pout oddly adorable. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me,” he muttered, his cheeks still red.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, pulling him close again. “Okay, okay. That’s fair. Then let me ask you this: Neige, will you be mine?”

The tears welled up again, but this time, they were accompanied by a bright, teary-eyed laugh. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go. “Of course, yes.”

The campus was abuzz the moment you and Neige stepped onto the quad together, hand in hand. Conversations hushed, heads turned, and phones subtly (or not-so-subtly) appeared to capture the moment.

There you were, the campus’s local delinquent, the untouchable cryptid who never gave anyone the time of day, walking side by side with Neige LeBlanche, the golden boy who could charm the birds out of the trees.

But what really sent the gossip mongers into a frenzy was how soft you looked. Gone was the usual detached scowl, replaced by a faint flush on your cheeks, your usual sharp demeanor melted into something almost bashful.

And Neige? Oh, he was radiant as ever, but there was an unmistakable air of triumph in the way he held your hand—a sweet, subtle smugness in his satisfied smile as he glanced at you, completely wrapped up in your presence.

The whispers grew louder with every step:

“Is that…?”

“Are they holding hands?!”

“No way. Them?!”

“Neige really bagged them?”

“They really bagged Neige?”

But honestly, who cared? You sure didn’t. Not when Neige looked at you with that gentle, heart-stopping smile, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand as if to remind you he was there.

The rumors, the stares, the whispers—they all faded into white noise. None of it mattered when you had that smile aimed at you, lighting up every corner of your world and making you fall for him all over again with each passing second.

Masterlist

[berfgrimm]

power hungry animals :: choi su-bong x reader

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: drug use, swearing, death/violence, dirty talking, groping, angst, fluff, and i think that’s it?

note: this was a request and i hope it is what you’re looking for. it’s just shy of 9k words, which I haven’t done in a very long time. i truly appreciate you requesting this and helping me shake more of the cobwebs off of my brain. thank you all for reading and requesting and being so incredibly nice. enjoy!

———————

You know Su-bong won’t be happy when he sees you. That beautiful, bright smile of his has long been absent from most of your interactions since the crypto catastrophe. But in this moment? Trapped in a seemingly endless building with more strangers than you can count, prepared to compete for money? You venture to guess that his reaction won’t be a positive one.

In all fairness, you didn’t know that he had joined this game as well. You’d overheard someone at a train station talking about the game, and the idea popped in your head — Su-bong always does everything he can for you, maybe you could return the favor for him. How were you supposed to know that he would have the exact same plan in mind?

You first spot him when he is at the head of the group, complaining loudly about his limited edition shoes. It’s the most on-brand you’ve seen him, and you have to stifle a laugh as you listen to him whine. Part of you wants to approach him and tease him about his inflated ego, but you don’t know that you’re quite prepared for the conversation that will follow yet.

The guards in pink explain that the group will need to sign consent forms to play the games. It seems odd given the kind of games you expect to play, yet you brush off your concerns. You fall into line but slowly push your way through the crowd to get closer to Su-bong. You figure the best way to get his attention is casually, as if you didn’t see him first, so you keep your distance for a while to work on your surprised reaction.

You remain as aloof as you can, knowing that he’s only a few people away from you at this point and he’ll likely notice you any minute. Sure enough, you hear him call your name. You scrunch your face in confusion, as if to say ‘who would be calling my name in a place like this?’. Looking around at everything in the room before you land on him, you widen your eyes in surprise, feigning shock.

“Su-bong?” you ask, hoping you sound believably shocked to see him. He pushes his way through the crowd to get to you, his face between a scowl and confusion. “What are you doing here?” you ask, innocently.

“I’m here to get back the money I lost,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to help,” you say, your confidence faltering as you notice that people are beginning to stare. “I didn’t know you’d be here, too. I was going to win it to surprise you.”

“What, you don’t think I could earn back the money myself?” he asks, incredulously. “You think I’m some sort of idiot who can’t take care of myself?”

“Su-bong, I never said that,” you reply, voice firm but speaking quieter in an effort to get him to lower his voice as well. “I wanted to help, like I said.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” he snaps. “I’m not a child. I’ll fix my own problems. You’re not signing that form.”

“Yes, I am,” you say, with a chuckle.

“No, you aren’t,” he says, his tone firm. He doesn’t normally use such a demanding voice with you unless he’s looking to be more playful. You feel a small flutter in your stomach and you blush slightly, lowering your gaze to compose yourself before you respond.

“How do you plan to stop me?” you answer, looking into his eyes again. You’re surprised to see an amused look on his face when you first lock eyes with him, but it quickly fades into frustration at your words. He lets out a huff, and you half expect him to stomp his foot in childish protest, but instead he curses under his breath and turns away from you.

As you watch him storm away, back to his line, you drop your shoulders. Out of all of the ways you could have imagined that conversation going, that one never would have crossed your mind. You quickly glance at the others around you, finding their eyes still on you. It brings a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks that they overheard the conversation that you had with your boyfriend, so you drop your gaze to the ground and await your turn to sign your form.

You know that he’s irritated. You can hear him griping about the streamer that ‘tricked him’ into his crypto investment, along with all of the empty threats of retribution. Of course the streamer in question is also here which confirms what you heard about him losing his money along with everyone else who invested in the doomed cryptocurrency. You have to turn away as you hear him confront the streamer, Myung-gi, knowing that even though he’s amped up, he won’t do anything too crazy. Still, you don’t want to watch.

The guards usher the group out of the dorm and down a hallway into a pastel maze that appears to stretch on forever. You follow along with the crowd, hearing Su-bong somewhere nearby, chatting obnoxiously with one of his new friends. You’re quickly brought to an open area where the group is directed to break off into smaller bunches, and file in to have their pictures taken. You note where Su-bong is, and choose the line that is beside his, still trying to keep your attention on him. By this point, he’s being flocked by a dozen people calling out his stage name, practically prepared to bow to him.

As much as you try to ignore the conversation, you can’t help but overhear them beg for selfies. You watch them pile into the photo booth with him to be photographed, and it makes you roll your eyes. Much to your surprise, Su-bong spares you a fleeting, displeased look before he scans the crowd as if in search of someone in particular.

“Hey!” he calls out to someone. You follow his gaze to see the woman he’s speaking to; a girl you’d overheard complaining about the style of clothing they’d forced you all to wear. “I don’t mind having another person,” he continues. “Come on.” He gestures for her to join the group but she brushes him off, which causes you to laugh. Su-bong is unbothered until he looks at your amusement at the situation, which causes another scowl to spread over his face.

The guards hurry the fawning spectators away from Su-bong, explaining that they’ll need to take individual pictures, so you quickly tune out, focusing on your line. You wait your turn to get your photo taken, before following the group through the maze. The walk drags on for longer than you expect, and the duration of the journey is filled with the sounds of Su-bong — well Thanos now — chatting furiously with his friend, player 124. Having a hype-man like this always exacerbates things, sending him spiraling into Thanos territory.

Walking into the playground-esque field, you keep some distance from Su-bong, not wanting another interaction like before. However, you still search for him in the crowd, spotting him slinking up behind the woman from earlier, a smug grin gracing his lips. You don’t immediately realize that you’re frowning as you watch him continue to flirt, a twisting in the pit of your stomach making it impossible to look away. You hate when he gets like this.

There exists two versions of your boyfriend, and one of them is tied to his stage persona. You didn’t enjoy when that version would show itself, though generally it didn’t involve him openly hitting on other women in front of you. He saves this version for the fans to boost the image, and he never lets the full ego bleed over into your personal lives.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you let out a sigh, watching the woman rebuff his advances even as he tries his best to freestyle for her. That’s generally something he saves for you — spitting verses about whatever menial task you’re doing or about how he loves to look at you. He loved to do it to make you laugh, or other times to make you blush. This is how you know that he’s doing this to upset you; at least you can take solace in the fact that she’s not falling for it.

It doesn’t work on everybody, you think with a shrug.

You notice everyone’s attention focusing at the far end of the yard, so you look as well, finding an enormous statue of a girl staring down the group. It was unnerving to say the least, but still, you wander into the yard to find out what is in store. As you wait, you spare another glance towards Su-bong to find him still chatting to the girl from before. You’re tempted to storm over to him and give him a piece of your mind, but before you’re able to, a man pushes his way to the front for the group and shouts for attention.

The man appears frantic, ranting about how people are going to get killed if they play the games. You look around, gauging if anyone believes him — the room appears mixed, some people showing signs of fear but others brushing off his warning. His words make you feel anxious, whether they’re true or not, and briefly you wish you were nearer to Su-bong so you could feel calmer, but you have to remind yourself that you’re still annoyed with him.

Once the game starts, everyone heeds the words of the man in front of them, staying perfectly still during each call of ‘red light’. You try to take yourself out of the moment, worried that if you focus too much, you’ll start to tremble. The booming voice of the man, player 456, echoes, making sure everyone follows orders exactly.

Suddenly, a pop rings through the air, reverberating off of the walls. You’re tempted to look to the sound, but you opt to stay still instead, focused on winning. Silence is still surrounding you, until the screaming begins, and a round of pops echo through the air. Are those gunshots?

On the ‘green light’, you glance in the direction of all the noise and see several bodies on the ground, specifically the woman Su-bong had been flirting with. Your boyfriend stands surrounded by bodies, fumbling with the cross he loves to keep his pills in. He makes eye contact with you, and you can see the panic in his eyes even across the yard. You take a few frantic steps in his direction, prepared to run towards him, but the call of ‘red light’ stops you both.

The time between the call of ‘red light’ and ‘green light’ feels like it stretches on for eternity. You and Su-bong stare at each other across the sea of people, desperate to reach one another. As soon as you’re able to move, you sprint towards him, not caring about running into other people on the way.

When you’re about to reach him, mere feet away, you skid to a halt at the call of ‘red light’. Su-bong is frozen with his arms outstretched towards you, waiting for the next call to move. In his eyes, you see a dozen different emotions. You have been with him long enough to read every single one of them clearly, especially the look of apology that you hope he knows you accept.

Finally, you’re able to move and you all but collapse into Su-bong’s arms, holding him firmly to you. He turns his back to the statue at the end of the yard, keeping you in front of him with your face pressed to his chest. Just in time for the call of ‘red light’.

“Stay close,” he mutters, voice shaking. “Do not lose sight of me. If we hold hands, it might slow us down.”

“Mhm,” you agree, feeling him trembling in your arms. “You didn’t take one of those pills, did you?” His lack of response tells you everything you need to know: he’ll be out of his mind within a few minutes.

“Just stay close,” he repeats.

The next several minutes seem to drag on forever. You follow the instructions of player 456, falling into lines with other people to stay undetected. You remain directly behind Su-bong as best as you can, but he seems to forget that you’re meant to be following him. He moves fast and even leaps in the air, as if overjoyed with his experience. You blame the pills.

When you’re frozen during one call, you swear you see Su-bong shove the person in front of him, sending them tumbling into two others before they all fall to the ground. You tense up as gunshots ring out, and blood splatters over your pants and shoes. Thankfully, the finish line is in sight, and it only takes one more call of ‘green light’ to have you and Su-bong crossing together.

He pulls you close to hug you, but the hug feels odd. He doesn’t hug you as though you’ve both just been through a life threatening situation together. He doesn’t hug you as though people are still actively being murdered in front of you. He hugs you like you won a team trivia contest, like you were friends on a night out. At that moment, it’s just a game to him. Those fucking pills.

Once the game ends and you’re all escorted back to the dormitory, everyone sits in silence, traumatized. Somewhere in the trek back to the dorm, you lost track of Su-bong but you find his purple hair quickly in the crowd, where he sits with player 124, both of them chatting quietly to one another.

A buzz rings from the speakers, light being restored and the doors open to reveal the guards entering. The main guard from earlier in the day, with a square printed on his mask, explains that ninety-one people were ‘eliminated’ in the first game. Your stomach lurches at the thought, and you have to fight not to vomit. Closing your eyes, you hear an older woman begin to plead with the guards to spare her life, and she is quickly joined by a symphony of other voices begging for the same.

Until player 456 steps forward to demand a vote. The guards oblige but not before revealing the total amount earned from the first game. The others quickly become entranced by the glow of the piggy bank, watching the money continue to fall until the total is revealed — everyone would get twenty-four million each. It’s not a small number by any means, but it barely puts a dent in the staggering 1.9 billion won debt that Su-bong has. You sigh, burying your face in your hands; this game was for nothing.

The vote begins and you wait for your number to be called, knowing that you will be up to vote before Su-bong. With your eyes trained on your feet, you focus on the blood splatter on your shoe that you want so desperately to disappear. There's no reason for you to press the ‘O’. You’d rather be at home with Su-bong, cuddling on the sofa, watching television. Drowning in debt, but in love.

Su-bong has not spoken to you since the game ended. Part of you wants to take it personally that he abandoned you after the game but the other part wants to fight him in the middle of the room for everyone to see. You stand in a crowd of strangers feeling more alone than you have in a long time. But as if he reads your thoughts, Su-bong finally comes bounding through the crowd towards you.

“There you are!” he exclaims, placing his free hand on your shoulder. “I thought I lost you out there.” You shove him away from you and watch the numbers change on the screen above the voting podium. “What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side to get your attention.

“I can’t stand you when you’re on this shit,” you mutter, avoiding eye contact with him. “This is serious and you’re acting like it’s a a fucking joke.”

“It’s a children’s game!” he laughs. You roll your eyes in response, forcing yourself through the crowd to get away from Su-bong, desperate to avoid more conversation, but he follows behind you. “How are you going to vote?” he asks quietly, slipping behind you.

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. “I’m voting to leave. This is insanity.” Su-bong looks confused, so you continue. “I’d hope that even with that stupid pill in your system,” you begin. “You’d have enough sense in your head to realize that we’re in danger.”

“What’s life without danger?” he laughs.

“I can’t handle this right now,” you sigh. “Please leave me alone, Thanos.”

You know you shouldn’t have said it. You never called him that, you swore you wouldn’t. The same way he swore he would never be that guy towards you, the egomaniacal, vapid, smug Thanos. Sure, there are times where the residual effects of his alter-ego turns him into a possessive and sometimes dominant version of himself, and as much as you are embarrassed to admit it, you really enjoy it. But that is something generally done in the privacy of your own home, meant for fun. Not this. You immediately want to take back the name-calling, but you both know he pushed too far.

“Okay,” he replies, softly, moving back through the crowd to join player 124 again.

The numbers on both sides continue to rack up until your number is called. You lift your head and catch everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for you to cast your vote. The crowd splits so you can make your way through, and you hear Su-bong whisper your name sharply, trying to get your attention. Instead of looking, you ignore him, walking directly to the podium at the front of the room.

You stare down at the buttons, your mind set on pressing the ‘X’, yet you still find it hard to bring yourself to do it. You want to see your boyfriend happy again, but you know that even with your winnings combined, you won’t have enough to pay his debt. Still, you don’t want to watch him be murdered in the name of financial gain.

As your hand presses down on the red ‘X’, a buzz echoes through the room and a red light illuminates your face. There’s a murmur through the crowd that you ignore, accepting the velcro ‘X’ to affix to your jacket. You don’t bother looking at Su-bong as you join your group of voters, knowing there will be nothing to say to him.

Only a handful of other people vote before Su-bong, who is nearly giddy when he stomps forward to slam his hand onto the blue ‘O’ without hesitation. You drop your head, gaze on the floor as you struggle not to break down into tears. In the back of your mind, you know you can hear player 456 going into another tirade, but you’re unable to focus on what he says.

Until you hear Su-bong’s voice once again cut through the noise, you didn’t realize an argument had broken out between the groups. Su-bong breezes past you, heading straight for player 456.

“If you really won, that’s better for us,” he says. “You can give us tips on how to beat the games.” You sigh, closing your eyes, feeling as though you’re on the verge of blacking out from how overwhelming and surreal this moment is. You crouch down to the ground, clenching your head between your hands, trying desperately to keep your composure as the crowd starts to cheer.

We’re going to die here, you think.

———————

Dejected and scared, you stare in disbelief at the numbers on the board. You’re trapped here for another game by one vote. If your boyfriend had stuck with you and realized how dangerous this game was, you would be on your way home in no time, almost fifty million won richer.

Your legs feel as though they’re made of concrete, dragging along with your tired body as you wait in line to receive food. Just as you you have your food and get settled on your bed to eat, a scuffle breaks out nearby. You look up just in time to see Su-bong land a punch across Myung-gi’s face, then stomp on him while he’s on the ground. You jump to your feet, leaving your food on the bed as you start to walk closer. Suddenly, player 001 interrupts to stop the fight, and you feel a moment of gratitude to the man who is also responsible for you still being in this game. That is until the man grabs Su-bong by the throat.

Player 124 rushes to help but is quickly thwarted by 001. The rage is once again on Su-bong when 001 delivers several punches, before rendering him to the group by wrenching his arm. You clamber down the steps to head over quickly, when you notice Su-bong still on the ground with 001 above him, holding him by his throat and fist cocked back, prepared to punch.

“Hey!” you exclaim, dashing over to break it up. “He said he’s sorry! Let him go!”

You shove at 001’s shoulders, desperate to get him away from Su-bong before he causes irreversible damage. When the other man peers up, gauging the pleading look you give him, he releases your boyfriend and stands upright again. You ignore the claps and cheers from the other players, opting to crouch at Su-bong’s side to check on him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, softly, attempting to cup his jaw to tilt his head towards you. However, he pushes you away, albeit somewhat gentle, and he scrambles to his feet to return to his bunk. You can only sigh, knowing that he is likely embarrassed over the altercation, so you return to your bed to get your food, before you decide to offer the olive branch.

When you reach Su-bong’s bed, you glance around to get a good view of how secluded it was. You momentarily search for a small joke to make to cut through the palpable tension, but you brush off the idea when you see him avoiding eye contact with you.

“Did you eat?” you ask, taking a step closer to his bed. “It’s not as good as your mom’s food, but it’s okay.” With a frown still on his face, he spares you a glance before he shrugs in response. “You’re actually going to be mad at me right now?” you pushed. “You? The one who flirted with a girl just to get back at me for trying to help you?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You voted to stay, Su-bong.”

“I thought I was ‘Thanos’,” he retorts with a sarcastic tone, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

“You’ve certainly been acting like it,” you answer. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, shifting his weight so he can turn his attention away from you.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Su-bong mutters.

“You shouldn’t have, either.”

“It doesn’t matter about me,” he dismisses. You narrow your eyes and tilt your head to try to catch his gaze but he avoids it. You toss your remaining food items on the bed and move to crouch down in front of him. The scowl that he tries to maintain falters into something more forlorn, but he still refuses to lock eyes with yours. Your heart sinks as you begin to realize what he means.

“You matter a lot to me,” you whisper. “More than anyone or anything else, as a matter of fact.” He shrugs, so you keep going. “You always think it’s you against the world, especially since this crypto bullshit happened,” you continue, placing your hands on his thighs to lean in closer. “It’s me and you, Su-bong. Your problems are my problems. I’m not here because I think you can’t solve your own problems. I’m here because I love you and I would do anything for you. And this is my problem too.”

Finally, Su-bong looks at you; his appearance manages to be distraught and enamored simultaneously, causing your heart to skip a beat. One of his hands cups your cheek and pulls you towards him, pressing his forehead to yours. Both of you stay silent for a few moments until you finally have to speak.

“You have blood on your face,” you whisper. “I think it’s that girl’s.”

“I’d rather have you on my face,” he teases. You shove him away from you, stifling a laugh while also feeling yourself blush at his innuendo.

“That’s not funny, Su-bong,” you say, firmly, struggling to keep the smirk off of your face. You reach towards the end of the bed, grabbing your bottle of water and twisting the cap off.

“Why’d you laugh at it, then?” he asks, watching you pour a small amount of water onto the end of his jacket to use it to wipe his face. “You think I’m funny.”

“I think you’re annoying,” you reply, raising your eyebrows with a chuckle as you finish cleaning his face.

“You think I’m sexy,” he teases, tilting his head to the side, trying to look into your eyes.

“Well, you are my boyfriend, so that would make sense.”

“I saw the look on your face earlier,” he pushes. “When I did the thing you love. Telling you what to do…” Your cheeks flush at his words, and you continue to wipe at his face even though all the blood is gone — you can’t look him in the eyes. “I know you want to pretend you don’t like it,” Su-bong goes on. “But I know everything about you, babe. I think you like it when you get to be my good girl.”

“And I think we’re trapped in a place that we may never leave,” you reply, hurriedly, to avoid him saying anything else to mess with your head. “I’m scared and I don’t know what to do. So, I think we should focus on getting out of here. We can worry about everything else after.” Su-bong lets out a small laugh that turns into a sigh.

“Don't worry,” he nods. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“You sure?” you ask, tugging slightly on the blue ‘O’ patch affixed to his jacket.

“Positive,” he answers, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “I’ll always take care of you, babe.”

———————

In a part of your mind, you want to believe that Su-bong will change his mind about continuing the games. You’d love to think that he’ll run up to the podium and slam his fist onto the red ‘X’. But you also know that he’s impulsive and impressionable, especially when being hyped up by yes-men, much like player 124. As much as you’d like to keep him away from the others while you ride out the next game, you’re disappointed when you file into the second game to be told that you’ll need to separate into groups of five.

Of course Su-bong immediately grabs your hand, but, much to your dismay, he also drags along player 124 (whose name you found out is Nam-gyu). He brings both of you with him as he searches for another friend named Gyeong-su. When you finally find him, and see that he has acquired a friend named Min-su, you feel a level of unease that is concerning. You don’t trust the rest of your group to keep Su-bong on the right path.

“Do you think you can spin the top?” Su-bong asks, keeping his voice low to not be heard by the others around him. He’s standing directly behind you, his hand placed on your lower back to keep close.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, watching the group that is currently participating in the game. “I was never very good at it.”

“I plan to do jegichagi,” he says. “I’m really good at it.” You roll your eyes at the smugness in his tone, but when he pinches your side playfully, you giggle in response. “I think you should do the top,” he goes on. “That way you can be next to me.”

“I’m not going to pick that one just so I can stand next to you, Su-bong. That’s silly, I should be on the one I’m most confident about.”

“I’d rather have you next to me,” he insists. “Just in case.” His voice lowers for the last sentence, and you quickly catch his meaning — in the event that it would be your last moments together.

“Okay,” you nod, craning your neck so you can peer into his eyes. “I can try.” He gives a curt not in response, pulling you closer to him as you both focus on the game again.

During the excitement of several teams doing well in the game, you manage to accidentally separate from Su-bong for a few moments. Unfortunately, when you link with him again, as he talks with Nam-gyu, he’s acting noticeably different. You glance back and forth between the two men, finally focusing on your boyfriend who laughs at the stern look on your face.

“Are you kidding me?” you snap, planting both hands against his chest and shoving him hard enough for him to take a stumbled step backwards.

“Babe, what is it?” he laughs, placing his hand to his chest to feign an injury.

Every fiber of your being makes you want to punch him right there in front of everyone. You’re completely incensed that he would take another pill after the conversation you had the day before. Instead, you separate yourself from him, standing at the end of your group, next to Min-su.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Su-bong calls out, but you ignore him.

It’s a struggle not to cry. Watching your boyfriend spiral out of control during the most serious situation either of you have ever been in, you feel powerless. No matter how much you try to keep him focused, he does everything he can to do the exact opposite. You stare at a spot on the wall, trying to wish yourself into any other place in the world than right here, right now.

You picture your favorite day with Su-bong, before he took on the Thanos pseudonym. His hair was pink then — damn, you loved his pink hair. He had an important gig that night at a club that you both frequented, and he was nervous. You spent the whole morning in bed together, kissing and touching, sharing your deepest secrets with one another. The gig that night was the best performance he’d ever given, and was what launched his career. That day, you decided you’d spend the rest of your life with him if he’d let you. You never realized how brief that time could be.

The sound of gunfire brings your daydream to a screeching halt, pulling you back to reality to see both teams have been executed. You bury your face in your hands letting out a quiet sob.

“It’s our turn, babe.” Su-bong’s voice rings in your ears, and you lift your head to see the other members of your team standing around you, waiting. “Come on,” Su-bong says, holding out his hand for you to take hold of.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you rasp, teams brimming your eyes. “Baby, I’m so scared.” Su-bong’s face drops and he quickly crouches in front of you, holding your shoulders.

“Me too,” he says, quietly. “But we can get through this. I promise.” You become transfixed on his eyes, looking past the blown pupils to really try to read him. You can see the fear and the worry, but also you find the honesty of the man that you love with your whole heart. “Let’s go,” he nods, taking your hand and pulling you along with him to start the game.

———————

Traumatized doesn’t begin to cover your current state. You have no idea how the five of you managed to pass the game, given how scared you were and how delirious Su-bong was. It was a miracle.

Now, your group has returned with the successful groups to the dormitory, where you and Su-bong have excused yourselves from the others. You chose to sit on his bed as the bunk is more secluded from the others, affording you some privacy. Su-bong sits at the head of the bed with his back against the wall. You have chosen to sit between his spread legs, resting your back against his chest. Your hope was to let the sound of his breathing and the calm beat of his heart soothe you, as it normally did when you fell asleep together, but both are too erratic for you to derive any serenity from.

“I told you we would get through it,” his deep voice rumbles through his chest, the sound so smooth when it hits your ear.

“For now,” you reply, placing your hands on his knees, gently fisting the material of his pants to calm your nerves. “What happens if they vote to stay again?”

“Then we keep going,” he says, breezily. “That’s all we can do.” His breath tickles your neck as he lets out a sigh before placing a soft kiss just above the collar of your shirt. You tilt your head to the opposite side to give him room as he trails kisses slowly towards your ear. Once you feel his teeth graze your earlobe, you hum tenderly, giving his head a gentle shove away with your own.

“What are you doing?” you ask. “We can’t do this here, I told you that.”

“I haven’t been able to touch you in days,” he whispers. “All of this stress has been making me feel out of control. I need to remember what you feel like.” Su-bong’s hands slip around your body, cupping your breasts and pulling your body back against him firmly. “I love you so much,” he rasps, fingers massaging your chest as you squirm against him. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d probably be dead,” you breathe. Su-bong laughs, slipping one of his hands higher to wrap his fingers around your throat. He urges your head back onto your shoulder and tightens his fingers around your neck. “I’d miss your mouth the most,” you say, looking up to him and blinking slowly. “And your hands.”

“Didn’t you just say we can’t do this here?” Su-bong asks with a laugh in his chest. “But you want to tease me?” He keeps his hand on your throat, but slides the other hand between your thighs to carefully pry them apart. “What am I allowed to do then?” Su-bong asks. “Can I touch you here? You love my hands and my mouth so much…if you promise to be quiet, I can show you how much my fingers and tongue love you, too.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe, as he teases you through the fabric of your pants. “Not…not here.”

“Where?” he asks, desperation in his voice, moving his hand to squeeze your thigh now.

“Not in this place,” you clarify, closing your eyes. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better. Back to our bed where you can see what you’ve been missing.”

“Are you trying to persuade me to vote how you want by promising me a taste of what’s already mine?”

Su-bong’s voice is deeper now, sending your head reeling & your breath stuttering. This is the ego that you love from him, that small taste of Thanos that drives you crazy. You’re temporarily stunned, lost in the sensations his voice and touch give you, but you quickly become aware of where you are. Your eyes open, and you can hear the noises of the dozens of people in the dorm with you.

“Su-bong, please,” you insist, tugging his hands away from you. “This place is filled with death, I don’t feel right doing this here. I can’t.” You begin to push yourself away from him, an effort to sit at the end of the bed, but he stops you, wrapping both arms around your midsection to keep you against him.

“I’ll behave,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” You cuddle against him, closing your eyes and getting comfortable, feeling finally how exhausted your body really has become.

You fall asleep thinking of when you met Su-bong. Your friend dragged you to a club to see a DJ they had a crush on. It wasn’t necessarily your kind of scene, and you found the DJ to be subpar, until he introduced his MC. When Su-bong walked onto the stage, the crowd cheered, and you could understand why. Beyond his stage presence and verses, he was easily the most attractive man you’d ever seen. It was impossible to take your eyes off of him with his blue hair, sweat soaked and from the stage lights. You could barely contain your excitement when his eyes locked with yours and he smiled knowingly. After his set, he approached you first to buy you a drink, and the rest is history.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you’re being woken up to the sound of the Square guard’s voice booming through the dormitory. When you open your eyes, you find that you’re alone in Su-bong’s bed, and he’s nowhere to be found. With a sigh, you climb from the bed and head out to join the others just in time to watch the piggy bank get filled with more money.

You scan the crowd in search of your boyfriend, finding that he rejoined your team from the game. Maneuvering through the sea of people, you reach Su-bong, grasping his forearm to get his attention. Unfortunately, he’s transfixed on the glowing pig above your heads, watching the stack of money grow larger and larger.

“Su-bong,” you warn. “Don’t let it distract you.”

“I know,” he mumbles, still refusing to take his eyes off of the bank until it stops. “It was only one hundred and ten people.”

“Only?” you say. “How can you say that? Those are people’s lives you’re talking about.”

“But what about my life? Our life? Even combined, it’s barely above one hundred and fifty million won. We’re not even close to being out of debt.”

“We’ll figure something else out,” you plead. “It’s not worth losing our lives over.” Su-bong sighs deeply, nodding his head at your words. You hope you got through to him.

As everyone lines up for the next vote, Su-bong holds your hand, keeping you close to him. You both watch as the other players vote one at a time, the numbers staying relatively tight together. You notice that several people change their votes, which gives you hope for a positive outcome this time.

Much to your surprise, player 001 interrupts the vote this time, trying to reason with the group still waiting to vote. Several other players who are in favor of continuing speak up as well until they whip the crowd into a frenzy. Briefly, you feel Su-bong tense at your side, as if he is fighting the urge to cheer along with the other ‘O’ voters, but he stays silent.

When Su-bong’s number is called, he walks slowly to the podium and stares down at the two buttons. Your heart pounds in your chest, genuine concern flowing through you as you’re unsure of how he will vote. You clasp your hands together, as if to plead to anyone who will listen for your boyfriend to do the right thing. When the buzz rings out and the number on the ‘X’ side changes, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, tears almost falling from your eyes. Finally.

You don’t take your eyes off of your boyfriend as he changes out his velcro patch to the ‘X’. When he turns again, he finds you immediately, nodding his head with a small grin on his lips. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long for your number to be called so you can join him on the ‘X’ side. You do not hesitate for a moment, slamming down the ‘X’ button and turning quickly to run towards him.

“Thank you,” you breathe, as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, turning you around so you can see the display screen. “They’re the ones you have to worry about.”

As you both stand silently, you watch the numbers grow, and feel less confident with each passing second. The numbers for those voting to stay are creeping higher and higher, and you curse player 100 for riling up the group. By the time player 456 reaches the podium, all of the joy you just gained has drained from your body — you have to stay for another game.

You move like a zombie, collecting your dinner from the guards, and making your way to Su-bong’s bed again. He’s close behind you, neither of you speaking as you contemplate what could happen next. You eat in silence as well, scared and tired all at once.

The rest of the day passes in a strange blur. At some point, just before the chime begins to play to indicate lights out, Su-bong collects your mattress from your bunk and sets it on the floor beside his bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says. “You can have my bed.”

“No, that’s okay. The floor is fine with me.”

“No—”

“Hey,” you cut him off, standing in front of him and taking him by the hips to pull him in. He laughs, that wide smile you love to see appearing across his face. “I’d rather sleep on the floor,” you continue. “I promise I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he nods, grasping the sides of your head in both hands and taking you in for a gentle kiss. “I’m sorry,” he mutters against your lips. “I know it’s my fault that we’re both here. I’ll do what I can to fix this.”

Su-bong sleeps at the edge of his bed, his arm hanging off of the bunk to hold your hand. When he falls asleep and his grip loosens, you unlace your fingers from his, gently tracing the rings on his index and pinky fingers. You think about how he rarely takes them off at the end of the day, as if they’re an extension of him. When you’re in bed together at your home, and he touches you for the first time, the metal feels ice cold and you wonder if he plans it like that just to see the way the goosebumps spread across your skin. The truth is you always get goosebumps from his touch, rings or no rings.

You wake the following morning to find Su-bong sitting on the edge of his bed with his cross pendant in the palm of his hand. You sit up quickly, snapping the lid closed and wrapping your fingers around it, prepared to yank it from his neck.

“Wait!” he exclaims, grasping your wrist. “I wasn’t going to take one…not yet.” You stare at him imploringly, waiting for him to continue. “If I focus on what’s happening,” he begins, carefully choosing his words. “I think I’ll mess up. I can’t mess up.”

“I’m here with you, Su-bong. We won’t mess up.” He stares into your eyes but this time he takes in your whole face as if he’s memorizing it. For a moment, he looks scared; his breath coming in harder pants and his eyebrows furrowing — he’s panicking. “Hey,” you say, snapping him from his trance. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, tucking the cross into his jacket. “I’m here. I was just…nevermind. Let’s go.” He holds his hand out towards you, helping you to your feet as you both join the group of other players preparing for the next game.

When you walk into the expansive, rainbow painted room, you don’t immediately notice the turntable in the center, too fixated on why there are so many doors. The female voice rattles through the speakers to explain you will be playing Mingle, and you tighten your grip on Su-bong’s hand to pull him close.

“If we have to run to these rooms, it’s going to be chaos,” you say, carefully stepping onto the table at the center of the room.

“I won’t let you go,” Su-bong promises, as the playful tune begins to play through the speakers and the table begins to rotate.

The sound of the other players panting nervously radiates around you and your own nerves begin to take hold. You are once again on the verge of blacking out until the table stops suddenly.

“Ten!”

Su-bong pulls you along with him as he locates your team from the previous day, who have already grabbed five additional people. All ten of you dash towards an open room, desperate to get there before anyone else. You shove your boyfriend into the room first and ensure that the others slip in with you, before slamming the door shut. The lock engages and immediately gunfire rings out from the main room.

“Shit,” you mutter, covering your ears to avoid hearing the screams. Su-bong wraps his arms around your body, pulling you snug against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “You’re safe.”

When you are released from the room, the first thing you see are the sporadic pools of blood from the ‘eliminated’ players. Swallowing hard to keep from becoming sick, you carefully avoid stepping in any blood, stepping back onto the platform awaiting your boyfriend, who you assumed was directly behind you.

Much to your dismay, you spot Su-bong hanging back with Nam-gyu, talking quietly as they slowly walk to the platform. He pulls the cross from his jacket and opens it, pausing to look around for anyone who might be watching. When his gaze falls on you, all you are able to do is look away from him, knowing that his impulsive nature and his anxiety are in the driver seat. All you can do is hang on.

“Babe,” he calls out, hurrying toward the platform and stepping up beside you just as it begins to spin again. “I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me about it,” you say, quickly. “If you took one or you didn’t, I don’t want to hear it. If it helps you focus, or whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just stay with me and get us both out of here alive.” He nods in response, taking your hand again as you wait for the platform to stop spinning.

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Six!”

Each number called gives you another knot in your stomach and more aches in your body from scrambling to get into a room with the right number of people. By now, you feel as though more than half of your fellow players have been eliminated, as the platform is far more spacious. Along with that, the room is virtually covered in the blood of those same players who weren’t fast enough. From running through the puddles, the soles of your shoes are stained red and a brassy scent hangs heavy in the air.

When the voice over the speaker announces the final round, you breathe a sigh of relief but still feel tense. Looking at the count of how many people are left along with the number of rooms available, you know that you will have to move fast to secure a room. You take Su-bong’s hand, preparing as the platform rotates for a final time.

“Two!”

You set your eyes on room 40, with its magenta colored door. With a firm grip on your boyfriend’s hand, you take off towards the door, yanking him along with you. You avoid the blood as much as you can, but suddenly lose your footing and begin to fall. Su-bong catches you by your hips and rights you again.

“Room 40!” you call out, pointing ahead of you. He takes off towards the door as you notice two other players making their way to the door as well. Just before they reach the handle, Su-bong plants a kick directly in the man’s chest, sending him and his partner stumbling to the ground.

“Come on!” Su-bong yells, and he waves you over.

Part of you is horrified at his action but you know that you both need to survive. You scramble towards him, and he hurriedly wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into the room and slamming the door shut behind you. Still holding you close, he braces the door shut with your bodies, ignoring the sounds of the other couple desperate to get in.

“Don’t listen,” Su-bong mutters, as the lock engages on the door. He keeps you in his arms, walking you away from the door to the corner of the room, where he lowers you both to the floor. You curl into his chest, covering your head as he holds his arm around your shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says, as the gunfire and screaming begins. “I’m here.”

When the room is finally silent again, you lift your head to look at your boyfriend, tears brimming your eyes. He smiles softly at you, his fingertips tenderly stroking your cheek. He uses his free hand to pull his cross necklace from his jacket holding it out to you.

“I didn’t take any,” he whispers, nodding his head towards the cross. “I gave all of them to Nam-gyu.” Your eyes shift from his face to the cross, cautiously opening the lid to find it empty. “I told you I’d keep you safe,” he breathes. “Didn’t I?”

———————

356,000,000. The number didn’t even sound real. With both of your winnings combined, you’d be able to make a sizable impact on the debt. You keep as close to Su-bong as you can as you await the call of your number. Already, the vote appears to be shifting in favor of leaving, but you don’t yet get your heart set on it. Not just yet.

The numbers tick back and forth several times before it’s your turn to vote. You give Su-bong a quick peck on the cheek before you make your way to the podium, quickly slamming your hand down on the ‘X’ button. The chorus of boos and cheers ring out, but you ignore both, making your way to the ‘X’ side to wait for Su-bong.

There’s a fleeting worry in your mind that he may change his mind after seeing the money added to the piggy bank, but something about the look in his eyes when you were in the final round of Mingle — he’s scared. As soon as Su-bong’s number is called, you train your eyes on him, taking in every move he makes as he marches towards the podium.

You get side tracked thinking about the way he walks. His movement is distinctly his own — he moves with rhythm when he has a purpose, but sometimes his movement is stiffer, as if he’s trying to blend in. This walk, almost a strut, is determined and you know you have no reason to worry about what his decision will be when he reaches the podium.

The buzz of the ‘X’ rings loud and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The cacophony of cheers and boos fills the silence while Su-bong trudges towards you with a small smirk on his lips. You immediately pull him into your arms, hugging him and never wanting to let go. He holds his hand to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him to kiss the top of your head.

“We’re almost home,” he whispers, finally letting you go.

You maintain your glee as you watch the numbers on the screen change over and over until the score is tied. The final voter is player 001, someone you don’t particularly trust. You notice him lock eyes with player 456 briefly, his face unchanging, before he walks to the podium.

You close your eyes, unable to watch what selection he will make. Su-bong grasps your hand, holding it to his chest; you can feel his heart practically pounding against his ribcage. He mutters something under his breath, likely a plea for this man to make the right decision.

Time stands still as everyone awaits the moment that will determine your fates. Your head feels like it could spin off of your shoulders at any moment, your breaths coming faster and faster until—

A buzz and the overwhelming cheers from the other ‘X’ voters. You open your eyes, staring up at the screen that reads 51-49. Su-bong wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting you into the air in celebration. You both scream and cheer, tears finally breaking the seal and falling from your eyes. You can’t believe it.

Su-bong spins you both in a circle, before setting you down, finally kissing you deeply. You clench his jacket firmly, never wanting to lose the feeling you have right now.

“They sound upset,” Su-bong chuckles, nodding towards the group that voted to stay.

“I don’t care,” you respond. “Let them stay and tear each other apart if they want. We’re getting the fuck out of here. And I know the first thing I want us to do.”

“Please tell me,” he replies, mirroring your playful grin.

“Dye your hair pink again,” you say. “We should retire Thanos. I think he’s served his purpose.”

“Hmmm,” Su-bong hums thoughtfully, giving you a suggestive smirk. “I don’t think he should go away yet. He may still have some work to do for his good girl.”

[oceaneyesinla]

Coming Home

I needed some soft Chuuya, so I wrote some soft Chuuya. This is VERY self indulgent and very fluffy

Slightly suggestive at the end - nickname used: angel

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Chuuya can’t help but release a tired, relieved sigh as the door to his apartment swings open. He’s been away for a week, and that’s a week too long when he knows just what’s waiting for him at home. You’ve ruined him for missions that take him away from Yokohama - how can he spend even a second away from the brightest star in the sky of his life? If you weren’t so important to Mafia operations in the city, he would bring you with him every time he leaves. Alas, it’s not to be - your biochemical knowledge and connections to the local hospitals make you too valuable to lose. 

Instead, the two of you spend all hours of the day and night on the phone; 3AM video calls, lunchtime phone conversations and good morning messages having to suffice even though all he wants is to wrap you in his arms and never let go. For now, he’s home, and the boss promised him at least a couple of days rest in return for going on this mission. It was an important one, and there were very few people Mori would trust such a task to.

The patter of footsteps pulls him out of his thoughts, and he can feel a smile tugging at his lips. Clearly, you heard him open the door. He makes quick work of taking off his shoes and he’s just depositing his bag off to one side to deal with later when you round the corner. Your face lights up as you skid to a halt, almost sliding straight into the opposite wall. The laughter that bubbles out of him is soft and affectionate, as if his body needs some way to release all the love he feels for you before his heart explodes with it.

You look cozy, all wrapped up in one of his sweaters and fluffy socks on your feet, and you look like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He opens his arms, already knowing what your plan is, and he’s absolutely right. You barrel down the hallway, jumping into his arms and clinging to him with all your strength. Your legs lock around his waist, and you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, leaving little kisses that he swears he can feel even through the all the fabric of his clothes.

“Hey angel.” The last remnants of tension bleed out of him as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your favourite body wash, the one you started using when you decided it reminded you of him. Now, it just reminds you both of home.

“Missed you.” You’re pouting when you pull away to meet his eye, but it doesn’t last long when he peppers your face in kisses, reducing you to a giggling mess in moments. 

Kicking the door shut with his foot, he carries you further into the apartment, bypassing the couch and heading straight for the bedroom, “Missed you too. Did you do anything fun while I was gone? Spend the money I left you?”

You launch into an animated description of all the things you bought while he was gone and Chuuya could feel the fond smile growing on his face. This is what he misses most when you’re apart - the light in your eyes and the excitement in your voice is never the same through a phone screen.

The squeak you let out as he drops you onto the bed makes him laugh once again, and he quickly strips out of his work clothes and changes into something more comfortable. You’ve already tucked yourself under the covers by the time he’s done, and he joins you, immediately pulling you practically on top of him. After he’s been away, he likes to have you as close as possible. If he could crack open his ribcage and tuck you away in there, safe and sound, he would.

“What’s the plan, Chuu?” Your sweet voice is music to his ears, and he leans in to press a kiss to your head.

“First, we’re taking a nap, because I want to cuddle and I know you do too.” He lets his hand slide down your back, trailing down to the plush of your ass and giving it a light squeeze, “Then I’m going to show you just how much I missed my pretty angel.” He moves his hand back up to rub along your spine, smiling when he feels you relax into him, “Then we’re going out for dinner.”

You shift a little, dropping a couple of kisses along the sensitive skin of his neck before you snuggle back into his chest, “Okay. Love you, Chuu.”

“Love you too, angel.” The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is your soft smile, your features nothing short of angelic as you rest on him, content in his hold and infinitely trusting. His final thought before he slips into sleep is that heaven must feel like the love you share.

@pixelcafe-network

[losing-it-lately]

Would you consider a Remus Lupin x reader where reader is an animagi probably like a smaller animal maybe like a cat or something and Remus has them falling asleep on him and not realizing it’s reader until he’s openly talking about his feelings toward them and the reader in animagi form is like 👀👀👀

Remus Lupin with an Animagi!reader

wc: 0.7k

remus lupin x reader fluff

not exactly as per the request, but i hope you enjoy it :)

Soft and warm and happy. You were everything that Remus Lupin felt like he didn't get in his life. And even when he didn't know it, you still brought an unfiltered joy into his life.

The Gryffindor common room had seen some recent changes, the biggest one being Remus’ new companion, a scrappy, furry little thing that hung on his shoulder or in his sweater. Cats had always been allowed in Gryffindor, but a small kitten was a new update.

He had found you lingering around the whomping willow; playing and dancing around the tree’s various attacks. With your soft wispy fur and your long whiskers, immediately he was enthralled. Not to mention, he had needed something to keep him going after his transformation the night before.

So you two became a pair, a loved pair. Little first years would surround Remus asking to pet you and James and Sirius would use you for pranks and Remus would let you sleep in his bed. He really loved you, even when you were gone, he would patiently wait.

But what he didn't know was that you were never actually gone.

You were intelligent, for sure. And you were loud, and fun, and crass, and all the things that made people laugh loudly and smile unabashedly. Remus saw something bright and spunky in you and the way you’d light the people around you. And whilst your otherwise silly jokes made people assume the least, your unrestrained time in the library and constant practice and yearning for your curiosity to be satisfied resulted in an early animagi status.

Though intensely illegal to practice that kind of magic underage and without recognition from the ministry, becoming an animagi fulfilled a part of yourself that otherwise you wouldn't have ever felt complete without. When you first transformed into that small tabby, the world around you went silent. You felt different and the same, you were content.

So you continued, spending time in your new form doing whatever random tasks you wanted to do. And eventually, you picked up a companion who unbeknownst to you, knew both sides of the coin.

Remus had started taking you into account on the sorting ceremony of that year. You had accidentally turned up late and took the first empty seat you saw, the one next to him. The both of you had never spoken one on one until that moment, and he swears that he didn't know what a proper laugh felt like until you uttered that first joke; even better, he didn't know what an angel sounded like until he heard your laugh.

Then, he would see you in the library, in his potions class, in the gryffindor common room, it was like you were everywhere, until you weren't.

He stopped seeing you as often and assumed that maybe, maybe he wasn't as down bad as he had been before, maybe he was getting over you. And then you sat next to him in potions and all of his feelings came tumbling back.

Remus rushed to his dorm room with his face blushing all different colours and his fingers picking at his scars. He was spiraling and didn't know what he could do, until he saw her: his little tabby rolling on his bed, waiting patiently.

He scooped her up, letting her eyes match his at eye level, and started confiding.

“I don't know what to do,” he stuttered, his hands engulfing her arms. “I need her so badly, she's perfect for me.”

You were confused to say the least, purring and distracting him from whatever ailed him. It was unbecoming, watching Remus ramble about his dream girl, until he mentioned your name. Your eyes widened, and you jumped out of his hands. Sometimes being smart isn't enough and in this case, you had no idea what to do. You scampered back out of his line of vision and into your room, transforming back and realising you had to do something, you had to make a move.

All week, Remus waited for his tabby to come back, and come Hogsmeade, he went out to buy her some treats. Mid his store run, you found him, looking between aisles for various different snacks.

“I want to talk to you,” you smiled and he felt his world turn a little faster.

Remus abandoned the snacks and you led him outside, to a bench. He felt something shift inside him as you stared into his eyes.

“I really like you,” he burst out, his normal composure almost disappearing now that he was this close to you. You softly laughed and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

“We should go and share a butterbeer.”