#I will be making more but I can only build so many at a time

[princesssmars]

better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE reaction: going home with them for holidays ༉‧₊˚.

req: Hiiii love your work🩷🫧 I have a question is it possible for you to do (reader) coming home with RIIZE for the holidays like a reverse of your last post ?if not it’s okay

pairing: bf!riize x reader �� masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

It was the first time you were going to meet Shotaro's family since you started dating, and you were going to spend an entire week with them. You couldn’t deny that you were pretty nervous, and Shotaro was well aware of it. Even though he had reassured you countless times that everything would be fine, you clung to him the moment you arrived. Still, his family was incredibly welcoming and showed great interest in getting to know you, asking lots of questions and making every effort to make you feel comfortable. By the end of the vacation, you felt like they were your second family. "When can we go back?"

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You had only met Eunseok's family a couple of times before, but you adored the way they treated you, especially spending time with his younger brother. That’s why, when they invited you to spend the holidays with them, you couldn’t have been more excited. You loved hanging out with his mom and brother, you even went out for meals with them and explored the city together. Noticing how much attention you were giving them, Eunseok couldn’t help but hug you when you were alone in his room and tease you. "It seems like you’re more in love with my family than with me…"

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

Every Christmas, Sungchan and his family spent a week in a snowy cabin. He had always talked about how much fun it was, so you were naturally curious. When you received the invitation, you accepted without hesitation, not realizing you had no idea how to ski. You were amazed by how skilled Sungchan was. Both he and his family did their best to teach you, though you never quite got the hang of it. Despite that, you had an amazing time, bonding with Sungchan’s family and making unforgettable memories.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

You were quite nervous about meeting Wonbin’s family, wanting to make a great first impression. Everything seemed to be going well until, while helping Wonbin and his dad prepare dinner, you accidentally dropped a plate, leaving you mortified. Even though everyone assured you it was no big deal, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. During dinner on the first night, they went out of their way to make you feel comfortable. Over the next few days, they included you in all their plans. In the end, Wonbin told you how much his family liked you, though you still couldn’t forget the broken plate incident.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

When Seunghan invited you to spend Christmas at his home, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. Even though you spent almost every day together, this was your first vacation as a couple, and both of you were thrilled. You loved spending time with his family, but what you enjoyed the most was simply being with him. To your surprise, it snowed one day, and you all went out to build a snowman and have a snowball fight. It was a holiday you would always cherish.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

Sohee had often told you about his family’s holiday traditions, so you were curious to experience them in person. His family welcomed you as if you were one of their own, and every evening, you watched a movie together and played board games after dinner. You loved seeing Sohee so happy, yet shy when introducing you to his family. On the final night, the two of you cuddled by the fireplace, reminiscing about how much fun you had.

⭑.ᐟ anton

Anton was thrilled that you were finally going to meet his family and equally excited to take you to his childhood home. There were so many things he wanted to show you. Spending time with him and seeing his excitement as he gave you a tour of his neighborhood brought you so much joy. Your favorite part was visiting his room and listening to his mom share stories and show you childhood photos of Anton, your ultimate weakness, though it embarrassed him a little. By the end of the trip, you and his mom had agreed to stay in touch.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[karuuhnia]

TF2 Chapter 7 - Karuuhnia's analysis

Christmas came early for the TF2 fandom this year, didn't it? (Well, it really came 7 years LATE if we're completely honest lol)

It was an emotional rollercoaster and had a happy, wholesome ending and conclusion for both the mercs and for us. Several mysteries from the past comics were resolved.

And you know me: I love to overthink and overanalyze every bit of lore and story that I can get my fingers on lmao

So here's my essay:

A) Solved mysteries

1. What the Administrator was planning

It turns out: There WAS no evil plan of world domination or whatever. Just pure hatred for a man who ruined her life - apparently. It's been so long she doesn't even remember the reason. But the thought of revenge was enough to fuel her every life choice.

And to think, it all could have ended in the 1850s already - if it weren't for smart-ass Gray Mann and his narcissistic tendencies to brag about his knowledge and plans. (How he himself figured this out is never explained.)

He was the one who introduced the Administrator to Australium in the first place, around 1850ish. If he hadn't told her that it could bring people back from the dead and prolong life, the senseless Gravel War would have ended with Blutarch's and Redmond's natural deaths.

Well, on the other hand we must be glad that the conflict didn't go on even longer.

Since Dell stated that none of his family members ever went into the room where Zepheniah was kept, the Administrator must have build all of that herself, right? That would certainly explain why it looks so crude and consumes so much Australium. I mean, look at this construction and then compare it to the one Dell built:

The Mark 5 machine gave her ~6 months of life for just a tiny flask of Australium. Imagine what would have happened if one of the Conaghers had improved Zeph's machine as well! She could have kept the zombiefied corpse in a living nightmare for many centuries more instead of burning through tons and tons of Australium so quickly. Good thing it didn't come to that.

2. Who helped the Administrator

Well, we didn't get a clear answer, but I think it's safe to conclude now that it was the Administrator's elite merc teams A-E that obtained all the Australium during the 6 months Miss Pauling and the TF2 team went off the grid. Which only further proves that the Administrator did not really care for Pauling at all and only came to her and her "team of rejects" as a last resort, after everything else had failed.

It's really heartbreaking how much Pauling admired her and wanted to be her trusted second-in-command while the Admin apparently never even invited her to the secret HQ. Nobody there even KNEW of Team Fortress after all. It was such a relief to see Pauling let go in the end and choose a free life instead.

3. Scout's second chance

Well, not really a mystery here, but I really like how Scout had an epiphany that there were other girls out there that would like him as he was and moved on from Miss Pauling. There was no heartbreak, no animosity, no rejection. They are still friends and support each other! I love it!

And then Scout even saved all of humanity by having sex with several women so that God wouldn't have to destroy the world! What a great, selfless guy he is!

I really love Spy and Scout after the time skip. No more bickering, no more annoyance, no more mean comments, just kindness. Spy is also so sweet to his grandchildren! ADSGFSDAF

I hope they all remain in contact and on good terms. Because let's not forget: Scout's health isn't good and he even has a confirmed death date. Which is only 8 years into the future of 1979.

All of his orphaned children would still be minors at that point. When it comes to that I hope Spy and Scout's Ma can take care of their grandchildren.

4. What Charles Darling and Maggie were planning

Darling stated he wanted to obtain Australium in order to make his rare animals immortal and in return he would get Saxton's company back.

The way Maggie always reacted to Saxton led me to believe she knew Darling was planning something ELSE and she felt bad for not telling Saxton and having to betray him in the end:

But turns out, I probably just misinterpreted Maggie's facial expressions. She looked so sad because she loved going on adventures with Saxton again and just hated the thought that he'd go back to Mann Co. afterwards.

I'm very happy that in the end Saxton let go of the company and spent the rest of his days punching wild animals with his true love! (Although he might have started a war again, now between Reddy and Bidwell lol)

B) Unsolved and new mysteries

However, as much as I loved the last chapter, I feel there are still a lot of things that were never cleared up or adequately explained.

So after re-reading every single comic and update page these are some other things I still find inconclusive:

1. Olivia Mann's mother

Not really that important to be fair, but still: Is she really the biological daughter of the 150 old mummy Gray Mann? If so, who is the poor woman who… mated with him and where is she now?

Or was Olivia adopted, abducted or grown in a lab? Well, at least she gets to live a happy and free life now and is provided for by the dad who stepped up. Good on you, Saxton!

2. Darling's knowledge

Back to Darling real quick: Why DID Maggie start working for her nemesis?

HOW did Charles Darling learn about Australium's properties and the Administrator's history?

There is also the fact that the Mann triplets' mother was a Darling!

These things were never brought up again! Whyyyyyyyy?????

3. What was all the set-up with the TFC mercs about?

The TFC mercs made several ominous remarks that made us believe there was more to them:

Both Virgil and Greg were trying to say something interesting, but then got cut off before the revelation. And especially TFC Heavy talked about dying as if it was an immediate danger to all of them. Sure, they were old, but they were still going strong, being able to kill all of the Admin's elite teams after all.

4. Fred's destiny (and identity?)

In Chapter 6 Spy disguised as Fred, trying to trick Virgil. After being found out, the two had this conversation:

Spy managed to impersonate Fred really well apparently. That means he must have studied Fred's personality, mannerisms and way of speaking before he went to Virgil. That also means he must have spent quite a while talking to and studying Fred. Did he and Sniper capture and interrogate him? But more importantly: What happened afterwards? Tbh, they probably just killed him off-screen after learning what they needed.

Because I no longer believe that Fred was Dell's father, as much as that sucks. It would have made for a great plot point and possible conflict within the team.

But Fred obviously had no idea about anything related to Australium or the immortality machines.

Since later on in Chapter 7 Dell says that neither his grandfather, his father nor he himself ever set foot in that basement, we can conclude that they all knew that the Administrator was hiding something nefarious down there. Which also means they WORKED for her and thus must have also worked on her immortality machine. So it makes no sense that Fred would not know anything about that if he really were Dell's father.

That still leaves us with the question: Why was young Fred in the photo with child Dell? Or WAS this guy even Fred?

I mean, a lot can happen in 40ish years between those two pictures:

But my new headcanon now is: These two are not the same person. TFC Medic had to replaced by our beloved Dr. Herbert Ludwig (still not over that name btw lmao), so who says the original TFC Engie wasn't replaced too at one point? TFC Heavy was very obviously worried about his friends dying one after the other.

Virgil said he knew Fred since before the war. So maybe after Dell's father died/left the team, Virgil told TFC Heavy about his old comrade Fred who also happened to be an Engineer. And only then Fred became part of TFC.

But as I said, that's just my headcanon. In reality it's probably just an inconsistency over the many years of convoluted lore. lol

5. Soldier's cave, covered in Australium

In A Cold Day in Hell Soldier and Zhanna have the following conversation:

First it's a stink-barn, then he claims to be homeless. But in Chapter 7 Heavy suddenly says that Soldier lives in a cave.

And it turns out there is tons of Australium in that cave! Now of course I wonder: When did Soldier move into that cave and where is it located? We were always told that Australium only exists in Australia. But I highly doubt this American patriot owns a cave in Australia. Also, how is it possible that the Admin and the elite mercs never managed to find this cave? Did they just not bother to look in America because all known Australium is in Australia?

So in return, does that mean that Australium is NOT exclusive to Australia after all? If so, there could still be hidden caches of the stuff anywhere on Earth. At least the Admin and Gray Mann are no longer around to collect it and Miss Pauling does not look for it anymore either. The only one who still has an interest in it is Charles Darling. Him again...

6. Soldier with the photo of the Mann family

Quick reminder: This is the only version of the family photo we'd seen up until this point:

But when Soldier and Merasmus are held by the mafia and the wizard asks him why he needed so much money, Soldier pulls out an intact, unteared photograph of the Mann family!!!

His thumb conveniently covers up the still unknown person standing in the middle. How did Soldier obtain this photo? How does he even know who everyone is, considering he's, well, Soldier?

Could he have any relations to the unknown person in the middle? And why DOES he need so much money (granted, it was only like 20 $ in the end, but still lol)?

Am I just overthinking this? Has anyone an explanation??? Is he and if yes, HOW is Soldier connected to the frigging Mann family??????

*cough* Anyway. This concludes my analysis of the TF2 lore. For now. If I come up with more things or if Valve ever decides to continue the story (That was a joke, haha, fat chance), I will come back to this. In the meantime, thank you for reading this and please feel free to share your own ideas and opinions! I'd love to read all of it! ❤️

[bakugosbratx]

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴ’ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ

— Yandere Alpha Katsuki Bakugo x Omega Fem! Reader

Trigger Warning: NSFW 18+. Omegaverse, abuse, corruption, cursing, deprivation, neglect, kidnapping, yandere, non-con, etc.

Words: 3,826

Tags: @peachyquing @milkthistletea @bakugous-trauma @gazelle-des-pres @miriobaby @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @vinny-likes-to-play21 @ssplague @ebiharachan @fransuki @angie-1306 @rainne-cloud @interstellar-inn @nymphoheretic

You were sick of hearing those wicked words from your captor. He could repeat that phrase as much as he wanted to, but no matter how much mental and physical abuse you endure from this man will never change your mindset. This cruel world is disgusting in many ways and one of those ways was something way beyond your control.

You have always wanted to be more than your mother has become. She was nurturing, soft, and a great woman overall, but you witnessed the way the world treated her kind.

“Move it, Omega!” Alpha’s, Gamma’s, Beta’s, and Sigma’s would growl whenever they deemed that she attempted to step out of line. Your mother’s words would soon be diminished anytime she spoke up. Even if it was for something as simple as correcting an error made on her coffee order.

“Shut it, Omega, and take what the barista gives ya!”

So, your mother did not say much at all anymore. Your father was usually busy making money for your family that he was not always around to help protect you two from these moments. Other Alpha’s knew better than to come to your father’s territory. His scent was all over it and his mark was always visible on your mother. Your father has fought off many Alpha’s and Sigma’s who dare challenge him. With stars in your eyes, you watched it all go down each time.

“I’ll be like him someday,” you would mutter to yourself in determination, “I will be the most feared Alpha there was!”

Your parents could not help but chuckle. You were a young pup; your determination was cute. Your small growls only received coos and headpats when you attempted to be tough like your father. Of course, many others feared your father. A powerful alpha like him out and about with his pup was not the time to challenge him.

This only fed your ego more.

When anyone approached you or your father, they would coo at your adorableness. “I am not cute!” You would exclaim in frustration. “I am going to be the most feared Alpha this world has ever seen, you hear me?!”

Bystanders would chuckle as you went along with your journeys. Though, you would be hit with the realization you are just a pup when it came time for your father to hunt for your guys next meal.

“C’mon, dad. Please let me go? Please?” You would plead as your father put on his gear. “No.” He would sternly reply, not providing any room for yes, no’s, or maybe’s. You did not even have a chance to protest as your father walked out the door, leaving you and your mother alone.

“It’s not fair.” You huffed with folded arms across your chest. “I’m going to be the most feared Alpha one day. I need to know how to hunt and dad isn’t even showing me how!”

“Now, now, dear. In due time. Maybe when you are a bit older you can join your father on his adventures.” Your mother soothed. She secretly hoped you would be an Alpha. She did not want you to face the same discrimination she does on a daily basis.

You never lost hope on becoming a strong Alpha. You trained yourself to become strong. You did all you could to build the muscle you truly desired to match an Alpha’s appearance and attempted to eat just like the Alpha’s did. You read all the magazines and even did your best to get an Alpha scent attached to your clothing.

“She’ll never become a true Alpha.” The kids in the school yard would whisper amongst each other. Some were already showing obvious signs of being an Alpha, Beta, or Omega, but you refused to accept your fate. You would ignore the negative glances and comments. You will be an Alpha.

Yet, that was not going to mask who you truly are.

The time was approaching. You were going to be eighteen soon and that meant you would finally know your status in the world. You could not wait to prove to everyone you will be an even greater Alpha than your father. Your body may struggle to build muscle and you could never eat like your father could, but you would get there. Your eighteenth birthday would prove that.

Awaking to the day you have waited so long for, you stretch in your nest you have built. Of course, you did not want to since that was such an Omega thing to do, but your mother insisted. So, not to disobey your mom, you did as she asked. It was comfortable and full of soft blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals you have received over the years. You would never admit it, but the stuffed animals made you feel safe.

Sniffing the air, your smile turned into a frown. A scream quickly followed which had your mother rushing into your room. “Darling, are you—“

“I’m just like you!” You sobbed, your scent being nothing like an Alpha. It was soft, sweet, and rosy. This was not how it was supposed to go. “This can’t be! I’m supposed to be a big strong Alpha!”

But this was obviously not the case. You would never be a big, strong Alpha. You were petite compared to them and you never cared for meat though you forced yourself to like it. Everything an Alpha was you were not. That was something you had to learn to accept.

Yet, here you are, Y/N. Chained up in a dark, cold basement all because you thought you could take on an Alpha. If only you could control your temper and alcohol consumption that night then maybe you would not be in this predicament.

“Are you insane?!” Your roommate gasped as she witnessed you put on a sexy outfit for the night on the town. “Y’know your heat is coming soon. Everyone will be able to smell it!”

“And?” You retorted as you spritz your favorite perfume. “You think an Alpha is going to come claim me or something?”

“Y’know how crazy Alpha’s can get, Y/N. They run this world. We are just victims of it.” She muttered, concerned clearly in her tone, but she knew there was no changing your stubborn mind. One of the many things people admired and hated about you. Once you have your mind set on something there is no stopping until your goal is completed.

“If an Alpha even tries to touch me, I’ll fight them.” You shrugged. Your friend could not hide the cackle. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You could never compete with an Alpha.”

Rolling your eyes, you make sure you have everything you need. “Look, I got it handled. I’ll be home later.” Hugging your roommate goodbye, you leave your shared apartment and head out to the local bar.

The Den.

A bar that had music, a dance area, pool tables, and a lounge area. This was a frequent mingle spot for everyone in their twenties. It had a mixture of everyone and everything. Plus, it was close to your living space, you could just walk and not worry about getting behind the wheel intoxicated.

Strolling up to the bar, you ordered your favorite alcoholic beverage. You usually had a friend or friend group join you out on nights like these, but your roommate was close to being in heat also so she refused to leave the apartment. Meanwhile, you took your chances.

Something about a full moon and your heat on the rise was calling to you. Midnight was looking for trouble and though you were not on the hunt for a mate, you wouldn’t mind enjoying what the night had to bring.

Sipping on your beverage of choice, the music spoke to your body as the rhythm took over. You could not even blame the intoxication from your beverage as your hips swayed to the beat, capturing the attention of a certain Alpha who decided to step in for the night. He was not one for the bar life unless his friends provoked him.

“C’mon, man! It’s been so long since you’ve come out with us.” The red hair, Eijiro Kirishima, pleaded. “Yeah, bro. There’s goin’ to be so many hot omegas just waiting to be bred.” The blonde, Denki Kaminari, practically drooled. Katsuki, the only Alpha of the crew, just growled.

“Yeah, right, like an omega would want to mate with a dumbass like you.” Katsuki shamed the Delta, relaxing more on the sofa. His friends couldn’t help but frown.

“C’mon, man. You said you would go out with us next time. Remember?” Eijiro, the Beta of the group, reminded him. Katsuki was not one to lie or be untrue to his word. That’s one of his best qualities underneath his tough exterior and because of that trait, his hands ended up on your waist and gentle nipping at your neck. You were too intoxicated from even more beverages you consume and being that close to your heat, how could you make the correct decisions?

You should have listened to your roommate. You should have stayed home and prepared your nest yet here you are, lips locked with a strong, masculine Alpha that can smell your heat on the rise.

Katsuki sniffed you, the faint scent of your heat coming intrigued him, sending his Alpha senses into overdrive. He was not planning on finding a mate tonight. In fact, he did not plan to interact with anyone. Katsuki was just keeping his word to his pack, but the way you moved was captivating. Your sweet aura lured the male to you without even trying. With the mixture of alcohol in your veins and your heat, you were inviting trouble.

“You’re coming with me.” Katsuki growled, his possessiveness already starting to show. If you were not in the state you were in currently, you would challenge the Alpha, but your submissive ways were on full display as the stranger led you to his car. You ignored the appalled glances of your peers who have seen you challenge anyone who even gazed in your direction. Now, this man you have never seen before is guiding you to his vehicle.

Katsuki Bakugo is used to girls throwing themselves at him. He is quite handsome with blonde fluffy hair, crimson gaze, kissable lips, and of course, a muscular exterior. He towers over you so easily making you feel petite. You should take this as a challenge like you do with anyone else, but the way dominance expels from his strong frame, you know your place quickly.

So when Katsuki easily threw you onto his king size bed, your face deep into the silk sheets that his scent was all over. Your submissive side was on full display, not an ounce of attitude, dismay, or defiance leaving your lewd lips. It was hard to hear anything with your bare ass up in the air and Katsuki’s cock already sinking deep into your weeping depths.

“Already so fuckin’ wet and I haven’t done shit to you.” Katsuki smirked, his cock sliding in with ease. He could smell your heat on the way and his Alpha senses were on fire. This is such a dangerous game you two are playing and that was so accelerating for the both of you.

Each stroke, your toes curled and your nails dug into his sheets. “Don’t be going and fuckin’ up my sheets now. Shit is expensive.” Katsuki chastised with a harsh slap to your ass that followed. Katsuki made sure to pull on your hair so he could hear you yelp from the impact, your claws digging into the sheets once more.

When you did not acknowledge his statement, another harsh slap followed to your ass. “Oi, did you not hear what I just fuckin’ said or did I fuck you dumb already?”

“I-I heard you.” You mumbled, trying to come back to reality. Katsuki was hitting your cervix with each stroke that you couldn't see straight. All you could feel is the impending doom that was building in the pit of your stomach.

Katsuki chuckled harshly as he felt your desperate walls flutter around his shaft, signaling he was sending you over the edge in the matter of seconds. Just when you thought you could see the light at the end of the glorious tunnel, Katsuki yanked on your hair some more to where your spine was practically cracking.

“If you think you can just not answer me when I’m speaking to you, you’re mistaken, ya damn brat.” Katsuki growled as he tugged on your hair even more. You could feel some strands coming out of your tender scalp from the impact. “I also suggest you better watch how you fuckin’ talk to me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered in desperation, tears brimming your pleading eyes. You were too far gone to argue with him. All you wanted was your ecstasy only he could provide at this exact moment.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Katsuki huffed before using his free hand to grab your face, your jaw immediately opening from his brute force as he spat into your mouth. “Now be a good little whore and learn to fuckin’ listen.”

The spit slid down your throat, his dominance now entering your bloodstream and removing any ounce of defiance left in you. All you know was his presence, his scent clogging your nostrils and going straight up to your brain. All those years of trying to prove something you are not are going down the drain. You are under his spell. And with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to the beauty that will combine you two together, his canines brush over your veins that were prevalent in your neck.

You both are slipping. Falling into the internal darkness that is your nature and desires. There is nothing you can do as you become the truest form of yourself that is triggering Katsuki’s primal instincts.

With a low growl, Katsuki sinks his teeth into your neck. Marking you as his.

Forever.

If you knew what you know now, you would have never gone home with Katsuki that night. You would have ignored the intimidating yet interesting presence that entered the club. If anything, you would have stayed home like your friend suggested.

Now, here you are, chained up in the basement as you hear the heavy footsteps of your captors boots above. Dust falls with each large step and causes you to cough. You have been down here for a couple of days now for disobeying Katsuki. You thought the abuse was bad, but the endless darkness, unknown noises, and the draft that seems to seep from every nook and cranny seems far worse.

The metal shackles cling against the beam keeping you down in the hell that is now your home. Your body trembles from the unpleasant conditions. And just when you thought it could not get much worse, a blinding light comes through with a slam of a wooden door following it.

You covered your eyes from the illumination so the burning sensation will go away as you listened to the heavy footsteps jog down the stairs. You did not have to see who it was. As much as you dreamed and wished it would be anyone else, you knew better than to believe such fantasies. Even if they magically manifested into reality, the hard nudge of a thick leather boot is quick to snap you back to reality.

“You alive?” Katsuki’s gruff voice questioned. When you peak, your heart races. Your omega instincts are clawing within you to go be with your Alpha, but your stubbornness is still ingrained within you.

Something Katsuki just can’t seem to break.

“Still not talkin’, eh?” Katsuki observed you with an arched golden brow. You did not have the energy to reply. Two days without any food, water, light, warmth; it brings your energy down.

The shackles release from you as Katsuki lifts you up and throws you over his broad shoulder. You witness the darkness become further and further before the wooden door closes, engulfing you in brightness.

Katsuki sets you down on a pillow around the table. A decent portion of rice sits before you with a glass of water. Katsuki sits across from you, his own food awaiting him. You have learned in your short time here that Katsuki knows how to cook, but due to his job, he doesn’t have tons of time to do so. So, easy meals are his go-to at times.

Not that you complain. You are quick to eat up the food with Katsuki observing you, silently. His crimson gaze was burning into your sore flesh but you did not care at the moment. You are scarfing down your meal as if it would vanish at any given moment.

Because it can.

And Katsuki has shown that a handful of times.

Once you finish your warm cooked supper, you gulp down the cold beverage. Katsuki’s gaze never falters. Even when yours finally lands upon his. The intensity builds between you two. All the unspoken words, the degrading words and actions he does to you, the hatred that has built up inside of you. Everything was present in each other's gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence. “Thank you.” You muttered out, your voice still hoarse from the horrors of the last forty-eight hours of deprivation. Katsuki just kept quiet. No remorse swam in his eyes.

Only need for control.

Katsuki eventually stood up and grabbed each of your empty dishes. You flinched on instinct as he approached you and you could see the smug smirk that wanted to appear on his lips. If you were not so exhausted, you’d slap it off of his face.

As you observe him go into the kitchen and hear the sound of the water running to wash the dishes, your eyes gravitate towards the front door.

“Freedom.” You whisper to yourself knowing that your freedom is right there; right in reach. Your abuser made the mistake of leaving you unattended. Maybe it was a test? A test you were willing to fail if it meant you met your ultimate goal.

A burst of energy electrifies through you as you find your way to your numb feet. Upon shaken legs, you take one last glance over your shoulder before bolting towards the door. Each step forwards was a step towards your victorious glory. There it was; just behind this door.

The need for freedom was blinding all of your senses. You did not even hear the sound of the water turning off in the kitchen, the harsh curses escaping Katsuki’s lips as his long purposeful strides ate up yours. Just as you felt the breeze from outside dance in your hair as you opened the exit door, it was quickly slammed shut.

Victory obliterated.

All the strength you once had danced away in the wind along with your dreams of the life that was almost yours. Now, you are back into the harsh grasp you have become numb to.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Katsuki exclaims in frustration, shaking you in anger. If you were not already crying in defeat, you could witness the pools of sadness swimming in Katsuki’s desperate eyes. “Why can’t you just love me, dammit?!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the sting of Katsuki’s backhand met your cheek. “Shut up, Y/N! Just shut the fuck up!” He roared as tears finally fell down his face. You were taken back by his sudden display of emotion. He was no longer holding onto you, he was pacing as if he was attempting to regain sanity.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with you.” Katsuki admits aloud as he continues to pace. “I have my whole future ahead of me, but you came and wrecked that for me, Y/N. You ruined everything!”

“I’m sorry.” You mumer out on reflex. Katsuki has beaten you down enough so that you learn to apologize for any minor inconvenience in his life. You tend to pay the ultimate price for it regardless.

“What have I told you about sayin’ shit you don’t mean, Y/N?” Katsuki hisses through gritted teeth. His large shaky hands ball up into fist beside him, his whole demeanor cracking under the pressure of it all.

You stood there, frozen in fear. You are unsure of what to say or do. You are in the same room as a fierce predator who can demolish you in an instant, who has broken you down time and time again, and look at him; falling apart. What can you even say or do to fix this? He has acted out irrationally many times, but this was.. new.

A large thud startles you as you see Katsuki drop to his knees in defeat. His strong stature slumped over, his breathing rigid, and identity just shattered all over the hardwood floor. You are stunned into place, overwhelmed by the spectacle that is occurring in front of you.

“K-Katsuki..” You stammer as you place out a quivering hand. Katsuki has gone silent and you are afraid his heart might have gone out. Not that you should care, but he has beaten you into caring to some extent, unfortunately.

“Katsuki.. ?” You call out again and that’s when Katsuki looks up at you, his crimson gaze wicked and predatory.

On instinct, you rush out the door that is behind you and still unlocked from your earlier encounter. This time, you get out. The breeze that blew away your strength and dreams of victory was waiting for you and with each stride, you gained some of yourself back. The woman that has always been loud, strong, brave, and everything in between has returned.

As your bare feet touch the grass below, you could feel the warmth from the sun radiate against your skin. Something you have not felt since being in captivity. And even if this was all temporary, even a slither of the best dream of your entire life, it was worth it all.

Even when you go tumbling down to the ground from Katsuki catching up to you and pouncing on top of you. The Alpha always wins.

Especially one as great as Katsuki Bakugo.

You attempted to fight him off. “Get the hell off of me!” You demanded, but you are quickly silenced when Katsuki sinks his sharp fangs into the mark he left in you that night.

The night that changed everything.

Your body goes limp as you quit fighting. Your need for Katsuki increases with each passing second. His dominance drips into your bloodstream like a poison you cannot ever escape. And once Katsuki got you right where he wanted you, he met your gaze with a triumphant smirk.

“Don’t blame me, brat. Love made me fuckin’ crazy.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved — I don’t give anyone permission to repost, distribute, copy or re-use my works in any way. Especially not on other websites such as Tik Tok, Ao3, Wattpad, etc.

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 16

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of food and eating

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: open

W♡RD C♡UNT: 1,485

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 21

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy first night of Hanukkah to all who celebrate! Happy Wednesday to everyone who doesn't! Here's a new chapter! (Or happy Thursday if it's the 26th for you)

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You double-check the draws of your desk, making sure you have everything think you’ll need for the second keg of the tour. Your top drawer is filled with snacks that you know Frankie and Wonseok will devour within a week-- if they even let it last that long. But the files you’ve kept on rookie groups and potential idols that you think may debut soon—debut in general— sit in a small box that you’re planning on dropping off at the group of desks that being to the junior writers in your department.

It’s something you should have done when you first got your promotion. You should have tried again before you left the first time, but a part of you thought you could still use the information you gathered over the years. But if the “My Summer a Stay” project with Stray Kids goes well, you’ll spend more time covering already established groups rather than rookies and survival show contestants.

“Getting ready to leave us again, huh?” Yoona, one of the reporters in your department asks as she walks up to your desk.

Saying she’s in your department is a stretch. She works in the entertainment department of the paper like you, Wonseok, and Frankie but she works in the gossip division. More specifically, she’s one of the few people the company hired to work specifically on scandals within the music industry. Calling her your archnemesis is a stretch but while you work to build up careers, she breaks them down. And for that, you dislike her strongly. You don’t even hide it. At least, not well.

“Yeah, the tour is starting up again.” Your voice is flat and even, trying to show as much disinterest in the conversation as you possibly can so she’ll leave you alone sooner.

“I envy you, Y/n.” She sits on the edge of your desk, trapping one of the folders you need to take with you but don’t want to get bent in your bag. “You’re just with these idols all of the time. I can only imagine what you must hear and see…”

That’s why she’s here…

You tilt your head to the side; your eyes widen almost with a childlike wonder. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” She chuckles softly as she leans in closer. “I took a sneak peek at your little secret project. You’re with them all the time. I’m sure you’ve overheard some conversations or even caught a glimpse of what’s on their phones.”

She’s fishing. If it’s for something specific, you’re not sure. You try not to follow scandals too closely. Most of them don’t concern you and are ridiculous. You do know it’s been generally quiet. Not many dating rumors or other false claims have made their rounds on the internet for a while. Anything else would be real news and would require Yoona and the other “reporters” in her division to do actual work before publishing. And you refuse to make their simple jobs easier for them.

“Ah, I…I’m having trouble understanding. Sorry, my Korean is not good…” You do your best to butcher the pronunciation and speak broken Korean, which is harder now after years of speaking it primarily.

Yoona’s eyes narrow as she sits up straighter. “That’s not cute, Y/n.”

“Pardon?” You tilt your head to the other side.

Yoona’s mouth opens and closes before she lets out a little annoyed huff of air. “You’ve been here for half a decade and you write full articles in Korean. Don’t try to act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

“This is a bit embarrassing but…I use Google Translate to write my articles. I write in English and translate. Please don’t say anything.”

Yoona crosses her arms across her chest, her eyes scan every part of your face. You close your bag and sit back in your chair, trying to not give her the satisfaction that she so desperately craves. Suddenly, the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile that would make the Cheshire cat envious. Her eyes light up, almost like a light bulb went off in her head.

“You do know something, don’t you?”

Oh lovely, she’s delusional.

You look around the office, most of the office is empty with nearly everyone gone for lunch. Still, there are a few people who are working through lunch. Luckily for you, you moved into the main offices right before you left for the first leg of the tour so not many people know you that well. Unluckily for your desk mate, he happens to be working through lunch.

"Um...excuse me? I'm having trouble understanding what she's saying. Can you help?" You bother your desk mate. He looks up from his laptop, completely confused and partially startled by the sudden interaction. You're not sure what he was so focused on but part of you feels bad.

"Uh--"

"Forget it," Yoona waves him off, no longer wanting to participate in your little charade. "Y/n, I know you're hiding something. There's no way you don't know anything. Stop faking,"

"But eonni--"

Buzz, buzz

Your eyes glance over to your phone sitting face up right next to your keyboard. You don't miss the fact that Yoona's eyes also land on your phone. Part of you freezes when you see the word "Eonni" light up on your screen. You quickly snatch your phone and send the call to voicemail as the list of things your sister needs now floods your brain.

"You have your sister in your phone as "eonni?" How curious..." Yoona suggests. You can see the gears turning right through her pupils, working out her next story.

"Whatever convoluted story you're coming up with, scrap it right now." You say firmly.

Buzz, buzz

You let out a swear under your breath as you send your sister to voicemail again, really not wanting to deal with whatever family drama is currently going on.

What time is it over there anyway? Early morning? Late night? Afternoon?

"I'm not doing anything. Is there a story there?" She feigns innocence by tilting her head and speaking in a low, condescending tone.

"I'm serious," You stand up and gather all of your things, yanking the file from under Yoona.

Buzz, buzz

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Yoona smirks. She hops off your desk and starts walking towards the door. "Don't worry, I'll leave you to talk to your "eonni.""

"It's not like..." Your voice dies in your throat as she continues to walk out.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh like a balloon deflating. Your attention is brought back to your phone as it continues to ring in your hand. Pressure builds behind your eyes as you think about what could be so urgent right now. You say a silent prayer to-- whoever will answer at this point--and answer the phone.

"What could you possibly need right now?" Mindful of all of your coworkers still in the office, you try your best not to scream. Still, your tone is harsher than you intended.

"Wow, you send the girl to the other side of the world and she thinks she's so important. She doesn't even answer the phone anymore and yet when she does, she has the audacity to be bitchy. I'm so sorry Your Highness," Your sister scoffs on the other end.

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to stop yourself from saying something that will start an argument. It's the last thing you need today. On top of making sure you have everything you need from work, you've been pulling all-nighters the past couple of weeks you've been home trying to fix what your team failed to understand from your emails and Zoom meetings. You're already dreading how much more work you're going to have to deal with when you get back from this leg of the tour now that there's going to be a large time difference between you and them.

"I'm sorry, I'm at work right now." Balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder, you do your best to secure your things in your arms as you head over to the elevator.

You press the down button with your foot, miraculously without dropping anything or toppling over, and wait for the elevator to reach your floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I know all about your fancy job all the way in Korea. Jesus, you don't have to brag."

Ding!

You walk into the elevator and press the button for the floor below you where all of the interns and lower-level reporters in your department work. Most of them are probably all out right now so you'll just leave the box of your notes on your old advisor's desk and send her a text.

"I'm about to leave for a meeting. What did you need?" You lie.

"It's about mom,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[dany-is-my-queen]

A QUESTION OF LOYALTY XIX

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

Note: Happy holidays 🎊

The air in Flea Bottom was thick with the stench of rot, smoke, and despair. You kept your hood low, blending into the squalor of the narrow, winding alleys. Mysaria’s message had reached you through one of her spies, instructing you to meet her in a decrepit building on the edge of the slums. You wondered what game she was playing this time.

When you arrived, she was waiting, seated on a rickety stool beneath the dim light of a cracked lantern.

"You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”

You didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“What do you want, Mysaria? I don’t have time for your games.”

She smiled faintly, gesturing for you to sit, though you remained standing.

“So sharp, always.“

You crossed your arms, glaring at her.

“Speak your piece.”

Mysaria leaned back, her fingers tracing the edge of the lantern.

“Do you know this place? It was once my world. The filth, the hunger, the men who thought they could own me. I swore I would never return to it. And yet, here I am. Funny how war pulls us back to the places we thought we’d escaped.”

“You didn’t summon me here to reminisce about Flea Bottom. Why am I here?”

She stood.

“To warn you. About Daemon.”

The mention of his name made your insides clench.

“Daemon? What are you talking about?”

Stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Have you wondered why he has not returned? Why he remains conveniently absent while the war consumes her? Why he is not at her side, fighting for her crown. Daemon is many things, but loyal is not one of them.”

You frowned.

“If you know something, speak plainly. What is he planning?”

Mysaria tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with cunning.

“He waits. He watches. Men like Daemon do not take second place lightly. Rhaenyra rules, but for how long? He will not share power forever.”

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

“What do you gain from this? Why warn me if you don’t care who sits the throne?”

“Peace will not come if Daemon takes what he believes is his. He thrives on chaos, on conflict. And you know it.”

“And what makes you so sure he’s planning something? What proof do you have?”

Mysaria shrugged lightly.

“Why does Rhaenyra fight alone while her husband remains in the shadows? Even queens are not safe from betrayal.”

“And are you planning to abandon her now that the war turns against us? Or were you ever truly on her side?”

“Abandon her? You misunderstand me. I’ve stood by her when others faltered, offered her what she needed when none else would.”

Her eyes glinted with amusement as she added,

“Can you say the same, my lady? You were too busy with the Hightowers to offer comfort, too entangled in your own drama to be the ear she needed when she was stranded on Dragonstone, desperate for support.”

Her words cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

“You’re twisting the truth. Whatever your motives, you’ve only driven a wedge between her and the people who truly care for her.”

Mysaria shrugged, her tone turning almost casual.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I saw a void you left behind and filled it. Rhaenyra is a queen who carries the weight of the realm on her shoulders. She needed someone who would listen without judgment, someone who wouldn’t walk away from her.”

You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling beneath your calm exterior.

“And you think you’re that person? You’ve manipulated her, used her vulnerabilities to weave yourself into her court. She trusts you more than she should, and I’ll never understand how. You call me a traitor, but what are you? A whore masquerading as a queen’s confidante.”

“I’ve given her what she needed in her darkest moments. You may not like it, but I’ve been there when others were not. She knows my flaws, my ambitions, and still, she keeps me close. Can you say the same? Or do you doubt that you, too, have failed her in your own way?

“I haven’t given up on her, and I won’t”

Mysaria’s smile returned, her composure unshaken.

“Such conviction. You truly love her, don’t you? But love can blind as much as it can guide. Remember that, my lady.”

—————

Rhaenyra sat in the dim glow of her chambers, the fire crackled in the hearth, but it brought her no warmth. Mysaria entered silently, her movements fluid and calculated as she approached the queen.

“You look troubled, my queen.”

Rhaenyra sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“How could I not be? The city is restless. Enemies rise from within. Tumbleton has fallen. And now… I fear I cannot trust even those closest to me.”

Mysaria’s lips curled into a sly smile as she stood, her voice turning honeyed with deceit.

“Trust, Your Grace, is a luxury you can no longer afford. Even those who swear their loyalty can turn against you when it serves them. Take… her, for example.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened,. “She is loyal.”

“Loyal? Was she loyal when your sons bled and she was nowhere to be found? Or when she stood among the greens as they claimed the lives of your kin? And where was her sword when the Betrayer defected at Tumbleton? Where was her fire when your enemies burned everything you hold dear? Was she not the one who once stood in the court of the usurper and bent the knee? Did she not share whispers and secrets with Alicent Hightower—your sworn enemy?”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but her eyes betrayed her conflict.

“She has her faults, but she is loyal in her way. She has strayed, yes, but she has always returned to me.”

“Do not let sentiment blind you, my queen. Sentiment will cost you your throne. And when the time comes, she will choose Alicent over you, as she always has. If you cannot see this, you risk losing everything. You cling to the idea of who she was, the person you wish her to be. But people change, Perhaps it is time to accept the truth.”

Rhaenyra looked away, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair. Mysaria’s words gnawed at her resolve, but the image of you—standing by her side, loyal through fire and blood—flashed in her mind.

“No. She is not like that. I know her better than anyone. She’s made mistakes, yes, but haven’t we all? She was there when—”

Mysaria interrupted with a sharp laugh.

“When you needed her most? Or when it was convenient for her? Think, my queen. Think of the moments when her absence cost you dearly. Think of how her hesitations, her divided loyalties, have left you weaker.”

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, her expression clouded. For a moment, she was silent, staring into the fire. Mysaria’s words had planted doubt, but another part of her—the part that remembered your courage, your fire, your love—fought back.

—————

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, her fingers drumming softly against the cold steel of the armrest. You approached her with steady steps.

“Your Grace,” you began, bowing slightly, though your voice held an edge of urgency, “I must speak with you about Alicent and Helaena.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered briefly to you before returning to the hall, as though weighing whether to entertain the conversation. “Speak, then.”

“They’ve suffered enough,” you said plainly. “Whatever crimes you believe they’ve committed, whatever grievances you hold, let them go. Let them leave the capital. They pose no threat to you.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice sharp. “They are prisoners, Y/N. Not guests. Their presence here is a reminder to the greens that the war is not yet over. Letting them go would be seen as weakness.”

You took a step closer, your voice softening but no less resolute. “It would be seen as mercy. A show of strength in its own right. Holding them here serves no purpose beyond prolonging their torment.”

Rhaenyra rose slowly from the throne, descending the steps to stand before you. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice carried the weight of her position.

“Do you think I do not know torment?” she asked, her tone cutting. “My father is dead. My sons are dead. My throne has been usurped, my allies betrayed me, and my own husband…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “And yet you ask me to grant clemency to the mother of my greatest enemy and the sister of the kinslayer who murdered my son?”

You held her gaze, refusing to back down. “Alicent and Helaena are not responsible for Aemond’s actions, nor Aegon’s. They are pawns, just as you were once a pawn in the games of others. Freeing them would prove that you are above the pettiness of vengeance.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I have treated them with dignity, far more than the greens showed my son when they tore him apart at Bitterbridge. They have food, clothing, safety. That is mercy enough.”

“It’s a cage, Rhaenyra,” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. “No amount of fine dresses or warm meals can mask that.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss you entirely. But then she stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous.

“You speak as though you understand the weight of the crown,” she said. “You do not. My enemies circle like vultures, waiting for the first sign of weakness. I will not give them that satisfaction. Alicent and Helaena remain where they are.”

“So this is who you’ve become? The woman who would imprison the innocent for the crimes of others?”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened just slightly, but her resolve remained unshaken. “You may not agree with my choices, Y/N. But they are mine to make. My throne. My decision. And it is final.”

You stared at her for a long moment, searching for some flicker of the Rhaenyra you once knew—the one who valued justice, who fought for what was right. But the Iron Throne had its claws in her now, and it was not letting go.

Bowing stiffly, you turned to leave, your heart heavy with disappointment. “As you say, Your Grace.”

Behind you, Rhaenyra watched you go, her expression troubled, but she did not call you back.

—————

The Sept of Baelor stood solemn and still, its vast chambers bathed in the warm, golden glow of candlelight. You entered quietly, your footsteps muffled by the stone floor. At first, the emptiness seemed complete, but then you caught sight of her. She knelt before the altar, her auburn hair framing her face like a halo, her hands clasped tightly in prayer.

You took a moment to observe her. Even in the simplicity of her gown, she radiated an elegance that was impossible to ignore. But there was something else.

“I thought I would find peace here, My stepdaughter was gracious enough to permit it. Small mercies."

You walked closer, your boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

“Peace is hard to come by in times like these.”

Alicent finally looked up at you, her eyes red-rimmed from unshed tears.

“My children are gone or scattered, and all I can do is pray they remain out of the Stranger's grasp. Helaena, Daeron. How much longer before they are taken from me, too?”

You crouched beside her, your voice gentle.

“They are strong, my Queen. Daeron is a warrior, and Helaena is… very strong. She sees more than we understand. They will endure, just as you have.”

Alicent shook her head, her voice trembling.

“Endure? I endured losing Aegon and Aemond. My grandson, my own lord father, Gwayne. I endured watching my family torn apart by war. But enduring does not mean the pain lessens. It feels as though I am losing pieces of myself with every loss.”

You placed a hand over hers, squeezing gently.

“You have endured because you love them. And because you love them, you will continue to endure. It is who you are, Alicent.”

“Do you think I have failed them? As a mother, as a daughter, as a queen... Have I done enough to protect them?”

You leaned closer, your voice steady.

“You have done more than anyone could have asked of you. The burden of this war is not yours alone to bear, but you have carried it with grace and strength. Helaena and Daeron know that. They love you.”

A silence fell between you. Alicent looked down at your hand over hers, her fingers trembling slightly.

“And what of you? Why are you here, seeking me out in the quiet of the Sept, my lady?”

“Because you are not alone in this. And because I… I cannot bear to see you like this, weighed down by grief and fear. You deserve more than this life of sorrow.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, and she met your gaze again. This time, there was something different in her eyes—something raw and unguarded.

“And what do I deserve, then? Tell me.”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers tentatively. Alicent froze for a moment, as though caught between her faith and her desires. But then, she yielded, her hands clutching your shoulders as she deepened the kiss.

The sanctity of the Sept seemed to fade away as you drew her closer. Her breaths came quicker, her lips parted, but no protest came. Instead, she let out a shuddering breath as your hand slipped beneath the hem of her gown. Your fingers brushed the soft skin of her thigh.

“We shouldn’t… Not here.”

“Then tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Instead, she pulled you closer, her fingers threading through your hair as you pressed her against the cold stone pillar. You trailed kisses along her jawline, down to the hollow of her throat, as your hand explored further. She gripped your arm, as though torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

There was only the warmth of her touch, the taste of her lips, and the promise that, you were hers and she was yours.

————

Was eerily quiet at this hour, save for the distant murmur of guards stationed at their posts.

She stood near the Throne again, her silhouette outlined against the pale light of the moon streaming through the high windows.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, bowing your head slightly.

“My lady,” she replied, her voice softer than you expected, almost hesitant.

You straightened, fixing her with a guarded gaze. “I am surprised you called for me. I assumed you’d be attending to more important matters.

Rhaenyra’s lips curved faintly, though it was not a smile. “Speaking with you is important.”

Her words caught you off guard, but you held your composure. “I’m listening.”

She took a step closer, her hands clasped before her as if to steady herself. “What you witnessed the other day…”

“It’s none of my concern,” you interrupted, your tone clipped.

Her expression faltered, but she pressed on. “It was a mistake.”

“You owe me no explanation. I don’t wish to know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and oppressive, until she spoke again, her voice quieter. “News has reached me. Mysaria has told me.”

At her words, your posture stiffened, a flicker of unease crossing your face. “The matter with… Lord Corlys,” she clarified.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to remain calm.

“I will release him immediately,” she said, her tone almost apologetic. “Though it’s a bit late, I don’t imagine he wishes to remain here with his fleet looming. I’ve lost him to my own paranoia,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her voice surprising you.

“I appreciate that,” you replied, choosing your words carefully. “I would speak with him, but if he’s made up his mind after this, there’s little I can do to change it.”

“I know,” she said, her gaze lowering briefly. “And I do not expect you to.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you said quietly, and for a moment, you thought the conversation might end there.

But then she spoke your name.

“Y/N…”

You turned to face her fully, and the intensity of her gaze rooted you in place.

“I know you are not his daughter,” she said, her voice steady despite the delicate nature of her words.

A chill ran down your spine. “It matters little,” she continued. “I know who you are, just as I knew who Rhaenys was. Your mother was an honorable woman, and I had hoped I’d grow in her image. I deeply regret that you never met your true father. But I know this: you carry the blood of the dragon within you, as do I, as do my children… The seed is strong,” she finished, her voice tinged with something akin to reverence.

You blinked, caught off guard by her candor. “Your court won’t take kindly to having a bastard among them,” you said cautiously.

“Do you think I would reveal it?” she asked, her tone fierce. “Never, Y/N. I have already threatened Mysaria to ensure she keeps silent.”

“She had no right to speak of it,” you said, anger simmering beneath your calm facade.

“We know who she is, where she comes from. I regret ever placing my trust in her.” Her voice softened, and she stepped closer, her gaze searching yours. “Se ao… nyke’ve missed ao sīr olvie (And you… I’ve missed you so dearly),” she said, her words trembling with emotion.

Your breath faltered as she closed the distance between you.

You didn’t reply, your lips parting as she looked into your eyes, her pupils dark and dilated. “Vūjigon issa (Kiss me),” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Issa dāria (My Queen…),” you began, your voice wavering.

“Kostagon nyke vūjigon ao? (May I kiss you?)” she asked, her voice so soft it felt like a plea.

You held her gaze, the world around you fading into nothing. Slowly, you leaned in, her lips brushing yours, but before the kiss deepened, you hesitated. Instead, you kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, and finally, her forehead.

“Mazverdagon se paktot decisions hēzīr (Make the right decisions from now on),” you murmured gently, stepping back to put some space between you.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she did not look away. “Will you be my Hand?” she asked hesitantly, her voice filled with hope and vulnerability. “Please accept,” she urged. “I need your wisdom.”

You studied her, your heart heavy with the weight of her request and taken aback. “It would... be an honor, Your Grace. But I need to know, will the persecution continue?” you asked, your voice firm.

“It will cease,” she confessed.

Taglist: @nnightskiess @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @claymoresword @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @pinkponycent @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @toot-is-tired @letlovee-in @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valenciavv @the-camilucha @acidblum @itssecret2109 @i-nail-jello-to-walls @cone-fused-mind @livingdreams97 @unique0003 @wicked-laugh @lottiemsgf @duckiekong @thecavalrywife @username23345 @simp4women08 @vorsdany

[russilton]

Huh crocheter George... I can see him doing it and he seems like a person that would make stuff for his friends?

Someone gave Carlos a crochet chili? So something like that

Obviously first to like Alex and Lando etc and now I want Lewis to be a bit jealous and offended that everyone seems to be getting something self made from George from him (except of course, it's fine to give something with potential mistakes to your best friend and other friends but to someone like Lewis? It would have to be perfect which means improving a lot before you dare present something....)

(Anon I have been working on this for months now- since you sent it, but you can’t complain it’s late or that I made it knitting instead of crochet since you got what is in essence, fic) (un-edited because my wife is sick, there was no planning, just vibes)

word count: 4679

It started as a stupid way to prove to Alex he did in fact have artistic skills. Somewhere between grainy YouTube videos and detangling knots it became a way to decompress between sessions, it made for good practice with repetitive actions and not making mistakes, something in following stitch patterns that isn't that different from memorising turns and breaking points.

Incorporating new colours and designs teaches him to build patterns in his head that help with race planning. It's surprising how much the skills intersect. The only problem that arose was just how many scarves he ended up with.

So, George makes everyone scarves. Everyone gets a scarf. It’s a straight line and easy to follow. He has to get rid of the results of his labour somehow.

Aleix? Scarf. Bono? Scarf. Marcus’ scarf has extra fancy tassels. Riki’s has his first ever pole time embedded in it in little pixelated number shaped stitches. Mike’s scarf is almost as long as he is tall, George finally conceding it was long enough when he ran out of yarn at that weekends race. Shov’s scarf is connected in a loop, when asked, George teases ‘it’s because you’ve been here forever, Andrew.’ and has to duck out of the room and set off running before it gets pelted at his head. Shov does keep it though, along with one George manages to slyly pay Anthony to slip into his bag for Jenson. Toto gets sent home with scarves for Susie and each of his children. His is hidden at the bottom, so George doesn’t have to look him in the eyes when he finds it.

George only has to squint at Fred with red ears and nose, on a chilly Silverstone test day huddled up beside Mick in their boyband style white puffers, before he’s handed a black and silver scarf a week later. It doesn’t matter how much he protests being from a northern circle country, if Valtteri got a scarf so does Fred.

The fact Valtteri’s attempt was one of his earlier ones and has a finger sized hole in it is of no consequence. After all, Alex’s scarf has more holes than it has clean runs, but George just tells him it’s to get him used to the Williams style of living. If James Vowles' scarf is a lot neater, George challenges Alex to go and fight him for it.

Charles gets one in a red so vibrant it almost glows, though it’s not until after a summer break, George wouldn’t be caught dead working with Ferrari red in his garage, even now. Mick’s is a similar red, if paler, patterned with a grid of white stitches, and he looks surprised when George drops it in his lap, but it morphs into his wide bright smile when George just nods at him. Even Nicky receives a scarf in Williams blue with little wonky maple leaves patterned in white down the length of it mailed to him after a particularly stressful season opening. Nicky's girlfriend sends him a photo of him wearing it while they stand in snow up to their ankles. It feels good to know he's doing alright.

Eventually George’s scarves get more and more complicated, new patterns and shapes appearing as he pushes the boundary of his easy little plans, and finds new ways to occupy his mind during the hardest parts of the season. Eventually even drivers George knows a little less well find themselves with an unlabelled gift George gets snuck to them— Yuki and Guanyu both have the good sense to not question it too hard. Esteban texts him a middle finger, but he doesn’t get it back.

Even Roscoe gets a scarf, perfectly shrunk in size for his boxy head, rows interwoven with yellow and purple that he wears proudly as a bulldog can for a modelling photo in his home in LA alongside Angela who’d been more than excited to partake in George’s unspoken mission. The Bulldog looks stylish and comfortable despite it not being even close to the right season for it. He’s a professional after all.

—

Lewis gets nothing, which, y’know, he’s fine with. Roscoe got one so that kind of counts, and he’s been told he’s hard to buy for with his eccentric fashion sense, doubled by the fact he has enough money that even he doesn’t know what to do with it all sometimes. He’s worn more scarves than most people have ever owned, the majority of them handed to him by his stylists and then neatly returned that same week, their loan period from the brands vying for his attention ending without much fanfare.

He’s only kept one or two that particularly held his interest, and while Lewis doesn’t know their exact price, he knows that they probably cost more than one of the team's laptops. While Lewis has long been comfortable with his wealth, every now and then it still catches him, like a missed tag in a shirt, itchy and distracting.

This was one of those times.

When he’d first seen the scarves popping up around the garage, in the early part of that season when they’re still racing in deserts and countries close to the equator, he assumed its a new fashion trend he just isn’t aware of yet. It doesn’t make sense to him the way trends usually do; the heat of the climate combined with the way all of them are so varied and different. The only connecting factor is the handmade air to them, holes and sloppy loops peppered across the lengths. He even starts to wonder if one of the mechanics partners was sending them to races with gifts.

Lewis is used to purposefully distressed fabrics, so it takes him longer than he’d care to admit to realise what’s going on. He really should have noticed when Bono got one, as notoriously intolerant to modern trends as he usually is, but it isn’t until Valtteri of all people texts him a photo of himself with one tucked around his neck and newly trimmed mullet on a cycling trip between races that he finally cracks.

———

[VB sent an image]

LH: Where the hell did you get that thing, I keep seeing them everywhere

VB: This is a moustache Lewis, you should be familiar with the concept

LH: Har har

LH: wise ass.

LH: I meant the scarf

VB: Ask your boytoy

VB: it was him who threw it at my head in Spa last week

LH: George???

VB: who else

LH: don’t call him that- since when is he buying everyone scarves?

VB: but you knew who I meant didn’t you

LH: answer the question

VB: I’m pretty sure he made it, there’s a lot of holes

LH: Since when does George knit?????

VB: these sound like questions for YOUR teammate, I have pedalling to do

VB: 👋➡️🚴‍♂️

LH: what the hell man

LH: did you seriously just ghost me rather than answer

LH: fuck you

LH: and your secrets

LH: I hope tiff beats you

LH: 🖕🏾

[Valtteri BottASS liked a message]

——

The conversation with Valtteri leaves him even more confused than he was before. Despite the fact he now has even more questions swirling around his head, he does not ask George what’s going on. The last thing he wants to do is find out why he’s been excluded from the man himself. Lewis chooses not to question exactly why that is.

He’s also glad he hadn’t asked his stylist to find it for him like he’d planned to, containing his mild embarrassment down to just Valtteri, who he’s reasonably sure won’t tell George he asked about it. Valtteri may deeply enjoy fucking with Lewis, but not enough to have a conversation with George about it. If there’s one thing Valtteri objects to on all levels it’s being involved in… whatever is going on between Lewis and George.

Lewis isn’t quite sure what it is either. They’ve been dancing around each other for years now, Lewis isn’t quite sure when George turned from colleage to friend, and he really doesn’t know where they stand now they’re teammates who spend almost every week together in some form. The formality of clear labels was lost somewhere in the late night strategy sessions and food shared at different tables across the world at every hour of the day, from late breakfasts in Qatar to eyes-barely-open meals at 3am in Singapore. He wouldn’t call George his best friend… but he’s not sure he would call George just his teammate anymore either. He’s George. Whatever that means.

That lack of definition bites him in the ass sometimes, such as cases like this one where he has no idea what he is to George in return.

In his final year with Mercedes it had only gotten harder to figure out where they stood. In the years prior it had been a little easier at least, they'd had their ups and downs as they fought the car and worked hard not to fight with each other, but they'd always settled somewhere level. George's warmth toward him had felt unshakable.

Now it feels like they're both in some kind of pendulum motion, sliding from a desire to keep some distance, to make it hurt less, to an almost clingy need to soak up the time they have remaining together. It feels silly really, it's not like Lewis is retiring, he'll still be there, a couple doors down from George...but he can't escape the reality of knowing it'll be different.

Coupling that with his already complicated and grief heavy emotions about the entire team, and the fact their needs don't exactly line up most weekends, it's been a hard year. Lewis is pretty sure he's pulled George into more hugs this season than he has any other teammate before, but that didn't stop the sting of weeks where George seemed to catch a glance at him and turn tail and run for his drivers room. He doesn't feel particularly emotionally intelligent, but the slip of pain and something pinched in George's too clear eyes had been plain as day.

He knows there's nothing he can really do about it other than let George feel what he feels, but it still felt like a balm when George would grab his hand after a good race with that crazed joy in his eyes he always got, sweat practically flicking off every strand of his hair, and smile so bright it shone reserved just for Lewis, rubbing away any awkward moments from that weekend, like when George had winced when Lewis as squeezed his hand in greeting in Silverstone, mumbling something about sore fingers that Lewis hadn't understood.

Coming into their final races together as they do now, every movement feels amplified, every gesture and discussion hangs with the weight of being potentially his last with his team the team. Thoughts about George and scarves get lost in the heat of desert tracks and a cloying grief he finally has to face head on without the facade of getting through the year. He's not sure he's ever felt this emotional in his life. Leaving Mclaren had been a breath of fresh air and a weight lifted even if he'd loved what they had achieved together. Leaving Mercedes feels like moving away from England for the first time, unsure of what will be on the other side, or if he'll be able to make somewhere foreign and so different feel like his home again. Unsure if he wants to.

George seems to almost disappear behind that. Lewis figures he's giving him time to say goodbye to his team uninterrupted. Despite the fact George had been part of the Mercedes family in a way almost as long as Lewis has driven for them, they both know there's something different about it, and he's thankful for the space. He can press down the guilty, aching and confusing emotions he has about George into a box in the back of his mind to be handled late. He doesn't have time to unpack Georges furtive, almost nervous peeking at him between monitors when he's listening to Shov present their debrief for what might be the last time.

That's does however leave him ultimately unprepared for when George does finally demand his attention, by appearing on the doorstep of his drivers room after they're wrapped up for the evening, qualifying finished and preparations for the race day concluded, with what appears to be a colourfully wrapped lump in his arms.

Lewis is still blinking at the shiny obstacle between them, overhead lights glinting off the chrome coloured paper, when George speaks.

'Sorry mate, I hope I didn't interrupt anything did I?' His voice is oddly high pitched, sounding a little like when Lewis knows he's trying to lie to Toto about how much sleep he's had.

'No man I was just packing up for the night'

'Mind if I come in before you leave? It won't take long I promise,'

Lewis murmurs a quiet uh sure as he steps back, gesturing George inside and then shutting the door behind them as he see's curious eyes in the engineering bay start glancing over toward them. Even Bono, Mike, and Marcus, still clustered in the corner as normal poking away at their laptops seem to be looking over, trying and failing to seem subtle as if Lewis hasn't had over a decade to pick up on what Bono looks like when he's trying to listen to gossip.

In the privacy of Lewis' drivers room George spins around to face him and before he can even ask what's going on, George is pushing the thing he brought with him into Lewis' grasp

The parcel isn't too dense, but there's a weight to it that feels like it has to be good deal heavier than the wrapped scarves Lewis had watched George pass out in the past, and it looks at least three times the size them. Lewis barely has a second to try and figure out what it is before George’s fingers twitch toward him, like he’s itching to pull it from Lewis’ hands and unwrap it himself because Lewis is being too slow. Wordlessly, Lewis holds the package back out, gesturing for George to go ahead, and rather than steal it back out of his hands, George crowds up into his space to start unpicking the paper.

George’s wrapping handiwork has never been strong, but Lewis can’t really pay attention to that when George is this close, towering above him but seeming almost small in his nervousness. The moment feels strangely intimate as George slips those long fingers between his own crumpled tape job, tugging the attached parts free until he pulls back the final fold to reveal his signature woven handiwork.

George steps back then, leaving Lewis holding his presented gift in a cradle of paper. Out of the corner of his eye Lewis sees him twist and wring his fingers together as he watches, but Lewis can barely focus on how George might be feeling as a wave of... something hot and warm rushes over him.

The lump turns out to be a jumper. It's a bright mustard yellow, rich and bold. Or at least, part of it is, the arms and chest in one continuous colour that ends abruptly partway down the torso when one line stops and continues in a slightly paler shade. The difference is almost imperceptible, and likely would hidden entirely if the colours weren’t butted up against each other like this, juxtaposed the way they are. Towards the hem of the thing, the colour shifts again, one step lighter for the last handful of rows falling at the waistline, the changes creating a gradient down the body. When Lewis traces it with his eyes, he can spot small areas in the neck and wrists where the pattern falters, warped patches that correct quickly but don’t quite line up with those around them. Rather than make the whole item look bad, there’s an odd personality to it, a touch of handmade individuality compared to a lot of the pristine items Lewis gets handed by his stylist, not a spec of lint in sight despite the fact they aren’t headed to a closed catwalk, but a dusty paddock.

As his fingers lift the folded bulk of it he spots a little detail along the neckline, a tiny, almost unnoticeable LH in a dark gold colour that would settle in line with his ear. Surely enough on the right side, there's a tiny 44 in the same font, the pair crowning his shoulders. Twisting the woollen form again, he sees there are tiny stars stitched into the cuffed sleeves in the same colour. There's seven by his count, and an eighth peeking out from the inner band where it would press against his wrist.

He's not sure how long they've been stood together now, silent but for the rustling of paper and the jumper as Lewis studies George's work. As he finishes his inspection he becomes aware of the anxious energy practically radiating off George in the silence that the same man finally snaps and breaks.

'I know its uh, pretty hot where we are but I figured, when you get back home- I mean when you get back to England you can- I tried to finish it earlier but-' George stumbles, words sounding unsure and faux light before Lewis interrupts him

'Did you make this?' He breaths, fingers pressing into the stitches as if it might tell him instead.

'Yeah, I wanted to make something... bigger. I know it's not quite what you're used to with the fashion stuff but I thought...well I don't know what I thought' George explains, words trailing into a lilting mumble. When Lewis' eyes dart up to meet his face, George's cheeks are glowing even in the low light of the one lamp he'd left on, face twisted as if braced for a blow. Like he thinks Lewis is going to be mad at him for this, somehow.

'George...man...'

'Sorry- It's stupid I know, if you don't like it I'll take it back, I won't be mad, I swear-' George isn't looking at him anymore, eyes darting around at his feet and his hands that he shoves into his pockets only to yank them out and wring them together again, fidgeting so he doesn't have to meet Lewis' gaze. His uncertainty makes Lewis' stomach hurt.

'It's perfect'

'I can even save the yarn, it's not actually that hard to unravel- what?'

'It's perfect, George, I really like it' He repeats, grabbing Georges arm with the hand he isn't cradling the jumper with, forcing George to stop trying to climb the walls with his eyes and look at him properly.

'You do?'

'Of course? Did you think I wouldn't like it?'

'I dunno I just- I wanted to make something special.' George rasps, surprisingly wet looking eyes boring into his. That stumps Lewis, and he has to drop his eyes back down to the gorgeous golden knit work, so undeniably a labour of care. It must have taken months, When Lewis was so deep in his own head trying to figure out if George felt anything or was just waiting for him to leave, the man himself was working in secret on something just for Lewis.

'How long did this take you?' He whispers into the space between them, not sure he even wants to know the answer, fingers still wrapped almost too firmly around Georges arm, a little worried George might run for the gates of the paddock if he lets go.

'You don't want to know- since before Imola at least. I normally just do scarves cause uh, they're just straight lines y'know.' George starts tentatively, before the dam seems to burst and he begins rambling 'I had to unpick half of it in October cause I'd counted wrong and it was shaped like a pear- there's still some wrong bits I couldn't fix, sorry about that- and I hope its the right size I had to ask Angela for them and she said they're a couple years old and-'

He continues but now it's Lewis' turn to freeze up, puzzle pieces clicking together in his head as he realises George has been working on something just for him since at least May. For over 7 months while Lewis was absorbed in fighting the car and his own emotions George was working away at something specifically for him, without even being sure if he would like it.

George has started to go off into a tangent about getting knitting needles through airport security when Lewis finally stops him, squeezing his arm.

'Why... why'd you do all that just for me?' He grits out, voice scratching against his raw throat, trying to make eye contact with George so he might read it in his face why the hell George put more effort in for him than anyone else.

'Just for you- Blimey, Lewis, cause I had to say thank you somehow, didn't I?'

'Cause I'm leaving?'

'No! No- 'cause you stayed. 'Cause you made me feel like this is my home too. 'Cause you listened to me and never made me feel too young or not good enough when I made mistakes and you never treated me like the enemy or just some guy across the garage. I know I keep saying it but you probably saved my career-'

'George- you would have been fine without me, you've always been good-' Lewis tries to interject, but George just steamrolls past him.

'Yeah but- you didn't make me figure that out on my own. I learned more in a month with you than three years at Williams. You made me a better person'

'George-'

'Please, I know it's a bit much, maybe, but I just had to do something before you left, so you knew.' George's voice cracks a little over the last words, and Lewis doesn't feel much better, eyebrows furrowed and throat clogging as he tries to choke down the indescribable feeling climbing up his throat and threatening to suffocate him in response to George's frank honesty. He's always been better at being vulnerable than Lewis.

He doesn't know what to say anymore, how to tell George that it was never a hardship to be his teammate, that Lewis was the one who struggled to articulate what George meant to him. That he's going to miss this like breathing and he wasn't prepared for that.

Words have never been his strong suit though, so instead he turns slightly and gently throws the jumper onto the nearest couch, ensuring its landed safely and ignoring Georges noise of confusion before he turns and drags George into his arms.

It's become natural, to hug George, another thing that's evolved over the last couple seasons when Lewis would have sworn himself touch averse for the most part. His arms wrap tight around George, one clutching at the middle of his back as the other skates up to cup around the back of his head, fingers slipping on shower damp hair and George's shirt collar.

George's nose tucks into his neck like routine, cheek pressed hard into Lewis' as he winds a long arm around the shorter man's neck to clutch at his shoulder, the other tugging at Lewis' shirt, gripping like Lewis is going to pull away, as if he hadn't initiated it.

Lewis squeezes harder than he imagines is probably comfortable, but George just makes a wet noise into his neck and digs his head down harder, fingers clutching tighter as Lewis runs a thumb over his hairline. There's a damp feeling growing on Lewis' shoulder but he doesn't care, he's not sure how he isn't tearing up himself, maybe he would be if he wasn't trying to memorise the feeling of how George fits against him.

It crashes over him then, blunt as a hammer, that this is what he's afraid of losing. He's afraid of losing this closeness with George when he leaves, when he's no longer going to be the experienced, advising teammate but just another obstacle on the grid George needs to climb over. He might lose the George who crowds into his space looking for Lewis to celebrate with him this way. He might lose the joy and adrenaline of George flinging himself at Lewis with the confidence that he will be caught, when it might be strange if they aren't teammates.

'I'm sorry' he blurts out, words crawling from somewhere in his lungs, only for George to make a confused noise, trying to pull back and stopping when Lewis only grips harder.

'What're you sorry about' George gets out, words wet and quiet where they are muffled against Lewis' shoulder.

'About this, the hugging, I just-' Lewis starts, but George just laughs at him, damp and a little hysterical, face tilting till their noses are practically brushing so he can look at Lewis from within his embrace.

'The last thing you ever have to be sorry for, is hugging me. You can do it more if you want'

Lewis stares at him for a second, gaze darting over George's lax but wet eyes, and the way his cheek smushes into Lewis' shoulder at an angle that must be uncomfortable but yet he makes no attempt to move away from, and yet another thing clicks into place, very much the theme of the evening. He was clearly teasing, but even Lewis can hear the truth under his words.

He brushes a seeking thumb over the nape of George's neck, dragging across the hot skin there. George shivers, fingers flexing against Lewis back, and that's all the permission he needs to tip his mouth onto Georges, lips slotting together in a kiss he hadn't even realised he'd wanted.

It's hardly picture perfect. George's face is sticky from his own tears and Lewis can taste it on his lips, his own cheeks are hot and itchy, and the angle they're at makes the seal of their mouths messy at best, and yet its the best thing Lewis has ever tasted. The hand George had at his shoulder slips along to thumb Lewis' jaw, pressing over his beard, and Lewis wants to drown in it. All his experience flies out the window in the face of following his gut and holding George as close as he can manage.

The slide of their mouths should really be indecent, wet as it is, and he's starting to think a little about being too loud, when he shifts slightly and George makes a breathy whimpering noise that sends any worries about being overheard right out of his head.

Time melts a little, as they curl together, until Lewis' neck really can't tolerate the angle anymore, and he has to pull back, panting harshly just in time for something to go clattering the the floor outside in the engineering bay, making them both jump and reminding them abruptly that they are in fact still at work, in thrown up rooms with paper thin walls that the cleaning staff are going to want to vacuum soon, as thorough as they are.

'We probably shouldn't be- well- we probably should have figured this out before now' George muses, still sounding awful breathless for an athlete Lewis seen run several miles for fun. They'd pulled apart a little in shock at the noise outside, but he's still gripping Lewis' arm, and there's that bright, beautiful smile creeping across his face again.

Lewis glances just over his shoulder, where the jumper is still lying haphazardly on the sofa.

'I dunno, Man. Better late than never?'

[cecilysass]

Beacon (1/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

A delight to write this as a secret Santa gift for @libbytxf whose work I've enjoyed so much myself. She enjoys slow burn, and this is as slow burn-y as I could manage. She has literary sensibilities, and I tried to weave those in. There's a very subtle Pride and Prejudice allusion, as she and I both are fans. I hope you enjoy this, Libby. I'm going to post a chapter a day; I hope that's okay!

Chapter 1

Mulder drives them through the last leg of the icy woods, wind rattling through the spindly trees hanging over them. It’s just early evening, but the rental car’s headlights are already slicing through the winter gloom. From the passenger seat, Scully watches sprays of snow dust blow off of the birch trees.

They round a bend and the trees suddenly disappear: a New England town appears from nowhere, lit with golden streetlights that bounce off the old-fashioned brick and clapboard buildings. Scully looks around with interest. At first it seems eerily still, like a postcard, but then she notices a few locals walking along the sidewalks, pulling their coats tight and huddling close together.

“Temperature is really dropping,” Mulder remarks, reaching down to turn up the heat. He brings the car to a halt at what seems to be the town’s only stoplight. “You bring some sweaters, Scully?”

Strands of glowing holiday lights hanging over the streets sway back and forth in the wind.

“Of course I did,” Scully replies, but wonders how many sweaters he expects her to have packed. Just what kind of case does he imagine this will be, a week before Christmas? There are suspiciously few details and she has a feeling there’s more he’s not telling her. It wouldn’t, of course, be the first time.

She turns to the window again to observe the little downtown. It vaguely reminds her of a full-sized version of a painted porcelain Christmas village her mother owns, every building conspicuously charming. All sharp edges blunted with snow, vaguely glowing with bulbs, the downtown is old-fashioned in a way that makes one think of Bedford Falls, of Jimmy Stewart.

“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” she wonders, peering intently out the passenger window. “This is the location of your ghost deaths?”

“Hellespont, Vermont,” Mulder agrees, nodding, tapping on the steering wheel restlessly. “Established 1785. We’re looking for the Beacon Inn, so keep your eyes peeled.”

The light changes, and he drives past a historic town hall. There is, honest to god, a grouping of rosy-cheeked children in wool caps singing in a formation on the front steps. Scully observes them closely as the car moves by. Electric candles in their hands, ruddy glow on their faces: angels we have heard on high.

“It doesn’t seem like the site of supernatural murder.”

“Well, Scully, like I said, the deaths haven’t officially been described as homicides,” Mulder says. “They’re all—”

“Yes,” Scully says. “Sudden cardiac deaths. You did say.” She isn’t in the mood for Mulder’s withheld key information and sudden reveals. “Which, as it happens, is one of the most common causes of death in the United States.”

“Three cardiac deaths in six months in one New England inn,” Mulder reminds her. “That’s a little uncanny. And my source says—”

“That it’s a ghost,” Scully cuts in again. “Some tortured soul who has made the journey back from the great unknown to attack with the power of coronary artery disease.”

“Sure,” Mulder says uneasily. She feels him glancing at her. “We both agreed this one was worth poking into, didn’t we?”

A slight pause. “Yes,” she says. “Of course we did.”

“Good,” Mulder says. His eyes bounce off of her again. “I’m mostly going off of what the source told me, the inn’s owner. There aren’t … many details. It’ll probably be too late tonight, but I’m hoping we can both run through the whole story with him tomorrow morning.”

She takes a breath, pushing back her irritation. “I assume we’re staying at the haunted inn.”

Mulder flashes her a placating grin. “It’s actually a much nicer place than what I usually book.”

“Besides the high rate of sudden death, of course.”

“Hopefully we can help them out with that,” Mulder says. He drums on the steering wheel again and serenades her. “‘Something strange in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call, Scully?’”

Scully smiles tolerantly and turns back to the window. She’s unable to stop herself from peering out to watch the people milling around downtown Hellespont: cozy scarves pulled over their faces, shopping bags over their arms, hand in hand with significant others. Ordinary lives that seem increasingly distant from her own.

“I, uh, know you’re probably eager to be finished up before the holiday,” Mulder adds. “Get back to your mom’s.”

Scully nods slowly, her gaze still out the window, unable to respond right away. Yes, she is eager to be back with her family for Christmas, and yet it’s also the very last place she wants to be. Her sister absent. Her sister never coming to Christmas again. Her mother’s dull-eyed grief. It might be better to turn her energy to ghostbusting after all.

“What are you doing for the holidays, Mulder?” she asks the window, keeping her tone light and conversational. “Going on an adventure? Going skiing with the Gunmen? Hot date?”

“Hot date, for sure,” he says. She turns to look at him, and he’s picking some sunflower seeds out of a bag he’s stashed in the console.

“Ah, then you must be eager to finish the ghostbusting case up, too.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he says. “You know we tend to wrap these cases up fast and tidy, Scully. We’ll be back to family and holiday love in no time.” Just as she is about to give him an incredulous look, he gestures out the window. “Oh, look, there it is,” he says suddenly. He’s pointing to the ornate sign outside a Victorian house perched on a hillside. “Beacon Inn.”

***

There is ice coating the uphill walk to the Beacon Inn, and Mulder resists the urge to offer Scully a steadying arm. She might refuse it, and that would needle him, even though it has nothing to do with him. Well, it might have something to do with him. But mostly, he thinks, it isn’t about him at all.

He’s aware that Scully’s grieving this holiday; this first Christmas without her sister. He sees it in the slump of her shoulders when he mentions time off coming up, the way her eyes focus on some unseen place at work, the way he finds her sister’s file left sitting out, thumbed through yet again. Still raw, still unsolved.

His own sister’s case has haunted him for more than twenty years. Everyday he has to grapple with what it means to still not have justice and to still be seeking even the barest minimum of answers. Does Scully fear the same for herself? Does she look at him and see a bleak future? This recent interest of hers in religion: it troubles him. He knows she’s started going back to Mass, after the stigmata case, the case with Kevin Kryder. It’s like she’s searching for something to hold on to, any port in a storm.

He doesn’t know what it portends.

In quiet moments he’s studied her across the office. Every day he half expects to hear her say she’s giving her notice. He wonders if he shouldn’t encourage her to.

But what would the work be like without her? What would the basement be like? Who would he talk to about his ideas, his theories, his weekend? He’s not quite selfless enough to urge her to walk away.

This case—haunted deaths in bucolic New England—has sat in his “maybe” pile for weeks: intriguing, definitely, but with a distinct odor of “junior high ghost story.” After observing Scully for one listless morning last week, he pulled the file out again, spread out the pages, and began putting together a slideshow.

She’s always one to find her purpose in work. They’re alike that way. And Vermont in the snow, a haunted inn—there’s a certain ambiance to this one, right? He knows he’s charmed by this sort of thing, so she might find it charming, too. At very least she’ll be able to complain about having to tolerate junior high ghost stories.

And he thinks she does like complaining about that, sometimes.

At the root of it, it’s just plain selfish. He can’t stand to be in the office and see that expression on her face anymore. Anything is better than that. So over the river and through the woods to the haunted inn they go.

He turns to look at her now as they approach the front steps. She’s wearing her long black trench. Her cheeks are pink from the cold; her expression is perfectly neutral. She notices his stare and looks back at him quizzically.

The case has yet to engage her full attention, he can see that perfectly well. But they’ve only just arrived. There is plenty of time to pull her in. On any case it sometimes takes a while for her to pluck at the thread that interests her the most. She always finds something, her own distinctive way into the labyrinth. It’s one of the things about Scully he likes the very most.

Stepping gingerly around piles of snow-crusted lumber and plaster debris around the front porch, they glance at one another.

“Under construction.” Scully gestures to a tarp over the front of the porch.

“Apparently they’re doing some remodeling,” Mulder agrees.

“Some remodeling,” calls a voice from inside the slightly-open door with an audible huff. “Tactful understatement. Did you hear what they said, Duncan? They said you’re doing some remodeling.��

The door, which is adorned with a fat evergreen wreath with bronze ornaments, cracks further open, and a slight white man in his late forties, clad in a thick wool sweater, an apron, and wire frame glasses, sticks his torso out. “Agent Mulder?”

“Yeah, hello,” Mulder says, stepping over piles to approach. “I’m Agent Mulder, and this”—he gestures with a sweeping arm to Scully, who steps next to him—“is my partner Agent Scully. You must be Duncan Macneill?”

“Just Duncan, please,” the man says. “I am the co-owner of Beacon Inn. As well as manager, cook, historian, night watchman. Come inside, please. It’s bitter cold.”

He beckons for them to follow him, and Mulder and Scully step inside after him. Immediately they’re greeted with a blast of warm air and the woody, aged smell of a historic house.

As they wipe their wet feet on a woven mat, Mulder carefully eyes the lobby, which is really a living room. It’s rustic, cozy, a mix of antiques and newer pieces, with somber historic portraits on the walls and some quirky mismatched furniture scattered with brightly-colored pillows. There is a giant glowing Christmas tree festooned with large red velvet bows. Mulder’s no expert, but it looks like a lot of care and love has gone into decorating.

“We’re so sorry about the mess outside,” another voice chimes in. A round-faced Asian man about Duncan’s age sits behind a desk across from the door. “It’s just inhospitable, isn’t it? I keep telling Duncan we need to wrap the project up, but it drags on and on through the seasons.”

“The new exterior will be worth it,” Duncan proclaims confidently. “Although I admit, it has taken a while.” He winks at the man behind the counter, then turns to Mulder and Scully. “This is the inn’s other co-owner… my partner, Banoy Borja.”

Mulder walks over to shake Banoy’s hand. “Agent Mulder—and my partner, Agent Scully.”

“So nice to meet you,” Scully says with a smile.

“Oh,” Banoy says, stepping back to look them over. “I’d reserved two upstairs bedrooms, both singles. Should I prepare the Beech Bedroom instead? It’s got a queen.”

“It’s fine,” Mulder says quickly.

“Two singles is perfect,” Scully adds.

“Different kind of ‘partner,’” Duncan stage whispers to Banoy.

“F.B.I. partners,” Scully clarifies quietly.

“Right, I just thought maybe both...?” Banoy explains.

“No,” Mulder says emphatically. “No. Just F.B.I. partners.”

“Ahh, of course,” Banoy says, his eyes flickering between them. “My mistake.”

Scully spins abruptly towards the porch again. “Your renovations look quite extensive,” Scully says, changing the subject. “Are you building on to the house?”

“No, no. The porch was falling apart,” Duncan says. “We’re modernizing it, rebuilding, but this is New England, so naturally we have to adhere to the town’s historic preservation code. And of course we want to maintain the inn’s Victorian exterior, too.”

“We had a tiny bit of trouble,” Banoy says. “It can be tricky. You know. Historic preservation commissions in small towns.”

“It’s all resolved now,” Duncan says, waving his hand dismissively.

Scully nods, but Mulder notes her eyebrows are drawing together the way that she does when she’s thinking about something.

“We’re going to want to ask you both some questions about the recent deaths,” Mulder tells them. “But … maybe not tonight.”

Banoy looks stricken. “Yes, of course, but please—” He lowers his voice and looks around nervously. “Just make sure that there’s none of that talk about death in front of guests.”

Mulder discreetly glances from side to side and sees no one else around but the four of them. He nods understandingly. These are touchy topics. “Sure, of course,” he says. “‘Maybe we can talk tomorrow morning, somewhere quiet? Mr. Macneil, you were the one to contact us—does that work for you?”

“Duncan, I told you,” corrects Duncan. “And yes, Agent Mulder. Why don’t we have coffee and pastry in the kitchen? Say 9-ish?”

“Duncan loves to talk about the ghost,” Banoy says with an affectionate eyeroll. “You’ll never shut him up. But let’s get you checked in and settled. You must be so worn out.”

“Grab the bags while I check in?” Scully says offhand to Mulder. He nods automatically. It’s a well-established system by now. Mulder turns for the door as Scully speaks to Banoy.

When he comes back in, Scully is still chatting with the two men about the inn’s renovations. Mulder’s eyes narrow as he drags their bags by; some detail has obviously attracted her interest there. Which is good, really. He wants to see her involved in the case. If it’s important, she’ll update him later.

He decides to take their room keys and go ahead with the bags upstairs.

Upstairs, he’s met by a long narrow hallway with six doors, three on each side, historic brass lanterns outside of each one, producing an uneven amber glow. It’s atmospheric. He likes it, New England boy that he is.

At the end of the hallway is another impressive Christmas tree, twinkling with white lights and draped with swaths of crimson velvet. The wooden floor boards, worn smooth by years of foot traffic, creak underfoot as he steps down the hall. He discovers his and Scully’s rooms are side by side.

Just before he tries to go inside, he stops. He looks back and forth, up and down the hall.

He has the strangest feeling he’s being observed. But there’s no one there. No one he sees, anyway.

Look at you, going full on junior high ghost story, he thinks to himself. He reminds himself that Scully probably thinks he’s always full on junior high ghost story. She probably thinks her career has turned into one big junior high ghost story after another.

He unlocks his own room first, stepping inside only to get a quick lay of the land: a simple star-patterned quilt on the bed, another faux brass lantern, an old-fashioned washing stand with a pitcher, and a framed silhouette of a young woman with her hair up above the dresser. There’s no adjoining door.

He puts his bag next to the bed and goes next door to unlock Scully’s room. Her room appears to be essentially identical, a mirror image of his own, except for the quilt is a slightly different star pattern, and the silhouette above the dresser is a young man instead of a woman. He looks at the silhouette for a moment, trying from idle curiosity to decide whether he can make out if the man has a mustache.

He wheels her bag inside and sets it next to her bed, too.

He’s locking up Scully’s door, about to go back downstairs to find her, when he again has the unmistakable, creeping sensation that someone is watching him.

Come on. It’s just one of the other guests Banoy mentioned, he thinks, his eyes still firmly trained on the key in the door.

With a slowness and caution he couldn’t fully explain if asked, he turns his body towards the far end of the hall.

And that’s when he sees it.

When he sees her.

What he sees certainly appears to be a her, anyway: a woman standing at the end of the hall staring at him.

His first impulse is to reach for his phone to call Scully, to insist she come up and see, but he isn’t sure if he should move. Instead he stares back at the woman stupidly, his mouth hanging open, his hand still holding the key to Scully’s room.

The woman is wearing a long white empire waist dress and a piece of fabric drawn around her like a shawl. She has dark hair parted in the middle and curling around her face. Her expression is hard, uncompromising, calculating.

And she is transparent—there’s no other word for it, that’s what she is. She’s entirely without solid substance. Ephemeral. This fascinates Mulder. He can peer through her body to make out each point of light spangling the Christmas tree at the end of the hallway behind her. If he stepped forward and put his hand out to touch her, would it go through? A very reckless part of him would like to try.

Standing contemplating her in frozen wide-eyed fear and wonder, he wonders what to do now. More than anything he wishes Scully would come up the stairs right this second, would stand here and witness this with him.

Before he can decide how to react, the woman, much to his alarm, takes a step. Towards him. Mulder hears his breath hitch, feels the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“My love,” she whispers, ever so softly. Her voice doesn’t sound ephemeral at all. It’s husky and tremulous. “How I miss you.”

All at once, Mulder remembers the danger associated with this case—what’s happened to the victims who had reportedly seen the spectral figure. The adrenaline of fear courses through him more powerfully.

“My love,” she repeats almost tenderly, holding her hand out towards him, her fingers beckoning. “Come to me. My love.”

Mulder moves his own hand in alarm, and looks down at his chest to see his left palm instinctively covering his heart in protection. He’s breathing a little fast for sure, but he feels no other symptoms, no impending heart failure.

When he looks up again to see the woman, he’s staring at an entirely empty hallway. There’s no one there. He’s alone, clutching his vulnerable heart.

***

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 004 ; jailbird.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,033)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (bailing someone out of jail, runa being upset but only bc she loves her cousin, flirty! suna AGAIN, tiny bit of arguing, kind of also a filler :/)

There are many perks of having a roommate. For example, you’re no longer alone. Now, when you stay up late, there is someone keeping you company, making you laugh and swapping war stories with you.

Just as there are perks, there are bad things as well. For example, you can hear everything that goes on. Including when Runa gets a phone call in the middle of the night, despite her phone being silent.

“Hello?” Her voice groggy, sleep still coating her throat. She pauses, then clears her throat. “Rin? What are—“ she stops talking, or she’s cut off. You roll over in bed and face her. “Oh, okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Okay, yeah, love you too.”

She glances at you and, even in the dark, she can see your eyes open. “Sorry,” she apologizes in a whisper. “Rin called me. He, um, got arrested. Again.”

You blink a couple times, your tiredness suddenly gone. You sit up at the same time she does. “Again?” You repeat. You watch her slip on her shoes, forgetting about even needing socks. “Are you going to bail him out?”

“Yeah,” she says, standing up and rushing to put a coat on. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Um, wait.” She stops, but you can see the urgency in her eyes. “Can I go with you? I don’t mean to be codependent, or whatever, but, um.”

She sighs, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead, then nods. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, you can come. Just, uh, hurry up. Please.”

Suddenly, all the years of people calling you weird for sleeping in socks are thrown out the window. All you have to do is slip on some shoes. Thanks to the extremely cold AC in your building, you’re already in a hoodie and sweatpants.

The streets are practically empty as Runa drives down them. That’s to be expected, though, since it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. She opts out of playing music. Her knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel. You wonder how many times she’s done this before. 

You’ve never been to a police station. Actually, that’s a lie. You went on a field trip in middle school— the first and last time you’d ever been inside one. You don’t know how bailing someone out works, either, but Runa looks familiar with the process, so you just follow her.

The police station is quiet— unexpectedly so. You spent years of your childhood watching police shows, so you expected it to be a little more rowdy than a homeless man and a sobbing teenage girl. It’s colder than you expected, too. Even though you’re wearing a hoodie, you still have to wrap your arms around yourself.

The woman at the front desk seems familiar with Runa. They talk in hushed voices for a minute or two, and then Runa gestures for you to follow her. You glance back at the desk woman, but she’s typing away at her computer once again, seemingly honed in on whatever.

You follow Runa to what you assume is the back of the station. There are jail cells lined up against the wall, but most of them are empty. You stop at the last one and a quiet gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

It’s Rin, but he’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His knuckles are visibly bruised and you think there might be blood staining his shirt. He looks up at the absence of further footsteps. His eyes are red.

“You’re an idiot,” Runa says, crossing her arms over her chest.

His eyes flicker from her to you and you wave. “Hi, Rin.”

“I mean—“ She scoffs. “This is, what, the third time in as many months? Get it together, Rin! Like, what were you thinking? You know how much this costs me?”

“Costs you?” Rin repeats, scoffing as he now stands up. “I pay you back every time, don’t even.”

She clamps her jaw shut, and you know it’s because she’s too angry to speak. She glances back and waves her hand. The next thing you know, Rin is standing next to you and Runa.

You’re quiet, because what else are you supposed to do? Runa and Rin keep glaring at each other and, for a brief moment, you think they’re communicating telepathically. Rin looks at you, a small smirk on his face, and you look away.

This was a bad idea.

When you finally leave, something occurs to you. Where are you supposed to sit now? The front seat or the back seat? Rin is her cousin, but she’s mad at him, so maybe she’ll make him sit in the back? Your feet seem to stutter and you trip a bit, catching yourself before you can hit the ground. Rin and Runa look back, brows furrowed, but you clear your throat and shrug.

And then Runa solves all your problems by getting in the passenger seat. Rin is driving, got it. You get in the backseat and sit behind Rin.

This is ridiculous. The car ride is quiet. You can practically see steam coming off of Runa. Rin is driving with one hand. Your head is swimming. You stare out the window and look at the houses as you pass them.

Rin drives to his house and, before he leaves, he walks over to your side of the car and leans down into the window. “You came with her.”

You shrug, wringing your fingers in your lap. “I’ve never been to a police station before.” It’s an excuse, you know he knows. “And I was bored.”

“You were sleeping,” he hums out. “I think,” he leans closer, now whispering, “you just wanted to see me.”

“What?” Your face heats up, eyes widening a bit. “That’s— I didn’t— Runa was just—“

He laughs and smacks the roof of the car. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” He looks at Runa and stops laughing. “I’m sorry, Runie. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. She puts the car in drive and drives off.

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu

@twiishaa , @kissingkzuha

[kithtaehyung]

holiday (3tan special) | myg

title: holiday  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) | lollipop rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au, holiday au summary: from what you can gather, holiday gift exchanges are supposed to be pretty straightforward. but this one quickly escalates. because no one can follow directions. note: this is all thanks to the person that suggested a 3tan crew secret santa! they don’t do actual secret santa, but they do host a gift exchange. so enjoy this speedily but still tenderly written holiday special! i wanted to get it posted asap so that we could all have it during the holiday season. hope it helps lifting spirits in any way<3  warnings: yoongi looks like sin, but reader does too🤭, kissing, no one follows directions, but especially jimin, hella kissing, no fr jimin is chaos incarnate, sibling holiday woes, tense situations, tender moments, gift exchanges, dialogue heavy i’m so sorry, also not too edited i'm sorry again sdfkljdskl. reader is adorable y'all i wanna cry, 3tan crew being wholesome af drop date: december 27th, 2024, 8:37pm est word count: 8.1k bc i love y’all???

-

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“Wait… I’m in this, too?” 

Your brother winces while checking his phone, probably also seeing the texts that Jimin sent to a freshly created group chat. “Tae and Chim roped us in this time. But it’s cool if you don’t wanna.” 

As you both don work attire in your foyer, you shake your head, one hand firm on your bag strap, “I don’t even know how they work.”

“I think we random draw names. Then just give a gift to whoever we get.” 

Seeing the names and numbers in here, you’re already running through a lot of possibilities. Maybe too many possibilities. But you don’t wanna make things more complicated or awkward, so you quickly concede, “I mean.. I’m down if you are.”

“I guess it’s cool.”

Head lowered, you notice that your brother’s shoes are the ones you gave him for his birthday a couple years ago. Because those days are the only ones you both celebrate every passing run of three hundred and sixty-five. “At least we’re doing something this year.” 

He chuckles to his feet. “Two years in a row.” 

Your sad laugh tumbles and rolls next to his. “Wild.” 

“Hey.” When he pauses, it’s to wait for you to look up. “If you ever wanna talk about it, we can.” 

There are a lot of times in which you dismiss your brother. Because it’s just what siblings do. 

This time is not one of them. 

“Same,” you offer, the weight of the world dragging your smile down. 

He gives you a hug, and you feel the luxury press of his suit as you lean in with scrunched brows. 

Two years in a row. 

Maybe things do suck less with time. 

When you both head out the door to your cars, you wonder if your brother knows how much you appreciate him and his friends for including you in things. Even if you don’t show it as much as you need to. 

Guess this time of year is a good place to start. 

Work drags in the wake of oncoming holiday. 

But you’re learning to appreciate the decorations around the office, including the little cards that coworkers have given you at your desk—despite your many protests that they didn’t have to. 

When you look up, you start to notice other things. Like the way people smile just a little more. Or the way peppermint and cider waft around the building, smelling of sweet instead of spice. 

You wonder if Jungkook has decorated the studio, too. Or if he recruited everyone else to help with decorations, which means that Yoongi and the guys had to fuss with lights and whatever else people spend money on.  

Laughing to your many stacks of papers and documents, you start daydreaming of what it would be like to decorate the house.

Would you and your brother do it someday? You do admit that it’s kinda nice to look around the neighborhood. And when you went into the mountains last year, you concede that the surrounding town decor was pretty inviting. 

Maybe your house would be a little brighter on the inside too if you both just…

You get a notification on your phone. When the screen brightens, you see that it’s for the app that shuffles you all for the gift exchange. 

You have no fucking clue what you’re doing.

But here goes.

Opening and hoping you get someone that’s easy to please, you stare at your device and blink a few very hard times. 

And after every time, you still get a name that has your heart quickening faster than reindeer working overtime. It’s reindeer, right? You think that’s cor—

“You okay?” 

Snapping your head up, you notice that one of your coworkers stopped mid-stride to check on you. Staring at his candy cane tie, you try not to be distracted as you slightly cringe, 

“What do I get a guy for the holidays?”

“Friend or lover?” 

Well, that was not what you expected to hear! 

When your jaw unhinges, you’re quick to snap it back into place. “Umm.” 

“Oh, this is juicy,” he perks up, quickly settling into a nearby chair and resting a strong chin in his hand. “Tell me more, I got time.” 

Laughing, you shake your head while pretending to type on your computer. “Nothing to tell.” 

“That means you got a whole lot.” His eyes are way too shiny right now! “But alright, I’m gonna assume both. In which case, I suggest something nice.” 

“Something nice?” 

“You know, like. Nice nice.” 

“It’s for a gift exchange, though,” you slump, hands stopping on the keys. Looking at his whole holiday ensemble, you divulge, “The money limit’s definitely not enough for nice nice.” 

“Then fuck the limit?” 

Your answer is more of a sound than a word. 

But he does get you to consider, even if just for a little bit. “Maybe…” 

“Fuck the limit,” he advises again. “He’s gonna dig that. Especially since everyone will see it.”

Your face falls from the snowy sky. “Everyone?” 

“Uhh, yeah? You said gift exchange, right? Everyone sees what everyone gets.” 

“Oh. Right,” you pretend to agree to your computer. Because no, you actually didn’t know that. “Guess it’s been awhile.” 

“Well, that’s what makes it fun! Good luck.”  

While you would normally agree, you have a whole hoard of conflicting feelings. Because while seeing Yoongi’s name on your screen is enough to get you giddy as hell, you know there’s a couple people that may not share the same sentiments. Especially if you gift him something nice nice. 

In front of everybody.

However… 

As your striped and jingling coworker strides away with a hum, you drum your fingers on your minimally decorated desk. 

Maybe there is a way you can finess this. 

After a few weeks, the day has come for not just one exchange, but two—your friends also decided to have your own. Because it’s the easiest format, you convinced them with logic, seeing their shock at you being the one to suggest the exchange in the first place. 

When they asked if you were sure, you assured them that it was okay. And the way they all brightened told you that you made a sound decision. Even if they still seemed hesitant, you know it’s because… 

You’ve never done this. 

So as you observe everyone in your bare living room, you start to see how their presence alone illuminates the space, with gifts in shine and glitter painting the area in holiday colors. 

This is nice. 

“So… Uhh.” You clear your throat, watching everyone look at you at the head of your coffee table. “How do we do this?” 

They all laugh before Taehyung explains, “So one of us goes first and says who we got before giving the gift—you can sit, you know.” 

In the midst of more teasing, you settle onto the floor while exclaiming, “I’m nervous, okay! This is really new to me.” 

“You have a gift to give, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Then you’re already doing great,” Reia assures, and you’re even more excited to give yours away. Because you drew her name. 

But before you can say that, Taehyung continues, “So after someone gets their gift, they announce who they picked, and so on.” 

“Pretty straightforward,” you observe. “I wanna go first!” 

Dom cackles, “You just wanna get it out of the way.” 

“And?” you question, grinning when you shoot up and grab your very amateurishly wrapped bag. “Okay, okay, I got…”

“This is adorable,” Yuri cuts in, and everyone’s agreement makes you suddenly shy. 

“No! Don’t make fun.” 

“We aren’t!” Taehyung reaches out to rub your leg. “Promise. Who’d you get?” 

“I got… Reia!” You exclaim, raising your bag a bit as she yells with everyone. The sudden raise of noise gets you a little shocked, but hyped nonetheless. And maybe a bit nervous that your gift won’t live up to the excitement. “Sorry about the wrapping job.” 

“What are you talking about, this is so good,” Reia soothes, smiling wide as she delicately takes out the folded paper. “Wow, the wrapping is nice?” 

Dom chimes in as she leans in, “Yeah, this is too good. Did you watch videos?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Everyone laughs again as you keep your nose held high. Because sucky or not, you were not gonna half-ass your first ever gift exchange. With seasoned people, at that. No way. 

When Reia opens the gift you carefully picked while perusing through a local music store, you watch with the anticipation of a small child, eyes wide and waiting. Hoping that the best outcome is the real outcome. 

And when she quietly yells behind her hand, everyone cheers while asking what she got. When she turns the package around, they cheer even more, because it’s a guitar pick set in her favorite colors. And one that you knew was so, very much her. 

She stands up immediately and opens her arms for a hug, and you blink before getting lovingly crushed. 

“Thank you,” she whispers in your ear. “This is more than great.” 

“Of course, babe,” you murmur back, feeling her jean jacket under your palms and a beating in your chest. “Thank you, too.” 

The rest of the exchange goes off without a hitch, with you cheering with everyone and understanding the cues more and more. Everyone’s gifts are wonderful, and Yuri’s the last to go out of the five of you. 

And she got your name. 

You figured giving the gift would be the hardest part. 

But somehow, this part is a lot harder. 

Braving it anyway—because there’s ironically no time like the present—you carefully unwrap the thin package and stare at what’s inside. 

It’s a photocard. But the picture is of the five of you, one that Taehyung took with his long ass arms while the four of you huddled behind him with drinks in hand. Around its edges are stickers, hearts and stars and cute little animals. 

And it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Yuri rushes over to ask if you don’t like it. 

“This is the best thing ever,” you choke out, and she smiles before laughing and tearing up, too. “I love us.” 

“We’re the best, duh.” 

“Got that right,” Dom adds to the air while Reia and Taehyung start cleaning up the wrapping scraps. “You like your first gift exchange?”

“I should’ve joined y’all sooner.” 

“Joined us?” Taehyung looks up from the ground. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh. I figured you guys do this every year.” 

Tae looks at Yuri, who then looks at you again before very seriously admitting, “We’ve never done this, either. Not with each other.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” She taps the back of your now most precious, most coveted photocard ever. “We didn’t even think about it since you wouldn’t be there.” 

Smiling at your prized possession, you vow, 

“I’ll be here now.” 

Regarding all of them, you start to decorate your place in your mind. Seeing where all the lights go. Where all the little trinkets hang, or whatever. You don’t quite know how this goes just yet, but you do know there’s trees involved. So that’s gonna be figured out in a year’s time. 

“I’m not missing this again.” 

With bellies full of laughter and a little bit of cider, you and your friends head over to Jimin’s cul-de-sac. 

Dom took the wheel this time, so you get to stare out the passenger side window, eyes reflecting golds and colors as you take in the surrounding lights. 

Were they always this pretty? You don’t remember being so taken by electricity and staggering electric bills, especially the houses that go all out and cover every nook of their yard in lights. 

But it’s a spectacle on every corner and street, and Jimin’s little half circle of houses keeps the holiday illumination alive. 

“Uhh, I think we can park down there,” you point, noticing there’s some space a little bit beyond the street. It’s alarmingly next to where Yoongi had to park once, and you cherish that memory with stars in your eyes. 

“Everyone have their gifts?” 

“Tae, if anyone lost theirs on the way here, we have other issues.” 

It’s a quick walk to Jimin’s, and the music around the house gets louder as you approach his entrance. There are people already set up in his open garage playing what you assume are card games, and everyone greets your group as you pop in to say hi. 

“Hey!” Namjoon calls. “Y’all are late! Everyone’s inside.” 

“We had our own party first,” you call out, struggling with your gift bags and food tray. “Can someone—”

Before you finish your ask, you smell nice cologne and feel a big presence at your side. 

When you look to see who’s assisting, you slow in your motions before uttering a small,

“Thank you.” 

Jungkook slightly smiles as he grabs your last bag. “Your perfume’s nice,” he compliments behind tousled bangs. Which makes you blink because that comment is more than hard to come by from him. 

So you can only grin. “Just got it,” you explain as you follow your friends inside the house. “It’s a dupe, can you believe it?” 

“Damn! It’s a good one.” 

“I know,” you agree, very proud of your find. Taking the gift bags from his hands, you tilt your head. “Can you bring the tray to the kitchen?” 

“On it.” 

When you make your way to your friends at the front area, they all eye you with concern. But you wave it off and shrug off your coat to hang on the loan coat hanger—earning teasing and whistles.   

“Shut up,” you groan, laughing with everyone before straightening the reason for the noises. It’s a dress you’ve been eyeing specifically for holiday parties. Because as soon as you started to shop for your gift exchanges, that quickly spiraled into shopping for outfits to wear to them. Did your coworker spook you into looking good because it was a public event? Maybe. Absolutely. 

So you shopped around before finding a dress that even you knew you looked good in. And the past couple weeks were the longest stretches ever because of your anticipation to wear it again. 

As you and your newest fit walk into the kitchen, you start to greet everyone, giving them hugs and smiling bright at their compliments. Because you feel good. You feel nice. Maybe you’re just drinking the holiday cheer and letting it consume you but you don’t care because it’s fun this time. This isn’t like any other year, and it’s wonderful. 

But then. 

Even the most wonderful moments have to come to a halt. 

And yours crash when you see Yoongi. 

Leaned back on one of the kitchen counters, his body appears relaxed in another damn black button-up, telltale silver chain hanging from a neck you wanna devour in front of the whole house. 

He was already annoying last year. But this time, his hair’s longer, and made up with just the right amount of disarray and a little bit even tucked behind his ear.

Fuck, this is so much worse! 

If he wasn’t so attractive and magnetizing, you’d have way less than ninety-nine problems. It would be a lot closer to zero. 

But you make your way over to him anyway, because of course you would. Of course he knew you would, too. 

“Hi,” you greet him, hands tingling with the desire to cup his beautiful chin and yank him in for a kiss. 

But he greets you back while giving you a hug, not without giving you a very obvious once-over. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away, which can only make you babble out, 

“What?” 

He grins wide. “You look nice.” 

Oh. Oh, he really did say that. Why are you surprised? Why are you always surprised? But you have to stay poised so you stick with a neutral, 

“So do you.” 

“Thanks,” he says with a sly curve, still leaning back on the counter with a drink in hand. “Say something else.” 

“Goodbye forever,” is what you go with, back heating with his staccato laughs following your speedy retreat. 

No, no, no. He cannot notice how excited you are to give him his gift. Your bubbling excitement needs to be projected elsewhere. Because you know you picked perfect. It’s something you know he’d appreciate. 

But he cannot have his ego inflated anymore or else the house would float to the sky. 

But fucking hell, he looks damn good and he knows it. 

After an hour or so of socializing and keeping to your little friend circle, Jimin gets everyone together in the big living room to do the exchange. 

“Okay! One, two… Okay, we’re all here, so. Who’s gonna start?” 

When someone calls his name, the man grins and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m host.” 

“So shouldn’t you be the one to start?” 

“My house, my rules!” Jimin argues with zest, pointing to the guy that dared to challenge him, “So you go first.” 

And that man just so happens to secretly be yours. 

Shouts erupt around the living room, and you can mostly hear Hoseok and Seokjin since they’re closest,

“Go, Yoong!” 

“Ah, Yoongi’s first for a change.” 

Secretly and not so secretly, you’re hoping and wishing that he pulled your name. But the odds of that would be pretty slim if you pulled him, even though it was an even chance across the board. 

But as he gets up from the arm of Jimin’s couch holding a small gift bag, you determine that maybe it’s best if he didn’t pull your name. Because you already had trouble opening Yuri’s gift. How the hell would you control yourself opening his? 

“K, uhh. I got…” 

Wait, he’s looking towards you from across the room.

Shit. Is it happening?

You? 

“Taehyung.” 

A pang of disappointment and relief shoots through your veins, even when you shout with everyone while watching Tae smile from his place right next to you.

Yoongi walks right up to your seats, which are really some extra fold-out chairs by Jimin’s decorated tree. And he smells so good. Why do you have to be close to him again? 

But this moment is about Taehyung, so you watch as he opens the gift. When there’s a small box inside the bag, he opens that to reveal a nice, slim… wallet? 

Wait, is that leather? 

Your mouth drops as everyone’s up and raising questions already, and you can clearly hear Jungkook and your brother protest the highest,  

“Wait, huh?” 

“We set a limit for a reason!” 

Yoongi’s hands stay in his pockets when he refutes, “It was on sale.” 

“Nah, he’s lying!” 

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say, so when he looks at you, it takes all your strength to encourage him neutrally, 

“It’s so you! Deserved.” 

Yoongi looks at you before asking your friend, “Is it okay?” 

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung says, full of gratefulness. “I’m just shocked.” 

Jimin and Shiv chuckle from one of the couches, 

“Oh? He’s never shocked.” 

“This is new.” 

Yoongi smiles as Tae gets up to hug him, and you’re immediately okay not being the one receiving anything right now. 

Because you don’t need anything from him. 

All you want is his happiness. 

Once the initial gift is given, everyone goes down the line. And you’re feeling a little lighter after knowing who Yoongi got. Also, you feel less and less awkward about your gift, since the chaos of Yoongi’s was only the beginning.

Because when Taehyung gifts your brother a chain, everyone’s up and yelling again while your sibling is shocked to hell. 

On one end of the living room, Namjoon shakes his grinning head while Jungkook throws his back, 

“Alright, there needs to be a penalty for the most expensive gift.” 

“We obviously didn’t give a shit about the limit.” 

Everyone’s laughter fills the house, even drowning out the faint holiday music floating from the surround speakers. 

Immediately clipping on his necklace, your brother shouts, “Am I the only one that stuck to what we agreed on?” 

“Sucks for who got yours then.” 

Everyone starts laughing or reprimanding Yoongi for saying that—you with a cackle included. 

But then your brother busts out a fucking watch for Shiv and everyone goes bananas. 

At this point, Taehyung’s fully laughing behind his fingers on his forehead, and Jimin collapses on a gawking Yoongi when Shiv quite literally jumps up. 

“What the hell? Dude, I can’t take this.” 

“Yes, you can! And you will.” 

Fingers are pointing in every direction while people are calling each other liars, and your brother laughs on like a gremlin.

But it’s all so adorable that your heart is squeezing. Shiv’s damn near tearing up. “I’ve been eyeing this one for forever.” 

“I know! You wouldn’t stop running your damn mouth about that thing.” Your older sibling claps him on the shoulder. “You can shut up now,” he says with a grin, and Shiv gives him a big hug. 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

Shiv’s turn. And everyone is waiting for what he decided to gift. 

Turns out he keeps the shenanigans going by gifting Jungkook a luxury tie set.

The blond’s jaw drops as he stares hard at the package. Looking up quick, he has to ask for sure, “A set, dude?” 

“It was on sale!” 

“Again?”

“Are we all gonna say the same lie?” 

Everyone can’t hide their amusement, with creased eyes and fake annoyance in every seat. Jungkook can’t believe his luck, since he’s been telling himself to get dress clothes forever but hasn’t gotten around to it.

“You gotta dress like a man now, kid,” Shiv tells him with a bright smile. “There’s a lot coming now that you’re making it.”

A light bulb softly glows when you realize that Yoongi might need to do the same. Trying not to look obvious, you peek in his direction. 

As he stares at the floor, you already know he’s mulling over the same thoughts. 

But it’s Jungkook’s turn now, and you still haven’t gotten a gift yet. 

So you’re waiting with all the air in your lungs. 

As the blond teases his pick, the studio boys are quick to handle him as Yoongi only huffs.

“I got… I got… I got, I got, I got, I got—”

“Kook, just say it.”

“Always like this.”

“Jimin!”

Your heart beats again as the host pops up from his couch, everyone cheering as Kook meets him in the center. Around you, speculation from your friends mixed with a little laughter spikes,

“He probably stuck to the limit.”

“Definitely.”

“Jimin’s gonna be the only one left with—”

Cackles and screams rip as Jimin kicks his head back in laughter, because in his hands is a sleek white box that everyone recognizes. 

This man got Jimin designer shades.

Your cheeks hurt as you react with everyone, giddy and bubbly with how absolutely ridiculous this whole night has gone. Everyone accusing each other of cheating, while all the while every single gift has been over the top.

You really don’t feel bad about revealing your gift anymore. Quite honestly, you almost feel more bad about it not being enough.

No. It’s enough.

Yours is the best and you stick to that.  

Jimin takes the sunglasses out of the box and protective pouch, slipping them on and modeling immediately.  

Oh’s and ah’s echo before his friends inflate his ego,

“Damn, you sure you aren’t a model?” 

“You’re one step away.” 

“He really is.” 

He looks great and he knows it. And he carefully puts them back in their packaging before giving Jungkook a hug. They exchange conversation, and you can feel the latter’s smile as he laughs before sitting down. 

Suddenly, you have the strongest intuition that you’re next. On Jimin’s turn. He’s getting out a very nice bag from behind a couch and your brain is firing off. 

“Okay! The best gift is going to…”

You were right. He calls your name.

Smiling, you shakily stand as Jimin approaches, a twinkling look in those features glowing in incandescent lights. 

Eyes on you. Many eyes. 

A little overwhelmed, you thank him before sitting down. Because it’s much easier to do this while on a solid, structured surface. 

“Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Best gift? What could Jimin possibly mean by—

Your scream shoots out as you clamp the bag shut because no fucking way you saw what you just saw in there. 

Jimin’s laughing his ass off but it’s not funny. 

“Jimin, what the fuck!” Now you know how Shiv felt and he is absolutely valid for his reaction. “I can’t accept this.” 

People are concerned around you, and you quickly think they may have the wrong idea.

“What did he get?” 

“What’s in there?”

Quelling some thoughts, you explain, “It’s a box.” 

“Okay?” 

You just gotta say it. They’re all gonna know as soon as you take it out anyway. So you breathe out,

“…It’s Dior.” 

It’s the loudest it’s been all night, even though your friends are completely speechless. All the guys are up in arms and Jia’s scream for penalty can be heard through the chaos,

“What!” 

“Where’s my Dior?” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Jimin…” 

“Okay, that is way over limit! That’s cheating!” 

“Penalty!” 

Jimin’s sneaky smile as he turns around doesn’t help, “You know I get everything for less.” 

“So?”

“Still, what the hell, man!”

You know Jimin works there. You do. But this is still making your limbs jelly and you can’t even speak. 

There’s no way Dior is passed around at every gift exchange. 

“You deserve it. For dealing with him.” He looks at your brother, but the look in his eyes is too sparkly to be completely truthful. Does he mean Yoongi? Or is he being serious? 

Of course, your sibling throws out a droning, “Wow.” 

After lots of shaky unboxing, you reveal a stunning bracelet, your friends bending down around you to gawk at how brilliant it is. Dancing in your fingers, this piece shimmers and gleams, and every single person is quiet. 

Guilt. You feel guilt. 

And you can’t even look at the reason why.

“Whatever you’re feeling, don’t. It’s okay.” 

You’re tearing up because it’s way too nice. Which proves worse because you also feel bad for crying for the sole fact that Yoongi’s watching. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

You get up to hug him. “I… This is really nice, Jimin. Thank you.” 

“Stop by the store sometime,” he offers with a smile. “Maybe I can slip more in your purse.” 

“Easy,” your brother eyes him. 

“So are we all getting fancy gifts or what?” 

“Nope! Ran out of my discount, sorry.” 

“Wow.” 

When you finally glance around, everyone’s either a mix of shock and awe, visibly confused, or just jealous and wondering what the hell just happened. 

Meanwhile. 

Yoongi straight up looks like he’s holding his tongue. 

And you suddenly feel really bad. 

Hopefully giving him his gift will make up for what just happened. Even though you’re going after the hardest hitter of the damn night, this one’s special. 

But who are you kidding? People are definitely gonna talk in private about Jimin’s little gift. 

So now you have to try and mend this while acting like Yoongi’s just your brother’s friend. Cool. Awesome. 

“So...”

Just try your goddamned best. 

“Yoongi is mine.”

…Wait.

Your secret looks your way immediately while everyone snaps their heads to him.

What the fuck did you say?

Wait wait wait wait what did you fucking say?

Flapping your arms, you reach for words while everyone starts teasing, “Oh, god. I mean—I have Yoongi—I mean, wow. Hold on.”

Fucking fuck fuck, he’s grinning.

Thank the lord above for someone cheekily asking,

“First time at a gift exchange?”

You look away from the laughs while trying to compose your grin of embarrassment. Get it the fuck together, this is peak time to get it right.

“God. Okay.” You look down at your bag. All of its carefully folded and primped paper, the delicate folding inside. “For the gift exchange,” you clarify with a forced firm tone, “I got Yoongi.” 

You feel Dom try her damned best to hide her laugh. And you know for damn sure Jimin and Taehyung are thoroughly amused right now. 

All the oh’s sounding off in the living room are already enough to set your ears smoking. Your brother’s voice can be heard, but you know that’s for a specific reason. 

Everything had to be carefully calculated, after all. 

You walk up to him, and you cannot—absolutely cannot—look too long at the way he’s looking up at you. Him sitting in any capacity is enough to drive you up a wall, but now? When he looks so freshly fitted and prepping to tease you about all this later? You can barely think straight. 

“I don’t think I can beat Jimin’s gift,” you sigh to his curious eyes. “But it’s a little too late to change.”

His smile turns so soft. He shouldn’t be the one comforting you right now when you probably broke a little of his heart. “It’s all good.”

Keep going. 

Cleaning your clogged throat, you brave the crowd and breathe before starting again, “Anyway. This is kinda from both of us, but I picked it because I have better taste.”

“Hey, what the hell?” 

Ignoring your brother’s protest, you watch as Yoongi softly opens the gift before pulling out a basketball jersey. 

Of his favorite player. 

“Holy shit.” 

Shouts start erupting behind your back as you laugh, your sneaky gift joining the rest of them. 

“Hello? That’s way too much!” 

“That’s over the limit for sure.” 

You wave your hands frantically among their teasing arguments, and your brother chimes in on your side. “I didn’t know what to get!” 

“So you got a real jersey?” 

“Relax, y’all. It’s from both of us.” 

“Wait, which one’s Lillard again?” 

“Damian,” Yoongi softly says in awe. “How’d you know?” 

You can only blink, smiling faltering by the slightest amount.

Fuck, he’s gonna be cheeky right now? Knowing you know and exactly how you know? Cuddled up with him in his bed as he shows you highlight reels and tells you the guy’s whole story and that he happens to be a rapper, too? 

Looking back towards your brother, you explain, “Well... He gave me a list. And I just picked off vibes.” 

Yoongi’s eyes sparkle so much when he grins. “Good choice,” he compliments with creased eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” You say back with a little too high of a pitch. “But tell him he still owes you a gift. This doesn’t count for him.” 

“Uhh, it sure as fuck does!” 

Yoongi breaks eye contact to shout behind you, “Didn’t you already tell me you got me something?” 

“Yeah, it was that!” 

“What a lie,” Yoongi says through a smile.

“Yeah, I did,” your brother surrenders. “The shoes are in my bag. Okay, next!” 

Hilariously, two pairs of people end up getting each other. Yuri’s older sister Jia got Seokjin, who also drew her name—to the slight angst of your brother, you imagine. 

And Hoseok ends up getting Namjoon. Which turns out being twice as funny because they both got each other the same pair of earphones. You can’t breathe with how hard you cackle with everyone, and your heart skips when you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s eyes across the room.

By the end of the exchange, everyone’s bellies and cheeks sting from laughter, and every eye in sight has twinkles embedded inside.

Throughout the night, everyone starts branching off into different groups. You and your friends talk in the kitchen, and both in and out of the house, there’s groups of games and conversations. 

The holiday decorations everywhere shine bright. Enveloped in the music, you keep looking at the lights, feeling happy but a little bittersweet. 

You really wanna set the record straight with Yoongi. You had no damn clue that Jimin was gonna give something like that, much less in front of everyone. 

The fact that you haven’t been in the same room for a bit makes it worse. What could he be thinking right now? You can’t tell because he’s nowhere in sight. 

Screw it. You’re gonna at least text him. There’s no way you can survive the night if you’re gonna plague your own head without checking in with him. 

Fishing out your phone, you sidestep away for a second to type something quick. 

You [10:38pm]: i know it’s not dior.. but hope you like your gift :’)) 

Yoongi [10:38pm]: You know I do. It’s perfect, doll. 

Well. He texted back super quick.

Maybe he’s really okay? Maybe he and Jimin already talked it through? 

Then again.. Yoongi didn’t look happy at all during the big reveal. To the point where he was actively showing emotions you rarely get to see.

But if he says he likes his gift, that’s a good sign. 

You [10:42pm]: i can’t believe jimin did that

Yoongi [10:42pm]: That was bold. 

You [10:42pm]: seriously!!! 

Hmm. So he didn’t know. That’s even more surprising than him knowing, now that you think about it. 

You’re called over to get another round of food, and you turn down the initial invite but stay around as they get more to eat. 

When you see a tray that smells way too good, you do break and get a piece anyways. 

“Yeah, those are amazing,” Yuri chirps. “Shiv made those.”

“Really?” Dom grabs a couple pieces. “Lemme try these then.”

“You’re gonna want more.” 

As you find a place outside to eat, you stand next to the heater while conversing with Taehyung. It’s adorable how you can tell how excited he is about his gift, turning it in his hand before pocketing the leather again. 

“It’s so nice,” you compliment. 

“He knows how to pick, I guess,” Tae smiles, looking at you and making you shy. Because hello? There’s no way he’s gonna be bringing that up tonight. 

When you silently mouth for him to shut up, he grins like a madman. Glancing down at your hands, he suddenly asks, “Are you gonna put that down?”

“No,” you say with a tiny pang of guilt. “Afraid not.”

“Mm.” 

Your phone buzzes again, and you’re thankful for the interruption.

Yoongi [11:09pm]: Guess I have to do better😔

Instantly, you take that gratefulness back.

You [11:09pm]: NO!! you don’t have to worry about me at all

Yoongi [11:10pm]: I can’t lose to you

You [11:10pm]: trust me, i just… 

You think about sending the other text or not. But you do anyway. 

Taehyung sees the look in your faraway face, but doesn’t comment as you peer down again. 

You [11:11pm]: i just wanna see you happy

That’s all you want. If he’s happy, you’re happy. So it sucks to have part of the night come as quite the shock. 

Interestingly enough, though.. Someone else in the house should also be pretty upset about your gift, and you haven’t seen Jimin cornered by him yet. 

Unless your brother is just deciding to be courteous and beat his ass after everyone leaves. 

Yoongi [11:13pm]: Then come over here

You’re not gonna argue with that. 

So when your friends finish their plates, you suggest you all head into the garage. It’s already rowdy before you open the door, so the sounds get booming loud when you all enter. 

Looks like everyone is blowing their money on other things tonight, too. The gifts were the nice part of the party; now everyone is fiending to take everyone’s cash.

“Damn, Yoongi’s clearing me out.”

“Told you not to go all in.”

“He did.”

As the cold weather rolls in, you watch as the games go on, with heaters humming with energy and your brother’s friends radiating competition. 

No wonder Yoongi wanted you in here.

He’s on a damn roll.

As everyone groans after another win, Namjoon and your brother are in tatters, 

“Yoong, what the fuck!”

“You hiding cards in those sleeves?”

“I told you!” Yoongi boasts, “Don’t get too cocky.”

“Says him.”

“Cocky, my ass.” 

When you laugh, you earn a tiny glimpse of his eyes. But as his vision falls to your hands, you’re quick to look away, out into the night to look at all the lights instead.

Shit.

After some time passes, you find yourself alone on a balcony. Yet again. Cold wind blows through your coat, chilling you but making you feel alive. Too alive in this moment. Too aware.

The holidays aren’t so bad this time around. But you do need to set this one thing straight before things go a little sideways with Yoongi. 

If he’s upset, you don’t want him to be. Even if he doesn’t say it, you want him to know you’re considering his feelings. There’s some things you just can’t control.

So you wait for Jimin, telling him earlier to meet you up here for the best chance at privacy.

When you hear the door opening, you see him come through, hair lifting in the breeze and his lips in a slight curve. 

Get right to it. “Jimin, I—”

“Isn’t it so nice tonight?” 

Stopping, you settle into a smile, watching him walk up to stand next to you before you both look into the night. The neighborhood glows beneath your feet, and everyone in the backyard mingles while puffs of air leave their lips. 

“It really is,” you say with a smile, clutching the gift bag in cold fingers. Because you haven’t let go of it ever since it was given to you—it’s way too expensive. You’ve been guarding it all night. 

Which is why you need to hand it back to the one who gave it to you. “We haven’t done something like this before, so.. It’s a nice change of pace.” 

Jimin turns before realizing something. “Oh. I meant the weather.” 

Embarrassed, you let out a laugh while his eyes crease. “Ah. That, too.” 

“Got deep real fast.” 

“Jimin!” 

Both of you puff out laughter as you look down, just in time to see someone gazing right up at you. Someone that makes your heart squeeze on sight. 

Oh, shit. Is he gonna get the wrong idea again? 

You need to do this quick. Yoongi can’t be let down more than once tonight. 

Sighing, you start to hold up the bag again. “Thank you—”

“He’s lucky you came around when you did.” 

“Huh?” 

Jimin leans on the railing before eyeing you with a smile. “You don’t even know, do you.” 

“I don’t…” When you look below, Yoongi’s not looking anymore. And you panic. “Jimin, thank you. But I seriously can’t take this.” 

Why does he look so calm? Why does he keep acting like this isn’t a big deal? “You can.” 

“No, really. I—” 

“I may have gone too far this time.” 

Your eyes still as you breathe out a confused, “...What?” 

Jimin’s face is dusted with peach in the cold, and you get a good view of his jawline as he peers down below with a regretful curve. “I kinda tricked him,” he admits. “Into picking your gift for the exchange.” 

The shock you feel prevents you from even blinking. How the hell can this get even more overwhelming? “What do you mean?” 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I got some good discounts.” Jimin turns around to lean against the railing. “So I thought it would be fun to rope him into getting you something.” 

When he laughs to the chilly night sky, you don’t join him—the shock is preventing you from doing anything. 

“Didn’t think he’d pick a whole bracelet, though. Made for one hell of a gift exchange pick.” He looks at you at a tilt. “You like it, right?” 

Even if Yoongi was the one to pick out the jewelry, Jimin still had to purchase the damn thing. And even with his discount, it’s still expensive as hell. It has to be. You haven’t let go of the bag once because you don’t want to lose it. “But you still had to pay,” you blurt out. “I’ll find a way to pay you back if you aren’t gonna take it.”

“I didn’t pay for it, either.” 

Your heart stops. 

Full on halts. 

When he turns his head, he looks toward the sky in thought. “Well, I did secretly pay the exchange limit. But..” He straightens before staring back at your absolute silence, dropping the biggest surprise of the whole night,

“Yoongi paid the difference.”

The sudden sob that leaves your throat startles him immediately, and he rushes forward to put hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—”

The sound of a door slides open, and you turn to see your favorite, favorite, favorite person walking through. You must look like a wreck but you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. 

“I’ll leave you both to it then,” Jimin says to your watery eyes before squeezing, heading out to give you both the quiet space you need. 

But Yoongi clutches his arm as he walks by, and you hold your breath as he stares him in the eye, voice burning with a steady glow,

“Don’t pull that shit again.” 

“I know,” Jimin agrees without pause. “I owe you one.” 

“No one comes up here then.” Yoongi releases him slow. “Until I come back down.” 

The host of the night shares a quick hand clutch before assuring, “You got it.” 

Bag clutched tight in your hands, you watch in wonder as Yoongi approaches you with a quiet determination. His presence alone makes your heart beat warm and soft, but you cannot stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. 

All you can ask as he gets close is a wondrous, “Why..?”

“He’s a very persuasive salesman.” When you wipe your eyes, he helps with a little look of tenderness. Though there’s still some frustration evident in his features. “But I didn’t know it would be for tonight.”

“Oh, shit,” you sigh. “Why did he do that?” 

“I’m not sure.” Yoongi holds your chin, rubbing your frosty cheek with a handworking thumb. “Taehyung didn’t know he’d do it, either.” 

“Tae knew, too?” 

“Yeah. He thought I had it, not Chim.” He sighs to the side, hair lifting slightly in the breeze. “I almost stood up when you screamed.” 

Your heart shrugs off some chill. “Really?” 

Yoongi nods before looking up with scrunched brows. “It took all of me to keep my ass down. Honestly, I’m still pissed the fuck off.” 

You believe that. One hundred percent, you believe that. Because you’ve never seen him talk to Jimin like that before tonight. 

Reaching to cradle one of his cheeks, you feel how cold he is before whispering to soothe, “Tell me how you wanted it to go.” 

When Yoongi looks at you, your lips curve into a small smile. Peppered with a bit of your tears and willingness to make him feel better. 

He softly grips your hand on his face before turning to kiss your fingers. Voice low, he reveals, “I was gonna take you straight to dinner. After you got off work one day.” Another set of kisses makes your fingers both hot and cold. “Then I would’ve faked needing something from the studio. And you would’ve gotten it there.” 

“Oh…” You blink as your vision blurs. “That’s…” 

“Among other things.” 

At his suggestive look, you playfully pat his jacket. But your heart starts leaking from your eyes.  

Because you just want it all to be out already. Just everything. Everything, everything, everything, you’re so tired of keeping it under wraps. 

“What’s wrong, doll.”

“Nothing,” you sob. “I’m just… I didn’t know, and… This is a lot.” 

You’re overflowing with emotions. From all the experiences you’ve had tonight to this very moment, everything has been wonderful and magical and there’s nothing quite like this feeling. But you’re also so embarrassed because he definitely brought out much bigger guns than you did. 

Sniffling into his jacket, you whisper, “Thank you… You got me something timeless. This is so much cooler than my gift.” 

“No! Yours is great, are you kidding me?” 

“It’s a jersey… That’s much less cool.” 

“Mm... You also called me yours.” When you freeze completely, Yoongi's shoulders bob with his pride. “Gotta say, that was the highlight of the night."

“Oh, shut up!" When you groan into his clothes, you feel him laughing through his chest. And it's one of your favorite feelings in the world.

Shoulders slumped, you heavily yearn,

“I want it all out now. Everything.” You squeeze him closer. Closer, closer, closer. “I want everyone to know it was from you.” 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, though you do feel his heart beat a little faster. When he finally answers, you close your eyes. “I know I said this last time, but.. Next year. For sure.” 

“Can we decorate, too?” 

Yoongi looks into your starry eyes. “You wanna?” When your nod is quick, he laughs. “Guess I don’t have a real choice then, huh?” 

“Nu uh.” You squeal as he hauls you into a full kiss, squeezing you in his arms and more tears out of your eyes. “Wait!” 

When he tilts his head, you grin at his adorable quirk. “Let’s do it anyway.” 

“Huh?”

Holding up the bag, you cheekily suggest, “Everything you said. Let’s do it.” Biting your lip and feeling the chill on your ears, you finish, “There’s a new place I wanna try with you anyways.” 

Yoongi just stares, smile unsure but huffing amusement from his nose. “You sure?” 

“Duh! And I’ll act even more surprised, just for you.” 

Your giggling is purely born from excitement. Because you can’t wait to take him somewhere you know he’ll enjoy, too. And you get to see the studio? It’s gonna be a fantastic—

You’re brought into a tight hug before your thoughts finish. The bag between you crumples a tad, but you’re more focused on the way your head is moved for a soul-tying kiss. 

Warmth and gold and sparkles burst from your chest as you’re completely taken by Yoongi’s lips, and you start to feel your house inside change. It’s festive. It’s decorated. It’s made just for you and him. 

You've never been one for this season. But getting to spend it with Yoongi two years in a row? It's becoming one of your favorite times of the year.

“I just…” he murmurs to your features before gripping you close. “Thanks, babe.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his handsome features. “Once you give it to me for real, I’m gonna wear it everywhere.” 

“Please do. Get my money’s worth.” 

When you both laugh, your affection leaves in puffs of white. And you give him a more tender kiss than the first. 

You feel so at home it hurts. But it hurts because your heart is so full you can’t fit it all. All the love for everyone that fills that hole in your life that you and your brother have had for years. 

You’re gonna tell him one day. And it’s gonna rip you apart. 

But you hope everything will be okay. This time next year, all of you will be okay. More than okay. 

When you lean in close, you whisper something you’ve never really said to anyone. But you’re gonna try to start, even if you aren’t quite familiar with it yet. It’s a good year to start, start, start. 

“Happy holidays, Yoongi.”

His lips spread slow before giving one more kiss to your chilly nose. And every anxious feeling floats away in the frosty breeze.

“Happy holidays, doll.”

-

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fin. :)

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so... how did it go! | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: happy holidays, merry christmas, happy new year to everyone that celebrates! just wanted to get this one out for the ones needing a little bit of cheer around this time. we learn quite a bit about some of the crew's backstories and where they work now, huh. is this a pocket universe, too? who really knows! but it all flew out of my fingers as soon as we got the suggestion, so thank you again to that anon message! a/n 2: thank you to everyone that's stuck with me and 3tan this year. it's been a rough one, but i also wanted to post this one to let you all know i'm still here. 3tan will forever stay with me, and i have not ever forgotten it. not one day goes by where i don't think about it, or y'all, or them. trust me. also, stay on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer and closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[shartletswritings]

Prove to me

Non-Canon one shot set within the You've Dug Your Own Grave story

TW: Smutttt and not much else Happy holidays!! I wanted to make you all a little, sinful, christmas present. I do hope you enjoy!! I wrote this like… immediately after writing the first chapter of YDYOG because I needed a break from all the angst I was about to write (and because I’m a whore). Thank you all for the endless support, I know I say it every time and I sound like a broken record, but it genuinely baffles me how many of y’all read my stories and engage with my content. All my love and enjoy!!

            You stand with your back to the kitchen door; your full attention is on the jars of tea in front of you. You’re beginning to believe that this is the hardest decision you have ever had to make: mint and licorice or chamomile? Absentmindedly you pull on your bottom lip with your fingers as you deliberate. Would a combination be bad? It can’t be that bad.

            It takes a few minutes of rummaging through various drawers to locate a steeper among the mess of utensils. “Found you, fucker,” you whisper to the ball of metal. You decide a scoop of each is appropriate for one mug. After pouring the water into your mug you plop the steeper unceremoniously into the water, a small splash lapping over the rim.

            You spin on your heels to look for a snack to take back with you to your room when you notice that the lights on the far end of the kitchen have been switched off. Another black out? We just had one the other night. You sigh, you’ll be out in a few minutes anyways and you have plenty of candles waiting in your room if the power does go out. You fill a small bowl with some corn-puffed snack sitting on a far corner and put it on a tray next to the mug. You smile at the paint on the side which had been done by Aster a few weeks back. The memory of her chubby little hands smudging greens and purples onto the previously gray surface.

            Another noise catches your attention; something slams close behind you and you whip around but only see the door to the mess hall hanging open slightly. It must be the wind. You chide yourself for being so nervous. Just as you are about to pick the tray up and leave when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. This time you are certain someone is behind you, which is odd because you don’t remember hearing someone come in.

            You start to turn slowly when a low, harsh voice bites out, “Don’t.”

            You let out the anxious breath you were holding, a smile spreading on your face, “Scar, you scared the sh-”

            You are cut off by a hand clapping down on your mouth. He shifts slightly behind you, and you suddenly feel his breath, hot and deep in your ear, “You’re lucky it’s me here, Kir,” the bite in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, “what have I told you about letting your guard down?”

            He releases his hand just enough for you to speak, “I can handle myself. We’ve talked about this,” you put your hands down on the counter in front of you, bristling at his need to protect you.

            “We have,” his breath still tickles your ear, “and yet I was able to get all the to you before you even realized I was in the building.”

            “That’s not fair, you’re quieter than most people. And besides, I’d sense their… aura or something; I’d know if there was someone out to get me.”

            “You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are,” Scar sounds unamused and you can’t really blame him, it wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

            You go to turn towards him again but his hand clamps down on your jaw to keep your head forward, claws pressing into the soft skin of your cheeks. “If you don’t want me to coddle you, prove to me you can handle yourself,” he all but growls, “I’ll give you a two-minute head start… now run.”

            It takes you a few seconds to process what he says before it clicks. It takes you a few more seconds to decide whether or not to indulge him; on the one hand you don’t need his damn oversight on your safety, you sure as hell aren’t weak or incapable. But on the other hand… it is really fucking hot.

            The pressure that had been gradually building in the pit of your belly finally snaps and you feel electric. As if sensing the change in your chemistry, Scar releases your jaw and takes a step back, giving you the room needed to bolt.

            The darkness filling the empty kitchen makes your escape more difficult than it should be, but something inherent in your blood directs you back out into the courtyard of the hideout. Dust kicks up under your boots and the only light available to you comes from windows with half-drawn blinds. Figuring out where to go is the hardest part; you know that the first spots to pop into your mind are undoubtedly what Scar will also think of. Any place shrouded in complete darkness is marked off immediately on your imaginary list due to his godsdamned eyes which eliminates about half of the places you could reasonably get to in the constricting two minutes he’s given you. Your hoverboard is also inaccessible from where it sits back in your quarters which means you’ll need to find somewhere to hide in the base and fast.

            You turn towards the tree, scrambling up the scaffolding of the mural and onto the balcony of Ekko’s workshop. Mercifully, it is both empty and unlocked. You slip inside, crouch under one of the tables, and wait. It’s dark in here, sure, but there is enough of a glow from the courtyard that you can make out everything in the room with some sense of clarity; at least he won’t be able to sneak up on you.

            Your skin feels electric and every sound has you jumping. The fear is primal, something innate within your core. You’re not scared of Scar of course, but right now you’re fucking terrified and it’s exhilarating. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been waiting. Five minutes? Ten? Time passes strangely.

            The door opens slowly and for a moment you don’t think it’s Scar with how gentle the nob turns, but the second you see the toe of his boot your heart leaps into your throat. You stick a hand over your mouth to try and muffle your breathing as you press yourself further back into the shadows under the table. He takes a few more steps into the room, turning his head, searching for you.

            You let loose the breath you had been holding as he turns, thinking he’s finally leaving, when he whips his head back around at the sound. “I know you’re in here, Kirranari.” Damn it all. You realistically have about five seconds before he pinpoints your location under the table. It takes you three to make a decision. Sure, you could run again, but where’s the fun in that?

            You rocket out from your hiding spot and rush him, slamming your weight into his chest. He stumbles back and into a wall, thankfully missing the shelf of Ekko’s glass scientific instruments. He lets out a low oof and looks down at you and your forearm pressed into his chest, almost impressed and you feel a rush of pride despite yourself.

            The moment is ruined by his clawed hands wrapping around your wrist and twisting you around to slam you into the wall. His chest presses against your back and your face smushes into the wooden wall. “Not good enough, Kir,” his voice rumbles deeply against your body and a new wave of heat flushes through you. He must know what he’s doing. From the way his breath puffs hot against your ear, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. Asshole.

            With a huff, you drop low despite the wall scraping against your face and push yourself back under his legs. Before he can react, you jump up behind him and clammer onto his back. He bucks like a wild animal, but the bruising grip of your arms around his neck and legs around his chest keeps him from throwing you off. A knife slips down from your sleeve, and you allow the glint of the metal to catch in the faint light from the window. The blade is pointed away from him, but he can see that you weren’t unarmed, even in the relative safety of the hideout.

            You bring your mouth down to his ear, “Still think I can’t handle myself?” He stills for a moment, a snarl forming on his face, and you fight the urge to smile. With a quick nip to his ear you drop back to the ground, leaving him motionless for another second before he spins back towards you, his face a mix of lust and aggravation.

            “You got lucky,” he looks down at you, and you have to fight the urge to cower under his gaze. You aren’t afraid of him, of course, but you haven’t gotten this far in the undercity without a healthy amount of innate caution.

            “Right. Cuz it’d kill you to say that I did something correctly.” He opens his mouth to protest but before he can say anything, you sweep a leg towards his knees. Not expecting the blow, his knees buckle, and he crashes to the ground under his own weight.

            Unfortunately, before you can get a healthy amount of gloating out, you feel an arm wrap around your wrist to pull you down on top of him. He pins your arms to the ground, forcing you to lean over his head. You pant as you stare down at his blown-out pupils, “I only let you do that cuz you’re hot. Just so ya know. If you were anyone else, it’d be a different story.”

            He looks up at you in silence, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Suddenly, claws make their way into your hair and pull, bringing your face up to his. Your lips only meet for a moment before his tongue presses its way into your mouth. He pulls back for a moment, “Would you let anyone else do this?” His voice is slightly hoarse, thick with lust.

            You hum thoughtfully, “Who’s to say really. I have such a hard time making up my mind, but I can think of a few I’d let kiss me.” You’re taunting him, you’re absolutely aware of that. But the dark, fierce eyes he looks at you with twinge something deep in your gut and you find yourself unable to stop. “Maybe if Ekko or Jordyn asked me nicel-”

            He growls and flips your bodies to cut you off, pinning you under his weight. “Sounds like I’m not doing enough to keep you around, then.” You grin mischievously, “It sounds like I need to remind you how much you mean to me.” He grabs one of your hands and reaches it down to cup the growing bulge in his pants and your breath catches in your throat. It’s his turn to grin as he lowers his mouth to your neck, assaulting it with nips kisses.

            You arch your back into his chest, a breathy moan ripping through your throat. “You think I’d be doing this for anyone else?” he asks, his lips attacking the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites down when you don’t answer, “I asked you a question,” he chastises with a shockingly level voice against your pathetic cry.

            “N-no,” you breath into the darkness of the room and you can feel him smile against your skin. How does he always manage to reduce me to an incoherent mess, you think distantly as you struggle aimlessly against his weight.

            His hand releases your wrists and pushes the hem of your shirt up to your collarbone, tugging the band around your breasts down to lay loosely around your stomach. Painfully slowly, his lips make their way towards the hardened peaks of your nipples, but he doesn’t touch them directly. Instead, he focuses his attention on the soft skin of your breasts, eliciting a cry of frustration from your lips. You can feel the bastard smile against your skin again and you begin to get impatient. Bringing your free hand to his hair you pull, forcing his head to angle towards you.

            His top lip curls into a sneer as he is ripped away from his efforts at teasing you, you smile innocently at him. In a burst of movement you slither out from under him once more and hop to your feet, pulling your shirt back down to cover your chest. He looks up at you for a moment, still kneeling on the floor. “Did you think the game was done?” you ask, sweetly.

            Before he has even brought himself to his feet, you are already halfway to Ekko’s balcony. You pause for an instant to glance back behind you to lay eyes on a very angry looking Scar. Electricity pulses through you once more as you swing down from the balcony and onto the ground of the courtyard. A few moments later, you hear the heavy thud of Scar’s boots hitting the ground behind you. A terrified laugh rips from your chest as you take off in a sprint towards the gym.

            You make it nearly the entire way there before Scar tackles you from behind, sending the two of you tumbling towards the floor of the hallway. He pants hard in your ears, “There’s the rat I know.” You pause for a moment at his use of your nickname in your own tongue and he chuckles over you. He crushes down harder on top of you as you work to wriggle out of his grasp and into the gym like you had planned. “You think I’d let you get away again?”

            His threat sends blood flow exactly where you don’t need it, and you find yourself unable to come up with a useful escape plan. Nearly his entire weight is pressing you down onto the ground below with his hands wrapped securely around your upper arms and you can feel the weight of his hardened cock against your ass.

            “You’re pressing into my arms, Scar, it hurts,” you cry out breathlessly. He lets up immediately, mumbling an apology. You push yourself up and back into a run towards the gym, yelling to him over your shoulder, “You’re too fucking gullible.”

            He tackles you again almost as soon as you burst through the door, this time on a mat, and hisses into your ear, “You’re beginning to test my patience, Kir.” Before you can even react, he is yanking your pants down below your hips, “such a fucking tease,” he mumbles, an animalistic strength coursing through his veins.

            You arch your ass closer to his face, “I’m just doing what you asked,” you reply as innocently as possible.

            He growls and yanks your underwear down to lay with your pants at your ankles, one hand still pressed firmly against the small of your back. Fingers trail down to the wet heat of your slit, “Soaked already? You like being chased?” He rubs a finger against your throbbing clit, and you press your face to the mat below you to muffle your mewls of pleasure. “Fuck… you like being hunted down, don’t you?” You feel primal. You feel terrified. You feel fucking amazing.

            Lifting your head just enough, you answer him with a pathetic sounding whimper, “mmm-yes.” You cry out again in dismay as he removes his hand from your cunt. He shifts behind you and the squelch of his hand working your slick up and down the length of his dick fills the room. You arch you ass higher, desperate to be filled, and he only laughs.

            “That needy?” He presses the tip slowly into you and you sigh. Unfortunately, the bastard has other plans and quickly pulls back out and rocks his slick covered cock between your ass cheeks. You mumble incoherently and he laughs again, “Not so funny when you’re the one being teased, is it?”

            “S’not the same,” you mutter, one cheek squished against the mat distorting your words.

            He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, lifting your head up from the ground slightly. “I can’t understand you when you whine like that. Why don’t you tell me what you need?” If you could glare, you would probably be lighting the room on fire with the intensity of your frustration, unfortunately all you can do is cry out at the lack of stimulation where you need him most. “I can’t hear you, Kir, what is you want?”

            This asshole is gonna make me say it? “Wan’… fuck… m,’” is all you manage. Jannah I’m pathetic.

            He adjusts himself ever so slightly so he can rub his cock against your clit, coating it further in your wetness, “You gotta give me more than that,” he whispers into your ear before nipping at the cartilage. Fuck if he keeps going like that… Another yank on your hair pulls your attention back to the present.

            Sucking in a breath, you finally say, “Fuck me, please…”

            It’s all he needs to hear to sheathe himself within you completely in one stroke. Your breath catches in your throat as you nearly choke at the complete fullness… the deliciously painful stretch of your cunt around him. Your legs are still pressed together by your pants and his weight bears down on you as he fucks you into the mat, making you tighter than normal. From the ragged breathing in your ear, you aren’t the only one affected by the position, which brings some amount of triumph to your cock-drunk brain.

            A hand wraps around your hips to pull your ass higher, crushing your head farther into the ground and rendering you almost completely immobile. All you can do is fucking take it as he bottoms out into your needy cunt, squeezing helplessly around his dick. You manage to cry his name desperately, the sound mixing with the squelch of your wetness and the clap of his hips meeting your ass.

            His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your naked skin. A distant, far away voice in your head tells you to be a bit more weary of the fact literally anyone could walk in and see the two of you, but teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck cleanses the last shreds of logical thought from your mind.

            “F-fuck you’re so tight,” he bites out in between thrusts, “you like this? You like being fucked on the ground?” All you can do is cry out and clench harder around him. “Gonna split my cock in half,” he warns into your ear, but you can’t help it.

            “M-more, please,” you murmur into the floor, praying he could hear you over the noise your bodies make.

            Scar laughs breathlessly over you, “Never satisfied, are you?”

            The hand that had been tangled into your hair travels down your back and onto your other hip, pulling you up to your knees. Your arms lay uselessly on the ground and you turn your head to see Scar as he thrusts into you from behind. Between your legs, you can make out the wet form of his cock in the darkness as it hammers into your greedy hole, pants pulled down below his waist just enough to free himself. His brows furrowed in concentration and eyes dark with lust pull your attention from the movement of his body.

            Your once wet mouth goes dry at the sight of how seriously he takes your pleasure. Almost like he loves m-. He catches your eye and smirks, bringing a hand around to press into your throbbing clit and you turn your head back to the mat to muffle the sounds of your cries.

            “You gonna cum for me? Huh?” He digs his claws into your hips, and you begin to twitch.

            “Yes!” you’re barely audible, but from the way he grips you, you can tell he heard you well enough.

            It doesn’t take long for you to finish; the pressure of his finger on your clit, the unforgiving rhythm of his hips, the sound of his barely silenced groans of pleasure, it all becomes too much. When you do shatter, it’s nearly world ending. Tearing a hand up, you desperately attempt to cover the sound of your screams as your legs shake and finally give out.

            “Just like that… T-that’s my girl.”

            You collapse down to the floor and clamp down on his cock like a vice. He stutters for a moment but resumes his thrusts to fuck you in your now prone posture through the waves of pleasure.

            His own release comes soon after and you can practically feel the pressure building deep in his gut. He presses a hand to the top of your back, anchoring you to the floor as he chases his own pleasure. The only signal he gives you is a shout that sounds almost like your name before he pulls out. You feel him spilling onto your back, painting the soft skin with ropes of thick, hot cum. His head drops back to your shoulder, and he stills, panting, arched above your still twitching form.

            After what feels like ages of comfortable silence, he finally presses a kiss to your neck, tongue smoothing the swiftly reddening marks in the unmistakable shape of his teeth.

            “You take me so well, always so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. Pulling his tank over his head, he begins to mop up the puddle of cum on your pack; pressing gentle kisses into your back as he cleans you up, murmuring your praise the whole time. Once he is satisfied that you are taken care of, he tucks himself back into his pants.

            Just as you gather the strength to pull yourself up from the floor, the door to the gym opens. Your eyes go wide as they meet with Geo’s and you squeal, hands moving to cover your chest.

            “What the fuck?” He asks, his face going red and a hand shooting up to cover his eyes. Scar whips his head around to glare at the unfortunate man. “Are you kidding me? You’re… here?” His voice is about two octaves higher than normal.

            “Get out,” Scar growls and you fight the urge to slap him. The two of you are so obviously in the wrong here it hurts. You wriggle your pants over your hips and hop to your feet.

            “Don’t. We’re leaving,” you grab Scar by the hand and march out of the room, too horrified to look Geo in the eyes. He mumbles something at the two of you but you’re already halfway down the hallway.

            “Fucking asshole,” Scar mutters, his cum-soaked shirt balled in one fist. You wheel around on your heels to glare up at him.

            “We were the problem there,” you retort, a hand going to your hip.

            “He coulda knocked.”

  ��         “We were fucking in the gym! What were we thinking?” You run an exasperated hand down your face, “What the hell are you doing to me, Scar?” He looks hurt for a moment, brow furrowing in concern. You roll your eyes and press a finger into his bare chest, “I am not the kinda girl that fucks people in public, and yet you have turned me into this horny…” you search for the right word, “monster!”

            His worried expression cracks into a smug grin, “You’re the one that ran to the gym. We coulda stayed in the workshop.”

            You let out an exasperated noise, “And have Ekko walk in on us? No fucking way. Geo is one thing, but him? I’d rather die!”

            He shrugs shamelessly, “Guess we can just go back to your room then.”

            Your eyes widen as you shoot him a dubious look, “Back…more?”

            His smile is all sharp teeth as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, a hand resting on your ass, and takes off towards your quarters, “You thought we were done? I’m just gettin started, Kir.”      

Tag List: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist @calciferthelivingfire @bakugokatsuki18-blog @ariwolfsstuff @mcaats  @radflapkidsludge @honeym0chi @veggiesoupdumpling @vicki--mouse  @im-jasmine @bearinthesnow

[toadletthefirst]

Slay the princess portraits life and death on meta level so beautifully

While playing as a forgetful god you truly relieve experiences of the mortals. You appear in unknown circumstances no matter your will with strangers who are in the exact same position. And you are trying to build something. And it gets taken away. All, no matter good or bad, ends.

There were many living creatures similar to the vessels you saw. There are probably many of them now, in slowly dying universes.

And then TLQ is a god once again. And it gives you a new godhood perspective.

The shifting mound is such neat embodiment of the cycle of life. Dynamic is truly beautiful. It's paint on the blank paper of mediocre days. But art demands sacrifices.

Do you agree to kill myriads of those pitiful again and again to make the art of life? Can you still perceive it as beautiful after living through just as much misery and fear as they did?

And it lines up with the game you had. Aren't you sad that the thorn never walked out of the destroyed cabin? Wasn't it sad to see the damsel being taken away? Isn't it a pity that adversary was forced to stop doing what she loved? That wrath and nightmare tried so hard to be free and never got to experience it? That we never got to apologize to the stranger? Is it that foolish to believe that even the most wrecked vessels could find their peace if they just had more time?

And the shifting mound shows how their departures have meaning. But it is so by her context.

Of course the shifting mound says they found their peace in her. Of course they are still continue to live through her, in a way. But will it work for our life too? Will we find any soft embrace after death? Will we be a part of a greater narrative, like the vessels are a part of the shifting mound? And even if so, does it really matter if it's beauty is seen only from a far?

Sometimes mortality really feels like standing all alone in the neverending abyss and screaming: "well all this beauty of eternity - and what about me? What about how I want to see my loved ones happy? What about the beauty of my life?"

Of course EAH and MOC show how scary the constant static is. But my mortal mind wants to believe there is still a way to live through it. To make it work somehow.

I don't know. I really don't know anymore. This game had me in pieces

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Kaveh is like this close to committing a sin with Mehrak, like he's playing a really dangerous game. It's just a matter of time Mehrak gets even more sentient when it's already this far. I know Kaveh keeps it in check, but man... I hope they'll talk about this one day. Either that or Kaveh will always brush it off, as if he didn't get some ancient core to build it??? Also, I always love your thoughts, thanks for loving these two so much!

hiya! thank you for your ask! i'm so glad you enjoy my posts :") <3 Mehrak’s existence is so ??? funny to me. we have tighnari’s story quest detailing the akademiya’s ban on research into mechanical lifeforms, directly alongside kaveh building his own mechanical lifeform and parading it around, sending it on solo coffee retrieving missions whilst everyone in sumeru looks on smiling <3

Mehrak’s legality hasn’t been mentioned at all in-game as of now, and as it’s been used consistently, both in kaveh’s hangout, a parade of providence, and now nahida’s birthday event, with not one mention of legality or potential trespasses, makes it seem that that’s how things will stay - especially since Cyno has met/is aware of mehrak’s existence during the battle scene during a parade of providence (then again, cyno did meet the wanderer during this event, and yet in nahida’s birthday event it seems he’s only HEARD of the wanderer through sethos??) but even then, since Cyno trusts Tighnari with karkata’s continued existence, it’s likely not a stretch to say that to Cyno, Kaveh can be trusted with Mehrak’s existence (it’s all very iffy)

Mehrak’s existence, overall, has had little focus other than its usage in battle, its official introduction in a parade of providence, where kaveh stipulates it has low intelligence, and was built to assist him, as well as being incapable of talking back and giving him ‘attitude’ (implicitly comparing mehrak to alhaitham), and in kaveh’s hangout when he works on designing a building. It’s only in recent events, such as cyno’s second story quest, and now in nahida’s birthday event, that mehrak has gotten more mentions, and now a spotlight, which is all in relation to coffee, tying back to alhaitham and kaveh’s improved relationship (the coffee analysis will be in the updated essay finally!!). as of right now, overall, mehrak doesn’t appear to be a major focus

It might be strange for the game to mention now that mehrak has been an illegal creation all this time, unless it’s a significant plot point that has to be resolved, but if mehrak is further explored, like in the temple of silence for example (hoyoverse I am once again asking), then perhaps this collective ignoring of a crime occurring will be explained away, if mentioned at all? It’s interesting that tighnari says it might be possible that this ban is reversed in the future, but as for whether that will actually happen, and the implications of this, aren’t clear

Mehrak’s accepted existence in general poses so many questions. I’m interested in the specifics of the ban, like does it depend on the autonomy of the machine in question? Abattouy aimed to make Karkata essentially human, capable of individual thought, processing, emotion, and conversation, which definitively broaches on the intersection of mechanical and biological life which caused the Akademiya to ban this type of research in the first place. So if a machine is able to act on its own, irrespective of human interference, then this is what the akademiya would want to prevent

In mehrak’s case, it’s unclear as to what its limits are, but from what has been shown so far, it seems that mehrak can only act on kaveh’s commands and when held in battle – it’s uncertain rn whether mehrak can act independently of this, but as kaveh invented it to only assist in certain matters, it’s doubtful. But then again, we don’t have a great scope of whether it can experience emotions, as it has shown signs of being distressed in a parade of providence when kaveh states that it can’t talk back, and when being scolded by kaveh in nahida’s birthday event

if mehrak has limited intelligence, it's interesting to compare mehrak with karkata. abattouy was attempting to make karkata understand human language, and be able to respond in order to have conversation, which was proved impossible, whereas although mehrak only speaks in beeps, kaveh is shown to have a thorough understanding of what it’s saying? Mehrak can be programmed to recognise people’s voices, but seemingly also language, as mehrak can obey spoken command, which is what abattouy tried to accomplish but was unable to with modern technology.

Mehrak, on the other hand, understands kaveh’s basic requests – which is made even funnier in kaveh’s old sketchbook, where he says that more than anything he really wants mehrak to understand what he’s saying. he got his wish but at what cost???

Mehrak being made from ancient technology, belonging to that of king deshret’s civilisation, offers many interesting paths that could be explored in future events, as besides the primal constructs roaming around, the puzzles in the desert, and now the temple of silence, no technology really exists from that time. Someone commented that mehrak’s presence in nahida’s birthday event, in conjunction with the event being based around ancient technology with the wedjat eye, could be highlighting mehrak’s irregularity in modern day sumeru – potentially foreshadowing for a future event that could further expand upon mehrak? If this is the case, I am all for it, there are so many questions concerning kaveh’s little light <3

[little-flowers]

Thinking of more shiny duo/Gempearl aus bc I have issues

Gems, a princess (bc obviously) she, takes a trip/leave for a few years, blending in in the royal guards' rank very quickly and becoming a master class assassin to the level of some of the highest guards in the castle (False and Joel to name a few) only to drop off the surface of the assassins court. To become a princess again. All is well; her personal guard (Etho) is the only person who knows the whole story, and he is still ashamed of losing that many times. And then Pearl floats into her orbit as a new member of the assassin's court, in the same position Gem used to have.

Now, obviously, Gem can't just send a letter from the castle to Martyn, yelling at him for replacing her that quickly. And she can't just fire Pearl from the court because she's jealous. But she can let it slip to Etho that she doesn't like her. And slowly but surely come up with more absurd tasks for the Knight to do. One day, Pearl, fed up with the torture, sneaks into the princess's room to find out, only to realize that the girl has the same Auburn hair as Martyn's prized Gemini. The dots click, and Gem wakes up to a flushed, fretting, obnoxiously pretty girl. Pearl can't say anything because it's her, and Gem can't even find it in her heart to question the girl because how on earth is someone this pretty? I don't know what happens after this—I can't write endings, but something happens.

Another is slightly more angsty (it's a lot more, I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to be so angsty) because that one was a bit silly.

Gem grew up a trained assassin. That was her whole life. Bred from a young age to be a weapon. (same Academy as grian bc ofc) Her first task is to build a life in this small, tight-knit community. And she does just that, a local fisherman. She does doesn't get attached to anyone. And she loves hates the local Mailwomen. She's annoyingly obsessed with pickles and not pretty in the slightest. Gems is not attached in the slightest to this town, and she definitely doesn't call it home.

Then, her assignment comes through. (Oh, yeah, she didn't like them.) Pearl is important to another member of the assassins. She has to kill her. Gem doesn't want to; this is her Pearl. Yeah, she's annoying, but she's the perfect height to rest her head on, she makes a great hot cocoa, and if she's dead who will watch Tilly?? Gem couldn't murder her. Her brother didn't have a target over his head, but it was easy to put one there. She had a year to kill Pearl or her brothers dead.

Yeah, anyway, have fun with my brainworms (you can have them if you want. Just tag me or lemme know or smth, I wanna see)

[justalittleweird]

Just some shit that gets me... I know it's long... some of my fav quotes... there's so many

"You hurt my brother, I'll kill you, I swear. I will kill you all." -1x15

"You said you're a big brother. You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?" "Yeah, I would." -1x18

"That's my boy." -1x11&1x21

"I'm gonna say this one time you make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground, you understand me?" - 2x09

"Come here. Let me look at you... Hey, look at me, it's not even that bad. All right?... I'm gonna take care of you. I got you. That's my job, right?... Oh god..." -2.21

"I always tried to protect you... keep you safe." -2x22

"Don't get mad at me, don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job." "You save my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me, don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." - 2x22

"'Cause I know you... 'cause I've been following you around my entire life. I've been looking up to you since I was 4, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world... I wish you'd drop the show and be my brother again... just cause." -3x07

"Sammy, all I'm saying is that you're my weak spot. You are. And I'm yours." "You don't mean that. We're-We're family." -3x16

"Got your lunch? Books? Butterfly Knife?.. you okay?" -4x13

"You poisoned him." "No, I gave him what he needed, and it wasn't some bitch in a g-string. It was you." -4x14

"I'm sorry." -4x22

"I don't think we can ever be what we were. You know? I just don't think I can trust you." -5x01

"Because whatever we have between us. Love. Family. Whatever it is, they are always going to use it against us. And you know that." -5x03

"I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human." "Thank you, really... I won't let you down." -5x03

"In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day – sometimes a week, if they were lucky... Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything... when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word. It never occurred to them that...maybe they never really had a roof and four walls…but they were never, in fact, homeless." -5x22

"Sam, it's okay. I'm here... I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you." "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him." -5x22

"Look at me. Come on. You don’t know what’s real?... Let me see your hand... This is real...I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up. Hey, I am your flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real-time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy... Believe me, okay? You gotta believe me. You gotta make it stone number one and build on it." -7.02

"You can barely do it with me. I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?"

"Come on, man. That's not what I meant."

"No, it's exactly what you meant. You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again. What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again?...who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel? Another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just.."

"Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy…come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you." -8x23

[ateez-himari]

Hi bb!!!! Hau?? I had a question and couldn't nap because of it and I actually forgot what I wanted to ask so now I have more questions so I can remember the og one :))))))))

•I keep annoying you with mingri moments but I realized that since they're now public and you mentioned that people are criticizing them for being too "close" (they're literally dating smh) have mingri ever acted up on stage on PURPOSE to annoy these "fans"?

•are there any junior idols that have a crish on hima, and if so have they ever publicly announced it?

•when hima dresses up by herself does she prefer skirts and dresses or pants and tops?

•what are some hima outfits that made mingi fold(ik that boy is down badddd🤭🤭)

•what were hima's lines in iomt(i wanna do smth)

This isn't question but a rant,so I basically make these kpop "poster edits(?)" and I used to do them back then, and I recently (today) got back to doing them and I wanted to show you(cause you're my unofficial bestie 😗)

•The wonyoung one sucks, if you know Japanese no you dont😜😜😜cause I have no idea what anything means except for the text that I translated myself

•the giselle one is my 2nd favorite(the wonyoung being my least) I honestly had a lot of fun doing this one cause I haven't made them in a while and this was the first one i did after a long time

•the hanni one is my absolute favorite. I find that I'm usually really attracted to orange/red designs and my god was it a pain in the butt, my phone was crashing every two second cause there was so many elements but atleast I got it done hehe

(I was gonna make a mingri one but I had no idea which concept photos I should use if you have any idea please tell me bb🙏🙏)

mwahh bb ilysm please take care and don't forget to rest and stay warm!! 💓💓

Hi Mina!! I'm actually doing great, thank you 😘You can ask as many questions as you want until you remember the og one don't worry!! (Answers might just be a little slow since I have a few more I need to answer from other anons)

• They usually ignore 'fans' commenting about their physical closeness, but there was one concert where they noticed a banner asking for them to stop kissing on stage as it made the attendee jealous so Mingi pulled his girlfriend over, pointing to the piece of cardboard. After practically doubling over in laughter, the vocalist hooked a finger under his chain and pulled him down - leaving a long lasting kiss on his lips which he rapidly got lost in, only pulling away once Hongjoong tapped him on the shoulder to remind him that his part was coming up

• A few juniors announced their crush on Hima;

Jaehyun from BOYNEXTDOOR accidentally exposed his crush on her through a live stream where he was watching a video of her singing 'Addict' from her LXST project and blurted out 'Himari sunbaenim is so pretty'. ONEDOOR caught on to this easily and he eventually admitted that she's been his bias since debut and is actually his ideal type. Since K'OZ Entertainment has reached out to her several time they have met in person before, and the very first time he saw her walk through the doors he could barely even utter out a proper greeting. When I tell you that boy is down bad for his senior...half of the streams for her 'Addict' music video were probably just from him, most of the comments on fan accounts are probably just from his secret account, at this point he probably runs a fan page (the blurred polaroid on the back of his phone is one that they took together when she visited the company building). Aside from his little crush, he's also learning a lot from her - he's sat in on producing sessions with Zico, had the opportunity to ask her questions and even worked on a sample with her to develop his own 'voice'

Ricky from ZEROBASEONE did not even try to hide his crush on his senior as he openly gushed about her beauty in real life when she guided him back to his group during the 2023 MCountdown, stating that from that moment on she became his ideal type. He actually has a keychain of her Aniteez on his bag at all times

Sunghoon from ENHYPEN admitted that he was slightly jealous during her stage with Heeseung at the 2024 Gayo Daejeon - Swan Lake Reimagined - because he's had a small crush on her for quite some time now. They're only a year apart in age but he still finds her very intimidating to approach due to the amount of achievements tied to her, something she quickly noticed and made the first move to introduce herself at an award show where both groups were present. Sunghoon didn't realize that he'd been holding her hand (that he was supposed to be shaking) and Mingyu (who was in a situationship with her at the time) practically death stared him

Junhyeok from TNX was having a hard time with his solo performance during 'Road to Kingdom: Ace of Ace' (a cover of Drowning by Woodz) and asked for Himari's help, which she gladly provided. He already greatly admired her as an artist but having the opportunity to spend some time with her, he could understand why people were so disappointed when it was announced that she was in a relationship. Obviously he fell for her beauty at first but then quickly fell for her raw voice as well when she showed him how the track was supposed to be sung

Other Idols Include; Eric from The Boyz (from Kingdom : Legendary War), Dino from Seventeen (briefly), Keeho from P1Harmony (when they first met) & Hwiyoung from SF9 (also from Kingdom : Legendary War)

A/N; Himari was down bad for predebut Jongho...like she had the fattest crush on him it wasn't even funny

• Hima loves wearing zip-up sweaters along with skirts! She'll usually wear tank tops under them so she can let one of the sleeves fall off her shoulder. Unlike her dark and powerful on-stage outfits, she loves putting bows in her hair, wearing leg warmers with bows and wearing lighter colors (though she's kind of picky and mainly wears light pink, grey, white, black and any shade of brown light enough). She also likes wearing tight/cropped tops with sweatpants or jean cargo pants and cropped sweaters when she doesn't feel like dressing up

• The Milan Fashion Week afterparty dress definitely made him go insane - yes it was an incredibly intricate and beautiful dress but the way it hugged her curves made him realize that he was going to have to try really hard not to drag her into the bathroom. Any bodycon dress has him on his knees, even just dresses that just hug her waist tightly enough that there are no more curves to imagine

Her 'Addict' outfit! The European tour dates are going to be extremely hard for him since not only was this the music video outfit, but it's also the one she's going to wear on stage. This man almost fainted when she came posed in the water for those photos, he was clenching the armrests of his chair so hard that there's still a dent in them to this day

Anytime she comes into his lives wearing either combination; one of his sweater without pants underneath or a crop top and loose sleep shorts (bonus points if those shorts are actually his boxers)

• I'm not the greatest when it comes to these types of line distributions but here's what I managed to come up with! (she's got approximately 18.55 secs without counting the background/supporting vocals);

(0:56); "난 시작부터 main course (course), 썰어 먹지, diamond cut (cut it)" Starting from the Main course. Slice and eat that Diamond cut/

(1:30); "저기 저 철새 말이 많네" Little bird over there has a lot to say

(1:49); "아, 차 하면 구름 위 끝이 없는 부름이. ���사하지 준비 다이아 미소 flirting" When I shout “Ah Cha”, it’s a never-ending call above the clouds. Be thankful, I’m ready with a diamond smile, flirting

(1:54); [Backing up Mingi's vocals]

(1:56); "씹어 먹어버려 바로 Yeah like this" Chew it up right away, Yeah like this

(2:17); "관심 없어, love call, 씹어버려, keep 'em shut" Not Interested in a Love call. Chew ‘em up and Keep ‘em shut

(2:42); [Harmonizing with the background vocals]

• I honestly love all of them but the Giselle one has to be my favorite by far! I love everything about this design, especially the way your editing really highlights the concept 🤭I have to admit though the Wonyoung one is a very close second because it makes me think about older Japanese magazine covers! (If I had to pick one for Hima I'd say Yeji's 'Born to Be' concept photos, especially the ones with the hood...this woman is so beautiful omg). These are so cool though! I always love when people make things like this because it takes the pictures to a whole new level!

Mwaahhh I love you too sweet! 😘 The snow is melting now so it's getting warmer (finally!) but I'm still huddled in my coat don't worry! Take care of yourself and I hope you're enjoying your break from uni 🩷🩷