#If you dare type out the full name

[echoesoftheabandoned]

I know that when the text color changes it means someone else is talking, but I'm not sure which one...

I know cyan is Hazel and Orange is Peter and I believe....Pink is Lava?

I guess what I'm asking for this one is which color represents which person?

So close, close yet so far, far! The Addison's color matches with her name, name! As for the others, others? Why, if we gave the answer then what'd be the point of this game?

Most of us don't actually know, even the ones who speak in those colors. It's... Complicated.

I think my name was... Fruit Punch?

It was Fruitful Punchy Kickbutt Sand the 4rd.

... God, no wonder I was thrown away.

[danysdaughter]

Love Island!Bucky Headcanons

pairing | love!island!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 3.5k words

a/n | yooooo, guys, ive literally been working since tues, every night closing 11:30pm😃🔫. this life is nawttt for the weak, on my soul, this job is taking years off my life, i just wanna be my teenage girl self and this life is not letting me!!!!

this is literally the first time I'm doing headcanons and I don't think I've done it right at all, but YOLO

alsoooooo im so glad my amaya papaya chose bryan and yesterday's ep made me smile so hard. anywayyyyyy pls americans vote for my girl amaya and bryan as best couple, im begginggg

y'all it's almost 3am and I'm tired af. and I'm going to sleep, i have work tomorrow at 12

taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist 🩵

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

divider by @cafekitsune

First Coupling (Not Together) 💞

You walk into the villa confident and cracking jokes, immediately becoming a fan fave for your sass and no-BS attitude.

Bucky comes in a few days later as a bombshell — and everyone’s jaws drop. He’s flirty from the jump, but he picks another girl, one of the sweet ones who's all giggles and long lashes. You're unbothered (publicly), but the tension? PALPABLE.

You Get Played (Classic Villa Move)

You couple with this gym bro type who talks like he’s serious, but starts flirting with other girls behind your back.

The classic "I'm just keeping my options open" guy. When the truth comes out during a challenge or truth/dare night? You serve face, roll your eyes, and say, “I knew he was full of it, but I wanted to be wrong.”

Bucky sees it all. He’s been lowkey watching you the whole time, sending little comments like:

“That guy’s a fool, y’know. I wouldn’t’ve let you out of my sight.”

But he’s still with his OG girl, so you brush it off. Maybe he’s just being nice. (He’s not.)

The Twist Coupling 💞

It’s recoupling night. Everyone’s paired. You and another girl are the only ones left. You’re resigned to going home — standing there with your arms crossed and chin high, trying not to show you’re mad that your guy played you and Bucky’s still with the other girl.

But then.

“I’d like to couple up with this girl because she’s fiery, honest, and doesn’t take anyone’s crap. She’s been through it this week, and I think she deserves someone who actually sees her worth... So the girl I’d like to couple up with is—”

Cue dramatic pause. Camera on shocked faces.

When Bucky says your name, the villa goes SILENT. Literal gasps. Even the producers are gagged.

His original girl looks like she’s been slapped.

You blink. You squint. You’re convinced you heard wrong.

You walk over in pure shock, and when you stand next to him, instead of giving a sweet line, he hits you with:

“Don’t get excited, doll. I just flipped a coin.”

Confessional (cut to you, wild-eyed):

“Everyone’s lookin’ at me like I Jedi mind-fucked this man into saying my name. Meanwhile, if they took one look at my face they’d see I was just as gagged. You're confused? I'm fucking confused, bro. I mean, I'm standing there rehearsing my ‘fuck y’all, it’s been real’ speech and then—boom. My name. From him. What the helly?”

Post-Coupling Confrontation 👀

You pull Bucky for a chat after the coupling, already skeptical.

He’s relaxed on the beanbags like he didn’t just blow up the villa dynamics.

“I didn’t pick you to be a hero, sweetheart. I picked you ‘cause I wanted her gone. Clingy’s cute for five minutes—then it’s just loud.”

You laugh, a little surprised by the honesty, and nod.

“So what, you picked me to prove a point?” “Nah. I picked you ‘cause you’re the only one who doesn’t throw herself at me or cry when I don’t cuddle. Plus, we’d make a solid team.”

You stare at him for a moment, annoyed but impressed.

“So, we’re friends now?” “Friends who don’t get dumped from the villa. Unless you’ve secretly been in love with me this whole time.”

You flip him off.

Platonic Coupling Agreement 🤝

You both agree to couple up "strategically" — a villa alliance. You tell each other it’s platonic while secretly spending way more time together than necessary.

You lounge together, nap together (strictly no cuddling — at first), and throw sarcastic comments from the daybeds like the villa’s own Statler and Waldorf.

“She’s doing her baby voice again,” you mutter during a convo across the pool. “Should we start placing bets on who cries in the next 10 minutes?” Bucky adds.

But the chemistry? Dangerously high. And the longer you stay in this “platonic” couple… the blurrier the lines get.

Bucky in the confessional: “Nah, she’s just my emotional support chaos gremlin.” You in yours: “He’s like a sexy golden retriever who talks like he’s from the 40s and can’t stop winking. It’s actually like seriously annoying.”

────────────

You and Bucky become the commentary couple. Always on the daybed, sunglasses on, whispering into each other’s ears like you’re the villa’s own messy podcast.

“Why is she acting like they’ve been married ten years? They’ve been coupled up for four days.” “It’s the delusion for me.” “She’s already picked out baby names and I don't even think he knows her last name.”

You have a routine: share breakfast, roll your eyes in sync, and deliver savage but accurate commentary during firepit chats. Viewers are OBSESSED.

New Bombshell Enters 🔥

Tall, charming, with perfect teeth — he immediately clocks you as the villa’s "hard to get" girl and makes a beeline. Starts flirting. You’re flattered but playfully skeptical, throwing jabs but keeping it light.

Across the villa, Bucky watches with way too much interest for a “platonic partner.” Crossed arms. Jaw ticking. He will not stop glancing over.

Later, he corners you with a smirk.

“So, Mr. Model’s your type now?” “Didn’t know I had a type.” “Yeah, apparently it’s ‘generic charm and hair gel.’”

You raise a brow, amused.

“Are you jealous?” “What? No. Just saying—he’s not as funny as he thinks he is.”

Jealous. Absolutely jealous.

He Falls First ❤️

He starts doing little things bringing you coffee the way you like it, staying up late to talk about random stuff, getting defensive whenever a new guy even talks to you. But you don’t catch it. You’re convinced he’s playing the long game — riding your partnership to the finals.

You in confessional:

“Bucky’s a good partner. Strategic. Smart. Kinda hot when he’s not being annoying. But I know his game — he’s making sure he gets to that 100k. I’m not an idiot.”

Meanwhile, Bucky’s lying awake next to you, staring at the ceiling like:

“How the hell did I fall for the one girl who thinks I’m just in this for screen time?”

Casa Amor🏖️

The girls stay in the main villa, while the boys head off to Casa Amor. Before Bucky leaves, things are… weird. Tension’s been building. He’s been acting almost like he wants to say something, but never does. And you?

You in confessional:

“He’s not mine. He’s free to explore, obviously. I’m not gonna be the girl who waits around and gets played. But also… I’m not gonna pretend I don’t care.”

And yet — when temptation arrives in the form of gym-honed muscles and cologne that smells like deception, you hold your ground. Flirty convos? Sure. But when it comes time to choose, you say:

“I’m staying single. My connection with Bucky might be confusing, but I’m not ready to throw it away yet.”

Meanwhile at Casa Amor 🔥

Bucky’s spiraling. He misses you. Constantly thinking about your jokes, the way you roll your eyes, how you always call him out. But… he also believes you don’t feel the same.

Bucky in confessional:

“She’s never shown me more than friendship. And I— I need to protect myself. I can’t come back single and get humiliated on national TV.”

So, he couples up with a new girl. Not because he wants to. But because he thinks he has to.

The Recoupling — THE Scene 💔

The villa is silent as the boys walk back in. Bucky’s holding hands with his Casa Amor girl. Cocky smile. Trying to convince himself this was the right call.

And then—he sees you.

Standing alone.

Single.

Waiting.

Not even crying — just staring at him like he’s a complete stranger.

Camera cuts to everyone’s shocked faces.

Ariana: “You’ve decided to remain single. Can you explain why?” You (calm, almost nonchalant): “Because I thought what we had was worth waiting for. (you shrug your shoulders) Guess I was wrong.”

Bucky’s face drops. He’s instantly sick. Guilt. Regret. That look of someone who just fumbled the person who was actually real.

The new girl’s smiling awkwardly. The silence is deafening.

Post-Recoupling Fallout 📽️

You’re sitting in the confessional chair, body stiff, hands clasped in your lap. Your eyes are glassy, rimmed with red — but no tears fall. You’re holding them back with everything in you.

The producers ask how you’re feeling.

You take a shaky breath, force out a laugh that sounds like it hurts, and say:

“I wanna go home. I’m actually being so for real right now. Please, someone get my suitcase. Because I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

You glance away from the camera, blinking fast. Your jaw tightens like you’re biting the inside of your cheek to keep it together.

“I stood there, alone, in front of everyone. Looking like this dumbass while he walks back holding some other chick's hand. Like I’m the fucking idiot for having feelings. Like I imagined the whole thing.”

You shake your head, voice cracking:

“And the worst part? I didn’t even expect him to come back single. I just— I thought maybe he’d show me I mattered. But I guess I’m not worth that.”

Cut to Villa 🎬

You’re sitting alone, sunglasses on at night, hoodie pulled up — doing your best to disappear on the beanbags while Bucky’s across the firepit, staring at you like he knows he ruined everything.

Bucky in confessional (head in hands):

“I thought she didn’t feel the same. I was trying to protect myself, not hurt her. But when I saw her standing there all alone… I’ve never felt more like a loser in my life.”

Confrontation Scene 💥

It’s late. Most islanders are inside. You’re sitting outside by the pool, arms crossed tight over your chest, hoodie still up, knees drawn in. Silent. Closed off.

You hear footsteps. Heavy. Familiar.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t even look at him.

“I don’t wanna talk to you.”

Pause. Tension thick in the air. He doesn’t move.

“Yeah? Well, I wanna talk to you.”

You stand up fast, like your body can’t sit through this conversation. Still not facing him.

“What, so you can make me feel even more shitty than I already do? Newsflash, Buck, you nailed that one already.”

He takes a step closer. Carefully.

“No. I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because I need you to hear me.” “I heard you. Loud and clear. You walked back holding her hand. That said everything.”

You try to walk past him — but his hand reaches out. Not rough, not forceful. Just… steady. He catches your wrist, and when you try to pull away, he doesn’t let go. Gently, but firmly, he keeps hold.

“Please. Just let me explain.” “Why? So you can tell me it didn’t mean anything? That you ‘didn’t know how I felt’? You knew. You just didn’t care.”

You’re standing there, body tense, wrist still in his grasp. You’ve tried to push him away. He won’t budge. Not with force — just that stubborn, aching softness that says he’s still clinging to hope.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out when I finally got the guts to admit I messed this up. I chose wrong. And I regret it every second I look at you.”

That’s when your voice drops to barely a whisper.

“Why didn’t you just pick me?”

His eyes meet yours — red-rimmed, tired, exposed. And when he answers, his voice cracks open.

“Because I didn’t think you’d pick me.”

The words hit the air like a slap.

Everything in your chest lurches forward and backward at the same time. You can’t tell if you’re about to scream or cry — maybe both.

“Are you serious?” “You were always laughing with other guys. Saying we were just friends. I thought… I thought I was just someone you could lean on. Not someone you’d actually want.”

Your eyes well up. You take a shaky step back, pulling your wrist from his grip — and this time, he lets you go.

“You thought I wouldn’t pick you, so you didn’t pick me. And now we’re both here. Hurt. For what, Bucky?” “For being two idiots who couldn’t say how we felt.”

You’re shaking your head now — furious, exhausted, and done holding back.

“You don’t get to stand here acting like the victim, Bucky. You chose her. You didn’t even hesitate. And I stood there — in front of everyone — like a fucking joke.”

He stays quiet. Still. Just watching you with those ocean-deep eyes, face full of regret. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t flinch.

“You made me feel like I was nothing. Like everything we built meant nothing. And now what? You want to fix it? With what, exactly? A sad little speech and puppy blue eyes?”

Still no response. He just lets you speak.

“I was loyal to you. I waited. I trusted you. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I told myself not to catch feelings for you, I still—”

Your voice breaks.

You turn away. Take a breath. Hands clenched at your sides.

And he still says nothing.

Not because he doesn’t have anything to say — but because he knows this moment isn’t about him. It’s about you.

“You didn’t even fight for me, Bucky. That’s what hurts the most.”

He finally steps forward, slow and cautious, like approaching a wounded animal.

“I know.” “That’s all you’ve got? ‘I know’?” “Yeah. Because there’s nothing I can say that makes it okay. I fucked up. I didn’t trust what we had. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was hurt you.”

You look at him then. Eyes still glassy. He’s not defensive. He’s not deflecting. He just stands there, open and raw, waiting for you to decide what happens next.

“You don’t owe me forgiveness. I just… I needed you to know I’m sorry. And if there’s anything I can do to make this better — I’ll do it. Even if it means walking away.”

You’re quiet now. Too quiet. Hands trembling slightly as you bring them up to your face, fingers pressing under your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over.

You don’t look at him when you speak again — your voice is soft, but it cuts sharp:

“You made me feel really fucking dumb.”

That’s the one that almost takes you out. Saying it out loud. Admitting it.

“Like I was some naïve little girl, thinking the guy I joked around with every day — the one who brought me coffee, made me laugh, looked at me like I mattered — was actually choosing me.”

You pause, breathing ragged. You wipe at your face again, but it’s useless now. A tear slips down anyway.

“I stood there thinking, ‘Don’t cry. Don’t let them see it hurt.’ But it did, Bucky. It fucking hurt.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then:

“I know it did.” “And I hate that I’m the reason. I hate that I made you question something that was real — something I felt every damn day.”

You finally glance up, just in time to see him take a step forward.

“I didn’t think I deserved you. But I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough.”

He’s closer now. Slow, careful steps. Like he’s giving you a hundred chances to pull away. But you don’t.

“You were always enough. I just... didn’t think I was.”

And when he’s close enough, he pauses for half a second — eyes searching yours, hand hovering like he’s waiting for permission.

Then he pulls you in.

Arms wrap around you, steady and strong. Not desperate — grounded. Like he’s trying to hold in all the pieces he broke.

And this time… you don’t fight him.

You bury your face in his chest, fists clinging to his shirt, and finally let yourself feel it. The ache, the betrayal, the hope you tried to kill off.

“You’re such an asshole.” “I know. But I’m your asshole… if you’ll still have me.”

Night After the Recoupling 🌙

The villa’s quiet. Everyone’s in bed. Except you.

You can’t do it — sleep in that room while Bucky’s still sharing a bed with her. Even if nothing happens. Even if he’s trying to make things right. It still feels like betrayal just breathing the same air in that space.

So you grab your blanket, slip outside, and curl up in Soul Ties — the same place where you two used to whisper jokes and throw shade. The place that used to feel safe. Now it just feels cold.

You try to sleep.

You don’t.

Later That Night ✨

Bucky stirs. Looks across the room.

Your bed? Empty.

He checks the patio door and sees you — curled up alone, hood pulled over your head, blanket tight around you like armor.

He waits. Watches the others settle. Listens to the breathing shift from restless to deep sleep.

Then he slips out of bed.

Soft steps. Quiet hands as he opens the door.

He walks outside, crosses over towards Soul Ties, and pauses — just watching you.

Then, gently, carefully, he climbs in behind you. Doesn’t say anything. Just slides in slow, his chest pressing to your back, arm coming around your waist like it’s always belonged there.

You sighed softly, not even bothering to turn around.

“You shouldn’t be here.” “Don’t care.”

His voice is low, honest. No bravado, no teasing — just a quiet ache. His arm tightens just slightly around you. You don’t pull away. You don’t even breathe for a second.

Then, slowly, you turn in his arms.

Now you're facing him. Just inches apart. His eyes searching yours in the dark, moonlight casting soft shadows over his face.

“She’s still your girl. You’re still coupled.” “She’s not you.”

His hand slides up, knuckles grazing your cheek. You lean into the touch before you realize it.

“I couldn’t sleep. Not with you out here thinking I didn’t mean what I said.” “And what did you mean?”

He leans in closer — forehead almost brushing yours.

“That I’d choose you. Every time. I was just too much of a coward to do it when it counted.”

The air thickens. His gaze flicks between your eyes, then to your lips — slow and deliberate, but not assuming. Waiting. Giving you the chance to back away.

You don’t.

Instead, your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie, anchoring yourself there. A silent yes.

He moves first — barely.

His nose brushes yours. Then his lips hover just over your mouth, not quite touching. Close enough to feel the heat, the need, the way he’s holding himself back like he’s afraid if he takes too much, he won’t be able to stop.

Then finally — finally — he closes the space.

It’s not rushed. Not rough. It’s slow, like he’s learning the shape of your mouth, like he’s memorizing you with every second. His lips part against yours in a careful pull, then press in deeper, surer, like he’s been aching for this and never let himself believe he could have it.

You respond instinctively — your hand sliding up into his hair, fingertips curling at the nape of his neck. You tilt your chin slightly, meeting him with just as much intensity.

He groans softly into your mouth — barely audible, but there. It makes your heart stutter.

The kiss turns messier for a breath, more urgent — like the both of you are falling into something you’ve been holding back for too long. But even in the tension, it never loses the softness — like you’re trying to comfort each other in the only language you both understand now.

Camera zooms in — soft lighting, silence but for the wind — the kind of moment the audience screams over.

When you finally break apart, lips swollen and foreheads pressed together, there’s no sound but the whisper of wind and the ragged way you’re both breathing.

He doesn’t let go. He just holds you tighter — like letting go now would undo all of it.

And you stay there. In that tiny, stolen piece of peace. Just you, him, and a kiss that changed everything.

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@ruexj283 @muchwita @fayeatheart @Leathynn @thealloveru2 @person-005 @princeescalus @lilac13 @solana-jpeg @jeongiegram @winchestert101 @s-sh-ne @n3ptoonz @avgdestitute @xamapolax @Finnickodairslut @honeyhera29 @macbaetwo @rafespeach @bythecloset @ashpeace888 @buckmybarnes @c-grace56 @ozwriterchick @slutforsr @novaslov @xamapolax @theoraekenslover @user911224 @Tafuller @luminousvenomvagrant

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

[chrissssssmut]

Karina winter yeji yuna school smut?

AFTER SCHOOL

Karina, Winter, Yeji and Yuna x Male Reader

I should’ve known something was off the moment Ms. Shin smiled at me during homeroom. That too-sweet kind of smile teachers use when they’re about to ruin your afternoon.

"You’ve been falling behind," she said, tapping her red pen against a stack of missed assignments. "So I’m assigning you to a group for academic support."

My stomach sank.

She continued, writing names at the top of my worksheet with smooth, deliberate strokes.

"Karina. Winter. Yeji. And Yuna. They'll… keep you on task."

I blinked. Thought she was joking. But when I looked over to the corner of the room, all four of them were staring at me—smiling.

Not the friendly kind of smile, either.

Fast forward to now. The final bell has rung. The classroom is empty. Door locked. Blinds down. Lights dim.

And I’m sitting at a desk, laptop in front of me, surrounded by four girls who look like they’re about to pounce.

Karina stands behind me with her arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Winter leans against the chalkboard like she owns the place. Yeji is seated right on my desk, legs swinging lazily, skirt hiked a little too high. Yuna is in the corner by the windows, playing with the buttons of her blouse.

Winter speaks first. Her voice is soft, cool. Dangerous.

"You're gonna open that laptop," she says, slowly walking toward me. "You're gonna finish everything on that worksheet. And you're not leaving until it’s done."

I open my mouth to protest, but she smiles.

"Unless," she adds, "you need a different kind of motivation."

My throat dries. “Motivation?”

Karina leans down behind me. I feel her breath on my ear before I even hear her voice.

“We’re very… persuasive,” she whispers, fingers brushing my shoulders. “But you have to follow instructions. Exactly. No excuses.”

“Okay,” I mutter, voice shaky. “I’ll work.”

Yeji chuckles and crosses one leg over the other, leaning in until her face is inches from mine.

“You’re gonna be such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Her fingers hook around the loose knot of my school tie. She yanks it gently, pulling me forward until my nose nearly brushes the lace trim of her underwear.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” she says, lips curling into a wicked smirk.

Across the room, Yuna lets out a breathy laugh. Her blouse is halfway unbuttoned now, bare skin peeking through.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving early,” she says, tossing her bra onto my open notebook like it’s just another school supply. “Because we’re not stopping until we break you.”

My heart is thundering in my chest. I open the laptop with trembling hands.

Winter moves behind me, sliding her fingers up under my uniform shirt. Her nails rake gently over my ribs, sending a full-body shiver up my spine.

Karina kneels beside my chair, her hands already at my belt.

She looks up at me with calm, unreadable eyes. “Let us take care of the distractions,” she murmurs. “You just type.”

My pants slide down. My boxers go next.

I barely get to the first question on the worksheet before Yeji grabs my jaw and turns my face toward her inner thigh.

“Finish the first page,” she purrs. “You get a taste.”

Karina’s lips wrap around me under the desk. I almost fall off the chair.

She takes her time, tongue working in slow, torturous swirls, lips soft but firm. My hands twitch on the keyboard.

“Don’t stop typing,” Yuna says, hopping up to sit on the desk beside me. She grabs my wrist and pulls it under her skirt. “But keep these fingers busy too, yeah?”

She moans softly as my fingers slip into her, wet and tight and so very ready.

Winter presses her chest against my back, her breath hot on my neck. “I’m going to ride you soon,” she whispers. “But if you cum before we say so…”

She drags her tongue over the shell of my ear.

“…we’ll start everything over from the beginning.”

Karina moans around my cock, her head bobbing rhythmically. Every time I twitch, she just sucks harder, like she’s daring me to lose control. Like she wants to see me beg.

“Focus,” Yeji says, eyes flicking down to my screen. “Get to question five.”

I’m drenched in sweat. Muscles tense. My brain is short-circuiting from sensation overload. I don’t even remember what I’m typing.

Winter slides onto my lap, lifting her skirt. No panties.

She sinks down onto me in one smooth motion.

I bite down a scream.

“You like that?” she whispers, hips grinding slow and deep. “You’re doing so well… but we’re not even halfway done.”

Yuna leans forward, tongue trailing a wet stripe up my chest, giggling as she sucks one of my nipples between her lips. Her hand stays between her legs, grinding against my fingers like a girl possessed.

Yeji’s rocking against my thigh now, one hand tangled in my hair, the other squeezing her own breast beneath her uniform. She watches me like a predator, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every helpless moan I make.

Karina’s still beside the chair, stroking me every time Winter lifts herself up. Her hand moves in sync with Winter’s rhythm. Precise. Lethal.

“You’re going to cum soon,” Karina whispers. “Aren’t you?”

I nod, frantically, stupidly. I can’t hold on.

“No,” Yeji snaps, grabbing my face. “You wait.”

Winter tightens around me, grinding harder, her eyes fluttering shut. “Almost there,” she groans. “Don’t you dare cum until the worksheet’s done.”

I’m dying.

Everything burns. Everything pulses.

Karina strokes harder. Yuna moans louder. Winter rides faster.

Then Karina leans in, lips brushing my ear.

“Last question,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “If you get it right…”

Winter kisses me, full and messy and possessive.

“…we’ll let you cum.”

I slam the final key.

Everything explodes.

Winter cries out, clenching tight. Yuna throws her head back, riding my fingers until her thighs shake. Yeji bites her lip, watching me with wild, hungry eyes as I finally let go.

I cum hard, body wracked with pleasure, every nerve on fire.

Karina strokes me through it, slow and loving, like she wants to milk every drop.

The classroom is filled with panting. Moans. The quiet hum of my laptop.

I’m ruined.

Shirt half-off. Tie gone. Skin marked with lipstick and scratches. My legs are jelly. Brain fried.

Yuna giggles, hopping off the desk and adjusting her skirt.

“You passed,” she says.

“Barely,” Yeji adds, licking her lips.

Winter pulls away from my lap and kisses my jaw, her eyes dark and gleaming. “Don’t fall behind again.”

Karina tucks my shirt back in gently, then kisses my forehead like I’m some kind of good boy she’s proud of.

“Or next time,” she murmurs, lips brushing mine, “we won’t be so gentle.”

The Next Day

I didn’t even argue this time when Ms. Shin told me I’d be finishing today’s work in the library.

She gave me the same knowing smile, the one that sent a shiver down my spine yesterday, and handed me a thick packet of revision problems.

“Quiet place. No distractions,” she said.

Right.

By now, I knew better than to think I’d be studying alone.

And sure enough, not ten minutes into flipping through the pages in one of the back rows—hidden between the history section and some dusty old encyclopedias—I heard soft footsteps. The rustle of skirts. Giggling.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“You really thought you’d get away from us?” Yeji’s voice came first, teasing and low. “That’s cute.”

I looked up just as the four of them stepped into view, uniforms still perfect, but expressions anything but innocent.

Winter shut the book in my hands with a little snap. “Did you miss us?”

Karina knelt beside me again, just like yesterday, but this time she didn’t say anything. Just stared at me with that serene, unreadable gaze, her hand already sliding up my thigh like it belonged there.

Yuna leaned against the bookshelf behind me, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t care who saw. "Ms. Shin says you need to improve your focus,” she said, licking her lips. “So we’re here to help.”

I glanced around the library. There were a few other students up front, maybe two tables away. The librarian’s desk was clear.

This was insane.

But the heat in my gut didn’t care.

“Guys,” I whispered. “We’ll get caught—”

“We know,” Karina murmured, fingers teasing the waistband of my pants. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Yeji leaned down and dragged her nails down my arm. “You’re already hard. Don’t pretend you’re innocent.”

Winter smirked and pulled a chair across from me, spinning it so she straddled it backward, arms resting on the top. “Here’s the deal,” she said. “You solve five problems. For each correct answer, you get a reward.”

“And if you get one wrong…” Yuna grinned wickedly, fingers playing with the edge of her skirt, “We punish you. Quietly.”

Karina’s hand slipped into my pants, and I choked on my own breath.

I tried. I tried to focus.

The first question was something about historical treaties. I scribbled an answer, hands shaking.

Karina stroked me slowly, watching my every reaction like she was cataloguing them.

Winter got up and circled around to my side. She bent down, her lips brushing my ear.

“Correct,” she whispered. “So you get this—”

Her tongue flicked against my earlobe. Then her hand dipped between my legs, joining Karina’s, making me twitch violently in my seat.

I gritted my teeth, eyes squeezing shut.

"Focus," Yeji sang from behind her hand, pretending to read a book. "You're making faces. They’ll notice.”

I forced myself to the second problem. It was barely legible now.

Behind me, Yuna crouched and slid her hand under the back of my shirt, her nails scratching lightly down my spine.

“Wrong,” she whispered. “You mixed up the year.”

She reached around and grabbed me harshly, jerking me once, twice—just enough to make me see stars—then letting go.

“Bad boys don’t get to cum,” she hissed.

“Third question,” Karina said calmly. “If you get it right, maybe we’ll let you taste one of us.”

I nodded frantically and filled in the blank. Something about revolutions.

Winter peeked over my shoulder and smirked. “Close enough.”

Yeji pulled her chair closer and lifted one leg onto the table.

“No hands,” she whispered. “Just your mouth.”

I looked around—no one close.

Heart hammering, I leaned forward.

Yeji shivered when my tongue found her, legs trembling as she bit her fist to keep from moaning.

“You’re good at this,” she gasped. “Fuck—don’t stop—”

Karina gripped my chin and pulled me back.

“Fourth problem,” she said coolly. “Let’s see if your brain still works with your mouth busy.”

I barely read it. My hands were shaking. I circled an answer and prayed.

Winter checked it.

Then bent down, lifted her skirt, and sat on my lap, no underwear again.

“I’ll allow it,” she breathed, sinking down onto me.

I choked back a moan as her warmth enveloped me, and she immediately began grinding, slow and cruel and tight.

“Don’t. Make. A. Sound,” she hissed.

The table shifted slightly. Books wobbled.

Karina looked toward the front of the library.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Librarian’s coming.”

Yuna moved quickly, yanking a nearby blanket someone had left draped on the study chair and tossing it over my lap. Winter stayed perfectly still, biting her lip hard.

Yeji opened a book and leaned forward, pretending to read with exaggerated focus.

Karina sat back against the shelves, legs crossed, innocent as a nun.

The librarian’s heels clicked closer.

“Everything alright back here?” she asked.

I froze.

Winter didn’t. Her walls clenched.

“Just helping him study,” Karina said smoothly. “He’s working hard.”

The librarian hummed. “Good. Keep it down.”

As soon as she turned and walked off, Winter exhaled hard against my neck and began to ride me again, slower now, deliberately cruel.

“You’re not cumming until the last question’s done,” she whispered. “And we’re all satisfied.”

Yuna climbed onto the table and straddled my chest, pulling my face to her dripping heat. “Make up for question two,” she said.

Yeji stroked herself as she watched me tongue Yuna open, her moans muffled against her arm. Karina leaned down and whispered filth into my ear, her hands tugging and teasing me every time Winter lifted herself up.

“I’m close,” Winter gasped. “Hold on—don’t cum—”

“I’m—shit—I’m gonna—” I couldn’t hold it.

Karina’s nails dug into my thigh.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Then everything blurred—Yuna came with a high, desperate whimper, Yeji followed moments after with a strangled moan, and Winter finally gasped my name as she pulsed around me, trembling.

Only then did Karina pull my face to hers and kiss me like she owned me.

“You did better today,” she said, stroking me slowly. “We’re proud.”

Winter slid off, carefully pulling the blanket back over my lap.

I was soaked. Spent. Fucked half-senseless.

Karina whispered, “You can finish now,” and stroked me just right.

I came so hard I almost saw white.

We cleaned up quietly—well, they did. I could barely move.

Karina kissed my temple.

Yeji fixed my tie.

Yuna tucked the worksheet into my bag.

Winter licked her fingers clean and winked. “Same time tomorrow?”

I nodded, dazed.

“Good,” Karina said softly. “Because next time…”

She leaned in, lips brushing mine.

“…we’re not letting you leave at all.”

It had been one day since the library.

One day since Karina whispered filth in my ear while riding me behind a bookshelf. One day since Winter, Yeji, and Yuna took turns teasing me to the edge with eyes locked on the door, waiting to see if someone—anyone—would walk in and catch us.

No one did.

But someone noticed.

“Come see me after class,” Ms. Shin said, sliding a post-it on my desk as she walked by.

No explanation. No expression. Just the quiet weight of her words and the way her eyes lingered on me… like she was studying a lie.

Karina leaned over from behind me. “She called you?”

I nodded.

“She knows,” Yeji said from the next desk, not even bothering to whisper.

“She suspects,” Winter corrected, looking too calm. “There’s a difference.”

Yuna, chewing on the tip of her pen, smiled lazily. “So what? She can’t prove anything.”

Karina’s fingers trailed up the back of my neck. “She doesn’t have to prove it. She just has to separate us.”

The idea made my stomach twist.

After the bell, I made my way to Ms. Shin’s office, heart pounding like a drumline. Her door was cracked open.

“Close it,” she said without turning around.

I obeyed.

She didn’t look at me at first. Just tapped her pen against a sheet of paper.

“I’ve taught here for eight years,” she said finally. “And I’ve never had a group as... close-knit as yours.”

I stayed silent.

“The four of them cling to you like satellites. Always orbiting. Always watching. And you… you’ve changed.”

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply, cutting me off. “You’re distracted. Your posture, your eyes. You flinch when someone touches your shoulder. And your test scores are slipping.”

I clenched my fists.

“If something’s happening between you and those girls—something inappropriate—you need to tell me now.”

She turned toward me, eyes sharp and concerned.

“I can help you. I can reassign you. I can call your parents if you're too scared to say anything.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, too quickly.

“So there is something,” she murmured.

Shit.

I backpedaled fast. “No. I just meant—I don’t need help. There’s nothing going on.”

Ms. Shin leaned back slowly, searching my face.

“You’re a smart boy,” she said. “But you’re not a good liar.”

The room felt like it was shrinking.

“If I find out they’ve coerced you—”

“They didn’t,” I snapped.

That caught her off guard.

“They didn’t coerce me. It’s not… like that.”

“So what is it, then?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. Because the truth was messier than anything she was imagining.

Karina walking into my room without knocking. Winter crawling into my lap with a hungry look. Yeji pinning me to a wall during break. Yuna whispering threats into my ear with a smile on her lips and her hand down my pants.

It wasn’t coercion.

It was obsession.

And it was mutual.

“I just want to focus on school,” I said, the lie catching in my throat. “That’s all.”

Ms. Shin looked unconvinced.

“You’ll work with me from now on,” she said. “No more group projects. No more ‘study sessions.’ You stay after school, here, under my supervision.”

“I—”

“That’s final.”

I left the office feeling like I’d been sentenced.

They were waiting.

Outside the classroom. All four of them.

Karina leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Winter looked like she already knew what happened.

Yeji tilted her head. “How bad?”

“She’s pulling me from the group,” I muttered.

Yuna blinked. “She what?”

“She wants me working under her from now on.”

Karina stepped forward. “She’s trying to isolate you.”

Winter grabbed my hand. “That’s not going to happen.”

Yeji glanced down the hallway. “Where is she now?”

“She’s still in her office,” I said. “Planning whatever ‘private sessions’ she has in mind.”

Yuna smiled, slow and feral. “So we beat her to it.”

“What?”

Karina took my wrist, firm and final. “Storage room. Now.”

The door clicked shut behind us.

No light. Just shadows and breath.

Winter pinned me against the shelf first. “She wants to protect you?”

Yeji’s hands slid under my shirt. “She wants to own you.”

Karina was unbuttoning my pants already. “But she’s too late.”

Yuna pulled her skirt up. “We claimed you first.”

The girls didn’t take turns this time. They swarmed.

Hands everywhere—Karina’s mouth on my neck, Winter’s fingers around my length, Yeji licking up my chest, Yuna grinding on my thigh.

I tried to speak. Couldn’t.

“You don’t want her,” Winter whispered against my ear. “You want this.”

“You want us,” Karina hissed, sinking down onto me before I could even gasp. “Say it.”

“I want you,” I groaned, biting my lip to muffle it.

Karina rode me hard, fast, one hand clamped over my mouth while Yeji held my hips still. Winter and Yuna knelt below, licking and moaning, their tongues trailing over everything Karina left exposed.

“I’ll go to her office,” Yuna whispered between licks. “I’ll tell her to back off.”

Karina moaned. “If she doesn’t... we’ll make her.”

The climax hit hard and fast, Karina milking me dry while the other girls moaned, whispering about how they’d keep me hidden forever if they had to.

Afterward, they dressed me, button by button, fixing my tie like nothing had happened.

“She’s watching,” Karina said. “We know.”

Winter cupped my cheek. “She’ll try to separate us.”

Yuna kissed me softly. “Let her try.”

Yeji leaned close, voice like velvet. “If she takes you… we’ll take you back.”

[hwajin]

☆°. — study me | hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: inexperienced hyunjin, oral (m receiving), protected sex, fast-ish plot progression, strangers to lovers (only roughly proof read)

author's note: @hyunverse and @astraystayyh made me do it (also inspired heavily by rin's post!!!!!) 😚😚😚

He had always been cute, though he surely wasn't aware of it; when he sat in class, dainty glasses by the curve of his nose, he always seemed focused, taking notes with furrowed brows, full attention granted to the professor up front. When he left the lecture hall it was often in lonesome, and hurried; not shy, per se, but quick, and quiet. When people talked to him he was polite, though his shoulders tensed, and a blush crept up his smiling cheeks; not uncomfortable, as far as you could tell, yet visibly not in his element, either — and it all added to his charm. He was smart and aware of it, though he seldom raised his hand, initiated questions. He never corrected professors on their mistakes, never played the know-it-all even though he could. He simply sat in class, day after day, to your right in front of you, and left to go to his next class as quietly as he had entered your mutual one.

You watched Hyunjin walk into the lecture hall, headphones covering his sense of hearing, bag thrown over his shoulder lazily, a subtle lightness in his step. He fixed his glasses with a long, delicate finger before he sat down to prep his desk; placing his laptop in front of him, reducing the brightness before typing away his password, fishing in his bag for his phone right before the professor walked in. Hyunjin was busy taking off the bony headphones before they disappeared in his bag, and a big hand slid through the dark strands of his hair, only needing one movement to fix them into place; after that there seemed to be a click in his demeanour, in his attention. No music in his ears, no phone in his hands; quick fingers that were copying the headline of today's topic which the professor had projected onto the board, concentrated, glasern eyes void of the initial casual leisureness the had entered the classroom with.

It was a little bit of a ritual, watching him in class; you weren't sure if it was creepy, if it made you some sort of pre-version of a stalker, or an obsessed freak. You weren't sure either, if watching him was the reason you were at risk of failing the class, altogether. You were surprised every day anew that no one else was; that Hyunjin seemed to be nearly invisible for most people on campus, left for the few friends he kept with, or the occasional aquaintance he made for group projects before those relationships faded away, due to the lack of its' benefit. Yet even those people didn't seem to be taken by him the way you were, didn't see him the way you did; a striking beauty, hidden beneath a character so quiet and quirky, helpless, almost, that to others he appeared nothing but ordinary. A studious nerd, introverted and awkward; but you didn't want to go through another day without having talked to him. Couldn't, you thought; you needed to initiate a conversation, wanted so bad to hear the sound of his voice, the look of his eyes when the object he was looking at was you.

The professor had announced a group project for today's class, and had, by the end of explaining all about it and before dismissing the class, ordered you to look for partners until the next lesson, to start with first preparations. In your opinion, it was the perfect opportunity to go up to Hyunjin without appearing a freak, or too pushy, or utterly random; you weren't sure he even knew your name, so simply asking for a coffee seemed too finite to you. As expected, while everyone was still packing their bags and talking of weekend plans and just how boring their next class was going to be, Hyunjin had already put on his headphones and was on his way out of the hall, daring to disappear into the crowd of students before your very eyes. You hurried to collect your things before you stumbled down behind him, falling into a slow run to catch up with him. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you, so his struts were fast without being hurried, and you struggled to keep up with him, fighting your way between people before your hand could finally reach his figure, and a finger of yours tapped on his shoulder.

Your touch made him stop in his tracks in a rather confused manner, and he turned around perplexed before locking eyes with you. When you smiled at him expectantly one hand of his freed his right ear from his headphones, and he returned your smile, though only politely, yet not catching what you have stopped him for. The confusion was written in his eyes, and you hurried to clear it up.

"Hey, I'm y/n, from uh, Statistics... we just had this class together."

You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for a response, despite not having cleared up anything at all. He nodded, fixing his bag on his shoulder. You almost got distracted by the veins which ran through his hand when he did that, but you forced yourself to look him in the eyes instead. Brown and deep. You had never noticed before how captivating they were.

"Yeah, I know who you are...", a smile on his lips and you weren't sure what it meant, but there was a deep blush on his cheeks right after, and it made your chest fill with a warmth so sound you simply kept smiling at him.

"Was there anything you needed?" Pure curiosity in his tone, and you wondered how such a smart person could be so foolish. Though it was cute seeing him perplexed, cute seeing a void of his usual intelligence within his eyes.

You cleared your throat and fixed your bag yourself, before nodding up at him. You had never stood this close to him, had never noticed just how tall he was.

"I wondered if you wanted to be my partner for the group project thing. I'm not really good at statistics, so I wanted to pair up with someone who could... help me. In a way."

Hyunjin blushed deeper at that, and the fist around the strap of his bag tightened. He gulped visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing before his eyes lost yours suddenly, and he nodded, stuttering a little when he spoke.

"Uh, yeah, for sure. I, uh, I'm not really, like, sure if I can help much, I'm not a great teacher, but, uhm-", he looked at you, and you simply reciprocated his gaze; he blushed yet a little harder, fixed his glasses with a clumsy finger, and gave you a shy smile, "but, yeah. I'll be your partner."

☆.☆.☆

It was a Saturday night, and it felt strange not sitting in front of the mirror to apply some make-up, or get a decent outfit ready to wear to a night out with your friends. Instead, your old bag was thrown carelessly over your shoulder and the steps you took on the glistening asphalt were taking you to Hyunjin’s dorm, to study and work on the project with him at seven in the afternoon. Not what you normally busied yourself with, not on a weekend, but you hadn’t been this excited over a Saturday night plan in a good while. The day prior, Hyunjin had been ready to leave right after confirming he would partner up with you; that you needed to exchange phone numbers in order to be able to start the work he had seemingly forgotten, and you had giggled when he’d typed his contact into your phone with a guilty smile and a low-hanging head. He had replied quickly when you had texted him, clarifying his schedule – busier than you had expected, packed to the brim – before confirming to meet up today. And you had been giddy ever since.

When you knocked on his dorm room, Hyunjin opened moments later. He looked comfortable, in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, no glasses but his long, raven hair in a lazy bun. He smiled before welcoming you in, stepping aside and closing the door behind you. The room wasn’t big, much like your own, but clean, neat. Not much decoration on the walls but a picture or two, seemingly of family members, or close friends. You spotted multiple game consoles and a spacey monitor on his desk, an expensive looking keyboard, heavy headphones – different ones he took with him to class –, a mic, his school laptop on his bed. Two candles by his nightstand, and one bouquet of dried flowers on his windowsill; if dried on purpose of due to lack of care you were unsure, but they were pretty nonetheless.

Hyunjin stood behind you as you took in his small room, abashed and clearing his throat when you finally looked at him again. You smiled, and disposed your bag next to his bed.

“Nice room.”

He must have not expected the compliment; he looked perplexed, chuckling suddenly and a little too loud before thanking you quietly. He got rid of a couple strands of loose hair with a quick hand, and straightened his back, shaking his head as if to rid himself off thoughts, to find his way back to you. He gave you a quick smile, too; it was so pretty that you almost told him, almost stepped up to be level with him and touch the side of his face, purely to manifest him within you. Him and his face, his shy smile with its’ small, pearly teeth and glistening eyes.

“Alright, I guess we should start. The desk is pretty, uh, full and stuff, you can just sit on the bed, if... you don’t mind.” He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, motioned you to the bed. He tripped over the light carpet on his floor before finding his seat, though acted as though nothing had happened; cute.

“Just get comfortable.”

The sentence didn’t carry any connotation yet Hyunjin reddened after he spoke, and lost your eyes to rummage in his bag and in the drawers of his desk to fish out all the materials he thought he’d need. You smiled to yourself, and did as he told you; got comfortable on his bed, and got out your papers and pencils, spreading them out on his blanketed mattress. It smelt nice, his bed. Clean, almost like neutral linen, but with a hint of a scent you believed to be uniquely his. It was the first time you sensed it; you had never been close enough to him before to notice it, but now that you sat in the essence of it, in the core of his existence, in his very own four walls, it engulfed you. It was deep vanilla and sweetest honey, it was a scent dark and intense, but light. It wasn’t heavy, it didn’t suffocate you. It simply existed in the space around you, and it stuck to him; you doubted you’d ever forget the scent again.

When Hyunjin looked at you again, turning to face you on his chair, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes seemed to widen, his jaw to tighten. It felt unfamiliar seeing him without his glasses, though very much known to watch the pink flush creep up his neck. He blinked a couple times, simply watching you, and it wasn’t until you shifted in your place, sinking further into his mattress that he moved again, pretending to look for something, or really doing so. He cleared his throat and choked on his own spit, fell into a short coughing fit; you almost giggled, and when Hyunjin caught sight of your repressed grin, the pink on his neck deepened into a red; he was even more helpless than you initially thought. He was still looking around, not frantically but close to it, mumbling something you didn’t catch, until you spotted his glasses on the nightstand. You leaned over to get hold of them, and offered them to him, with eyes big and expectant.

“Are you looking for those?”

The room was so small that the distance between the edge of the bed and the desk was only an arm length, so Hyunjin got hold of the glasses simply by reaching out, thanking you. He was interesting; everything he did around you, from the way he moved to the way he spoke, seemed always to be happening in a state of trance, or incredible awkwardness you hoped stemmed from fluster, not discomfort. The feeling spreading in the pit of your stomach was indescribable, when Hyunjin, with soft, delicate fingers and a familiar move, placed the silvery glasses on the rich curve of his nose, fixing them into the dip of his ears before sliding them up; ready to work, and he looked concentrated momentarily, serious; far more attractive up close than when you watched him in class, and you wondered if you’d handle an entire hour of speaking to him while in his bed, in his room, in the midst of his scent.

Yet the hour flew by too fast for your liking, and before you knew it you were packing your bag and making your way to the door of Hyunjin’s dorm room. The hour had contained of more giggling and casual talking than you had thought, and it had gotten you excited. Maybe it was your fantasy, but Hyunjin had seemed interested; more than just into the project, interested in you, too. He had asked questions, had initiated conversation, had neglected his work. He had been – after half an hour – brave enough to poke fun at your lack of mathematical skill, after you had failed to understand an equation he’d tried to bring closer to you. You had gasped and acted hurt, and the giggle which he had followed up with had made you so speechless that Hyunjin had needed to continue with the explaining, flustered and stuttering, a little rocky; all hope of understanding his explaining had been lost there, but you hadn’t minded it.

Hyunjin stood by the door, held it open for you. There it was again, the fluster in his eyes, the flush on his neck; and you weren’t even doing anything. It’s not like the big doe eyes you caught his gaze with could play any role in his abash, or the purposeful teasing smile you shot him. It also couldn’t be the fact you simply stood in his door, waiting for him to say something, instead of leaving for the night with a simple goodbye, with your bag in hand, and quick fingers in your hair, pretending to fix it.

“Uh, we didn’t really come really far.”, he finally voiced with a chuckle, and you reciprocated. Yet you waited; it seemed there was more he wished to say. Hyunjin stepped from one foot to the other, furrowed his brows quickly before losing your eyes, locking your gaze again and opening his mouth, though without success initially. He closed it again, at a loss for words, and you cocked your head curiously, deliberately waiting, feigning ignorance. He huffed out an awkward chuckle, more air than laugh, and ruffled his hair. It made it look messier than before, but you liked it.

“Sorry, just – do you wanna meet tomorrow? I know it’s a Sunday, but... I don’t know, I thought we could work on the project some more. Only if you want to.”, he added quickly when you didn’t say anything. Only after you nodded with a smile Hyunjin’s shoulders seemed to relax, the tension in his body dissipating into relief.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Same time?”

☆.☆.☆

It had been two weeks of continuous meeting and working on the project with Hyunjin; but it had also been two weeks of continuous laughing and talking, of conversations far more memorable than the frustration over the schoolwork. Hyunjin had opened up to you, though still shy and quiet, far calmer around you now, more comfortable, it seemed. Yet you shied from initiating more; you had touched his thigh in friendly manner a week ago, barely a second, and the man had turned to a statue of stone, had lost sense of every word he’d had dancing on his lips, had lost train, even, of every thought; it had needed him a good five minutes before he had spoke again. Not only that, but he had eyed you the entire time after, hadn’t left his eyes wander from you, unless you’d caught and reciprocated them; only then his gaze had fallen to his fiddling hands in his lap, sneaking a look again only when you weren’t watching anymore.

You were sure he liked you, you doubted to be wrong about that; but ironically, you liked him too much to confront that, in fear of shying him away, of risking the delicate friendship which had developed over the past two weeks. The group project would end next week, and you weren’t sure if you’ve acquainted enough to stay friends beyond that.

You were sitting on Hyunjin’s bed, him on the mattress beside you, two hours into working on a PowerPoint which looked somewhat decent; decent to Hyunjin’s standards, that was, because you didn’t even know half the tricks he used to connect slides and merge texts and pictures; you would have stopped working on it a good while ago, deeming everything neat and sensible, but Hyunjin had looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, claiming it wasn’t near half-way done. You didn’t mind that he continued working on it; you enjoyed spending time with him, and you enjoyed watching him work, seeing him in his element. He had told you that he was into computers and everything regarding them, whether it was gaming or programming, or merely learning about the matter; you’d had the privilege to watch him build together a new keyboard he acquired, and as little interest as you had in the matter yourself, it was fascinating seeing him burn for something. He had grown bashful when he’d notice how much he had talked, and had apologized; when you’d admitted how cute it was, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, and had simply gone back to installing.

The small laptop lay on Hyunjin’s thighs as he typed away, finding new things to add, brows furrowed and the familiar, concentrated look in his eyes you knew so well from class; and, now, from working together with him. You watched him, weren’t left to do much more; and you enjoyed it. Hyunjin wore a nicely fitting polo-shirt over a simple flannel, and loose jeans which hung down his body leisurely. One of his fingers was adorned by a simple silver ring, matching with the silver of his square glasses; he looked unbelievable, and he didn’t even know it. Over the past week – if it was any possible – Hyunjin had somehow become even more beautiful to you. Knowing him closer made his exterior seem brighter, kinder; as though his soul reflected on his body and pulled you in even deeper than previous.

When he noticed you staring from his peripheral he caught your gaze, though not without his usual shyness. He chuckled a little before you smiled at him, and his eyes lost yours again.

“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His voice carried a hint of a whine, and your skin burned at the sound of it. The side of his face was a deep pink, his ears fire as he typed away on the project. You gathered your bravery; today could be the last time you’d meet him like this, with an excuse and void of brave initiations.

“I like looking at you. You’re cute when you’re working.”

He hadn’t expected it, neither have you; you meant the words, but you were surprised just how easily they slipped past your lips. Without friction, smooth; clear. So clear that Hyunjin stuttered around before going back to the laptop, the blue hues illuminating his face so prettily, you wished to remember this sight forever. Even if today didn’t go anywhere. Even if your short friendship would only be a memory a year down the line; you wished to remember the way his eyes glistened with a mix of confusion and curiosity in the dim light of the laptop screen, how his nose curved beneath his reflecting glasses, the way his tongue darted out and his wet lips caught again the hues of the computer.

Hyunjin mumbled a quiet “What are you saying?”, almost to himself because you barely caught it, and you huffed out in amusement.

“I’m serious.” Your tone was, too, and it made Hyunjin look at you, momentarily. His brows were furrowed, in something like question, doubt. It needed him a while to find his words, fishing them from somewhere within him; you could see the work in his mind, processing your words and understanding them, thinking of a response. You saw the whole process, before he finally spoke.

“Why, though?” Too long a time he took for two words only, but they sounded so honest your eyes softened, and your head cocked a bit, questioning. Hyunjin noticed, and followed up.

“I’m, like, boring. Why are you even hanging out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

The words flooded the room. They had felt trapped in your throat though gushed out the moment you allowed them, and they drowned you both in their weight. Hyunjin only sat, and looked at you. You have never seen him so pale, so colourless; you hoped it was a good sign.

“I don’t think you’re boring. You’re the most interesting person I know. And I like you.”

Only then Hyunjin’s face returned to the usual colour he’d acquired around you over the past two weeks; crimson red and his ears flaming, his neck probably hot if you only touched it. The moments of silence he granted you with were torturing, but the look in his eyes as he held your gaze looked promising; and then his cheeks painted pink, and he started blinking excessively.

“I... I like you, too.”

Two highschoolers confessing, but something about it was sweet, and pure, and ignited a fire within you.

“Can I kiss you?”, you heard yourself saying, and before you knew it, you felt his lips on your own. Soft, the very first thing you thought. Like clouds on your lips, or feathers, or sweet cotton candy. And though Hyunjin wasn’t skilled per se, a little helpless with his teeth and his tongue, unsure of what to do, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the slow pace of the kiss, the wet sounds your lips made when they touched. You enjoyed feeling his urge to touch you, to lay a finger on your thigh, before he collected enough courage to do so; and the touch was heavenly, too. Heavy on your body, significant and real. Everything about Hyunjin made you buzz; and then a whine slipped past his lips. It tumbled over into your mouth and you swallowed it, before Hyunjin could retract from you a bit, embarrassment glazing his eyes. You smiled in response, burning with a newly found passion now. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry.”, but you shook your head, softly, inching yet closer to him. You felt his breath on your lips, could see the droplet of sweat on his forehead. You could see your own reflection in his glasses; you took them off slowly before almost connecting back to a kiss, yet not quite.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanna hear that sound again.”

You closed the distance between you, and at your words Hyunjin complied, and let a sigh escape him. You almost reciprocated, almost followed suit; you had never heard anything prettier, anything more desperate and honest. You continued kissing him before you allowed your hands to explore his body, cautious of his reactions and even more eager when he leaned into your every touch. He was chasing you, your lips, your hands, your fingers which started playing with the loop of his leather belt. Hyunjin’s breathing had become staggered by this point, heavy and irregular, chest heaving so intensely you almost chuckled at it.

It was subtle, but when you felt his hips buck up from the mattress in impatient anticipation you moaned into him, and finally undid his belt, opened the button of his jeans. You retracted, gave a quick peck to his searching, reddened lips.

“That’s okay, yeah?”

Hyunjin didn’t seem like he had understood the question. He didn’t seem like he understood anything around him while he was looking at you; seeing him so very dumb founded, in absence of his usual cleverness and brains, was far better than you had anticipated, far more satisfying. It gave you an ego boost you didn’t know you needed, or wanted, for that matter.

You chuckled, and asked again; only then Hyunjin nodded frantically, following up with what felt like a million “Yes, yeah yeah, yes.”’s before you continued with a smug grin.

And it was adorable, seeing Hyunjin pucker his lips in the thought of feeling your lips on his again, only for you to lower your head, and bury your face in his neck instead. You felt his low whine against your lips before you heard it, and he sensed your smile against his skin, followed by a kiss deep and long, while your hands played with the waistband of his jeans. It’s been far too long he’d had anyone like this, embarrassingly long; and even longer since he’d liked someone as much as you. He was in trance as your lips travelled further down his body, not undressing him but catching bare spots of skin to plant kisses atop; his collarbones, the curve from his neck towards his shoulders, his jewellered chest right above the neckline of his shirt.

It wasn’t long before you were levelled with his core. Your position on the bed was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it was the least of your concerns. You pulled up the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt a bit to kiss at his abdomen, teasing and licking and making a show out of it, and it paid off; the man was flush against the wall of his room, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him, looking at you, blinking so often you wondered if he was able to see anything in between. And you were getting impatient. You could feel the faint weight of his erection beneath his jeans as you brushed his core occasionally, his jerks and jumps when you did so, silently begging you for more. When you asked another “Can I?” he nodded, and you pulled his erection from its’ confines. Hyunjin sucked in a breath at that, bashfulness written in his eyes, brows furrowed; and he suddenly looked for something, tapping across his mattress before he got hold of his glasses, slipping them on. He blushed when you cocked your head at him, fixed them onto his nose with a finger; you loved that habit.

“Just, wanna see everything clearly.”

He was almost ashamed when he said it, but he huffed out in embarrassed amusement when he heard you laugh softly, teasingly. Your hand tightened a bit around the base of his sex, causing him to tense up at the sudden pressure, and your fist moved further up his length. You looked up at him beneath your lashes, intently, dark, almost. You gave a single kitten lick to his tip, gave him a kiss after before smiling up at his dizzied expression; “Watch, then.”

With that, you started softly sucking on his tip, cautiously and void of hurry, taking your time. You were languish with it, letting your tongue dart out and dance across his skin, swirling it when he moaned out or tightened his fist which held captive the fabric of his vanilla scented blanket. You didn’t know that watching him throw his head back would bring you the pleasure it did, but watching Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple beneath the soft, frail skin of his neck made you roll your hips into nothing, the sweat slowly forming on his skin made you flush and sigh against him. You took him deeper, engulfing him in your warm, wet mouth, inch by inch, getting used to his length, the feeling of his heavy veins against your tongue. And he was shy with his hands, placed them everywhere but on you; ran his fingers through his hair with furrowed brows, fisted the fabric of his jeans, or the softness of the blanket, or the pillow laying next to him. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with you, when he caught sight of a loose strand of hair framing against your cheek that he was courageous enough to reach out; Hyunjin moved the hair out of your face softly, delicately almost, held it then, his palm a nice feeling on your skull. And he kept it there. Stroking your hair, tightening around it when you hollowed your cheeks, when you sucked away the salty precum oozing out his angry tip.

You felt him at the back of your throat. He was bigger than you had expected, and his weight lay on your tongue, his tip grazing repeatedly at your uvula, by now sensitive and reddened, though you didn’t stop your antics. Not when the sounds he let roll off his tongue increased not only in volume but in desperation, whines so high pitched you couldn’t help but grin against him. You watched him, every of his movement; the way his glasses slid off his nose before he fixed them with a haste movement, quick and messy, making them sit slightly tilted; enough for you to notice, not enough for him to care. The strands framing his face starting sticking against the sweat forming on his forehead, his lip had developed a bruise from his repeated biting on it; he was a mess, heaving breath and breathless sighs, sweaty palm fisting at your hair in utter helplessness. And he could barely speak a word, could barely form a thought, yet opened his mouth nonetheless, only for words to fail him. He stuttered about, whimpered more than he succeeded to speak. You slowed down your pace, halted a little in the bobbing movement of your head, let your jaw rest to allow him to collect his mind. He looked down at you, urges so deep swimming behind his eyelids, and he breathed out shakily, licked his bruised-up lips.

“I’m so close.”

The words came out his mouth almost apologetically, breathless and quiet. He sat there, back against the wall, an utter mess, too beautiful to be real; lips spit-covered as he spoke, brows formed into one line, eyes glazed with every human emotion this planet granted.

“Do you have condoms?”, you whispered against him, your voice hoarse and weak, your throat sore. He hadn’t expected the words, but nodded after a moment of blushing, motioning to his nightstand with a cock of the head. You eyed him teasingly before shifting to open the drawer of his nightstand; packs of painkillers and coughing drops, looking old and unused. Pencils and other useless stuff before you spotted packs of condoms shoved into the very back, and you fished for one before meeting his eye again. You contemplated teasing him about it; you knew he wasn’t bringing girls over regularly – if at all – to his dorm room, so the small stack of contraceptions was all but adorable – Hyunjin was so very reddened though, and looking so very bashful already that you decided against it, and busied yourself with sliding off your jeans instead, leaving you to sit in front of him in your shirt and panties.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not much exposed but when you straddled him your thighs were everything his eyes ate alive, shyly placing his hot palms atop them, breathing in shakily when you giggled at him. You tore open the little plastic wrapping, slid on the condom after a confirming nod of his; and when you leaned in to kiss him, he reciprocated it with a depth before not shown, clashing against your mouth clumsily but so passionately that you couldn’t mind it. You shifted in your place, lips never stopping to eat up his own, until you hovered above his erection. He felt your warmth atop him already, bucked his hips up in impatience only for his tip to graze your clothed sex; you both moaned at the embarrassingly short contact, and it was your cue to sink down on him slowly. You weren’t prepped, but you were wet enough for him to slide in easily after pulling your panties to the side, taking him inch by inch, not hurrying, dragging out the scenery. You watched him all the while, and the sight was utterly priceless; blown-out pupils beneath his glasses, a longing so grand behind his lids that you couldn’t help but kiss him again. A deep kiss as you bottomed out on him, felt him endlessly inside you, and he whined into your mouth, loud and raw when you clenched around him.

“I’m not gonna last long.”, he breathed out when you leaned back again; he was too adorable. Looking almost guilty, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs desperately. You chuckled before placing another peck on his swollen lips – even more like clouds now, puffy and soft to touch – and rolled your hips against him. He groaned deeply, throwing his head back with a quiet thump against the wall, hands tightening on your body, as though trying to hold you in place. You felt him twitch inside you, felt him throb against your depth; he wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t last at all.

“I don’t care. Just enjoy yourself.”

With that you started riding him slowly, and softly, giving him an opportunity to collect himself, though it was to little use. He was whining, he was throwing his head back and forth, lulling to the side, he was losing control of everything around him; his glasses slid off his nose repeatedly, sitting so deep they dared to fall off, sounds so loud you wondered if people outside could hear what was happening behind closed doors. His neck was red, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed so tight you wondered if it strained the muscles in his face; and you kept rolling your hips against him, chasing the feeling yourself, basking in the way he filled you out entirely. Basking in his sounds, in the sight of him, in the way he felt; this was better than what you had dared to dream of, and you hoped it would be yours for eternities to come.

It wasn’t two minutes, and not before you started bouncing up and down Hyunjin’s length slowly, with thighs strained and hips eager, that the man stuttered in his demeanour, bucking his hips so helplessly into your own, without much success in causing friction, simply to chase you, to chase the feeling, to come closer to you. And it wasn’t long after that when a whine so endearing, so frantic left his throat, and he came into the condom with a string of apologies and curses, and whispers of your name. You allowed him to ride out his high, moving against him in failed search of your own release, kissing at his neck and nibbling at the lobe of his ear, whispering reassurances, feeling his hands on your skin, his arms caging you in. His breathing was heavy, shaky, his eyes closed in exhaustion, or relief, or simple and pure pleasure when you leaned back again. You smiled to yourself, watching calmness take over him now; no nervousness now as you yet sat atop him, no awkwardness, only satisfaction, content.

When he opened his eyes and noticed your staring at him he blushed again, and upon remembering his softened sex inside of you he groaned lowly, twitching in his seat. He was sensitive, he was endearing; and for now he was yours. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it shyly; you fixed the glasses on his nose, gave him a long, deep kiss. He basked in it, simply let you kiss him, let you run your hands through his hair. It wasn’t until you guided his right hand to your core he sucked in a breath again, upon feeling your warm wetness on his fingertips; and he looked at you with eyes wide open when you leaned back, and whined out again when you whispered; “Gonna show you how you can make me feel good, too.”

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang

[pythonmoth]

cw: post torture trauma. depersonalization. denial. sick jokes as a coping mechanism.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

Part 3

Numb. And cold.

The light in the room is cold and white, devoid of any type of warmth.

Laying flat on the bed, you're barely blinking, your expression is detached, and unreadable.

Your body got so used to the torture that every time a medic moves too fast, you mentally brace yourself for a hit or for another toenail to be ripped off, not moving a muscle.

You've three toenails left, after all. Another three chances of pain.

Perhaps they could cut your fingers off, instead. Or your ears.

That'd be new.

Your eyes are fixed on the light bulb above your head, dimly aware of the medics moving around you as if you were in a simulation game. You hear them curse under their breath, sharing looks, and throwing worried glances at you.

At times, it feels like you're watching yourself on that table. You're the light bulb.

It needs fixing.

The medics have already tended to your feet and toes, your fingers, and deep down you can't help but find it hilarious that, despite the drugs they gave you for the pain, your raw fingers throb bad enough for you to remember it perfectly.

You will never forget the pain.

Or perhaps you've already forgotten.

Images of Si Ghost, a hidden smirk behind the mask, ripping your nails off and showing them to you before throwing them to the side, laughing at you with Soap, and Price, fill your mind. Your past screams break through the image, your fingers twitching briefly.

Is it a memory?

You grimace inwardly.

You're not sure.

Perhaps it is. Or not.

As you're held up by two medics and put to sleep on another bed, drugged out of your mind, you stop worrying about it.

You're mistaken. Surely. Must be.

There's no way it was actually Simon; you're just going crazy. He will come and tuck you to bed as he always does. He'll bring Johnny tomorrow and the three of you will have some of the cookies Johnny keeps hidden in his room, safe from the Captain and the rest, the hungry lot. And they'll have the beer Simon bought the other day. And then Simon will give you a goodnight kiss.

There's no way.

Must be a mistake. Your mind is playing tricks.

Disdain. Laughter. Curses.

"Traitor".

No matter how hard you fight it, your eyes fall shut. With a soft sigh, you smile, amused at yourself. The blanket is soft against your cheeks, your mind spinning happily as exhaustion takes over.

You're mistaken.

"The pinky is next. You're still not giving me names".

You will just sleep it off.

"Please, give me their names. Please".

Nightmares.

As you wake up in cold sweat, hastily standing up from the bed, you put pressure on your cut feet with no care, and it makes you let out a sharp cry. Shocked to your core, you fall down on your knees, screaming in pain again when your hands brace your fall, making the raw skin of your fingertips stretch and burn.

You're suddenly aware of your injuries.

Memories rush to your mind. And they're real.

They're very real.

When the door springs open and you see Si Ghost rushing over to you, his eyes tormented behind the mask, you ignore the pain in your body and quickly crawl back, dragging yourself away from him, not hiding the fear in your expression.

You can't hide it, even if you wanted to.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he says, lowering himself to the ground in a heartbeat, his knees touching the cold floor, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible.

You don't realize you're crying until you taste it in your lips and, even then, you don't even dare breathing. You're not blinking, staring at Ghost in complete silence.

Funny. Crying will forever remind you of it.

"Please, you're safe. You're okay" he assures you, his voice rough and shaky. Ghost shifts forward slowly, but the tension in your shoulders makes him pause.

"I won't touch you. I promise" Ghost murmurs, keeping his hands on his thighs, in full display. "W-we were tricked. A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago when we brought you here. I'm so—"

You burst out laughing.

"You're sorry" you crackle. "You're sorry".

"I won't give you any excuses. Price told me he was certain, and I— I had to do my job. Please—"

"Stay away from me".

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleads, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Lovie, please".

Your laughter turns into sobs the longer he speaks. Lovie. It sounds so ridiculous right now that even if you're terrified of him you wish you had the strength to strangle him.

Alas, the lack of fingernails makes it difficult.

You press yourself against the bed, unable to stand up, unable to look at Ghost as he stares at you. You can just shake your head, your shoulders never relaxing, your entire body coiled with pain and grief.

Ghost moves slowly as he takes his mask off, leaving it on the floor in front of him. His eyes are downcast, his blonde hair messy and you can see he's been barely eating, however long you've been here.

He looks like shit.

Perhaps, if this was a few days ago, you'd be making a silly joke so he doesn't feel so vulnerable. You would've kissed him and played with his blonde eyelashes until he rolled his eyes, and playfully smacked your hand away.

Now, mask or no mask, you don't know this man.

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

Masterlist | Part 4

buy me a coffee

styling decisions bc this reader is traumatized as hell. and no, no forgiving.

it'll stay for a bit. you'll be noticing the change in reader's emotions through it!

[mona-risms]

hear me out.. polytrix x reader where fem!reader doesn't know about the whole demon hunter thing and is still under the hypnosis from the saja boys and the girls try their hardest to snap her out of it. 🫦

◆ MAIN COURSE: poly!HUNTR/X x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: This might've SLIGHTLY teeny tinily missed the point but I hope you still like it!! I can't make a full-blown fic without getting paid bc I'm broke as hell and I'm lazy so the most you're getting is the usual hcs and snippets I fear 💔. But anyway I LOVELOVELOVE POLYTRIX 😩😩😩😩😩 I think they should all kiss together and kiss me too

This is the funniest shit ever and no one can tell me otherwise bc you've got three ninja popstars and one perfectly normal human being who just really really loves K-Pop. And you all LOVE each other????? #holyfcknairball no one would believe you until you show full proof that yes you do in fact kiss those celebrities on the mouth! Every day actually! Unless they're on tour but still! Yes you are a girls only poly couple! You couldn't be happier!

Unfortunately bc of the fact that you're normal, you won't even know that the hot new boy band, Saja Boys, are all drawing people in via brainwashing to sacrifice your souls to a Demon King named Gwi-Ma that looks like an oversized wildfire. Said people includes you I fear 💔💔. Imagine you were out coincidentally and you got to witness their debut performance and you were so drawn to them!! Why wouldn't you be??

They hear your voice before they see you—right there, right near the front row, right in front of them.

"What's she doing here?" Mira hissed, though despite her tone, the concern was glaringly obvious.

"I think she wanted to buy something? She said about baking," Zoey answered, her own concern matching up with Mira as she bounced on the balls of her feet in an attempt to both alleviate her sudden restlessness and to see you from the crowd. "But-- But what if they try to grab her? [Y/N]'s at a very grabbable distance! And the worst thing is I won't even blame them—she's really grabbable in general!"

Zoey doesn't even finish before Rumi's weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach you, "Either way, no one is getting grabbed, least of all our girlfriend."

When Rumi does reach you, she taps your shoulder to gain your attention. Without fail, you turn around and smile widely in recognition, "Ru-- Ahem, babe! Did you see how good this new band was? They're called the Saja Boys!"

"Yeah. I heard."

Usually, you would've noticed her sudden deadpan, but you were buzzing too much under your skin from the sudden excitement of this new debut so you barrelled on, "Maybe you and them'll even collab one day! Wouldn't that be awesome?!"

"Yeah, awesome, now c'mon, we need to get out of the crowd," she effortlessly twines her fingers in yours, which you reciprocate happily as you follow her while still going on about the Saja Boys. But when she dares to look back at the boy band, she noticed the black-haired demon in disguise's eyes on you.. and then on her, as if he knew very well what was going on.

When you finally get out of the crowd, you rejoin your other two loves of your life with a cheek kiss for Mira and then a squealing hug with Zoey.

Mira doesn't hesitate to ask as you and the shortest HUNTR/X member basically wrapped yourselves on each other, "Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"Yeah, like, did they ever, I dunno.. suck your soul out or something?" Zoey asked, and then quietly winced as Mira and Rumi both signalled not to say anything with exaggerated expressions and hand gestures behind you.

You giggled at the line of questioning, "What? No? My soul definitely felt like it ascended while watching them, though! You guys are funny."

While you and Zoey were busy clinging onto each other, Rumi pulled Mira in to whisper to her, "They know."

"Know what?"

"That we're linked together in some way? That she's a normal human? I don't know, but they know and I don't want to risk her to find out. Do you?"

And their gazes drift to you as you spoke animatedly with Zoey, equally rambling to you and matching your energy in turn—probably both invested in the situation and also well-aware of the much-needed secret debriefing.

And Mira shook her head with furrowed brows, "Absolutely not."

"Good."

Whenever the girls are all "DON'T FALL FOR THEM" you're so confused bc like. Why?? What's up with them recently???? Ever since the Saja Boys popped up, they've been so weirdly pressed about them every time you brought them up. Like, sure, rivalry's one thing, but you've seen them with rivalries before!!!!! It's not like the Saja Boys have like killed people or smth lmfao it's okay the world's not gonna end if you stan them too (cue the scene with them and Bobby looking at the same city and seeing Two Completely Different Views)

Every time you're ever with them one way or another and the Saja Boys are around/involved they are LOCKING THE FUCK IN. Constantly trying to redirect your attention and theirs like "Do Not Look At Her" and if you ever get too close they'll be all "back the FUCK up actually". And whenever thry try to pull all that hypnotising shit on you they are DRAGGING YOU AWAY and kissing you until you run out of air and forget what you were even thinking about like a min ago 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

They're so much more attentive towards you, and during the two weeks of the Saja Boys being there, you are NOT allowed to be without at LEAST one of them. Why?? Ohhhh yk cuz they just really really miss you, that's all!!!!! They did just come out of a world tour so like they wanna be with you for as much as possible ahahahaha definitely bc the boy band you're fawning over rn are actually demons that want to consume your soul!!! Especially yours!!!!!! Bc they know you're special to them all ahahahahaahahahahahahaahahhaa

Oh but it'd be devastating if Mira and Zoey saw you with the crowd after Rumi's breakdown. Not only Bobby was brainwashed, but so are you, mindlessly following the masses. And as much as they want you to fight it, to remember, they can't even blame you or find the strength; they failed, Rumi hid she was part-demon the entire time, it's over

You'd be one of the people closest to Gwi-Ma's flames on purpose I think—a twisted way for Jinu to make your sacrifice quick and painless. But when Rumi and then Zoey and Mira both clock it? Absolutely the fuck not dude Gwi-Ma just made them even fucking MADDER

At the end of it they know they'll definitely have to explain everything to you, considering. From the Saja boys to Rumi explaining herself properly ALLLLL the way to how they're Hunters and what they do. But at the very least you're not dead thank GOD

"You guys know I don't actually know how to feel right now, right? Finding out that my girlfriends have been constantly getting into near-death experiences as, like, idol ninjas with magic weapons isn't really for the faint of heart—let alone finding out demons and supernatural whatevers are real."

The four of you migrated to Rumi's bed after that whole ordeal at the Tower, tired and exhausted and in need of a good cuddle pile. Right now, you and Rumi were cuddled up against each other, her patterns casting a soft glow on your skin, while Mira was spooning you with her tall frame and Zoey clung onto Rumi like a koala.

The trio had the decency to wince a little, and Mira spoke first in defence, "To be fair, we did get trained for, like, years not to give anything away, including our Hunter profession."

"And I'm your girlfriend," you sighed as your hand traced the jagged glowing lines across Rumi's skin, "I thought we weren't going to hide anything. No wonder sometimes you lot disappear without any explanation—this whole time, you've been.. slaying demons?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You hummed.. before putting your attention on Rumi, "And you. You really think we were going to love you any less because of what you're mixed with?"

"Um. Kinda?" Rumi looked to the side, averting your gazes, "It's-- I was raised to think that I should be ashamed of it, that I need to hide. It's--"

"Why you always have a separate green room?"

"Why you don't go into the batthouse with us?"

Rumi nodded, though not without a flush on her cheeks, "..yeah."

Your gaze softened as you lightly bit your lip before cupping her face for a short but tender kiss, "You think that's gonna really scare me—us—away? Mira and Zoey came back to you after the shock, and I sure as hell don't care if you were part-turtle or whatever--"

"Being part-turtle would be cool! ..Or super slow, depends--"

"My point being," you interrupted Zoey with an affectionate chuckle, "we love you because you're our Rumi. Not an idol, not a demon, just our Rumi—the one that overthinks, overworks and gets so into her head that we'd have to shut it for her. ..No more hiding, yeah?"

Rumi doesn't respond, not for a long while, and thre three of you are content in just laying there in silence, with her patterns casting a brighter yet softer glow on all of you. But eventually she buries her head in your chest, muffling her eventual answer, "..Mhm. Thank you."

Zoey's hold on Rumi tightened as she practically nuzzled into the latter's back, all while Mira reached over to hold Rumi's hand, now back to its human shape compared to the claws she had briefly before. No one else says anything, and that's perfectly fine for the four of you.

"..So I guess I'm retiring from stanning anyone but you guys."

"Obviously!" "Duh." "You are."

[kxsagi]

Omg omg hc of blue lock boys of your choice with a reader who is literally like a Disney princess😍😍😍 like she sings, energetic, maybe even sassy and is very friendly to animals🙏🙏🙏

“𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭”

a/n: i'm sorry if this didn't come out how you wanted, for some reason the concept was a little hard for me to write (maybe bc i don't watch much disney movies), but i do love the disney princesses! jasmine is my favorite she's literally such a queen

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

you once sang to a squirrel. like, full-on ballad. isagi swore he hallucinated the moment, especially when the squirrel climbed on your shoulder and patted your cheek like it understood your song. 

ever since then, he’s convinced you’re an anime magical girl in the wrong franchise. 

tries to match your disney energy by singing too. but isagi cannot sing. and he knows it. still, he tries. 

you sang a lullaby to a stray cat once and he joined in. the cat left. 

he keeps googling “how to be a prince” and accidentally ends up watching tik toks of golden retriever boyfriends doing surprise picnics. 

he tries it. ends up getting chased by a goose when he lays the blanket too close to its nest. you were delighted. “look, she’s just being a protective mother 🥰” 

isagi becomes very protective of you in the weirdest ways. like he’ll gently move you away from a puddle. or carry you down a hill. or try to scare off a butterfly because “what if it’s poisonous– okay yes i know that’s dumb but what if???” 

whenever you twirl in a dress, he visibly malfunctions and has to look away so he doesn’t combust. 

itoshi sae

sae stares at you a lot. not in a romantic sigh way but in a how did this fairy get here and why is she harmonizing with a duck kind of way. 

he genuinely doesn’t understand how you’re real. 

“you talk to birds like they pay rent.” 

“they listen to me because i treat them with kindness 🥰” 

“… okay, but that was literally a seagull. those things eat trash and lie.” 

you once hugged a tree and thanked it for providing shade. sae thought about walking into the ocean. 

he acts completely unfazed, but he finds you ridiculously charming. like, the way you wave at ants or hum while cooking makes him stare like he's trying to process his emotions with a firewall installed. 

despite being your grumpy opposite, he lowkey enables your princess habits. like, he’ll pretend he’s not watching, but he makes sure your sunflower you planted is getting sunlight. or casually shoves his jacket on you when you go off to “chat with the forest frogs.” 

once called you “your highness” sarcastically. you said, “thank you, loyal knight 🫶” and he didn’t respond because he was smiling. actually smiling. 

itoshi rin

you sang a duet with a stray cat and rin almost called an exorcist. 

he’s constantly confused. like you’re his girlfriend but you also frolic. he doesn’t even know how to walk normally, how are you frolicking?? 

the type to stand stiffly while you dance around him like “i baked cookies and named them after clouds ☁️” 

he does make a huge effort to match your energy in his own emotionally stunted way. 

you say “ohh look at the baby ducklings!” 

rin says “don’t touch them, the mom might abandon them, and you’ll be sad. so. i’m helping you.” (read: “i care about your feelings and am therefore protecting ducklings.”) 

he tried to write you a poem once, but it turned into something that rhymed “love” with “shove” because he couldn’t think of a second line and got mad. 

when you call him your prince, he gets flustered and says, “you’re delusional,” but his ears turn pink. then he glares at a pigeon for landing on your head like how DARE you touch her royal scalp. 

shidou ryusei

no thoughts. just: “you’re like if a cupcake and an anime girl had a baby and gave it forest powers.” 

shidou is obsessed with you. like, he tells people he’s dating a disney princess. seriously. even his mom knows. 

he goes feral trying to impress you. “babe, if i punch this wall hard enough will birds sing around me?” 

“no, baby, they’ll die of fear.” 

wants to be your prince SO bad. but like… a hot prince. shirtless. scar across his chest. mysterious backstory. dramatic cape. 

you keep asking him to rescue frogs from the street and he does, but dramatically. like, scoops them up and says, “run now, tiny king. be free 🐸” 

tried to serenade you once with an electric guitar solo. ended up scaring away every squirrel within a 3-mile radius. you clapped anyway and he fell in love harder. 

buys matching crowns from party city. calls you “princess peach” in public. if you ever wear a tiara he will bark. literally. bark. 

bachira meguru

soulmate behavior. the two of you are like woodland creatures who learned to talk and fell in love. 

you sing to animals. he joins in. you hold hands and spin. you both fall down. it’s beautiful. 

you talk to flowers. he gives them voices. “this one’s name is kebi and he’s tired of the bees stealing his pollen. kebi wants to unionize.” 

he wants to be your prince, but not the boring ones. he wants to be your chaos prince. 

wears a cape made of leaves. tries to do parkour off a bench to “save” you from a duck. fails. gets pecked. 

he loves being your sidekick. will 100% carry a birdseed pouch in his pocket for you. 

if you ever cry, he sings your song in a squeaky falsetto voice until you laugh. then kisses your forehead and says “no tears, disney queen. only sparkles and mushrooms now.” 

karasu tabito

confused, but intrigued. 

you're the exact opposite of what he expected to fall for. like, he’s loud, sarcastic, slightly gremlin-coded. and you? you're out here rescuing caterpillars and naming them after weather patterns. 

he pretends he’s too cool for it, but one time you kissed a frog on the nose “just in case,” and he started googling “how to compete with amphibians.” 

calls you “cinderella” when you sweep the kitchen while humming. but gets all weirdly quiet when you smile and say “does that make you my prince?” 

once tried to whistle to a bird to impress you. accidentally summoned a seagull that stole his sandwich. he says he planned it. he did not. 

tries to “be your prince” by doing dumb macho things like lifting heavy stuff or getting rid of spiders, then looking at you like “yeah. masculine. clap for me.” 

you clap every time. he pretends to hate it. he loves it. 

said “i’d kiss your hand, but that squirrel looks like it’s guarding you with its life.” 

mikage reo

THRIVES in your fairytale aesthetic. he lives for it. the moment you twirled in a flowy skirt and sang a song about chasing butterflies, he fell face-first in love. 

immediately starts planning castle dates. “babe. listen. what if i rented a pony for your birthday. no, better, what if i bought one. no, wait, two. for company.” 

keeps trying to match your energy but comes off like a spoiled nobleman instead of a prince. 

“i shall protect you, my flower 🌹” 

“reo. that’s a bunny.” 

“it looked suspicious.” 

tries to learn how to sing just to harmonize with you. takes one lesson and gives up because “my vibrato sounded like a dying microwave.” 

you make daisy chains for squirrels and he’s just standing behind you like 🧍“should i be kneeling or proposing right now?” 

bought a matching heart-shaped hairbrush for you and his golden retriever. made it a family bonding activity. 

panics when you get sad because he doesn’t know how to comfort “royal-level emotions.” ends up buying you eight plushies and baking a lopsided cake. 

nagi seishiro

calls you “princess” every five seconds but with zero effort. 

“hey princess, hand me the remote.” 

“nap time, princess.” 

“don’t get kidnapped by birds again, princess.” 

he’s so lazy but somehow still ends up doing prince stuff just because you look at him with sparkly eyes. 

you: “i wish someone would get that book on the top shelf…” 

nagi, already getting up from the couch: “ugh. annoying. but okay.” 

doesn’t care about animals at all, but when he saw a bluebird perch on your hand, he looked at it like it was personally challenging him for your love. 

“what does that bird have that i don’t?” 

“hollow bones, probably.” 

once tried to build you a swing out of vines “like in those disney movies.” it broke in five seconds. you landed in a flower bush. he gave you a thumbs up and said, “you looked like a floating fairy, though.” 

lets you braid his hair and put flowers in it while he plays on his phone. tells people you’re magical every chance he gets. 

never shows it, but he’s proud to be your “lazy prince.” doesn’t need a sword, he’s fighting dragons by napping harder than anyone else. 

kaiser michael

oh he is OBSESSED. 

the moment you sang a lullaby to a baby duck, he spun around like “okay who let a disney NPC escape from the movie set?” 

tries to act all cool and aloof, but he’s a disaster behind the scenes. googled “how to be a fairytale prince” at 3 AM. also googled “can i duel a squirrel for my girlfriend’s honor?” 

when you call animals “my little friends,” he gets jealous. 

“you said i was your special little guy.” 

“you are, mihya.” 

“then why are you feeding peanuts to that raccoon like he pays the bills???” 

bought you a designer gown because “you need to look the part.” tries to get you to wear it in public. you wore a sundress with a flower crown instead and he still blushed. 

if you sing, he joins in dramatically, full musical-style. starts spinning in circles, grabs a broom and pretends it’s a sword. adds background vocals. the neighbors are scared. 

secretly wants you to draw hearts on his face with glitter paint and call him “my brave knight.” won’t say it out loud, but he does pout when you give all the affection to birds instead. 

ness alexis

ness adores you. thinks you’re the most magical being on earth. he worships the ground you skip on. 

tries so hard to act like your princely bodyguard. bows to you constantly. opens every door. whispers “your majesty” when he hands you snacks. 

loves how sweet you are to animals, but he gets suspicious of them. like, side-eyes squirrels. whispers “watch yourself, buddy” to a raccoon once. 

when you sing, he gasps like it’s a royal performance and claps dramatically. probably cries the first time you serenade him. 

“that was beautiful! i’m going to cry. i’ll cry for both of us if you don’t want to mess up your makeup.” 

insists on practicing ballroom dancing in the living room with you. spins you once, gets dizzy, falls into the couch, and just lies there like “i regret nothing.” 

his entire camera roll is blurry zoomed-in pics of you feeding ducks or talking to bees. sends them to kaiser with captions like “she is the light of the world 🐝” 

once drew a glitter crown on your forehead with makeup pen and called it “your princess seal.” he wore a matching one. then got mad when a squirrel sat on your lap and not his. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[moondustbaby]

“What the Hell Was That??”

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: cursing, a physical fight (scratching/hair pulling level), reader is tipsy and feral, Rafe is smug and hot, best friend to ohhh this is different, one use of “y/n”

summary: You’re not usually the type to start a fight at a party—but when some girl won’t shut up, you snap. Rafe is equal parts shocked, proud, and kind of turned on.

⸻

You were not planning to fight anyone tonight.

You came for the drinks, the music, and the warm summer air. You wore your favorite little top, let Rafe take cute pics of you on his phone, and you’ve been sipping vodka cranberries since nine. That was the plan.

But of course, she had to show up.

Stupid bitch in a strapless dress, fake tan streaked across her collarbone, mouth running since the second she walked in.

At first, it was passive.

A fake smile. A comment about your outfit. A whisper behind your back that she meant for you to hear.

You let it slide. Two drinks in, you laughed it off. You leaned into Rafe’s side and made a joke about how she’s always been obsessed with you.

But by midnight?

She’s still hovering.

Still talking.

Still looking at you like you’re something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

And maybe it’s the fourth drink. Or maybe it’s the way she calls you “Rafe’s little shadow” like you’re not right there—but your blood boils, and something inside you just snaps.

“She keeps saying it,” you mutter, pacing toward the back patio.

Rafe is following you instantly. “Who?”

“That girl. Madison. Whatever the fuck her name is.”

Rafe blinks. “What’s she saying?”

You spin around. “That I’m only here because of you. That I tag along everywhere. That I’m annoying and desperate and can’t take a hint.”

His face goes blank. Sharp. “She said that to you?”

You nod. “Loudly.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens. “Do you want me to say something—?”

“No,” you say, already turning. “I got it.”

You’re already storming back through the house, weaving through bodies and beer breath and bass-thumping walls. Rafe tries to catch your wrist, but you’re moving too fast, eyes locked on the girl now laughing near the drink table like she owns the place.

You don’t remember what you said.

You just remember the way her lip curled.

The way her eyes raked over you like you were nothing.

And the next thing you know—you’re grabbing a fistful of her hair.

“Oh my god!” someone screams.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea. Drinks slosh. Phones come out. You and Madison crash onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and shrieking chaos.

“Get off me, psycho bitch!”

“Say it again, I dare you!”

Hands are flying. Nails scrape. She tries to shove you off but you’re still yelling, still writhing, still clinging to her like you’ve blacked out on pure rage.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s voice cuts through the crowd, sharp and frantic. “What the fuck—”

He pushes through the circle of gasping, recording partiers and grabs you under the arms, tugging hard.

“Hey— Enough!”

You’re still flailing, still hurling curses over your shoulder as he drags you away.

“I said don’t talk about me! I will end you—!”

“Okay,” Rafe mutters, wrapping both arms around your waist now. “That’s enough murder threats for the night.”

“She started it!”

“Oh, I believe you.”

“I wasn’t done!”

“You were definitely done, baby,” he says through a breathless laugh.

You don’t stop until he yanks you fully through the back door, pulling you into the cool summer air and slamming it shut behind you. It’s quiet out here—except for the party still raging inside and the sound of your furious breathing.

He’s still holding you.

Your chest heaves against his, face flushed, fists clenched.

Rafe’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before.

“What the hell was that?”

You glare up at him. “I don’t know.”

“Was that a full-on girlfight in the kitchen?”

“She had it coming.”

Rafe blinks.

Then laughs.

Like, laughs.

You yank away from him. “Are you laughing?”

He holds up a hand. “No—yes—I’m just—holy shit. I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Feral,” he grins. “You were throwing hands.”

You shove his chest. “She was talking shit!”

“I know,” he says quickly. “And I’m not mad. I’m just—baby, you almost took her scalp.”

You pause. “You’re not mad?”

Rafe looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks, the wild look in your eye.

“No,” he says, voice suddenly low. “I’m kinda proud.”

You blink.

“Like…weirdly turned on,” he adds.

You stare.

He stares back.

And then something shifts.

His hands are still on your arms. Your chest is still heaving. And he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you, but isn’t sure if he should.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” you mumble.

Rafe steps in, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve never caused a scene in your life.”

“Exactly.”

“Which makes this,” he gestures behind him, “fucking iconic.”

You bite back a smile.

“I didn’t like what she was saying,” you admit softly.

He nods. “I didn’t either.”

“She said I’m just your shadow.”

“She’s stupid.”

You look up at him. “You don’t think I’m clingy?”

Rafe exhales a laugh. “If you are, I must be too—since I literally follow you around like a damn puppy.”

You smile.

“You’re not my shadow,” he says, voice softer now. “You’re my person. And anyone who doesn’t get that can shut the fuck up.”

You look at him.

His hands are still on your waist.

Your heart is pounding.

And before you can even think to question it—he’s kissing you.

It’s not hard or rushed. Just slow. Certain.

Like he’s wanted to for a while.

When he pulls back, his voice is low and playful.

“You’re kinda hot when you’re violent.”

You smack his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He grins. “I’m serious. That was, like…weirdly life-changing.”

“Don’t make this your Roman Empire.”

“Oh, it already is.”

You groan, hiding your face in his chest.

He just laughs again, arms tightening around you as the chaos fades into something warm and steady.

And yeah—maybe you weren’t planning to fight anyone tonight.

But you’ve never been pulled out of a kitchen brawl into a kiss like that before.

So maybe it was worth it.

a/n: hi hi!! this one was based on a request and i had way too much fun writing it lmao. reader going full feral, rafe dragging her out like “baby what the hell was that” and then being all smug and proud?? yes pls. this is unhinged best friends to lovers energy at its finest and i hope you love it! thank you as always for reading!! 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

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[kdh-tally]

Heyooo! I just wanted to say thank you so much for doing my Miromabby headcanon request. I absolutely loved it! 🥹💖

Sooo I have another idea I’d love to share. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever thought of this before, but… what if there were sasaengs but they’re demons, who are dangerously obsessed with the Huntrix? Like, full-on stalking and even attempting to kidnap them because of their twisted fan infatuation. It starts to genuinely scare or annoy the girls.

How would the Saja boys react to this? What would they do if they witnessed a Huntrix being targeted or kidnapped right in front of them?

Huntr/x Struggling with Demon Sasaengs

Prompt : A few demons seemed to have grown too fond of Huntr/x

Author's Note : I feel like i've been writing so much angsty stuff lmao but I love it ;P I enjoyed writing this one though and have more ideas for a possible part 2!! And you are so welcome for the Miromabby request <333 I love them so much.

The Fan Isn’t Human

It started with flowers.

Zoey thought they were from a fan who worked at the florist near their company, but the same exact bouquet, red lilies wrapped in black silk, showed up five days in a row. Then at night. Then directly at the door of their penthouse.

She didn’t say anything at first. Told herself it was just a persistent fan with no sense of boundaries. But then one of her old training photos, one she had never posted, was pinned between the petals.

There was no return address. No obvious form of identification. Just a disturbing aura around each gift.

Rumi tore hers in half the second she saw it and dumped it in the trash. She didn’t let sasaengs get to her, not anymore. They had dealt with this before. She made Bobby tighten security around both the penthouse and company dorms.

Mira had laughed at hers, brushing it off. She wasn’t the type to get scared, and she hated seeing the other girls so shaken. The girls were trained and powerful hunters. Who would dare come against them?

That changed the night a package appeared inside their living room. It was wrapped in black thread. Filled with photos taken without their knowledge. Images of them sleeping, training, eating. Some from inside the dorm.

Their penthouse was supposed to be locked down.

They started locking the windows.

–

Baby was the first to piece things together.

He saw Rumi getting quieter. Zoey’s excitement felt more like forced energy. Mira had started glancing behind her even when no one was there.

At first, he thought it was just comeback pressure. But that changed the night he came back from a snack run and saw it in the elevator. A sigil etched faintly into the steel panel.

It was traced in so lightly that he almost didn’t notice it. It was old demon magic, and carved into the center were all three of their names.

He took a photo and showed it to the boys the next morning.

“They’re demons,” Baby said. “Pureblood and obsessive. They’re feeding off the girl’s energy.”

Mystery leaned over his shoulder. “Do the girls know?”

“They’ll think it’s sasaeng fans,” Jinu muttered, pacing. “They’d never expect actual demons.”

Romance zoomed in on the image, jaw tight. “They’re targeting all three. And they’re getting bolder.”

–

It happened two days later.

Mira had wrapped up her solo recording early. She told staff she’d walk back alone—it was only ten minutes. She wore her hood up, Takedown blasting through her headphones, eyes trained on the ground.

The first one stepped out of an alley halfway home. He wore a Huntrix hoodie and smiled in a way she didn’t like. He had a familiar face. Maybe someone from a fan call.

She hesitantly raised her hand in greeting.

Then two more appeared behind her.

Then the chanting started.

Her gut dropped. She moved fast, dropping her bag and summoning her guandao in one motion. The magic of the Honmoon burst around her in a burst, but it didn’t push them back.

Why weren’t they weakening?

“You belong to us,” one of them said. “We’ve been watching. Waiting. You shine so beautifully.”

“Try me,” Mira sneered.

They lunged.

She fought them off fast and defensive. They didn’t try to kill her. They kept reaching for her, grabbing. One of them nearly clipped her arm. Her blade sliced clean through another’s sleeve, but he didn’t seem hurt. 

Her breathing hitched. Her footing slipped.

And then heat slammed into the alley.

Abby landed hard beside her, flames curling around his fists. The air shifted, warped by magic. His voice was sharp.

“You seriously thought you could touch her and walk away?”

The demons hissed, retreating into the shadows. But before they vanished completely, one of them locked eyes with Abby.

“We’ll try again.”

–

They relocated to Bobby’s beach house. No one outside the two groups knew they were there. The girls sat at the kitchen table in silence. Mira’s arm was bandaged. Zoey hadn’t spoken much all night. Rumi kept glancing at the door, her knee bouncing anxiously as though waiting for someone to burst in.

“You’re being watched,” Jinu said.

“We’re fine,” Mira answered, but her voice wavered.

Jinu didn’t move. “You don’t have to lie.”

Baby leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “There was a sigil in your penthouse. An enchanted one. It’s ancient. They’re not just stalking you. They’re trying to bond themselves to you.”

“Fans who turned into demons?” Rumi asked.

“Worse,” Abby said. “They’re demons who became fans.”

Zoey curled tighter on the counter. “I thought we were done with demons.”

“We’ve dealt with enemies before,” Mira said. “Gwi-ma, cursed letters, blackmail—”

“But this?” Rumi asked. “This feels different.”

“The Honmoon doesn’t even affect them. It’s like they’re resistant to our weapons” Mira mumbled, remembering how none of the demons dispersed even after she attacked them.

“They’re not trying to hurt you,” Romance said, entering the room. “They’re trying to own you. All of you.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Rumi asked.

Jinu answered before anyone else could.

“You don’t do anything,” he said. “We do.”

The waves outside were loud enough to fill the silence.

Everyone had filtered out of the kitchen, Mystery the last, quiet and unreadable. Only two of the girls remained. Zoey hadn’t moved from the counter. Rumi was sitting on the floor, her back against the cabinets, arms resting on her knees.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Zoey exhaled slowly, her head tipped against the cupboard behind her. “I can’t stop thinking about that picture,” she said.

Rumi looked up.

“The one in the flowers,” Zoey explained. “The photo of me from trainee days. That was taken through the dorm window. My blinds were half shut. I remember that night.”

She shook her head. “I was lying on the floor, doing stretches and watching a c-drama. I wasn’t doing anything special. But they were there. Watching.”

Zoey pulled her sleeves over her hands. “I know sasaengs are always intense, but this is different. They’re not after our time or attention. They don’t want photos. They want us. Like, actually take us.”

Rumi’s fingers tapped against her leg. She let the girl ramble. They both needed this.

Zoey went on, more quietly now. “I don’t know what’s worse. That they’re demons, or that they act exactly like the humans we’ve been trying to ignore.”

There was another pause. Rumi finally leaned her head back against the cabinet.

“I always thought I could handle this stuff,” she said. “Sasaengs. Obsession. Jealousy. Whatever came with the job. I’ve always thought I could handle myself.”

Zoey nodded. She knew that about Rumi. They all did.

“But this?” Rumi’s voice lowered. “They got into our home. They left that box on our couch. We were just sitting there hours before. Laughing. Eating.”

Zoey didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

“I hate that I felt scared,” Rumi said. “I hate that they’re going to keep trying, even with the boys watching.” She wasn’t angry, just tired.

Zoey looked at her.

“They won’t get us though,” Rumi said, finally meeting her eyes. “No matter how many flowers they send or how many spells they chant. They don’t get to have us.”

Zoey nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

They didn’t say anything else for a while. They just stayed in the kitchen, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

[wonyoiz]

make out session with jungwon

The night was thick with tension, the kind that had been simmering between you and Jungwon for what felt like forever. The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the streetlights outside casting long shadows on the walls. You were sitting close to him, so close that the heat from his body seemed to wrap around you.

Jungwon’s eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze was intense. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat louder than the last, almost drowning out the quiet of the room. His hand slowly reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your cheek, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

“Are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the tension like a knife.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah…” you admitted, your voice shaky, betraying the emotions swirling inside you.

His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile, but his eyes remained serious, leaning in slightly, his warm breath against your skin. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. The softness of his touch was almost maddening, but it didn’t stay gentle for long. As if sensing your need, Jungwon deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

You let out a small gasp against his lips, your hands unconsciously reaching for his chest. The kiss quickly grew more intense, more urgent, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, craving for more. His lips moved against yours with a skillful confidence, and when his teeth grazed your lower lip, biting down gently, you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped you.

Jungwon’s response was immediate, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he tightened his grip on you. “You like that?” he murmured against your lips.

You bit back a smile. “What do you think?” you teased, before biting down on his lip in return, a little harder than he had, just to see his reaction.

It was instant. A sharp intake of breath, followed by a deep, hungry kiss that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, finally settling at your waist as he pulled you onto his lap.

You couldn’t help but tug at his hair as he nipped at your lip again, this time harder, almost as if daring you to stop him. “Jungwon…” you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips only spurring him on.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Jungwon,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and anticipation. You tilted your head, giving him better access, and he took full advantage, biting down just enough to make you gasp, his lips soothing the sting immediately after.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You looked into his eyes, still feeling the lingering effects of his touch, and bit your lip, a small smile playing on your mouth. “Then don’t stop”.

His eyes darkened, and without another word, his lips were on yours again, and you were lost in him, the night stretching on as you surrendered to the tension that had been building for so long.

Wrote this because I feel like he’s the type to bite the lower lip when making out lol

[ariichive]

SURVIVE────°˖✧ ✧˖°────

being in an arranged marriage with mydeimos was bound to come with problems—sharp words exchanged like drawn daggers, every touch charged with defiance rather than desire. resentment simmered beneath forced smiles, yet in the moments between their clashes, something dangerous lurked—a spark neither of them dared name, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

the heart grows stronger with distance, or so they say. with mydeimos sent off to war, the kingdom of castrum kremnos grew colder, the weight of his absence pressing heavier than an unspoken longing. but loneliness was a quieter enemy compared to the kremnoans, who saw the new queen not as a ruler but as a weakness. whispers turned to plots, daggers drawn in the shadows. they would see her dead before they let her soften their king.

cw: violence, threats, friends to enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, childhood friends, death, parent issues on both ends, slight angst but happy ending, gore. fem reader wc: 12k took this fic so seriously that i typed it with proper capitalization and proofread it... i could have missed something though, my ideas were everywhere but i think i connected everything!

The man who stood before you was no longer full of that youthful spirit from a decade ago. The light in his eyes was diminished, something darker and more primal in them now. though, you're sure the same could be said about you.

Gone was the admiration in your eyes. Gone was the eagerness to learn more about your husband. In its place stood a wary acceptance, a silent understanding forged through years of unspoken grievances and battles fought both on the field and within these very walls. The love you once searched for had been buried beneath duty and bloodshed, leaving behind something colder—something you didn't have the courage to name.

This marriage was something neither of you wanted. While he was much more vocal with opposition, you couldn't deny the snarl of your lips when your parents would open their mouths and order you around like you were some object.

Obedience had been expected, demanded—but resentment had taken root long before you ever stood at the altar. Mydeimos fought his fate with fire and fury, yet you had been forced to smother yours beneath clenched teeth and measured silence. Still, the bitterness remained, coiling deep in your chest, waiting for the day it could finally be set free.

"Do you, [name] of Styxia, take Mydeimos as your husband? To be there after every battle, after every bloodshed? Will you be able to withstand the consequences and hate that comes from this marriage?"

The priest had a chilling smile on his face.

Of course, the people of Castrum Kremnos had a terrible hatred harbored for you. They believed in fighting for power, tearing through everything and everyone with brute strength.

Mydeimos' parents were wedded through battle and countless fights. That is precisely what Kremnoans expected out of their only son: marry a wife who rivals your strength and can hold the crown when the king is away. It was natural for them to protest the political marriage between you and Mydeimos.

Of course things were not always this way.

"Mydei, look at the butterfly I caught!" You gently lifted your finger to the young prince's face. "Playing with such insects?" Mydei crossed his arms and let out a 'hmph', "Young girls like you should be scared of those mindless- G-GET IT OFF!" The 8-year-old Mydeimos yelped in absolute terror as the yellow winged bug flew from your finger to the tip of his nose.

You let out a laugh that your parents would have ridiculed you for. You could hear your mother's nagging voice already, "[Name], no daughter of mine can let out such an unruly sound." And of course, your father agreeing.

"Mydei, c-calm down." you managed to get out through your weezing. "You'll hurt the poor thing!" Mydei snapped back to reality as your gentle hand took back the butterfly on his face, now red from panic or embarrassment, you couldn't quite tell. Either way, he refused to meet your gaze, lips pressed into a thin, sulky line.

"You’re insufferable," he muttered, dusting off his tunic as if the butterfly had tainted it. "One day, you won’t laugh at me like that."

You tilted your head, still smiling as you cradled the delicate creature in your hands. "Why? Because you’ll finally be brave?"

His glare deepened, and for a moment, you thought he might stomp away like he usually did when you got the better of him. But instead, he huffed and turned on his heel, nose still slightly scrunched.

You watched him go, amused, before gently releasing the butterfly into the breeze. It flitted away, its bright yellow wings catching the sunlight, oblivious to the way childhood had already begun to slip through your fingers.

"I do," you said quietly as you lifted your head up for the first time during the ceremony. The golden cup was passed into your hands by the priest, who looked content with himself.

The tension only rose as you raised the cup to your lips.

Tilting your head back, the smell of the wine hit your nose a second too late, as a drop of something sinister—a sharp, metallic taste— hit your tastebuds, leaving a cold chill down your spine.

It was a small amount, but it was clear there wasn't only wine in the cup.

Poison.

The thought flashed through your mind like a fire igniting your blood. They tried to poison you.

Your vision blurred as nausea twisted in your gut, but you managed to hold back the bile rising in your throat. The air felt heavy as you sank to your knees, desperately trying to stifle the coughs that threatened to betray you.

And then, for the first time that night, your eyes locked with Mydeimos.

He stood at the altar, glowering down at you with that familiar, icy indifference. There was no panic in his gaze, no concern—only disdain, as if this was just another inconvenience he had to endure.

"Do you, Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos accept this lady as your wife?"

Your chest tightened, and you gripped the cup in your hand, now too weak to hold it. The priest, who had been watching this unfold with an unsettling calm, crouched down beside you and gently took the unspilled cup from your hands.

He didn’t look at you, only at Mydeimos as he straightened, holding the cup up.

The room held its breath and watched Mydeimos take the cup from the priest without breaking eye contact with you.

With swiftness and no hesitance, Mydeimos downed the drink as if it was water blessed by the Gods.

"I do."

The words were a simple declaration, but they hung in the air with a heaviness that suffocated. The indifference in his tone sent a chill through your already fragile state.

You had thought you were prepared for this marriage—prepared for him—but in that moment, you realized just how little you truly knew him.

And then, the full weight of it hit you.

You had spent years preparing for this day, telling yourself that you could endure it, that duty and honor would bind you together. But now, as you struggled to keep your breath steady, barely able to keep your eyes open, you realized the truth—you were not the prize here.

You were nothing more than an afterthought.

The room swirled around you, but you could still see Mydeimos standing there, his expression unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference.

It wasn’t just the poison that made your stomach turn now. It was the realization that this man—the man who you had been promised to, who now held the power to determine your fate—did not see you, not really.

"She is yours now," the priest continued, his voice echoing through the silence. But you heard nothing. Your world had narrowed to a single, suffocating thought: He does not care.

Your gaze flicked back to him, but Mydeimos wasn’t looking at you anymore. He turned his back on you, eyes already focused on the path ahead, as though the woman who lay gasping on the floor was of no more importance than the shadows that clung to the walls.

“She couldn’t even bear a little poison!"

“Castrum Kremnos is doomed!”

Their unconcealed voices cut through you, sharp and cruel, their judgment more venomous than the poison coursing through your body. You could almost hear their sneers, see the way their eyes looked down on you, the woman who had failed even in this most basic test.

A bitter taste filled your mouth—was it the remnants of the poison, or the humiliation? The sting of failure was so much worse than anything the poison had done to you. You were nothing but a pawn in this political game, a symbol of weakness.

It was then the tears finally hit.

Mydei, now 12, watched from the training grounds as you played in the nearby open field with a Kremnoan guard dog. The usually stoic and intimidating dog was now reduced to a cheerful puppy by an 11-year-old girl, showing off his belly to you as if it was the most prized thing in the world.

And maybe to you, at that moment, it was. Mydei would agree too, as he admired the enormous smile on your face. Your laughter somehow drowned out the sound of swords clanking against each other, the sounds of men screaming 'Watch out!'

"Watch out, Mydeimos!"

Mydei broke out of his trance as a rough kick to his abdomen caused him to end up on his back. No longer the view of you playing with the dog in his eyes, but instead the ever-blue sky.

For a moment, Mydei laid still, winded, staring up at the clouds drifting lazily by. His heart was still pounding from the kick, but his mind, for a brief moment, was somewhere else. In that space between the fight and the fall, he let his gaze drift back to you, watching the way the dog nuzzled against you, the two of you sharing some unspoken bond that felt as distant to him as the sky above.

He could feel the bitterness rise within him, a mix of frustration and something he couldn’t quite name.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched his mentor, Krateros, signal towards the field. It was then when an abundance of guards rushed over to that very field. Some grabbed your wrists roughly and dragged you away from the training grounds. Others were quick to drag the dog away with a prong collar.

If Krateros could describe how he felt about you, he'd say indifferent. He was well aware of the planned marriage between the two of you, but having spent more time with Mydei than anyone, he knew it wasn't a good idea for the future of Castrum Kremnos. However, his pleas fell on deaf ears. The king and queen were desperate for a change, even if it went against tradition.

"Focus, Mydeimos."

"Focus Mydeimos."

Mydei snapped out of his daze at Krateros' sharp words.

"She was supposed to finish the cup of wine as your wife. You had no business intervening like that."

When Mydei ignored the words of Krateros, he took it as his sign to continue. "Do you want your own people to think of you as weak? Standing before me cannot be the same man who killed-"

"Krateros, hold your tongue."

Used to the threats hidden in his words, Krateros sighed. "My apologies, my king. What I mean is, your parents, they did not die just for their son to be reduced to a fool in love! I never agreed on the marriage between you two, and it would seem I would be correct to have thought so!"

Mydei crossed his arms, forcing his gaze to meet Krateros' own with a coldness that mirrored his father’s. "I do not need your lessons on loyalty or strength," he said, his voice steady, though a flicker of something more vulnerable threatened to show. "If you weren't such a lapdog to the throne, this all could have been avoided."

Mydei had been groomed for this position, taught to never show weakness. The weight of their bloodline, their legacy, was supposed to be carried with pride, but now, Mydei was faced with the harsh reality of the expectations placed on him.

He straightened, pushing the heaviness of those thoughts aside, feeling the pressure of those around him. He was supposed to be something else, something his parents had wanted. But this… this was not the life he had chosen.

Krateros was still watching him, waiting for a response. Mydei met his gaze with a coldness that surprised even him. “I am not a puppet, Krateros. I will never be.”

Krateros’ face darkened, but Mydei didn’t flinch. The weight of their shared history hung between them, but it was no longer enough to bind him. His destiny was his to choose, even if it meant shattering the expectations they had built for him.

“You think you can change this, don’t you?” Krateros sneered, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You think you can escape who you are. But it’s in your blood, Mydeimos. You can’t outrun what’s inside you. You can't run from the lady waiting for a change that'll never happen.”

Krateros opened his mouth to continue, but Mydei turned away, his back to the man who had watched him grow.

For the first time, Mydei wondered if Krateros even knew who he truly was—or if anyone did.

The older man had shaped him, molded him into a figure of strength and cold precision. But did Krateros truly see him? Or was he just a reflection of the expectations placed upon him, a mirror of the man his father had been, a man Mydei no longer wanted to be? Krateros had seen him grow, yes, but had he seen the boy beneath the armor? Had anyone?

You had.

Mydei chose not to think about it.

With a quiet breath, Mydei stood taller, his back still turned to Krateros. The silence stretched, but Mydei could feel the shift inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was strength or defiance, but it was something. And he wasn’t going to let it be drowned out by the weight of his bloodline, by the sharp edges of Krateros’ scorn.

“I don’t need to escape,” Mydei said quietly, but his words carried weight. “I need to find my own path.”

Mydei walked away, walked until he made it to a familiar field. One where the two of you would spend days playing, joking around with each other until night came.

This was also the same place Mydei delivered the final blow to his father, King Eurypon.

Mydei was almost 18 now, soon ready to take the throne as king and takeover all of his father's errors and debts.

Tensions were high in the royal palace. Queen Gorgo and King Eurypon have been arguing day and night. Behind the heavy wooden doors of the royal chambers, they clashed with words sharper than any sword. Every decision was met with resistance, every plan torn apart by an unyielding will that only seemed to grow more bitter with time. Castrum Kremnos was falling.

The kingdom had long been a fortress of power and tradition, but now it felt as though it was crumbling under the weight of the monarchy itself. Whispers of weakness spread like wildfire through the court, fueled by the incessant quarrels of its rulers. Their once-unified front was now shattered, each king and queen stubbornly holding to their beliefs, no matter the cost to the kingdom.

Mydeimos could feel the tension pressing down on him like a vice. He had been watching this slow unraveling for years, but now it was so blatant that even the youngest of court members could sense it. His parents, once the pillars of their nation, were becoming strangers to each other—and to him.

His mother’s harsh words and his father’s biting retorts were more frequent now, each exchange more volatile than the last. The staff had become accustomed to the constant arguments, their faces drawn in exhaustion as they tried to carry on amid a palace that was slowly becoming a war zone.

As Mydeimos walked through the corridors, he passed the guards standing at attention, their eyes flicking nervously to one another. They had always been a symbol of strength, of unwavering loyalty to the crown, but now even they seemed uneasy. The very walls of the palace seemed to pulse with the strain of something fractured, something teetering on the edge of collapse.

"Where are mother and father?" The guards all looked at each other, hesitant to answer the prince's question. It wasn't until Mydei rested a strong hand on the hilt of his sword did one answer.

"They are at the field of flowers, the one where... lady [name] usually resides."

Mydei felt something in his gut, something akin to fear, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it out of him like a true Kremnoan.

With haste, he was quick to make it to the field.

The journey, once full of laughter and joy, was now one of dread and anxiety. The closer he got, the stronger the stench of blood became. Beautiful flowers were stomped on, bloody hand prints rested on trees, and animals were scurrying away.

When he finally arrived, the sight before him tore him into pieces. You were there, cradling Queen Gorgo's body in your arms; she was barely holding onto life. It got worse as Mydei realized the reason behind her state was none other than his own father.

King Eurypon stood before the two women with his sword raised.

The last thing Mydei heard before he took action was the cruel words of the bastard King.

"I will puncture through you to put an end to this reign. I have no sympathy for the wife of the man who'll take my throne."

The words echoed in Mydeimos' ears, each syllable striking like a hammer. His heart stopped. The finality of his father’s words—the utter disregard for human life, for loyalty, for everything they had built—was too much.

And just like that, something inside Mydeimos snapped.

The rage that had been building in him for years—his silent rebellion, his frustration, his hatred for the path he had been forced to walk—exploded in an instant. His father’s face, cold and cruel, became the target of his fury. He could hear nothing but the deafening roar in his ears, the pounding of his own heart as it raced faster than reason could catch up.

Without a second thought, he lunged.

But it wasn’t the sword he raised. No, instead, it was his own hands, his own fists, that continued to strike.

"You ruined everything!" Mydeimos yelled, voice hoarse, raw with emotion. "You ruined us!"

His father’s face, contorted in shock and pain, finally shifted. "You’re nothing but a spoiled child, Mydeimos. I’ll show you what it means to rule."

In that moment, Mydeimos saw through the façade of the man who had called himself king, the man who had been nothing but a tyrant hiding behind a crown. He had never cared about his people, never cared about his family. He had only cared about power, about maintaining control at any cost. And now it was too late.

The two fought like beasts, Mydeimos with his fists and the king with his sword. The wounds inflicted on them were paid no mind; it was time to put an end to this once and for all.

Mydeimos barely registered the sting of his own wounds, the cut on his cheek or the gash on his arm. The sound of your sobs seemed to only fuel his anger. The blood was a secondary concern—he could feel it dripping down his skin, but it was nothing compared to the burning need to destroy the man who had caused all this. To destroy the symbol of everything that had broken him, broken his family, and shattered his kingdom.

The king, too, seemed to feel no pain. The blade in his hand moved with a deadly grace, despite the fury in his eyes. It was a fight of survival for him as well. He didn’t just want to kill his son; he wanted to prove that he still had power, still had control. He wasn’t going to let a young fool like Mydeimos take away his reign.

The fight stretched on, each moment a battle of wills. Mydeimos could feel his muscles burning, his body screaming for respite, but there was no turning back. Every strike from the king was an insult. Every thrust of the sword was a reminder of his father’s disdain. And yet Mydeimos could see it in the king’s eyes, that flicker of uncertainty—he was losing. His own strength was fading.

As Mydeimos stood over the king, fate seemed to laugh at him as Krateros appeared with royal guards behind him.

The shock on his face would've been laughable if under different circumstances.

With a final breath, King Eurypon's gaze shifted to Krateros. "Krateros, you will make sure my son marries that girl as Gorgo planned so many years ago."

The words, though strained, hung in the air like a sentence. Mydeimos froze, his body taut with disbelief, his pulse pounding in his ears. That girl—the one who had been nothing more than a pawn in his father’s games, a figure to be manipulated, controlled, and discarded when it suited him.

The plan had always been to bind Mydeimos to you—his wife, his kingdom’s political future, his duty to the crown. The thought of it had always been a bitter pill, but never had he imagined that it would come at the cost of everything else. His father, in his final moments, had not even offered a word of apology or remorse for the years of manipulation, the pain that had been caused by their arranged union. No, it was a cold, calculated command, one more betrayal among many.

Krateros, standing near the edge of the scene, nodded solemnly at the king’s words, his expression unreadable. His eyes shifted to Mydeimos, but there was no sympathy, no understanding. There was only the weight of duty in Krateros’ gaze. Duty to the crown, duty to the plan, duty to the legacy of the Kremnos bloodline.

“My king,” Krateros said, his voice a low murmur, almost reverent, “I will see to it.”

King Eurypon was no more.

Mydei could barely register the shouts from Krateros, telling them to leave Queen Gorgo to lay to rest. The sound of you crying as the former queen was ripped from your grasp didn't even make him flinch.

The Kremnoan guards were quick to flee, Krateros deciding to leave you and Mydei alone.

"M-Mydei," you sobbed, your voice trembling, not knowing how to reach him through the walls of fury and exhaustion that seemed to encase him. The sound of his name seemed to strike something deep within him, though it only made his fists clench tighter, as if the very mention of the old name was a reminder of all the pain, the betrayal, and the heavy burden he'd been carrying.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not yet.

The sight of you, crumpled before him, bloodied and broken, stirred something deep inside him—something fierce, something tender, something buried beneath the weight of years. But it wasn’t enough to stop the coldness in his eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Tears spilled from your eyes, the overwhelming reality of what had happened crashing into you. “I don’t know what happened! O-oh my god, there's so much blood, I-”

The words died on your lips as the nausea hit you all at once, a sharp wave of sickness sweeping through you. Your stomach churned, and before you could do anything to stop it, you found yourself hunched over, retching in the dirt. The bile tasted bitter in your mouth, the sharp tang of it mixing with the overwhelming metallic scent of blood that lingered in the air.

Mydeimos stood there, silent, his gaze unwavering, though his jaw clenched tighter as he watched you. For a moment, it felt like everything was at a standstill. The wind seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the distant rustle of leaves, the drip of blood on the ground.

His hand twitched, but he didn’t move toward you. It was as if the space between you both had become an impenetrable wall, one that neither of you knew how to cross.

For a long, agonizing moment, Mydeimos didn’t speak. He simply watched you, as if waiting for something—perhaps an explanation, perhaps for you to offer him the closure he didn’t know he needed.

The tension stretched taut between you, but the silence remained. The world around you felt too loud, too chaotic, but Mydeimos stayed still, his breathing steady, as though he were holding something back. His expression was unreadable, impossible to decipher.

"Instead of apologizing, maybe you should focus on getting stronger and growing up."

Mydei sighed as he recalled that day. After everything had gone down, he found refuge in his father's office. That is where he read the countless letters and documents concerning the marriage between the two of you. Papers that were dated back to almost a decade ago.

The marriage between you both was confirmed from the moment you stepped foot from Styxia and into Castrum Kremnos.

“You are just as trapped as I am, aren’t you?” he muttered under his breath, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. He couldn't even be sure if you felt the same way. The distance between you two had only grown since that night. Since the bloodshed. Since that moment, everything had come crashing down. It was for the better, being close to Mydei has only brought you pain.

But still, despite the rage, the resentment, the years of manipulation, Mydeimos couldn't help but wonder—would things have been different if he had taken the time to talk to you that day? Instead of leaving you there, curled in your own warmth, trying to comfort yourself?

He shook his head, his fingers clenching around the papers, crumpling one of the letters in his grip. It doesn’t matter now,he thought bitterly. What matters is what happens next.

But the problem remained: He couldn’t just cast you aside, not when the fate of the kingdom—and his own future—hung in the balance. You were always part of the plan, whether either of us liked it or not.

And now, you were waiting for him at the very place he wished to escape from.

The room felt like a distant, hollow space—a far cry from the warmth you had once imagined a marriage bed would hold. The sheets were cold against your skin, the air thick with the emptiness of your thoughts. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, stretching into corners that seemed to hold secrets you weren’t ready to confront.

Tradition dictated that this would be the night—your wedding night—when you were expected to share more than just vows, when the marriage would be consummated and the bond between husband and wife would be solidified. But tonight, you lay alone, your fingers tracing the edge of the cold, untouched bed. There was no Mydeimos to fill the silence, no warmth of his presence to break the quiet.

Instead, your mind drifted back to that fateful night.

All you could do was watch as Mydei turned his back on you, leaving you covered in blood that wasn't your own.

The night suddenly took a turn for the worse. One moment, you were enjoying the calming breeze, counting the stars that hung in the bright sky. A shadow loomed over you, one you thought was Mydeimos, only to make eye contact with the eyes of the king.

"K-king Eurypon, it is an honor to be in your presence." You bowed your head in greeting.

"Tell me girl, what do you think of my son?"

The question caught you off guard, but you still chose to tell the truth anyways.

"Mydei," the king's eyes glared at you, "M-mydeimos is a strong warrior. He is very hardworking and prideful. It's truly admirable."

He hummed in thought. "I'm glad you think so highly of my son. I'll be sure to tell him you held him in such high regard."

The words were barely registering in your mind as his sword was quick to be drawn and pointed against your chest.

"A shame, truly. My wife thought it would be a good idea for a marriage alliance between you two."

Marriage? And why is the king trying to murder you?!

"W-what?" You managed to stammer out. This only made the sword press deeper into your chest. "You will never be able to live up to Kremnoan traditions and strength. You will only bring my son and this already fallen kingdom to hell."

It was then when Eurypon struck down with his sword, and it would've been the end of you if another sword hadn't come down to block the strike.

"Even now, you still are fighting against me, Gorgo?"

There in front of you, was none other than the queen.

"Eurypon, this is not how to go about business matters. Killing the girl will not solve all of our problems."

Eurypon and Gorgo had very opposing views with the alliance of Styxia. Eurypon wanted to take over by force, like a true Kremnoan. Gorgo sought other means, wanting less bloodshed and a possible connection with Styxia. Gorgo wanted connections, Eurypon wanted land.

"Gorgo, do you need a reminder of how a king rules his people?"

The two fought endlessly, and all the pressure that built up over time came out in their fierce battle. All you could do was watch as Gorgo began to weaken, her body falling pathetically in front of you.

She paid the king no mind; instead, her fading eyes focused on you. "I...I know you will bring good to my kingdom, to my son."

"Gorgo, I will make sure the two get married as your dying wish. The kingdom you brought to power will fall because of you, and I'll be there to fix it all my way."

It was then that another person came into view, a heartbroken Mydeimos who slained the king. Later, it was a shocked Krateros who took the queen from your hold.

The end of a reign and the start of a tragedy.

You didn’t know how to feel. Grateful or embarrassed? Humiliated, even. You were still his wife (once childhood friend), but it felt like you didn’t even exist to him anymore. Not since that night. The night that had changed everything between the two of you.

Your chest tightened at the memory—the chaos, the violence, the words left unsaid. That night had burned itself into your mind in a way you couldn’t forget, no matter how much you tried to block it out. His eyes had been cold, distant, filled with a rage and grief you didn’t know how to reach through. You hadn’t spoken since, not really. Not the way you used to. You couldn’t even recall the last conversation you had before everything fell apart.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you pulled the blanket tighter around you, hoping it would offer you some comfort against the chill that had settled in your heart. The silence seemed to stretch forever, the weight of it heavier than anything you had felt before.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would always be—if the distance between you and Mydeimos was something that couldn’t be undone.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you pulled the blanket tighter around you, hoping it would offer you some comfort against the chill that had settled in your heart. The silence seemed to stretch forever, the weight of it heavier than anything you had felt before.

The once-familiar castle felt nothing more than a dreading curse on your soul. Halls where you would spend chasing around the young prince were now full of laughter and insults.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would always be—if the distance between you and Mydeimos was something that couldn’t be undone.

As sleep was finally about to take over, the door slammed open and an angry Mydei stormed in.

He seemed shocked to see you actually there, his eyes silently saying 'so you didn't run away?'

The maids had dressed you in the finest of red silks, a color they said their king enjoyed. But in this moment, it seemed he didn't even want to look at you.

Your mind stumbled over a greeting, scared to say the wrong thing and scared that your voice would still be hoarse from the poison. None of that mattered as he took the initiative to speak. "I will be heading off to war in a few days. There is no need to see me off."

The silence between you was suffocating, thick with all the things neither of you were willing to acknowledge. You longed to break it, to ask him why, to demand an explanation for the way he was shutting you out, but the truth was, you were afraid of the answer. And even more, you were terrified of the way you might look to him now—the woman who had failed him, who had failed to be the wife he needed, who was now only a shadow in his life.

You shifted on your feet, the cold weight of the silence pressing harder with every passing second.

"I... I understand," you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper, betraying how broken you really felt. "I’ll... I’ll respect your wishes."

Mydei turned to leave, but just before the door closed, you heard him.

"Don't follow me." His voice was so quiet it almost seemed like an afterthought, but the command within it was unmistakable. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle, either. It was the final word, the one that sealed the distance between you both.

With that, he shut the door.

During these past days, you didn't leave the room once. You aren't sure where Mydeimos has been or if he has already gone off to war. The maids were kind enough to bring you food, but you were cautious to eat it after the poisoned wine.

The meals sat untouched on the small table by the window, cooling and growing stale. You were hungry, but fear held you back. Fear of what the food might hold, of what new betrayal could come from the very people who should have protected you.

As the days passed, your body began to feel the effects of the isolation—weakness in your limbs, a constant dull ache in your chest. The silence in the room became unbearable. You had become a ghost in your own life, tethered to the bed by your own insecurities, trapped in a room full of memories that both comforted and tormented you.

It wasn't long before rumors started to spread around the castle.

"The Kremnoan soldiers last weeks without a proper meal, and that invader can't last a few days?"

"She's probably trying make our king pity her."

"Does she not know we Kremnoans have no room for pity?"

"I heard, on the night of their wedding, she seduced one of the guards and bedded him. That's why King Mydeimos looked so frustrated!"

It was endless chatter happening outside of your door, the rumors you heard were absurd, and it almost made you cry a few times.

Everything about this situation was so frustrating! You had no one to talk to; sure, the maids were nice, but they loved to partake in all the gossip. You weren't even able to find comfort in your parents, who put you in this mess in the first place.

All you could do was stare out the window and wish for better days.

Even today, the commotion happening outside was nauseating. Cheers and screams of triumph were heard all over, and you couldn't help but be curious.

With a peek outside, you witnessed the ginormous army of Castrum Kremnos being led by no other than Mydeimos himself.

He was going off to war today.

The banners of Castrum Kremnos billowed in the wind, the rhythmic stomp of soldiers’ boots shaking the very ground beneath them.

The people cheered, their voices rising in a deafening roar of admiration and loyalty. To them, this was a moment of pride—of power. To you, it was something else entirely.

Your fingers curled against the windowsill as you watched him from the safety of your prison, your place in his life now reduced to that of a silent observer.

Your heart twisted painfully.

You should have been down there. You should have been by his side.

But Mydeimos had made it clear—Don’t follow me.

And so you stayed, trapped behind glass, watching the man you once knew disappear into the distance, leading an army to war.

All you could do was ask yourself why?

Why did he leave you alone that day? Why didn't he let you explain everything that happened?

Why did he shut you out?

Maybe it was because of everything piling up, but you couldn't bear to look outside the castle window anymore. It was a tragedy, a tragedy that could've been avoided if he had just listened to you.

But maybe his anger towards you was valid?

The thought unsettled you, but you couldn't deny some of the truth behind it. After all, you were the woman forced into his life, a foreign queen whom his people despised.

After all, you were his father's dying wish, the man he hated most.

You turned your back to the window, missing the way Mydei spared a glance at the highest window on the castle; missing you.

The night Mydeimos left was one celebrated. Everyone knew he and his army were going to obtain an easy victory, so they celebrated with the most delicious alcohols and foods.

You, however, found no comfort in their revelry.

Seated at the far end of the grand dining hall, you felt like a ghost in your own castle. No one paid you any mind—not the lords who clinked their goblets in toasts, nor the noblewomen whispering behind painted fans. You were nothing but a reminder of an unwanted union, a foreign queen with no real place in their hearts.

You felt grateful; it took a lot of courage to even come out in the first place.

The wine before you remained untouched. The food, no matter how enticing, held no appeal. You felt sick, not from the lingering fear of poison, but from the weight of isolation pressing on your chest.

"Ah, this is the King's wife? How weak." A group of scholars in the corner decided to be the first to interact with you tonight, albeit negatively.

"She's meek, but her looks surpass the brutes of Kremnoan women." Another one snickered out.

"Tell us, wife, how did your first night with the King go?" This caught the attention of the rest of the patrons in the room.

"Is it true he's as ruthless in bed as he is in battle?" A lady, one who you remember laughing at the wedding, asked intrusively.

"I-"

"Didn't you hear? She was unable to get him to enter the room! She had to go find a guard to take care of her harlot needs."

"That's not what..!"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the group of men glared at you, as if daring you to speak up.

"You need to be confident in your abilities." A 16-year-old Mydei said to you. "If you sound confident, people will naturally believe it."

You sighed. "Mydei, I don't think it'll matter how hard I try. I'm not a Kremnoan, just some girl her parents sent here so they wouldn't have to be responsible for me."

Mydei let out a deep chuckle.

"You think that's all you are?" he asked, shaking his head with something close to amusement. "You underestimate yourself."

His confidence in you was almost laughable. You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. "And what am I, then? Some grand strategist? A warrior in disguise?"

He leaned in slightly, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his face. "You are someone who can shape the world with nothing but your words—if you learn how to use them properly."

You blinked at him, taken aback by his certainty. Mydei was never one to sugarcoat things, and he certainly wouldn’t say something just to spare your feelings.

"Confidence is half the battle," he continued, arms folded. "If you say something with conviction, even the gods might start to believe it."

For a brief moment, you almost believed him.

You brushed off his words with a laugh. "I have you with me, and I know you'll never let any harm come to me." Although you said it jokingly, you both knew it was the truth.

How laughable.

"That's not what happened that night. You all are so concerned in the king's business and involving him in such baseless rumors. Is this how you act while he's out there fighting for us all?"

There was a wavering in your voice, one even you couldn't deny, but it was enough to stun them all into silence. The once lively air was now tense and awkward.

With a clear of your throat, you excused yourself for the night.

As you stepped away, the weight of their stares clung to you like a phantom touch. You could still hear the hushed whispers behind you, muffled by the clinking of goblets and the distant melody of a lute. They wouldn’t dare speak louder, not after the way you had silenced them.

But had you truly silenced them? Or had you only made yourself a greater target?

Your hands trembled slightly as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, the warmth of the grand hall replaced by the biting chill of isolation. You barely made it to the vanity before gripping its edges, trying to steady yourself.

You had spoken with confidence, just as Mydei once told you to. Yet, your voice had wavered.

Would that be enough for them to see through you?

With a heavy sigh, you turned toward the mirror, searching your own reflection for something—anything—that resembled the queen you were supposed to be.

But all you saw was a girl trapped in a place that would never truly be hers.

Sleep came a bit easier that night.

The morning was full of regrets as the door to your chambers was nailed shut.

You pulled and slammed against it but to no avail. You heard the snickers as people passed by, and the tears began to fall.

The laughter outside was distant now, their amusement fading as they moved on, leaving you alone with your humiliation.

You wiped at your tears angrily, hating how easily they fell. This was what they wanted—to break you, to remind you of your place, to make sure you knew you were nothing more than an outsider playing queen in a kingdom that would never be yours.

But would Mydeimos find out?

Would he even care?

A bitter taste filled your mouth at the thought. You turned away from the sealed door, your body shaking with something far stronger than sorrow.

If they thought this would make you cower, they were wrong.

Your breathing evened out as you forced yourself to stand tall. If they thought this was enough to break you, they underestimated you.

You turned from the door, scanning the room for anything—anything at all—that could help. The windows were too high, the furniture too heavy to use for leverage. You were trapped like an animal in a cage, but you refused to let yourself feel like one.

Instead, you paced.

Minutes turned into hours, the once-dim light of morning stretching into the harsh glow of midday. The laughter outside had long faded, replaced by the distant hum of daily life in the palace. As if nothing had happened. As if you weren’t locked away, forgotten.

A sudden sound startled you—a soft rustling from the door. Your heart pounded as you turned, half-expecting a cruel trick. But then, a shadow moved just from under the crack in the door.

A quiet knock, and then the sound of something being slammed against the door.

It was scary, and it caused you to take cautious step-backs.

One final slam, and the door busted open.

"Krateros?" You said in utmost shock. You remember your few interactions with him, all very brief. The last time you'd seen him, he was at Mydei’s side, whispering words of war and legacy into his ear.

Krateros stood in the doorway, his broad frame casting a shadow over your trembling form. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on you, unreadable as ever.

"You look surprised," he muttered, stepping inside without invitation. His boots left faint imprints on the rug, damp from the evening chill. "Did you think they'd just leave you here to rot?"

You swallowed hard, your back pressing against the far wall. “I—” You didn't even know what to say, because honestly, yes you did believe that.

"As much as I believe you aren't fit as queen, I... made a promise that night. Before the queen fully passed."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of that night. The one where everything had fallen apart, where Mydei's father had been killed, where the weight of duty had been thrust onto both your shoulders, though neither of you had truly chosen it.

"What promise?" Your voice barely rose above a whisper. The chill in the room seemed to deepen as you tried to comprehend his words.

Krateros’ eyes softened, just for a moment. It was a fleeting glimpse, quickly masked by his usual hardened demeanor. He crossed the room toward you, the air between you heavy with tension.

"The queen," he began, his voice a rare softness, "she... asked me to ensure you weren’t left to suffer in silence. That you were given the chance to survive."

"I couldn't give her a quick enough response before she passed, so to be quite honest, I never felt indebted to her... to you."

He avoided your eyes.

"But I spoke with Mydeimos recently." Your body visibly tensed at the mention of his name. "There's no changing his mind," Krateros had a fond look in his eyes.

"If you want to be more than a puppet queen, then you’ll need to change. Prove to these people that you have teeth, not just a crown," Krateros said, his words heavy with a cold truth.

You wanted to protest, to scream that you hadn’t asked for this role, that you’d never wanted to be a pawn in a game you couldn’t even understand. But Krateros wasn’t wrong.

"I’m not… I’m not like them," you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. "I can’t just… pretend to be someone I’m not."

Krateros raised an eyebrow. "No one expects you to pretend, but right now, you're invisible. And in this world, that’s worse than being hated."

ou flinched, the truth of his words stinging more than you cared to admit.

"And as for Mydeimos…" He paused, as though considering how much to reveal. "He doesn’t want a queen who’s meek, who lets herself be shut away. He wants power. And you—" Krateros’ eyes flicked to your face, sharp and calculating, "—you need to show him you can wield it."

Your mind spun with the idea. Could you do this? Could you become the queen the kingdom demanded, even if it meant losing yourself in the process? Or perhaps—just perhaps—you could reclaim something from this mess and turn it into something of your own.

"Yes... You're right. I need to survive because I..." I miss my friend is what you wanted to say but left quiet.

Krateros took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. There was a calculating coldness in his eyes, but beneath it, something more dangerous lingered. It wasn’t kindness, but something akin to respect, or perhaps something more manipulative.

"If you want to prove your worth, start by helping in this war."

His words were a bit of an eye-opener; you had no idea who Mydeimos was even fighting or why. If you were able to help someway, it'll be perfect. "With all due respect sir, I don't think I'm fit for fighting." You couldn't help but shy away.

Krateros’ lips curled into a smirk at your hesitation, his eyes scanning you with something akin to amusement. "No one’s asking you to wield a sword, Your Majesty. But you’re smart enough to know there are other ways to contribute. War isn’t just about fighting on the frontlines. It’s about strategy, influence, and knowing how to manipulate the forces around you. Your place in this war isn’t on a battlefield, but in the court, in the strategy rooms, and with the people who can sway the outcome."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Strategy. Influence. Those were things you’d never thought of in relation to yourself, and yet, here they were, suddenly thrust upon you.

"But I—" you started, but Krateros cut you off with a sharp gesture of his hand, his eyes darkening.

"You’re not a helpless pawn, [Name]. If you want to survive, you need to learn how to play the game. And that means you need to start thinking like the Kremnoans do." His voice was low, firm, almost a growl. "Every action has a purpose. Every word spoken in court, every ally made or broken. You need to learn how to use them all to your advantage."

"I’ll do it," you said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I’ll learn."

Krateros nodded approvingly, the faintest trace of something—satisfaction, perhaps?—glimmering in his eyes. "Good. You’re starting to understand. Freshen up and meet me in the library in approximately 5 minutes."

Your eyes widened. "5 minutes? Is that even enough time to...!" Krateros was already out the door.

You rushed to the mirror, hastily brushing through your hair and adjusting your clothes. A queen. You need to look the part. But the rush, the pressure—it felt like everything was moving too quickly.

You didn't even have time to catch your breath as you pushed open the door and hurried toward the library. You had no idea what Krateros had planned for you there, but you knew it wouldn't be anything easy. It never was with him.

When you arrived, you found the massive wooden doors already slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside. The room was as imposing as ever, shelves filled with scrolls, books, and maps, the air thick with the scent of parchment and ink. Krateros stood by a long table, his back to you as he perused a map laid out before him.

"Right on time, good."

You finally managed to let out the breath you were holding in.

He finally turned to face you, his gaze sharp. "Sit."

You hesitated for a moment before doing as instructed. Krateros slid the map over to you, revealing the territories and borders of Castrum Kremnos, marked with different symbols and annotations.

"Start here," he said, tapping a red X near the southern border. "This is where we’ll be focusing our efforts. A new alliance is forming in the region called Pixara, and we need to decide how to handle it."

Your gaze flicked to the map, uncertainty creeping in. "But... how can I—"

"You're not here to question," Krateros cut you off sharply. "You're here to learn, to make decisions. I'll guide you, but you have to think like a ruler. Think about the people, the stakes. And then, decide what the best course of action is."

"Now, I want your opinion. What do you think we should do? You've been in Castrum Kremnos long enough, it's about time you started learning how things work around here." Krateros pressed, his gaze unwavering. "How do we deal with this new alliance? How do we defeat Pixara?"

"From the perspective of a Kremnoan, charging in and defeating them would be their first choice. A quick and easy slaughter. Though I..." you thought back to all the letters sent from your mom, teachings she was too lazy to do in person. "We could negotiate with them, offer an alliance of our own—one that strengthens us both. Or... we could play them against each other, cause dissent, and let them destroy themselves."

The air in the library felt heavier, more suffocating now. You could feel Krateros' gaze on you, his silence pressing down like a weight. You’d spoken, given him your answer, and now you had to prove that you could handle the consequences of those words.

Krateros stepped closer, running a finger along the edge of the map. His voice was low, calculating. "I like your idea. Playing them against each other will keep us in a position of power, but it’s a dangerous game. We’ll need more than just words. We’ll need spies, alliances of our own, and a very sharp eye for deception."

He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air like a threat. You felt your palms begin to sweat. This was it. This was where you either sank or swam.

"And you'll need to be careful," Krateros added, his eyes finally locking with yours. "You don't have the luxury of hesitation. They won’t wait for you to make up your mind. If you hesitate, they’ll tear you apart."

His words struck like a slap, and you flinched involuntarily. "I understand," you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

He nodded. "Good. We’ll begin at once. First, you need to learn the geography of Amphoreus and history of Pixara. Then, you'll need to meet with the generals and get a grasp on the situation. Learn everything you can about our current position. Finally, we’ll start making moves."

You nodded quickly, wanting to appear confident, even though your mind was racing. Become more aware and educated. Meet with the generals. Get a grasp on the situation. The task was daunting, but it was the only way forward.

Krateros’s eyes narrowed, his lips curving into a slight smirk. "Don't forget what you've learned here, [Name]. Your position is tenuous at best. You’re not just representing yourself anymore. You represent Kremnos."

Your first task—Pixara's geography and history. It was a daunting start, but you had to begin at the root of the problem. Why was this alliance forming in the first place?

The library felt even more overwhelming than before. Rows upon rows of ancient tomes lined the walls, each one seemingly a gateway to a piece of the puzzle you needed to solve. You glanced at the high shelves, the vast collection of knowledge all at your disposal. But where to begin?

You pulled down one of the books labeled History of the War Between Nations, and the sheer weight of it felt like a burden. You flipped it open, eyes scanning the pages, trying to piece together the history of Kremnos and its wars with neighboring kingdoms. As the hours passed, the words began to blur together, the names and dates sinking into a fog. The more you read, the more questions you had.

Who could be trusted? Which alliances were real? Where had the kingdom gone wrong?

And what could I possibly do to fix any of this?

It was then an idea hit you: You were still a royal from Styxia, they could join us!

The reason for Kremnos's alliance with Styxia—and why they wanted to secure your marriage to Mydeimos—wasn't just about the kingdom’s internal strength. It was about survival.

From what you gathered, Kremnos had once been a much larger power, holding dominion over vast stretches of land, but it had splintered over the centuries, weakened by betrayal and constant war. The neighboring kingdom of Styxia had always been a threat, a kingdom rich with soldiers and political influence, but the alliance was not born out of mutual respect. It was born out of necessity.

Kremnos needed Styxia’s resources, its warriors, and its sheer manpower to maintain any semblance of power in Amphoreus. And Styxia needed Kremnos for access to the trade routes, the wealth, and the stability of a larger kingdom. Now, they had what they wanted through the marriage of you and Mydeimos; it was about time they paid you back.

And so, your first step was writing a letter to your mother back in Styxia.

To My Beloved Mother,

I trust this letter finds you well, as it is my hope that this message will carry more weight than mere pleasantries.

I am reaching out to you, Mother, because it is time to ask for what I need in return. Styxia must come to my aid—not through direct intervention, but through resources, information, and political maneuvering. I need Styxia’s support in securing my place here as a force to be reckoned with, both to stabilize this kingdom and to help guide Mydeimos toward becoming the ruler this land needs.

With all the respect I can muster,

[Name] Queen of Castrum Kermnos.

The days following the letter’s dispatch were filled with tense anticipation. Every moment felt like a countdown, but you had no idea when the reply would come. Krateros was still helping you and making sure you were actually eating.

You had done all you could for now—sending a message to Styxia and beginning your education on Kremnos’ geography, history, and its position in the war. Krateros’s demand to meet with the generals was still looming, but there was no immediate need to rush into that; for now, you kept busy with what you could control.

The knock on your door broke through your spiraling thoughts, and you quickly stood, adjusting your posture to appear composed. You didn’t have the luxury of weakness anymore.

"Enter," you called, voice steady.

The door creaked open, revealing one of the castle’s servants holding a sealed letter.

"Your Majesty," she said, bowing low as she extended the letter.

Your heart skipped a beat. The seal was unmistakable—it was from Styxia.

Without a word, you took it from her hands, immediately breaking the wax seal. You read through the contents quickly, your eyes widening as you absorbed the information within.

Your hands clenched around the letter as you processed its contents. The message was clear: Styxia had granted you their conditional support.

You had no time to waste. The war, the generals, the people—they all awaited a queen who could lead them.

The next steps were clear now. You would prepare to meet with the generals and gather the information Krateros had insisted you understand. You would learn every detail about the war—what they were fighting for, who the enemy was, and where the key strategic points were.

The next morning, you dressed in a simple yet authoritative gown, forgoing the luxurious silks that you were once adorned with. You needed to prove yourself capable, not just of ruling in the shadows, but as someone worthy of standing in the light. Your expression was set with determination as you stepped out of your chambers, ready to face the generals.

The long walk through the palace halls felt longer than it should have. Every step echoed, as if the palace itself was waiting for you to take action. As you arrived at the war room, the heavy wooden doors loomed ahead, guarded by two sentries.

"Your Majesty," one of them greeted, opening the door without hesitation. You nodded and entered, only to be met with the steely gazes of several high-ranking generals. They were older, grizzled men, some of whom had seen more battles than they would care to count. But their respect was not given freely.

At the far end of the room, General Mavros, an older man with a thick beard and scarred face, looked up from a map sprawled across the table. His gaze shifted to you, and despite his age and experience, there was a visible flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice a mixture of authority and curiosity. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"I’ve come to understand the situation in full," you said, your voice steady, clear. "I’ve come to see how I can help lead this war."

Mavros raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"I want to know everything," you demanded. "The enemy, our positions, our strengths and weaknesses. All of it. I intend to be involved. I will not be a queen in name alone."

The next few hours were a blur of information, names of enemy factions, strategic locations, and key battles. The complexities of war unfolded in front of you as Mavros and the other generals taught you what they knew—about the landscape, the movements of enemy armies, and the politics of the other factions involved.

It was then you suggested your idea of tearing them apart from the inside. Plant a mole, spread misinformation, and make them surrender.

Krateros, who had remained in the background up to this point, stepped forward, his eyes calculating. "It’s bold. But it’s also risky. The enemy could catch on quickly, and if they do, we’ll be exposed as the ones responsible. We need to be careful with this approach."

"That is where my home kingdom comes into play. Styxia will be our alibi."

"Explain," Mavros said, his tone all business now.

You stood straighter, your confidence solidifying. "Styxia, my homeland, has a history with the neighboring kingdom we're fighting. They’ve always wanted influence in Amphoreus, and as a result, they’re often suspected of meddling in its affairs. We can use that suspicion to our advantage. By making it look like Styxia is supporting the enemy, we can feed into their paranoia and create division within their ranks."

You could see the generals begin to process what you were proposing. Krateros’s gaze flickered with recognition, while Mavros’s calculating expression told you he was considering the broader implications.

"We don’t need them to know we're involved directly. If Styxia's name is associated with the unrest, the enemy will begin to doubt every move their allies make. They’ll turn on each other, without us ever lifting a sword."

Krateros, ever the skeptic, crossed his arms. "But Styxia would never commit to such an act openly. If we move forward with this, we’ll need to make sure they’re kept in the dark. Their involvement must be only implied, and that requires finesse."

"That's why our mole is essential," you replied, stepping forward. "We can use Styxia's reputation as a shield. The rumors can start with someone who has a connection to the kingdom, someone with the knowledge to plant seeds of doubt. This way, Styxia can remain unaware, and our position won't be compromised."

"Let’s not waste any time," you said, your voice firm. "The longer we wait, the more chances they have to uncover our plan. Let’s set this into motion immediately."

Mavros looked to the others, who gave a quiet nod of agreement. "We move quickly, then. This could be the turning point we’ve been waiting for."

Another warrior was slain by the hands of Mydeimos. It was never-ending at this point. A week into battle and Pixara has yet to yield.

It wasn't that Castrum Kremnos was weak by any means, but Pixara had numbers. Numbers that shouldn't be possible for a newer alliance.

It was clear to Mydeimos that Pixara had underground connections. Connections to kingdoms that most likely wanted to witness the fall of Castrum Kremnos.

It was then that an argument broke out amidst battle between warriors on the opposing side. "What are you saying? Styxia was never promised to us! We're fighting for bigger kingdoms than that!"

"You fool! Styxia and Castrum Kremnos are relying on each other now! If we take down one, we get the other!"

"Then why are we even fighting? King Mydeimos and his wife don't even get along! She'll give us their powers without all this bloodshed!"

"Where did you hear such rumors!?"

The argument between the warriors grew louder, their voices sharp and accusatory, as if the tensions on the battlefield were not enough to contend with. In the midst of the chaos, the clatter of swords and shields drowned out the shouts of their own comrades.

One of the warriors, his armor dented and worn from the heat of the battle, spat out, "You think too highly of yourself. If Styxia were truly so eager to abandon Kremnos, they would've done it by now! But they haven’t. They’re still dependent on us, just like we’re dependent on them."

Another voice, thick with disbelief, responded, "Don’t be so naïve. You don’t understand the politics of it all. It’s not about kingdoms anymore—it’s about survival. Mydeimos' wife—what a joke. She’s as much of a pawn as anyone. When she takes control, the entire balance of power will shift. Kremnos will fall. Styxia will take the reins.”

The first blow came suddenly, without warning. A crazed, bloodied warrior, his face twisted with exhaustion and frustration, swung his sword at the nearest comrade. The strike was wild, driven not by skill, but by pure desperation.

The clang of steel hitting steel echoed across the battlefield, and for a brief moment, the fighting halted, the warriors around him looking at one another in confusion.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted, trying to back away from the escalating madness. "If you keep this up, Pixara will fall! All of our effort, all our resources!"

But the man, his eyes wide and unseeing, didn’t answer. He was too far gone, the madness of battle overtaking his sanity. His sword came down again, this time finding its mark in the chest of another warrior, sending him crashing to the ground with a pained scream.

The shout of alarm spread quickly. “Traitor! He’s lost his mind!”

Mydeimos signaled for his warriors to fall back.

His warriors hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to follow orders or try to salvage what was left of the frenzied battle. But the sight of Mydeimos—calm, collected, his expression stone cold—was enough to sway them. Slowly, they pulled back, retreating from the chaos unfolding behind them.

The battlefield, once a chorus of clashing swords and battle cries, fell into a grim silence, punctuated only by the ragged breaths of the fallen and the distant cries of those still fighting amongst themselves.

Mydeimos surveyed the scene, his jaw clenched in frustration. His eyes scanned the disarray—the scattered bodies, the warriors who had once been allies, now locked in confusion and violence against one another.

"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his fists tightening. "With the diverse group of nations in this alliance, opinions were bound to be different. But this?" His voice rose in disgust. "This is the end of unity, the end of purpose."

"Today, my army, we witness the fall of the weak known as Pixara!" Mydeimos shouted with a raise of his sword.

"We are Kremnoans! And we will never fall to these cowards!"

The battle cries that followed were fierce, loud, and unrelenting. The warriors surged forward once more, and with Mydeimos at their helm, they began to push back the disarrayed forces of Pixara. His eyes were focused, his mind calculating. This time, it was different. The defeat would be decisive. The rebels would feel the weight of their disobedience.

He'll be back home sooner than expected.

The news of their army's victory spread around Castrum Kremnos quickly, many were preparing for the return of the warriors excitedly.

You were also finally starting to be seen and respected as good word began to circuit about your participation in the small war.

You hadn’t truly expected it. You had been preparing for failure, even as you worked tirelessly behind the scenes. But now, as the whispers grew louder, you couldn’t deny the shift. You were no longer just the wife of Mydeimos, the one who had been thrust into a kingdom full of political intrigue and turmoil. No, now you were beginning to be seen as an asset, someone who could hold her own.

The palace felt different now. People greeted you with more respect, the once-dismissive looks were replaced with nods of acknowledgment. Some even approached you with suggestions, offering advice that seemed more like an invitation to join the ranks of those who would guide the future of Kremnos.

Your mind, though, was still occupied with Mydeimos.

What would Mydeimos say when he returned? Would he see your involvement in the war as a sign of your loyalty, or would it further estrange you both? Would this newfound respect be enough to create the change you desperately needed?

There was only one way to find out.

A few days later, the army returned with their king.

People lined the streets, their faces a mix of joy, curiosity, and anticipation. It was clear this victory meant more than just a battle won—it was a declaration of power, a symbol of the strength Castrum Kremnos now wielded, and a glimpse into what the future could hold.

Mydeimos was leading them; there was something in the way he looked at the crowds that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t joy or triumph in his eyes; it was a quiet, brooding intensity, as if the weight of the kingdom’s expectations, the loyalty of his people, and the complexities of his reign were bearing down on him all at once.

It wasn't until late into the night, when you were up walking around the now familar castle, when a hand came out of a room and yanked you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you, and for a moment, everything was still—silent and suffocating.

Your eyes adjusted to the low light, and before you could speak, you heard a voice.

"Don't make a sound," Mydeimos’ voice commanded, harsh and firm. It was the first time in weeks you’d heard it so close, so raw. His presence in the room felt almost like a storm, unpredictable.

He released his grip on your arm, and you took a step back, your pulse still racing. "Mydeimos, what—?"

"I told you not to speak," he snapped.

Mydeimos’ gaze softened for just a fraction of a second, though it was fleeting. "You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? The whispers around the court… the way they look at you now."

Your stomach dropped. "I only—"

"I don’t care what you’ve been trying to do." 

Your nervousness was quick to turn into anger.

It was as if the weight of everything that had happened—every word unsaid, every action, every betrayal—had been building up inside you, and now, finally, it was spilling over.

"You think you can just walk in here after everything, after everything that's happened, and still treat me like this?"

Mydei looked shocked before his brows furrowed, but you didn't give him time to speak.

"You left me at the altar; you left me without saying goodbye before heading into a war! Y-you even left me that night when all we had was each other!"

Your chest heaved with every breath, and the tears, which you had been holding back for so long, began to threaten. But you wouldn't let them fall. Not now.

"I wondered what I did wrong for so long! I just wanted my friend back. I wanted to be there for you after the fall of your parents! I just thought you'd need me the way I need you..."

You couldn't help the tears from falling now.

For a long moment, there was silence, broken only by the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. Mydei looked at you, his face unreadable, but you could see the flicker of something—guilt, remorse, maybe even regret.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You did a terrible job, Mydeimos!"

Your anger seemed to rub off on him now. "Could you stop calling me Mydeimos! To you, I am your Mydei!" He was damn near growling now, an animalistic look in his eyes. "Did you ever stop being selfish for one second and think about the consequences of us being so close?"

"Selfish? You're calling me selfish?"

"[Name], let me finish talking." He wasn't asking, and with the look in his eyes, you knew it'd be best to be quiet.

"I did what I had to do," Mydei continued, his tone low, laced with frustration and something darker—resentment, maybe. "I didn’t want to push you away. But we’re not children anymore. We’re not playing games. Every choice I made, every move I made, it wasn’t for me, it was for this damn kingdom, for Kremnos, for us, whether you understand it or not."

His fists clenched, the muscles in his jaw working as if he were restraining himself from saying more. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense, the emotions running so deep beneath the surface.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with bitter frustration. "You think I’ve been selfish? You think this is easy for me?" His breath hitched, and there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze before he quickly masked it again. "I’ve been carrying this weight, this burden, all by myself. And I didn’t want you to have any part in it. That night in the field... I saw what my people, my own father, were capable of. It haunted me every night, seeing you like that, holding my mother's deceased corpse."

"Then... the marriage actually happened, and I knew there was no way for either of us out of it."

Your heart clenched, the venom in his words stinging more than you expected. Hell that’s coming... You didn’t want to ask him to explain. You didn’t want to know the details of his world, of the decisions he had to make. But you couldn’t help it.

"Is that why you avoided me? Because you thought it would keep me safe? Because you thought I couldn’t handle it?"

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before the harshness returned. "I left because I thought you deserved better. I thought you could have a life without the weight of this kingdom crushing you. Without being tangled in my mess. But maybe I was wrong about that."

You stepped back, your hands trembling, unsure if you wanted to hear more or if the truth was too much.

"Maybe you’re wrong about everything," you whispered, barely able to hold back the tears. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to keep me in the dark while you fight your battles and make your choices."

Mydei’s expression shifted—something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Sorrow? "I didn’t want to make those choices alone."

"You think you can fix this? After everything?" you asked, your voice trembling, raw with emotion. "What do you want from me, Mydei? After all this time, after everything you’ve put me through?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, more uncertain. "I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to keep running away from you."

You let his hand touch your face. "I heard about everything you did to help us, me, come home. It made me think about how much stronger you actually are. I... regretted making you rely on me so much as kids. You could have always been a strong leader if I had just given you the chance. If I let you adapt to life here instead of trying to seclude you from it."

Mydei’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes now, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say something more.

"I’ve been so scared of losing you," he confessed, his voice tight. "But maybe... maybe I’ve already lost us, in some way. Maybe we’ll never be what we once were."

You shook your head, stepping closer to him, your heart pounding. "We don’t have to be what we were, Mydei. We can be something else. We can start again—slowly, but together. If you’ll let me in again."

"We can be different from your parents; we don't have to end in tragedy."

He paused, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options, as if the weight of his past mistakes was heavier than the future he could possibly have with you.

After a long, tense silence, he nodded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. "I want to try," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I want to try with you. If you’ll have me."

You took a deep breath, your chest tight with all the emotions you had been holding onto for so long. "I’ll have you, Mydei. But you have to promise me something. Promise me that we won’t hide from this anymore. Promise me we’ll face whatever comes together, no matter how hard it gets."

His grip on your face tightened slightly, a silent vow in his eyes. "I promise. No more running away."

You smiled. "No more running? Not even from a pretty butterfly that lands on your nose?"

Mydei's once longing face turned into one of annoyance. "You cannot be serious."

The look on his face made you laugh even harder; his scowl, which was usually threatening, felt like looking at a puppy. "If you had something randomly land on your nose, would you not freak out?"

With your laughter dying down, Mydei looked lovingly at you. He missed this.

"Not as much as you, that's for sure."

Mydei let out a 'hmph' as he grabbed your chin with his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. "W-what are you..!"

He leaned in gently, placing a soft kiss on your nose. This action left you flustered and a stuttering mess.

"I promise you, [Name]. I will not leave your side; I'll protect you no matter what." He pressed his nose against yours, forehead to forehead.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

wowie this was long, i'm working on something similar for phainon (probably not as long), lmk if you wanna be tagged!

[acosmicbee]

I think I’m cooking rn … so Yk how there’s all the discourse online abt child influencers?? So the Yandere in this situation is a “commentary” “video essay” YouTuber and one day they get an announcement suggesting to look into reader. See reader is a child influencer, trapped under their bad parents and forced to make videos for them and yan is immediately interested in making a video about them so he does and he notices it gets success so he continues to make videos about reader and it’s to the point where it’s low-key an obsession

do whatever u want with that au heheh 

Poison Words

500 Follower Celebration - Day 4

TWS: Mentions of creepy/implied inappropriate comments towards a minor (Y/N), Parental Neglect

"It's just some stupid kid who has nothing better to do than be jealous of others' success! Honestly, why can't he go play some video games or stick his nose into someone else's business?" You peeked out of the basement door, watching your mother pace the newly renovated modern kitchen.

Apparently, someone had been saying some lies online about your family. Not that you knew what was said, you weren’t allowed online. You were hardly allowed out of the house other than for filming videos or school.

"Honestly, this wouldn't have happened if Y/N would just behave instead of being a whiney crybaby on camera! Is it really that hard to just be quiet and smile?!" She continued. Her phone was pressed to her ear as she rhythmically paced back and forth. Her words stung, but you brushed them off. This was normal, hearing her talk about you like that.

"Y/N!" She suddenly noticed you, all her anger suddenly directed at you. "We raised you better than to eavesdrop on conversations that clearly aren't meant for you! Go back to your room right now!"

You could only nod, slinking back down the basement stairs. You had just wanted a snack, she'd forgotten to give you breakfast and lunch. Although, maybe it was less forgetfulness and more apathy towards you.

You only got fed when your parents randomly remembered you, or you were filming a video. You didn't mind filming the videos because your parents were always nicer when the camera was on. You wished the camera stayed on all the time sometimes, just so they'd hug you and tell you they loved you.

The room shown in your videos, the one that was colorful and full of toys and blankets and pillows, was merely a set you weren't allowed to actually sleep in. Your actual bedroom was a small room in the basement with a basic wooden bed frame, mattress and sheets.

You curled up on your bed, holding your pillow close as you thought about your mother's words. Someone posted a video about you...? It didn't sound positive from what your mother had said and you wondered what he had said. But there was no way for you to know... right?

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You glanced around the library nervously as you crept towards the computers. At school your class got 30 minutes of library time every day, but you had never dared to touch the computers before, always picking up a book.

You felt sick with anxiety as the search bar popped up and you typed in YouTube. Everything felt overstimulating on the homepage and you quickly located the search bar, typing in your channel name. Among the most recent videos from your own channel was one with a guy on the thumbnail next to a picture of your family with your face blurred out. Gingerly, you clicked on the video.

The video started with a man, maybe in his 20s staring into the camera. He looked serious, like something bad was happening. His hair was black but had some blue highlights in it which you found super cool.

"Todays video is going to be serious. We're going to be talking about the exploitation of children and family vlogging channels. Recently, a viewer brought a channel rising in popularity to my attention. This channel is run by a mother and father and mainly features their young child."

A few video clips were shown from your channel and in every one your face had been blurred. In any clips where your name was said a beep was played over it. It was strange to you, and almost made you close out the tab when he started to talk again.

"As you know, I don't believe children should have their faces and names on the internet. It's dangerous and you never know who could be using that to their advantage behind the scenes. Even though their parents lack the care to do so, I will be blurring their face and censoring their name during this video."

It was dangerous for your name and face to be out there? The concept was so foreign to you, your entire short life was practically on the internet. Nothing bad had happened to you so far.

You spent the rest of your library time watching the video. It made that sick anxiety feeling in your stomach even worse. Was it really that strange to be posted on the internet, for your name and face to be out there?

By the time your teacher called you all to be rounded back up you pushed down the feeling, vowing to never look him up again.

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

Sky had expected the copyright striking and takedown requests on his last video. The parents from that family channel seemed like the controlling type who couldn't stand having valid criticism lobbied against them.

It didn't change anything, all the clips he had in his video were covered under fair use. Now he just had more fuel for the fire. He just felt bad for you. You were such a cute kid who didn't deserve what your parents had put you through.

He decided to look a little more into you, just to make sure you were in a safe situation, while he worked on filming his next video. After all, it would be horrible if his videos were leading to backlash towards you or a worsening of your situation.

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You lasted a week and a half before you went on the computer again. Your father and mother had been arguing over another video made about them. There had been multiple similar arguments but your mother had called this person in particular a 'blue headed freak' so you guessed who it was.

You made your way to his page, finding his newest video easily. It was similar to his last one in title and thumbnail, and you forced yourself to click on it. You had been thinking about some of the stuff he'd said in his last video and wanted to see what else he'd say.

"It seems some people are unable to learn a lesson or accept that they are wrong about certain things. Your child's personal information should not be accessible on the internet. Your child's location should not be accessible on the internet. Have you even read some of your comments?! Have you read the things creeps say about your child?!"

Your eyes widen at some of the comments that flash up on screen. You feel confused, anxious and sick. You shut the computer to head to the bathroom where your teacher later finds you sobbing and throwing up. Maybe... he was right. If people were saying those weird things about you, you didn't want to be filmed anymore.

Your mother took a long time to come get you and the second you got in the car the camera was already rolling. She was playing up the worried mother as she drove you home, talking into the camera about tucking you in and making you some soup.

Of course, none of that happened. You were sent down to your room as she talked to the camera about how she'd left you some soup and you didn't want to be filmed. She was a good liar, especially if that side of her was the only side you knew.

You curled up in your bed, closed your eyes and tried not to think too hard about the disgusting things people apparently said about you.

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

It was surprisingly easy to find where you lived. Sky had already mapped out your neighborhood, which was easy considering your parents had carelessly shown your school's full name to the camera before.

They were lucky Sky was just looking out for you instead of looking to harm you.

He couldn't see anything from the outside, but that was fine. He wouldn't give up until you were safe. It was a good thing he'd booked a hotel for a while. He refused to give up on you, not when he knew he could be the savior you needed.

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You had overheard your mom talking the other night about some prank they wanted to pull. It was supposed to be a kidnapping prank, one where they'd send you out to run errands only to have some paid actor drag you into a car.

You didn't see how it was supposed to be funny, but at least you were aware. When you were told to go run to the store, you didn't protest, noticing the camera your mom had tried to hide quite easily.

The walk was peaceful, but even when you were expecting it, you still jumped when your arm was suddenly grabbed and you were pulled into a car. It wasn't until your fake kidnapper pulled out an actual syringe filled with something did you realize that maybe this was going a little off script.

The substance was injected into your neck before the person started to drive. As your vision went spotty you saw the person reach up, tugging off their hair to reveal... blue hair. Oh... so this was a real kidnapping then...

. ₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

"The search for missing child Y/N L/N is still ongoing. The child was taken while out running an errand for their parents in a situation many are calling barbaric. Allegedly, their parents paid someone to pretend to kidnap the child for a YouTube video only for the man to actually take the child away." A reporter said on the TV. Sky hummed as he sliced some strawberries.

"Y/N is 6 years old and was last seen wearing a white shirt and black bicycle shorts. They are about 3 and a half feet tall." The reporter continued as a picture of your face flashed on screen. "This disappearance has raised new scrutiny into the life of family vloggers and the potentially dangerous outcomes."

Sky placed down the knife, rummaging around in his fridge looking for some blueberries. The TV continued, "The argument is a long standing one in online spaces and has come up again and again. In fact, some people were trying to raise awareness about this family in particular before the kidnapping happened. I'd like to welcome Skylar Peyton, also known online as BlueHairedSky."

Sky grinned, pulling out a carton of blueberries. He poured some into a bowl to be washed as he turned up the TV. "Thank you for having me." His own voice said from the TV. "I really appreciate being given this kind of recognition to talk about such an important issue."

From upstairs he heard a dull thud. He frowned, setting down the bowl and making his way up, the TV still echoing through the house. "Many children are being exploited for personal gain instead of loved and treated like people. I made my first video because I felt that if no one was going to speak up for them and help them, then I would. Someone should."

Sky carefully unlocked the door to the first room beside his own with a smile. "Good morning, honey! You're already awake. Here, let me help you with that." He hummed as he carefully unlocked the padded handcuffs securing you to the bed.

"I was just making breakfast! Come on, lets get you some food." He said, ignoring the way you cowered from his touch. It was because of your old parents, not because you were scared of him. He was protecting you.

"While I hope Y/N turns up alive and well, I also hope that they'll be taken away and given to someone who will actually care for their wellbeing. This entire tragedy could've been avoided if their parents cared about anything besides money."

"Any last things you want the people watching to know?" The reporter asked. Sky set you down in a chair, placing the cut strawberries in front of you as he went back to washing the blueberries.

"I hope wherever they are... they're safe and happy."

Sky smiled. Of course you were safe and happy, you were with him of course! It had been a pleasure to be interviewed like that, even if he did have to sedate you so you didn't make noise while he was live with the reporter.

They wouldn't find you. Not now, not ever. Because Sky would never let anyone take you away from him. He had saved you, so you were his.

[redcali]

Giving Caleb hickeys in a party game of truth or dare in front of all your friends...

1.5K words, nsfw 18+ MDNI

At first, Caleb was mortified when he found out that you were headed to a party. He knew the type of things that went down in one. Obviously he tried stopping you from going, but you were adamant.

“It’s my best friend’s party!” you exclaimed.

“Tara? Well, I’m friends with her brother. If you’re going, I’m going.” he declared. You just rolled your eyes.

“I don’t get why you’re getting so worked up over this,” you huffed. Caleb just shook his head.

He drove the both of you there. Tara was waiting at the porch and grinned as she saw us. Most of the people were inside the house, chatting and lounging around. The party was a relatively tame one, and Caleb made sure to steer you clear of alcohol or flirting men.

A brunette with glasses and kind eyes approached you. He seemed gentle, and smiled shyly at you. “Hey. What’s your name?”

You beamed back up at him and struck up a conversation with him, delighted to find out that you both shared some common interests.

Suddenly an arm wrapped around your shoulders. Caleb pulled you back, towards himself.

“Sorry, she’s not interested,” Caleb said with an air of indifference before hurriedly pulling you away from the confused brunette. He dragged you away, holding your hand as he did so.

“Caleb!” you complained over the loud music.

“You shouldn’t go up and talk to any men like that. All men only want one thing. How many times do I have to teach you?” he chastised, as he walked you to the kitchen. It was fairly spacious and clean, and a circle of about 5 people were crowded around, some of your friends being amongst the group of people. They waved to you.

“Hey! Wanna join us in truth or dare?”

“Yes!”you hurried over and slotted yourself between your friends before Caleb could object.

“Okay,” Tara giggled. “Truth or dare, Cassie?”

“Dare.” Cassie said confidently. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, like she was drunk.

“Woah. Okay. I dare you to…take a body shot off of me.”

Cassie burst out laughing.

At this point, alarm bells were going off in Caleb’s mind. But before he could say anything, Tara pounced once more, this time, on you.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” you grinned. What could go wrong?

“You guys are feeling very brave today, huh. I guess I won’t go easy on you.”

A devious grin spread across her face.

“I dare you to give a hickey to one of the people in this circle.”

Your jaw dropped. You were…inexperienced to say the least.

“But who…?”

Cassie pointed at Caleb.

“She should do it to him. He’s always hanging around her like a lost puppy. He won’t even look at other girls! My friend Reanne was crying the other day because he wouldn’t accept her flowers…”

“I agree.” another boy piped up. It didn't take long before a chant started rising up amongst the group. "Hickey, hickey, we want to see Caleb get hickeys..."

You looked over at Caleb. The poor man’s face was red as a tomato. Your own heartbeat was erratic, as you made your way over to him. You tried to keep your composure as you draped yourself over his lap and pulled your hair back, receiving appreciative hollering and cheering from your friends.

Caleb was rigid as a rock. Both of his hands were tightly clenched at his sides as you shuffled in his lap, trying to figure out where to place the hickey.

“You’re okay with this, right?” you asked softly, and he gave a trembling nod.

You had heard about hickeys, and had a gist of how to form one. Sliding your hands up up his shoulders, you leaned over on one side and tentatively pressed your lips against his neck.

He was responsive, his breathing came in short pants, and his chest rose and fell as you gently kissed his neck. He was warm underneath your lips, he felt alive. He placed his hand on the small of your back.

“You have to go harder.” he whispered in your ear. Your face burning, you began moving your lips, pressing and sucking like you were full-on making out with it.

Caleb’s grip tightened around your back. He could barely contain his pants now, his eyes were full of desperation when you eventually pulled back. His lips were parted, like words he couldn’t say in front of all these people were hanging off of it. And now, on the side of neck right below his bobbing Adam's apple, a small red patch began to form, still shining with your own saliva.

You could barely hear the laughing and cheering from your friends as you stared down at his hickey. What had you just done?

Something hard and throbbing was beginning to poke at your core. You shifted in his lap, and a soft moan escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

“Oh…”your face reddened as you realised what it was. You hurriedly fell off his lap and he quickly grabbed a cushion to shield it over his throbbing boner. The others were laughing now, seemingly oblivious to the effect the hickey had on him. It didn’t take long before there was some sort of common happening at the pool, and everyone rushed out of the living room to see what was going on. You stood up, trying to follow the crowd, but Caleb grabbed you by the arm and firmly held you back. He stood up, and the cushion fell to the ground with a swift swoop. His boner was still prominent, the tent straining desperately against his pants. Without saying a word, he shoved you into the nearest bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it as he did so.

His breathing was ragged as he pushed you up against the bathroom door, his grip on you tight and unrelenting.

“The hickey. Where did you learn that from, pips?” he breathed. “You…you can’t just do that…”

“What?” you said innocently. “It was just a dare.”

“Just a dare?” he laughed. “No. You will not go around doing this to just anyone, you hear? These kinds of things…they always mean something.”

Caleb had always held back for you. Kept his distance whilst he cared for you. And now? That dam had broken.

“Mean what?” you stared back up at him innocently. You were pushing it, and you both knew that. He let out a low hiss.

“Pips,” he warned.

“What? You liked it too. Don’t act like you didn’t get rock hard just because I kissed your neck for a little bit.”

Too far. You had gone too far. The next second, your chest was pressed up against the cool sink as Caleb bent you over it. His breath was hot and heavy against the back of your neck, as he leaned over you.

“Shall I give you a hickey, too, then, Pipsqueak? And if you dare to get wet…” he sneered.

“I…” you struggled against the sink, but he simply pushed you down harder. You were speechless, because in fact, Caleb didn’t even need to give you a hickey for you to be sopping wet for him. Already You could feel the thin fabric of your underwear clinging onto your heat with slick.

“Caleb…” you whined. Why was he being so mean to you? He was always so gentle, so loving. But he was different now. He always was whenever you misbehaved, and this time, you have definitely crossed the line.

His lips ghosted over your neck.

“...please…” you cried, and that was all it took for Caleb to give in, give into his most primal desires. You wanted this too. You needed him as much as he needed you.

The first kiss was surprisingly gentle. Warm and soft against your neck, it was almost comforting, and the next one was harder, teeth grazing skin, and you couldn’t help but let out a moan. One arm was wrapped around your torso as he held you tightly against him, and the other snaked down to between your heat.

He flipped up your dress, exposing your ass, and his long slender fingers pressed directly into your clit separated only by your drenched panties. You could feel him smirk against your neck.

“Oh, pips. I never knew you needed me like this.” he sneered, as he made quick small stroking movements across your clit. Another moan was pulled out of you, as you arched into his touch.

“...has always been like this….”you sobbed. Poor you, barely able to form words against Caleb’s touch. You nearly shrieked when his fingers slipped into your aching core with such ease due to your wetness.

“Caleb…! Too…too much…” you sobbed, as he stroked you from the inside. Pleasure was washing over your little body in waves, as you shook and cried whilst he held you gently whilst thrusting his fingers, repeatedly hitting head-on with the spot inside of you that made you see stars. Another sensation was spreading in your core, a blinding pressure, that was building up with every stroke of his fingers.

His lips momentarily left your neck. You turned around, slightly confused, before his lips reattached themselves to your throbbing clit.

“You can take it, baby. Aren’t you a good girl for me?’ Caleb grinned, as he spread your pussy, for him to see. “Fuck, pips, you look so delicious, don’t you agree?” He kissed your clit lovingly, and his fingers reentered you once more. They pressed up unrelentingly against your spot, and the pressure reached a crescendo.

Before you could warn him, you came, your body shaking as the pleasure racked through your body. Squirt was running down your thighs, and Caleb hummed happily, as he licked them up, gently working you through your orgasm.

Caleb’s arms wrapped around you once more before your legs collapsed, holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Gods,” you whispered hoarsely, and Caleb just snuggled up to you like he hadn’t made you come just with his mouth and fingers. He nipped your ear playfully.

“You did so well, baby. All mine.”

♡

[sixeyesonathiel]

HEAR ME OUT. TELL ME Y'ALL SEE THE VISION AND I WILL COOK SMTH IMMEDIATELY.

i heard y'all loud and clear now, now i need y'all's help in deciding what type of satoru will be in the fic, help me here! <3

POSTED!

satoru gojo is the guy everyone in your major knows—ridiculously smart, annoyingly hot, borderline unapproachable unless you’re part of his stupid little circle. he’s got freelance gigs pouring in, edits promo reels for actual brands, and once got a professor to extend a deadline just by smiling.

you worked together once—on a boring group project no one else cared about. but he edited your presentation slides into a cinematic masterpiece and you’ve never forgotten it.

so months later, when your fashion content finally starts gaining traction, and you’re drowning in vlog footage with no time to cut it down—you text him.

hey. remember when u edited our project? can u help me trim some vids pls… i suck at this lol”

you say it’s just a favor. just cutting out the boring parts.

but the videos you send him? yeah, they’re anything but boring.

you talk to the camera like it’s a boyfriend.

you laugh too loud.

you try on heels in front of full-body mirrors.

and every time you drop a necklace or lean over to pick up a perfume bottle? you look straight into the lens.

no jump cuts. no edits. just intent.

and fine, maybe he spends way too long on the lingerie try-on segment. maybe he pauses every time you bend over, frame-by-frame, like he’s adjusting color grading—but really he’s just watching the way your thighs press together. maybe he syncs your audio and loops your giggle four, five, six times, rewinding the way you say “oops” like it’s a fucking song.

maybe he exports that three-second timestamp—just the part where your fingers hook into the band of your panties and you whisper “should i keep this one?”—into a separate folder buried deep in his hard drive.

it’s not even named professionally. not “asset_ref3” or “raw_pull_b.”

nah.

it’s named "fuckmepls.mp4"

and it lives in a folder called "NOT work (unless)"

he tells himself it’s research. he tells himself every editor does this. but his dick’s in his hand more than it’s on his mouse these days, and you’re to blame. you with your lazy drawl and shiny lip gloss and the way you talk to the camera like it’s his mouth you’re feeding lines to.

but then, one day, a file comes in titled:

"march haul (raw).mp4"

he clicks play.

it’s you. in your bedroom. in new lingerie. in front of the mirror. saying things like—

“god, i hope this one fits…”

“oops, sorry—too much cleavage?”

"i bet you’d pause right here, wouldn’t you?"

it ends mid-sentence.

five minutes later, another file drops into the folder:

"march haul (real).mp4"

you text:

oops. wrong send lol. this is the real one!

you don’t even delete nor unsent the wrongfully sent file.

he doesn’t ask you to.

that night, he doesn’t even pretend. he edits the video with his cock in hand, moaning your name while you test lip colors like you’re daring him to fuck up a timestamp.

now every time you ask for “another quick edit,” he’s sweating. because you’ll drop something again. you'll bite your lip again. you’ll look into the camera like you know exactly what he’s doing with that footage.

and you’re still calling it a favor.

[rafesangelita]

♡ what was supposed to be a fun evening with sarah, turned into a fun evening with rafe instead..

warnings: best friend’s brother, heavyyy flirting, teasing, tiny game of truth or dare, heavy petting, slight dry humping, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: mini series masterlist can be found here. all notes and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

wc: 2.7k

[7:13 PM] sarah <3: sorry babes something came up so i won’t be back home till later. i’ll see you!

you stared down at the text, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. so much for watching the sunset on the druthers. you typed a quick response, about to turn around and make your way back home before the front door opened. “you trying to break in, y/n?” rafe gave you a once-over, his eyes lingering on your slightly exposed cleavage. you swallowed, shaking your head. “no, i was just leaving actually.” you smiled softly, your cheeks heating at his intimidating stare.

“why don’t you stay?” he moved over, pushing the door wide open. “i better not, sarah isn’t here—” he stepped out. “she never is, she’s too busy playing poor girl on the other side of the island.” you raised your eyebrows at this. “what do you mean?” you laughed, giving him your full attention. rafe gasped, obviously taunting you at how clueless you were. “she didn’t tell you? she’s seeing some guy named john b and hanging out with all of his friends,” rafe leaned in, “kie included.” he towered over you, the height difference enough to make any girl nervous.

focusing back on his words, you were quick to shut him down. “her and kie haven’t talked in years, that makes no sense? and she’s with topper, why on earth would she be seeing someone else?” without telling me about it, you wanted to add. “beats me.” he shrugged, swinging an arm around your shoulders, walking both of you inside. “what did you two have planned?” he kicked the door shut, leading you to the living room. “uhm, we were gonna watch the sun go down on the druthers.” you put your backpack down, rafe taking a seat in front of you.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you rolled your eyes, stepping away from him. “of course you’d say that, your idea of fun includes getting drunk and jumping off rooftops.” rafe threw his head back in laughter. “look at you! if i would’ve known you had a mouth on you, i’d provoke you more.” you couldn’t help laughing along, shaking your head as you looked down at your phone. “well it’s kind of pointless now, the sun sets in like fifteen minutes,” you sighed, “i’m gonna head out now, tell sarah to give me a call?” rafe stopped you just as you were picking up your bag.

“i could take you on the druthers..” you paused, quickly declining. “no, don’t worry about it! me and sarah could always save it for another day.” you waved him off, rafe shooting up from the couch. taking your bag from the floor, you followed rafe outside, who ignored every advance of yours to get your bag back. “rafe! really it’s fine please give me my stuff.” you two walked down the dock, rafe turning around to face you. “sarah isn’t going to uphold any plans with you, just get on the boat.” he stepped on first, extending a hand.

“will you give me my bag if i do?” you watched as rafe tossed it behind him. “yeah, but you’re going to have to get on in order to get it.” you smiled, your heart racing as your eyes danced with his shiny blue ones. you took his hand, jumping onto the boat. rafe held onto you a couple seconds longer before starting it up. you’ve been on the druthers plenty of times before, your favorite spot being on the deck, out looking the water. you two fell into a comfortable silence as rafe guided the boat further out, the wind blowing through your hair.. and a little through your sundress.

you looked up, rafe not moving his eyes from where you sat. a part of you felt like you’d regret this later, but you couldn’t find it in you to care enough. slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress, you shivered as it slipped down your hips, and soon enough down your legs. obviously, you were wearing a bikini underneath, but it didn’t stop rafe from swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. minutes later, rafe stepped down, the boat coasting slowly in the marsh. “i guess this isn’t so bad.” rafe grabbed a beer from inside the deck, taking the cap off with his teeth.

“you want one?” he gestured the bottle towards you, scoffing when you shook your head. “that’s gross, no thanks.” you crossed your arms over your chest, your profound confidence dwindling away with each second he stood next to you. as if sensing how shy you were becoming, he handed you the beer, discarding his shirt, revealing to you his perfect physique. god, this was so wrong. here you were, with your best friends brother, both of you in nothing but flimsy pieces of clothing, watching the sunset. “just take a sip.” he sat down, pulling you next to him. “rafe-” he cut you off, “come on, what can one swig do?” he leaned in, his breath fanning your cheeks.

“come on, for me?” that should’ve been the last possible reason to drink, but you found yourself doing it anyways, immediately clearing your throat of the bitter taste. rafe laughed, taking a drink right after you. maybe it was because your lips were just wrapped around the same rim, but watching rafe drink from the same glass as you made your stomach flip in excitement. drawing your attention away from him, you looked at the sky, the orange and purple hues casting a beautiful glow out on the water. “sarah’s missing out right now.” you heard rafe say. “i know, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

“yeah, it is.” he kept his eyes on you, his fingers coming out to move your hair out of your face. you glanced at him, taking the beer. “i guess we could share it now.” you shrugged. he nodded, his hand settling on your thigh. you don’t know why you felt like a giddy school girl talking to her crush for the first time, because you definitely weren’t, you were just two years younger than rafe. “truth or dare?” rafe leaned in closer now, his breath fanning your neck. going with the safe option as always, rafe shook his head when you muttered ‘truth’.

“you’re boring.” he tilted his head at you as you hit his shoulder playfully. “no, i’m not. there’s just not many dares you can do on a boat.” you laughed. rafe took his time admiring your rather soft features. he liked the natural shape of your cupid’s bow on your lips, he especially liked how flustered you became once you caught him staring. “there’s a lot of things you can do on a boat.” his voice dropped a few octaves, your breath stuttering lightly. rafe wasn’t a stranger, you knew where he was heading with this, but you didn’t want him to stop.

“okay.. dare.” you watched rafe’s eyes light up, your chest swelling with pride. he looked around, “i dare you to show me what you have in your bag.” rafe watched you get up, staring at your ass when you bent down to grab your backpack from the corner. “alright..” you unzipped it slowly, plopping it down on his lap. “charger, toothbrush, hair brush, pajamas, socks-” rafe grabbed something at the bottom, holding them up to you. “and these?” he ran his thumb over the pink lace, a smug grin adorning his lips. “rafe!” you screamed, reaching out to snatch your underwears.

he got up, putting his arm in the air so you couldn’t reach them. jumping while wearing a bikini that barely did anything to support your tits wasn’t the smartest idea, but neither was letting rafe hold your panties. “rafe, seriously!” you laughed, both of you stumbling inside the lower part of the boat. he pushed you softly, enough for you to flop down on the couch with a huff. holding your face in your hands, you sighed in defeat. “this is embarrassing, please give them back.” rafe replied with a quick, ‘alright, alright.’ before making you look up at him. stuffing the lacy material in his pocket, he got closer to you, your face practically lined up with his waistline.

“get them.” rafe’s stared at you intensely as you hesitantly reached into his pocket, your heart pounding at the compromising position. refusing to look straight ahead at his navel, you closed your eyes, pausing when you felt the slight touch of something really hard. rafe hissed, his hand cupping your chin aggressively. “i-i’m sorry!” you attempted to get up, rafe pushing you down before you could go anywhere. “i know you’re not stupid,” he hovered above you, his large arms caging you in. “i didn’t mean to,” you scrambled, trying to get your words out so you didn’t look like such a mess.

“i was just trying to—”

“i wanted you to do that.” rafe ran a finger down your jaw, pecking your chin as you rubbed your thighs together at his revelation. “what?” you looked up at him, doe eyed and flustered. “what?” he mocked your voice, laughing darkly. “do you really think i’m gonna fall for that innocent shit?” rafe shook his head. “what are you talking about?” playing dumb was the last bit of reserve you had left. without warning, he cupped your pussy, making you let out a yelp as he pushed your bottoms to the side to run his fingers between your folds. “this is what i’m talking about.” rafe held up his fingers, your wetness glistening under the soft yellow lighting of the boat.

“you don’t have to be ashamed about it.” you watched as rafe took his fingers into his mouth. “sweet just like i thought.” he licked his lips. “i like this too, can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?” rafe ground his short-clad erection right where you needed him most, both of you moaning at the friction. like an icecream cone in the middle of summer, you felt yourself melting away into nothing as rafe trailed kisses up your neck, finally settling on your lips. you were hesitant, but kissed him back nonetheless, your hands coming up to rest on both sides of his face.

“wait,” you stopped him, “we can’t do this rafe.” the guilt was already eating you alive, what kind of best friend were you?. “says who?” he adjusted himself between your legs, leaning his weight on your lower half. your eyes fluttered shut, your clit pressing against the bulge in his cargo’s. “if this is about sarah, you shouldn’t have to worry about nothing, do you really think she’d care after all this time? she’s focused elsewhere.” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair as he did so. “don’t worry about her, alright?” you nodded, all self control leaving your body once rafe pulled down the flimsy straps of your top, revealing the prettiest set of tits he’s ever seen.

“fuck,” he sat back on his heels admiring you underneath him, “how come we haven’t done this sooner?” he picked up your leg, landing a kiss on your ankle. fingers working at the strings of your bottoms, you couldn’t help shying away from him now that you were fully naked before him. “getting shy?” you watched with labored breaths as rafe unbuttoned his shorts, swallowing nervously when you saw his cock straining against his boxers. “no,” you whispered, sitting up to kiss him again. your heart beamed when you felt him smile against your lips, both of you moving eagerly as he pulled you onto his lap, dragging your hips against his hard on.

rafe couldn’t believe this was finally happening. one day, you were his sister’s best friend, strictly off limits, and now that sarah pretty much fucked up your friendship, he had you practically writhing with need. “please,” hearing you beg for his cock was rafe’s new favorite song, the urge to fuck you to tears becoming this primal desire. he didn’t care that he didn’t have any condoms, and he liked that you didn’t seem to care either. pulling you against his chest, rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“you sure?” he gazed into your eyes, waiting for any kind of hesitation. answering his question, you lowered yourself onto his cock, gasping at the unfamiliar stretch. rafe cursed, both of you staying still for a moment. “you feel so fucking good,” he blinked, looking up at the ceiling as you took hold of his shoulders, leaving kisses on his chest until you clenched around him, a strangled sound leaving his mouth. “please fuck me, rafe.” you whined, your head falling onto his shoulder. with a kiss to your temple, he held you in place, thrusting up into you. you cried out, rafe grunting with every stroke of your soaked pussy.

you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you probably looked right now. with rafe fucking you at an unforgiving pace, you felt like you’d bounce off of him at any moment. “goddamnit, y/n,” he slowed down, his chest falling and rising with each breath, “i don’t think i ever want to stop.” rafe laughed, his tongue circling around your nipple, the added pleasure making you mewl. “l-let me-” you couldn’t get the rest of the words out, instead you got up, pushing rafe down so he was laying flat on the couch. “what are you- fuck!” you sunk onto him once more, riding him as his eyebrows knitted together.

“you’re killing me right now.” his nails dug into your thighs, the pain shooting straight to your core. pushing your weight on his chest, you kept a steady rhythm, looking down at rafe as he watched your cunt swallow him whole. “rafe, i’m close!” you winced, your clit hitting his pubic bone. he flipped you over, pinning your thighs down in order to pound into you even deeper. your eyes rolled back at the sudden pressure you felt, the foreign feeling making you lose your breath.

“wait i have to pee,” you tried to push rafe away but he shushed you, splaying a hand over your lower stomach, “no you don’t.” rafe began rubbing circles on your clit, your orgasm hitting you all at once. your mouth was open but there was no sound coming out, the only indication being the violent shaking of your legs. you reached out for rafe, a scream leaving your lips as he continued his movements, rubbing your clit even faster now. “look down, pretty girl, look at the mess you made.” your vision was blurry but you listened to him nonetheless, his lower half dripping with your juices.

“i’m sorry.” you whimpered, your voice shaky as overstimulation started setting in. rafe leaned down, kissing you harshly, “don’t apologize for that.” he shook his head. “hurts, rafe.” he laced his fingers with yours. “give me one more baby, i’m so close.” your eyes welled up with tears, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. with rafe hitting that soft spot inside you, it didn’t take long before you both came together, his face buried in your neck. you stayed in the same position for what felt like forever, trying to catch your breath.

“you okay?” he kissed your shoulder, running his hand down your side. “yes, i’m alright.” you smiled, both of you wincing as he pulled out. “i don’t think i could move.” you turned around, both of you blinking lazily. “well.. we don’t really have to go anywhere.” he leaned in, kissing you softly. you let him pull you close, his warmth providing you comfort. “no, but,” you looked down, “i need to clean up.” your cheeks flushed. “yeah? so do i.” you were brought back to earlier, embarrassment sinking in. “rafe i never did that before, i told you i was sorry!” you hid your face from him.

“why are you apologizing? that just means i did something right.” he got up, grabbing the long forgotten panties from the pocket of his discarded shorts. “i guess these came in handy, huh?” he walked over to you. “come on, let’s shower. we’ll share another beer and look at the stars afterwards, sound good?” he pulled you up, your legs feeling like jelly. giving him a grin, he looked at you expectedly. “well?” rafe supported you against his large frame.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you mocked him from earlier, bursting out into laughter as he dragged you to the small bathroom.

[matchingbatbites]

The woman is fucking stunning. A goddess amongst mortals, a vision sent from the heavens to bless any who may see her. Eddie could honestly go on, but she has to return her focus to the man currently standing at the counter and not the beauty that just walked through the door.

"Here's your change," she says as she passes over the few coins and receipt. "Pickup is at the end of the counter, and they'll call your name when it's ready.

The man gives Eddie his thanks before walking away, and then Aphrodite incarnate is stepping up to the counter. God, she's even more beautiful up close. The slant of her nose, the artful swoop of her chestnut hair - the twin moles on her cheek that are eerily familiar for a reason Eddie can't quite place.

"Welcome to Black Roast Café, can I have a name for your order?"

"Hi there," the woman says with a soft smile, and god, Eddie feels bad for ever making fun of Jerry Maguire. You had me at hello, indeed. "Uh, Stevie is fine."

Eddie nods and types the name into the system. "Okay, Stevie, what can I get you?"

The woman - Stevie - doesn't even look at the board before she rattles off her order. "Can I please get a large, iced caramel latte, with three shots of espresso, a pump of white chocolate, and extra whip? Oh, and a butterscotch blondie."

Eddie's brain shudders to a halt. The order is specific, unique, and it's one she's heard before, from- well if she's being honest, from the only man that's ever made Eddie question her lesbianism.

Steve had been so beautiful and so kind. He was her absolute favorite customer before he'd moved away two years ago, following his best friend when she transferred to a different university to complete her master's. Eddie had mourned just a little, had grieved the loss of sunshine he brought to her days.

Eddie's eyes snap to the two moles on the woman's cheek and everything clicks into place. "Oh shit! You're back!" she says, her filter absolutely failing her. Stevie's smile fades a bit, replaced with a tinge of nervousness as she shifts in place.

"Oh, uh, I didn't- I wasn't expecting you to-"

"Remember you?" Eddie cuts in as she finally punches the order into the register. "Honestly, your order is a hard one to forget. Clearly I was right about all that sugar going to your hips."

It's a gentle tease, one she used to make back when- before, because the order really is just so sweet. It works the way Eddie hoped it would, because Stevie just laughs softly and smooths her hands over her full, curvaceous - fuck, Eddie, head out of the gutter - her hips.

"Yeah, I could probably stand to cut back a little, huh?"

"Don't you dare," Eddie retorts, offended at just the suggestion. "If anything I encourage more, because you're- you look amazing, actually."

The woman blushes, so pink and pretty, and bites into her lower lip the way Eddie wants to. "You think so?" she asks as she hands her card over to Eddie.

"Uh, totally. Like, you were attractive before - and that's coming from a lesbian - but now you-" Eddie pauses, taking a second to run the card as she shrugs. "You're like, glowing. And it only makes you more beautiful."

There's no response from Stevie as the receipt prints, and it's not until Eddie is handing back the card that she sees the stunned look on Stevie's face, her flush even darker. Fuck, that might have been too much.

Before Eddie can apologize though, Stevie takes her receipt and blurts out "I think you're hot."

Huh?

"You do?" Eddie asks, and Stevie nods.

"I've always thought you were hot. But you have the little-" She points to where Eddie's nametag is, to the little lesbian flag sticker that she stuck on it. "The sticker, and like- My best friend, Robin? She's also a lesbian, and she's talked about how annoying it is when guys hit on her and I didn't want to be like that, so I never said anything."

God, Stevie's just as sweet as she used to be, and much more considerate than Eddie even knew. She probably wouldn't have minded getting hit on by Steve at the time, and now that Stevie is standing before her, more beautiful than she's ever been and claiming that she finds Eddie attractive? Well, there's no way Eddie can't make a move.

"How long are you in town?" Eddie asks.

"Oh, uh, we just moved back, actually. Robin finished her master's program and got a job at a local museum translating documents and artifacts."

"Okay, that's cool as hell and I definitely want to hear more about that, but first- Do you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

The question seems to surprise Stevie, and it takes her a second to process it. "Are you sure? Even though I'm-"

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and way out of my league? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, sweetheart. And I'm not above begging if I have to."

Stevie blushes again and oh, Eddie is already addicted to the way it floods her cheeks, is in love with how alive, how happy she looks. "Then yeah, I'd really, really like that." She grabs a pen from the nearby cup and scribbles her number on the back of her receipt before passing it to Eddie. "Call me when you're off?" she asks, and Eddie nods, beaming.

"The moment I clock out," Eddie promises, and Stevie giggles - giggles! Stevie's name is called and Eddie is thankful that the store is practically empty, because for a second there she genuinely forgot where she was.

Stevie gives her a wink and a "Talk to you later, Eddie," and Eddie barely waits for her to leave the store before she's adding Stevie's number into her phone.

"Okay," Chrissy says as she slides up beside Eddie. "Who is she and how did you get her number so easily?"

Eddie grins as she saves the new contact under Stevie 🩷🌹😍 "That, darling Christine, is my future wife."