#Second introduction of the characters from this au!

[aixeko]

──────<3 MINDFUCK ༺♱༻

WEEK 4 | SINNERS SAVAGERY + APART OF @edgeray EVENT

| Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night.

With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late.

So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.

| Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader

| Setting | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU

| Scenario | [ ONESHOT ] SMUT Porn with plot. Long Introduction. Dark romance. Intersex Arlecchino. Manipulation. Body worship. Dacryphilia. Obsessive & sadistic Arle. Cunnilingus. Fingerfucking. Degrading & Praise Kink. Implied cannibalism. Mastrubation. Unreliable character. Female anatomy for reader, pronouns are not mentioned. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]

⚝ TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES, OH, BLESS ME, FATHER.  ⚝ Ended on a cliff hanger lmfao, I will probably expand on it since this is only ⅓ of the ideas I have for Slasher Arle. ⚝ Anyway, thank you so much to Ray for letting me participate in this event <3 Even though it’s quite late but nonetheless thank you for accepting my work as a part of your event…! ⚝ This is how I imagine Slasher Arlecchino to look like or basically arlecchino from commedia dell'arte

[ Word count: 5147 ] | Art credit: Nut_nog on Twitter | Heart divider gif

"In and every heart that is meticulously dissected by my hand has its part in orchestrating the string of fates to bring you closer to me... and further away from life, my greatest tragedy."

Those were the exact words spoken to you during a mysterious call on the very first Halloween Eve when the infamous Mirthless Harlequin made her debut as a renowned and feared killer.

Frightened citizens have declared many titles for the Mirthless Harlequin, such as The Jester who doesn't laugh, The Living Embodiment of Demons, The Surgeon, and The Heart Collector.

Yet all these titles are of little to no comparison to the true identity of the beast that lies dormant behind that twisted, sinister mask.

The muted saturation of the walls is splotched in what is most likely the victim's blood; written on it is the detail of what had transpired before the crime scene occurred, and the freshest blood drips down the wall, spelling the name of the person responsible for the attack as if in pride or apathy toward the fallen soul.

At the centre lies a chair and a small table draped in a deep velvet cloth; an organ rests atop it, the very one that would become a trademark for the killer's distorted way of leaving a mark behind. A heart, perfectly preserved with it carefully wrapped in crimson ribbons, each twist and turn creating intricate patterns that speak volumes about the attempt at humanising the organ.

Around the table, papers of various poems and photographs of the victim's missing parts were scattered across, but even with those morbid aspects, one letter in particular has caught the eyes of the world. A letter in which a cryptic note rests inside, hinting at an obsession, not towards the killing but towards the person who will, no, whom she wants to investigate and find the truth behind the "Mirthless Harlequin."

The second paragraph was quite strange, switching from the gruesome details of the first to quoting a poet and novelist for children and young adults as follows:

Walls have ears. Doors have eyes. Trees have voices. Beasts tell lies. Beware the rain. Beware the snow. Beware the man. You think you may know.

But it wasn't until the very last paragraph that you would finally choose to be the one in charge of leading the case; there your name is written repeatedly, blood surrounds it like the base of a cake, and an unknown white substance decorates it like frosting, a substance you come to identify and regret upon investigation.

A mask which you dreaded oh so much, a mask which you wanted to rip apart, and yet when that day arrived, you prayed to the Lord above to take away the sight of what lies hidden by the mask, a sight of the unmistakable face your body and soul have fallen into the grasp of. 

The aroma of caffeine envelops your senses, overshadowing the aching desire to rest. Although it keeps your consciousness awake, you cannot replicate the same for your body.

Your blinks began to weigh your eyelids heavily with their slow momentum, and at any second now, you feared your body could give out on you and you would fall face-first onto the office coffee machine.

Much anticipated, your body did give out, but the harsh feeling of the appliance never came into contact with your skin; rather, a calloused yet careful hand pressed against your forehead, strong enough to prevent you from falling over.

"It's no wonder you haven't answered my messages or calls," an inviting yet foreboding voice sounds beside you. "Working overtime isn't going to earn you an easy ticket to an ongoing decade-long murder case—"

"I know, I know, you don't have to lecture me like everyone else; I have heard it about a thousand times already," you grumbled, grabbing her wrist and using it to straighten yourself before your eyes made contact with her crimson-crossed ones.

Arlecchino's eyebrows are furrowed, darkening her expression further; her eyes, which are often alluring and enigmatic due to her ability to hide the complexity of human emotions, seem to take on a more dangerous underlining.

Whatever tiredness had anchored you suddenly disappeared as she pulled your hand off hers, switching it so that she would be the one gripping your wrist. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second tightening the tension in the air and reflecting her thinning patience. She leaned down, her head turned to the side to whisper into your ear, but when she parted her lips, no words sounded out—a rare occasion showing the intensity of her frustration.

Her jaw clenches. "But you still refuse to listen; how can they depend on their best investigative psychologist when the one in question has not a single sane cell left to think with?" she asks, a rhetorical question you noted, but her words come out more like a growl demanding an answer.

"I am sane enough to work, and excuse me...! I didn't study my fucking ass off for nothing; I will have you know that just because I let you have your way with me so often doesn't mean I am not independent; for fuck's sake, I graduated with high honors!"

You expected her to fire back a remark rebutting your claims, seeing the twitch of her mouth, but she quickly caught you off guard when she placed her hand on your knee and held you over her shoulder.

You let out a surprised sound, instantly yelling with fisted hands coming into contact with her back in a furious retort, "ARLE! LET ME DOWN."

"Stop acting like a child; this is for your own health."

"I AM PERFECTLY HEALTHY-" Arlecchino interrupted you, her voice booming throughout the entire police department. "Healthy is a word that perfectly describes the OPPOSITE of what you are; you have been skipping your meals and overworking yourself to the point of passing out."

You tried giving your two cents, but sensing your next moves, her voice increased in volume. "I WILL be taking you back home, and you WILL have a warm bath, eat a proper meal, and go to sleep; end of statement."

Like a cowardly dog, when its owner is disappointed in it, you can only soak in annoyed silence and mumble incoherent, derogatory language that Arlecchino chooses to ignore.

Arriving at your car, Arlecchino put you down in the passenger seat, buckling your belt and closing the door for you before going to the driver's seat herself.

You turn to look at her the moment she has settled down, leaning as close to her as possible with the seat belt wrapped around you.

"Peruere-! You don't get it, Halloween Eve is coming up in a few days, which means she will be committing her 13th crime this year! Thirteen victims-!"

Arlecchino slowly turns her head to you, her facial features clearly expressionless to the naked eye, but to you, this is the most enraged you have ever seen her.

"Do you hear how insane you sound right now? You're obsessed. To think a criminal has you acting this way; I would even dare say you sound downright in love with this murderer." Arlecchino leaned in closer, and instinctively you flinched away slightly. "Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married." Although it doesn't sound like a question, it was phrased like one by her tone.

You bite your bottom lip and slump back into your seat with an audible groan; it wasn't because you couldn't answer the question, no, far from it. If it were any normal argument between you two, then you would've easily answered no; you wouldn't choose a killer over her, your lover, but the fact that she would assume such things from you has hit a spot you never knew she could. How can she think so lowly of me to presume the worst betrayal of all, obsessive towards THAT forsaken woman? Can someone not do their job without any intent of malice anymore?! The absurdity of the situation has your head aching, to believe that it all started because you wanted to make sure no one else would die from the 'Mirthless Harlequin' anymore, all because you chose selflessness over selfishness.

The ride back home would be in complete silence as you stubbornly refuse to apologise for your actions, nor would Arlecchino stoop so low as to abandon the facts and satisfy a brat.

"I'm going to prepare your bath; don't do anything unnecessary while I'm gone."

Arlecchino has calmed down from the argument during the quiet ride back home and is rather friendly now; monetarily, she places her hand on top of your head and ruffles it as she makes her way past you.

"I'm not your kid," you groan, running your hands through your hair to fix the mess that she made.

Your lover only glanced over her shoulder with a glare, a silent threat to your words, but nothing you couldn't handle, and thus she left for your shared bedroom to prepare a bath.

You stand in the hallway, confused about what to do next as you're not usually this free; it's not that you overwork often; it's that you're often way too engaged in what you are doing. Admittedly, you couldn't really say that 1 a.m. is early, especially for most people, as they are asleep by and/or before this time. You turn around for a split moment to make sure the door is locked before you take off your shoes and place them in the wooden shoe rack.

"Might as well analyse that data report Navia gave to me earlier."

You stifle a yawn as you walk up the stairs, turning the corner into the hallway that leads to your office and shared bedroom. The quiet of the night surrounds the house with the exception of the light sound of water coming from the bedroom, a perfect blend with the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

You perk up and see the many portraits displayed across the hallway of you and Arlecchino, some of them including your friends and coworkers. For what seems like the first time in a long time, a curve is formed in the corner of your mouth.

You stand in front of your office door, eyes gazing at the portraits beside it featuring Arlecchino and you back when you first started dating one another; you still remember that day vividly. It was 12 years ago, a week before the infamous killer first appeared. Your eyes narrow slightly; what a coincidence, you think; life works in such mysterious ways, but it's still often shocking how different destinies are all tied together in the pathway of fate.

Shrugging it off, you grasp the wooden handle of the dark oak door leading to your workspace, twisting it before cracking it open slightly. Just then, a memory of the earlier argument between Arlecchino surfaces, piercing your thoughts.

"Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married."

Now that you think about it, Arlecchino has been acting quite out of character today; when you usually have over time, she isn't as mad as she was today, but then again, you did ignore her messages and calls for almost 24 hours. However, in your utmost defence, you need to have your phone on silent mode so you won't be distracted and procrastinate. Coupled with the recent data, you and the rest of the Harlequin investigation team have been hard at work accumulating it over the last few months.

In one of the meetings discussing the various sources gathered for the infamous killer case, a single piece of evidence caught your attention: "A single white hair strand," you mumbled.

"What are you muttering about?"

A shiver runs down your spine, a moment of fear clouding your mind at the sudden sound of another voice, but you're quick to calm down once you recognize the voice belongs to none other than Arlecchino.

"Peruere..." You turn around and say, "Don't creep up on me like that again; it's scary."

Arlecchino raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disapproval. "You are standing in front of the door, mumbling incoherent words to yourself in the dark; if it were any other person, wouldn't you be considered the unsettling one?"

Blink, blink, blink. You couldn't even deny it because she's right, and the truth hangs in the air like a balloon waiting to pop.

"Arg... Whatever, forget what you heard and saw; I was thinking about work. By the way, you're done with setting up the bath, right?" You grab her hand, not waiting for a reply to lead her inside and into the bathroom.

"You wanted to bathe together?" Her voice softens, tinged with an unexpected apologetic tone for not considering this turn of events. "I'm afraid I can't; I need to prepare dinner for you since you have been eating only processed food lately, and it's detrimental to your heart."

"Ah..." A wave of embarrassment crashes over you as you realise how swiftly you had dragged her inside and assumed the fact that you would bathe together before even asking for her permission or if she was in the mood to do so in the first place. "I see... It's okay."

Seeing the flustered and disappointed undertone of your words and expression, Arlecchino devises a solution to improve your mood.

"If I am fast enough, I can join you later; is that alright with you?"

Much to your shame, you nodded way too fast for your liking, which in turn resulted in a light smirk from Arlecchino sent your way for the sudden clinginess. Her dark, tattooed hand rises and descends gently, resting on your head as she pats it lightly. The gesture is both comforting and oddly intimate, a soft reminder that you are her lover and the only one capable of seeing this side of her, seeing Peruere.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Mkay, I love you," you whisper, getting closer to the bath as you begin to take off your clothes.

"... Yes, I... love you too."

You didn't question the odd pacing of her words, assuming that she's still not used to saying those words back even after a decade of being together. The door closes with a soft click, and you're fully undressed, a sigh leaving your lips as you step foot inside the hot bath.

You allow your body to relax in the tranquil warmth of the softly cascading water, sinking deeper until only the features above your nose remain above the surface. The gentle flow conceals you whole, creating a cocoon of serenity, an occurrence that is rare for the likes of you. As you close your eyes, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the soothing sounds of the water and the faint echoes of your thoughts. In this moment of peacefulness, you allow yourself to let go of all the things that have weighed you down, allowing comfort to wash them away and ground you in a sense of much-needed peace.

Your thoughts linger on what food Arlecchino will be making for you, how pleasant her skin would feel against yours right now, and the upcoming Halloween Eve.

"A single white hair strand? How do I know this isn’t some sort of ploy she set up?” You question Navia, arms crossed in a vice-like grip, as you analyse the hair under the microscope. “Is it fake hair or from a doll?”

"Haha, it's simple, Dr. Snezhevna, because she herself stated in this letter that the hair strand belongs to her,” Navia replies, her tone steady and amused as she watches your demeanour shift dramatically upon seeing the familiar letter in her hand.

An audible groan escapes your lips as you snatch the letter and another from the pile of letters dedicated to the killer to compare the heart stamp and writing styles. As you read, the distinct vocabulary matches flawlessly, with not a single difference between her signature stamp and her writing style, confirming she deliberately left her own DNA behind.

“This woman genuinely pisses me off... Does she think I’m a fool? Or is she that cocky to be under the impression we aren't capable of matching her information with our extensive network database?”

Navia lets out a light chuckle, leaning back in her chair and looking drastically more relaxed than you do.

“I’ve heard Commander Wriothesley uncovered that the fresh blood she uses to spell out her name contains a secret, obscure code imprinted onto it and that it doesn't belong to the victims, though we don't know exactly who it belongs to as of now.”

“Seriously?! God forbid this damn criminal gives me a break!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling over. “The day I finally catch her, I’m going to give her a piece of my damn mind, alright.”

You open your eyes and rise from the water, leaning back against the bath as you take a deep exhale.

"Who are you, and why am I the one you desire so much...?" You said aloud to yourself, your mind foggy with the jester again, easily shattering the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around you.

"Who am I?" Arlecchino's voice echoes throughout the bathroom, causing you to yelp at the unexpected sound.

"Peruere...! Do you seriously have to always randomly creep up on me?!" You turn to face her, your heart racing as you look up at her with displeasure.

"It is not I who am the problem, but it is you who lack awareness, darling; I called your name countless times, and you keep muttering to yourself as always."

Oh.

"Ah, oh, my apologies... hm, wait, are you already finished with cooking? How long have I been here...?" you ask, looking down at your reflection in the water with much shame before raising your hands from under to see the pruney fingers caused by your prolonged exposure to aqua.

"Less than half an hour, the food has already been brought up; you can go and eat right now if you want."

"But—" you tried protesting since you still wanted to bathe with her, but, as always, she read you so easily and responded before you could even get a sentence out.

"We have an eternity before us; you should eat first lest you want an upset stomach, and you should also begin getting ready for bed."

"Sigh, if you say so," you stand up from the bathtub, the warm water dripping from your skin as you reach for the towel hanging beside the tub, wrapping it around yourself snugly. You glance at Arlecchino with a small smile that then turns into a smirk. "You should keep the door open while you're washing up."

As expected, the teasing remark made little to no effect on her, and you're left with her staring at you, unamused.

"So bland, my love, you could have faked your expression or agreed for my sake."

You leave the room with a laugh, and as you take in the sight before you, you can't help the soft smile that replaces the smug smirk that had once dominated your features moments ago. Clothes carefully selected for your comfort and a perfect amount of portion for you to relish are laid out before you on your shared bed; what a thoughtful soulmate you have, you mentally acknowledge.

You lie contentedly inside the soft blankets, the light of the waning moon illuminating your features through the window, painting your face in its most desired parts. You sink further inside, your body never wanting to leave this paradisiacal space; yet likewise, life often works against you, and a notification causes you to straighten yourself grudgingly.

Who would be texting you this late is your initial thought, but the moment your eyes land on the unknown caller who has sent you a voicemail, you nearly drop your phone. Rapidly, you scan the room for the calendar, completely forgetting the phone in your hand has a built-in one, and your heart nearly drops as you realise it's the 29th. Two days before Halloween Eve and two days before the woman strikes again. Another unfortunate soul is soon to fall victim to a killer whose identity is yet to be known aside from her details as a woman with a jester-like appearance.

Shakily, you search for your earbuds and pair them to your phone upon retrieval before you open voicemail and press on the recently sent one. A chill runs down your spine at the sound of the familiar voice beginning to talk to you.

"In the ticking shadows where time slips away, a hero stands tall yet fears the fray.

With every heartbeat, the clock's cruel hand counts down the moments that they both understand.

Time is a thief, relentless and cold.

As you chase the thrill, the stories unfold.

Yet in this chaos, a bond begins to bloom.

Two souls entwined in the depths of doom.

A hero and a villain, bound by a thread.

In the twilight of choices, where both may tread.

The dawn of your death is arriving, my dearest angel. I await the day we shall personally introduce one another, which happens to be only two days from now."

Tsk. You clutch the phone in your hand, slumping back onto the mattress with a hand over your eyes. How frustrating it is to be haunted by someone who is seemingly untraceable, and now you have suddenly received confirmation on who the next victim will be, which conveniently enough happens to be you. You feel calm; you look relaxed, yet internally, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't terrified of what would happen to you on that fateful day.

You didn't realise you had been crying until Arlecchino's gentle hands brushed away the tears that streamed down your cheeks in quietude.

"Peruere..." You murmured, the sudden feeling of everything around you crashing down.

You removed your hands from your vision and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her close as you began to sob uncontrollably; the warmth of her body brought comfort to what was left of you. Your lover didn't say anything, opting to keep silent until moments later when the clock struck two.

"She's going to kill you on Halloween Eve," Arlecchino said eerily and softly.

You froze in place, the tears continuing to fall unchecked, but the moment she uttered those words, something sounded incredibly hard to swallow; you had worn earbuds the entire time to prevent her from hearing the voicemail, and there was not a soul who could have heard the message aside from you and the sender, the killer herself.

"But how did you know...?"

Arlecchino looked at you like you were a lost dog, and without many words, she shook her head in yet more disappointment. "Why else would you be crying? It's an obvious assumption based on how you have been acting as of late, the sudden unease, overworking for the past month, and your muttering about some sort of finding." 

Right, right, of course, that's correct; how foolish and frightful of you to think beyond the possibilities.

"Ahaha... Of course, I'm sorry, Peruere... I just need to relax; I am just... so scared. I have never felt such fear before, you know."

Arlecchino stared down into your glistening eyes in wordless moments, a long and slow pause of lifelong connection and understanding passing within those time frames. Slowly, she leaned down, her movements calculated and gentle, as if afraid to break your already fragile body.

Like second nature, your hands subconsciously trail her barely dry body to the nape of her neck, enveloping it and pulling her cooler frame to your warmer one.

Her gaze remained locked on yours, searching for the discomfort and fear lingering in your soul and how she, as your lover, could dissolve those worries into mindless tranquillity.

"Whatever happens," she whispered, her voice a sultry murmur in your ears, "you're not alone."

Multiple kisses follow those words, a few on the right side of your jawline to the left side, one here and there on your neck, and lastly on your collarbone, where she's blocked by the fabric of your shirt.

Simultaneously, Arlecchino pulls the cover off you and runs a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that have obscured your beautiful features for her hungry eyes to feast on.

"Let me take care of you, little dove."

At the sound of the slight neediness in her raspy tone and that insatiable stare, you could feel a knot forming in your stomach and an aching feeling below it. You couldn't bring yourself to trust your own words, so, choosing the best possible option, you consented to her request with a nod.

Usually, the woman would say something about the lack of vocalisation, but today the air was of a different flavour because she took no time lifting your shirt just above your breasts.

She peppered kisses on every inch of your perfect imperfection, savouring the delicious taste of your body in her mouth; oh, how she wished she could devour it all.

"Peruere... please," you plead, desperate to cloud your mind with her rather than your impending doom.

"Patience," Arlecchino enunciated, her salivating tongue trailing your body but avoiding the part where you desire her the most.

Your impatience overwhelms you, and your hand goes to grip her wet hair, pulling her upward to your hardened nipples. In a weak attempt for her to fasten her pace, you let out a pathetic, whiny plea.

Through lidded eyes, her pupils direct to your face a prideful, almost invisible smirk that flashes on her lips at the sight of you breaking apart under her feathery touch.

"I have barely touched you, sweetheart, and here you are," Arlecchino pressed her knee directly on your clothed vagina, causing you to shamefully moan, "so eager for me."

Her hot mouth latches onto the right side of your perky nipple, making sure to give the left one the same attention by pinching it with her thumb and forefinger. A gasp is involuntarily ushered out of your lips, followed by more pleas for her to continue her relentless assault.

Pitying you this time, Arlecchino's pull at the hem of your pants causing a short cry of pain to be released from you and an unexpected whimper at the feel of the icy air against your womanhood.

"Naughty girl, such innocent looks but such perverted thoughts; you're already this wet," the tip of Arlecchino's finger touches your clitoral area. "And I haven't even started."

The slow progress of her foreplay obliterated to nothingness as she forcefully thrust two colossal fingers inside your aching cunt. A high-pitched scream pierced the room, but it would not be long until you were silenced by her mouth.

"How... adorable," Arlecchino groaned in between kisses, her eyes wide open to observe every twitch and change in your lascivious expression.

Like a starving animal, Arlecchino wanted more; she needed more, she craved more, and in a split moment of lost control, she decided to satiate her desire for your addictive melodies. Thus, she pulled away from your lips, increasing her speed and slipping in a third finger as your pussy morphed and fit her fingers like a puzzle piece.

You bite your lips, trying to muffle your sound as she plunges faster and deeper into you, and of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by her because how dare you try to get rid of the sound she's craving so much?

She manoeuvred you into a more advantageous position, pulling your legs over her shoulders, thrusting into the deepest part of your cunt, and rubbing your clitoris furiously with her thumb all the while she got to enjoy your pleasurable sounds up close.

"Good girl, fuck... just like that, sounds so good for me; you're so close, aren't you, doll?"

Arlecchino's hand comes to latch itself onto your hair, pulling it with satisfaction as an ominous grin creeps its way onto her once monotonic features. Her eyes seemingly take on a deeper vermilion hue at your face, filled pathetically with pleasure and fat with tears in those precious, mindless gazes.

"MMPH-AH," pant, pant, pant. "Don't stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so close...! AH! PERUERE—"

Your back arches off the bed, eyes rolling back as you see a distorted reality comparable to that of heaven; so much pleasure and so much energy are used that the next thing you know, you are passed out on the bed while Arlecchino licks your cunt clean.

Arlecchino's thumb swipes over your lip in a tender touch, eyes scanning your serene sleeping form, and contrasting with the loving touch is a sinister grin spread across her features, a mix of admiration for her work of art and something darker that dances in her eyes during the dead of the night.

Her hand trails down to the aching bulge that's imprisoned in her pants as she studies the rise and fall of your chest. She pulls her hardened cock out, rubbing the leaking precum all over the base of her length like it is lubrication.

For a moment, she allows herself to bask in the sight of you all peaceful and unaware, completely vulnerable in your deep slumber. A mix of a moan and a groan sounds from her lips as she moves up and down her enraged member, the corners of her mouth curling higher as she considers the delicate line between protector and predator, each heartbeat echoing the thrill of the beautifully unknown night.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered, her words laced with a playful edge that held secrets only the abyssal night could understand. She masturbated faster, her climax coming quicker than she expected, but not one that was unappreciated. She pulled back slightly, that sinister grin never leaving her swollen lips, an unsettling mixture of warmth and foreboding in the stillness of the atmosphere.

She switched the same hand that was used to fuck you senseless to her mouth, and effectively, she came as she tasted your arousing scent and ejaculated all over you soon after.

A satisfied enough sigh emanates from her, opting to settle down on top of your chest after calming down from her high to feel the sound of your heartbeat against her ear. The smile that seemed to stretch endlessly expanded at the thought of your heart in her hand, devouring her mind. Soon enough, the beating of your heart shall be in her hands for her to safeguard until it can no longer pulsate without its host.

"My greatest tragedy."

[chericos]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE: —TOKYO DRIFT EDITION .ᐟ

street racer!megumi x street racer!reader smau

Synopsis: rumor has it that Jujutsu racers Megumi Fushiguro and Y/n L/n have broken up, which is why they have been missing from the racing scene recently. [click to see more...]

you and megumi have been dating since high school. when your recent breakup hit the internet, it caused Jujutsu race fans to divide. But what happens when the final season is coming to a close and it's time to start picking racers to participate in the 24 hours of le mans? only two from each sector to go, and you and megumi are the best of your teams...

status: ongoing -> bi-monthly updates!

cws: modern au, aged up character, rivals to lovers, exes to lovers, suggestive content, drinking, clubbing, illegal racing, fighting (the girls get handsy), slight itafushi (I can’t help myself), mentions of other shows/characters, rich parents, ooc, tba… check chapters for tag updates, do I know how street racing works? not at all! but my friends obsessed and google is free so who cares!

this is a mixed/blended smau, where most of it is writing and I add texts/tweets for in-between context

Format credits to the lovely @/chososcamgirl

taglist: open link!

choose your character:

official playlist || y/n's lifestyle guide || megumi's lifestyle guide

introductions: pink pony club! || sassy man apocalypse

FIRST LAP 🚩

I. gear up 🚦

II. ignition 🚦

III. blame it on the alcohol🚦|| 3.5. drunk walk home

IV. so highschool🚦

V. tba…

SECOND LAP 🚩

VI. tba…

VII. tba…

VIII. tba…

IX. tba…

X. tba…

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[joontroverted]

hate the way you smile

bully! baji keisuke x popular girl reader

fandom : tokyo revengers

word count : 5.5k

tags : he is a bully (only to you tbh), dubcon, panty kink, he gives you a wedgie lol, pussy eating, anal fingering (just a bit), exhibitionism, groping, stalking (kinda), they are in school for the only purpose of them wearing uniforms, but I've been kinda vague about that because I hate writing high school aus, so you can def imagine them to be in college, all characters are 18+ only

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, IF THESE TAGS DO NOT SUIT YOU, SCROLL

you're not a loser.

quite the contrary actually, you're very popular. 

you joined the school pretty late, which itself was not very common, causing everyone to ogle at you. and judging from the way they treat you, they liked what they saw.

your features and mannerisms captivated everyone, right from the way you walked into class to the little smile you gave after the introduction the teacher forced you into doing. that would've been called cringe on anyone else, but you pulled it off.

keisuke has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does. 

yeah yeah, you were the shiny new thing when you first walked in. and then you got most of your answers correct in class, no matter when the teacher called on you. most of the answers, that is, because when you got an answer wrong and the teacher corrected you, keisuke finally felt vindicated. that would be the start of the chipping of your bright exterior. 

but no. instead you snorted (and God even your snort was cute) and rolled your eyes, muttering stupid before smacking yourself on the side of the head with the tip of your pencil. that had the class giggling, causing even the teacher to smile as she continued with the rest of the topic. 

what the hell? what was even funny about all this? 

(he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, with a little lopsided smile on your face as you suddenly realized the rest of the class had heard you. you fanned yourself as if that would blow the embarrassment away somehow, and for just a second your eyes flitted up to his. he turned away immediately.)

"what do you think of the new girl."

“huh?” says mikey stupidly, his eyes trained on takemichi of all people. keisuke shares a look with draken, deciding to get to the bottom of whatever that is, later.

“she has a name, you know,” says draken, stretching, as the three of them are spread out on the bleachers. 

“what, d’you like her or something?”

“very funny,” he replies, rolling his eyes at keisuke. “emma thinks she's really pretty, and you know emma. she immediately went up to her and started chattering away and the next thing you know they have a bubble tea date planned. i think she even dragged takemichi's girl into it.”

“i don't think they're dating,” mikey’s head whips around, finally decided to acknowledge the two of them.

“they hold hands all the time!”

“did both of them come and tell you word for word that they're dating?” says mikey seriously. 

keisuke and draken exchange another incredulous look.

“yeah, that's what i thought” says mikey victoriously. he turns to keisuke. “do you like her?”

“who the hell are we even talking about anymore?”

“the new girl, keisuke, god, how can you forget what you were talking about so quickly?”

“tch. there's nothing to like about her. gave me something to laugh at with that stupid little introduction she gave us on her first day, but she's just another girl. i don't know why everyone's so obsessed with her.”

“she gave me some of her lunch when she saw me sniffing her,” says mikey unhelpfully. “people should start doing that more.”

“you should stop sniffing people,” replies draken, disgusted.

“guess what she smells like!”

“like cocoa butter on some days and like flowers on others,” blurts out keisuke. 

both mikey and draken turn their heads to keisuke.

“that's what all girls smell like, what the fuck!” he retaliates, looking away, his face burning.

“emma doesn't.”

“yeah, and neither does hina. or takemichi,” drawls mikey, squinting at him. “and you're right. she does smell like cocoa butter. i don't know about flowers. but then again, i’m not the one obsessed with her.”

“i'm not obsessed with her!” hisses keisuke. “and keep your voice down, will you, i’m sure the rest of the world heard you!”

“mikey! draken!” a voice calls from the field in front of them. 

they all turn to see it's you, in your skorts and top, visor in one hand and racquet in the other. the skorts (who the hell came up with that mopey idea) seem to hug your waist just right, the shortness of them making your legs look longer. your top is sticking to your skin from all the sweat you had built up from the match you just had, the white becoming almost see through, and he wonders how you’re either actually goddamn stupid or that desperate for attention for you to wear a red bra underneath it.

you wave at them enthusiastically, and you're close enough to them for him to see your eyes land on him, and you give him a little wave too.

mikey and draken wave back. keisuke rolls his eyes and looks away. “fucking of course she plays tennis, how pretentious,” he mutters.

“how come the girl you're obsessed with doesn't give a fuck about you?” snickers mikey as you walk away, surrounded by your group of girls, chattering and laughing. 

“i'm not obsessed with her first of all, and second of all, we don't even know each other because i’m not a serial sniffer like you.”

“maybe you should be,” sniffs mikey, “‘cuz guess what i smell right now?”

“shut the- ”

“a boy in looove,” sing mikey and draken together, bursting into laughter.

walking home, the more he thinks about your tennis uniform, the more he's pissed off. that wouldn't be a regular bra now, would it? probably a sports bra. he imagines you peeling off the tight top in the locker rooms, laughing with the other girls. how the sweat makes it a bit harder to tug off the bra, causing you to flail around a bit, before it comes off fully. he thinks about you basking in the freedom from it for a bit, chest heaving from all the exertion of the game, nipples hardened from the sudden exposure. 

he imagines you bend over and tug off the skorts you were wearing, wondering what panties you had on. would they be red, like your bra? you seem like a stuck up bitch who would make sure of stupid things like that. judging from how snugly the skorts had fit you, your panties would probably be digging into your soft skin, wouldn't they? were your panties riding up your pussy? the thought is quickly followed by the image of tight, red panties wedged up your pussy, he could almost hear you whine as you pulled them down and off of you. he didn't even have to imagine the rest before he broke off into a run to his home so he had some material left to finish himself off.

bad thoughts. these are bad thoughts that are too raunchy and precious for someone as annoying as you. 

(to his utter irritation, it's the small smile you had on your face when you waved at him that pushed him over the edge at the end.)

you're not a loser.

so fuck knows why you're so hellbent on doing the project exactly the way you wanted to, with absolutely no room for creative liberties, no changes in font, and every single time keisuke suggested something he could see you typing up a storm on the group chat. he made sure to see the message, but not read it and then be conveniently offline for the rest of the day. he was sure you would resort to calling him to beg him to not deviate from the color pallete you (and you alone) had decided on. obviously everyone else nodded and went along with your decision. but you hadn't called. 

so here you are, trailing after him. 

“keisuke!”

he groans and keeps walking down the hallway.

“keisuke! i just wanted to let you know that i know it feels like i'm being so restrictive, but all these rules are just for the presentation, like the ppt!” you dodge a couple walking hand in hand and you turn around and wave at them. “you guys are so cute! anyways, keisuke, you have complete freedom over what you want to say during your part of the presentation!”

“ha, so can i talk about my favorite kpop star while the rest of you are talking about the american involvement in the korean war? thanks!” he snorts, striding away.

“i didn't mean whatever you want, i meant you can speak about your portion however you want! the format we've decided on is just for the ppt!” you hurry around a sharp corner he took, still following him.

“we didn't decide anything. you chose the topic, and you chose the format of the ppt,” he grits out.

“well, when we were going around suggesting ideas, everyone seemed to like mine, so they went with it. and you weren't even in the meet!”

he grunts. that was true.

you open your mouth to say something and someone’s calling your name, so you turn around to respond to them. by the time you turn back he's gone again.

“fuck! fuck!” you mutter, adjusting your tote bag over your shoulder. God, he is so irritating. him and how serious he always is about treating you like shit but never taking it all the way. you always feel the prick of his eyes staring at you, and initially you always turned to smile or talk to him, but he'd just look away and outwardly ignore you. 

you had taken to staring back at him, in hopes of him at least taking it as a sign to leave you alone but that hadn't worked either. 

instead, now you know how his silky hair slinks to the front of his face as time passes during classes, and how he absentmindedly gnaws on his pens with his canine teeth. you know how he actually prefers putting his hair up in a high ponytail rather than a low one on the few occasions that he does tie his hair. you know he's actually studying when he’s wearing his red reading glasses. he takes his blazer off often and he's rather ripped, and you're embarrassed to say that you might've asked around why. your classmates said he has a black belt and used to beat people up for fun. 

you can't figure out if that's a joke or not. 

you don’t care that he ignores you, you have enough friends and more than enough people who would pay attention to you. but it kept building and building. everyone said he was a quiet but nice guy. was rowdy when he was younger, but mellowed down and began to focus on school a bit more. you would love to see that side of him, especially now in the crux of the group project. he still had a wild side to him apparently and everyone knew not to mess with him and his loyal set of goons kazutora and chifuyu (who is quite the loser himself), but you'd had just about enough today. you had messaged him that you would like to talk when classes ended, and clearly he didn't give a fuck. 

one last attempt, you promise. one last attempt and then you can boot him off of the project and be at peace again.

remember when you couldn't figure out if they were lying about baji keisuke being a bully or not? well, you're about to find out, because while you're digging through your bag for your history project folder, you don't see the foot sticking out right around the corner you turn.

one minute you're walking on solid ground, the next minute you're in the air and crashing down on it.

your bag provides no security at all, all the books, your cute stationery, the folder, your sanitizer, lip gloss, and all the little trinkets clatter onto the floor, spreading out onto the empty hallway. 

you look up to see golden eyes, framed by dark silky hair staring down at you. 

“what the fuck?” anger rolls through you. “what the fuck, baji?”

“oh, so it's baji now, is it? it was keisuke! keisuke! just a second ago!” he mimics your voice with a laugh.

you're still on your knees on the floor. you look around, and the school is empty, even the last of the people remaining would be downstairs in the cafeteria. 

“lookin’ for all your admirers?” he sneers, bending down to pick up one of your keychains. 

“what do you want from me?” you ask, reaching up to take it from him, but he snatches his hand back. “give it back!”

“you don't have to worry about this,” he says cooly, watching you try to gather all your stuff. you're on all fours, grabbing your things. you're getting nowhere ultimately, everything is far too spread out.

keisuke watches as your skirt hikes higher and higher up, teasing him with little glimpses at your white panties. was that lace on the sides? keisuke almost falls to his knees just from that, as you continue being a stupid slut so obliviously.

“get up!” he snaps and hauls you up with a firm grip on your bicep. “i told you not to worry about that!”

“oh yeah?” you ask, turning to him, your voice raising. “i would love to not worry about this, considering i was just minding my own business! i would love to not worry about the group project but you don't give a fuck!”

he raises his eyebrows, watching you go off on him. you get closer and closer to him, and start pushing him in his chest. “i'd at least like to have a conversation with you, but no, you're such a fucking asshole that you'd rather just stare at me resentfully like a creep instead of actually come up to me and talk to me! but i get it you know, i'd also be so full of hate if i was made to repeat a year but still remained as stupid as i was when i failed!” 

the silence that follows is palpable. 

you don't stand down. for once, there isn't a spec of your usual sweetness or benefit of doubt. you are glaring at him, looking right into his eyes, daring him to respond. 

“so you've been asking around about me, huh?”

“that's rich coming from you. if i see you stare at me one more time, or blatantly ignore me, or disrespect me again, i'll gouge your fucking eyes out!” you hiss, pushing him one final time. you turn around and once again bend over to start collecting your things.

“stop.”

“you are not allowed to- “

“i'll leave you alone if you do this.”

that makes you turn back to him. hurts a lil bit to see you only listen to him so he'd leave you alone, but he’d brought this upon himself. “what do you want,” you spit. 

he stares at you for a moment. you wonder if he's just gonna burst out laughing at how you deluded yourself into thinking that he'd leave you alone, right after he knocked you to the ground like that. his hair's out of his ponytail and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his fangs flashing at you. 

he tilts his head to the side, and gives you a lazy grin. his eyes however, remain serious and trained on you.

“show me your panties.”

you balk, your anger dimming, replaced with confusion. “what?”

he looks serious as ever. he leans forward into your personal space, his hair almost brushing yours. “show me your panties,” he says slowly, as if he were talking to someone stupid, “and i'll consider leaving you alone.”

“con- consider? you told me you'd leave me alone!”

“depends. yes or no?”

“no! no! obviously no!” you're completely flushed, and you try pulling the hem of your skirt down defensively, wishing you hadn't snuck off to the bathroom to roll it up an inch before you came out to talk to him. “i'm not gonna show you my panties!”

he looks at you with a sort of bored but also amused look in his face. 

“do you seriously think i haven't noticed that your skirt's shorter now than it was in class?” he flips the tuck of your shirt up, “ah, there it is. you've rolled your skirt up just to come talk to me.”

“no… no!” you sputter, all the fight in you bleeding out from embarrassment. “i didn't, and i didn't do it for you!”

“i know you want my attention anyways. so let me be clear. either you show me your panties, which seems like you wanted to do that anyways, or i make you show me your panties.” he smiles, so simply and easily as if he's discussing what to get for lunch. “as simple as that.”

you snort. “you're gonna make me show you my panties? and how's that gonna work?” 

he laughs. “easily.”

you shouldn't have asked that, you think. keisuke pushes off the wall he's been leaning on and walks towards you. you walk back, unsure of what to do, your eyes never leaving each others, yours wide in shock and his sharp like a snake. your back hits the wall, and now you've got nowhere to go. 

“like this,” he whispers, and tugs you forward a bit by your belt loops. he then reaches forward, peering above your shoulder, and you stupidly lean forward almost on instinct. his silky hair brushes against your cheek, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of that and the next moment, you feel his fingers fiddle with the back of waistband of your skirt, untucking it. 

“you tuck your shirt into your panties, huh?” he murmurs, “you're really such a loser.”

“what are you do- ah!”

his fingers are on the waistband of your panties now. and he pulls. the fabric gets pulled up from the back and digs into your ass from his tug. embarrassment floods your body from how humiliating this is, but also from how disgustingly wet you feel yourself getting.

“keisuke! keisuke, please!” you whisper, turning to look at him, but he's still looking over your shoulder. there's no way to conceal his view, because not only is he taller than you but also he can see down into your skirt.

“ah, there she is,” he mutters. another tug. “i don't know why you didn't want me to see ‘em. well, i already did see a bit of them when you were sprawled on the floor on all fours looking helpless, but you can't expect me to be satisfied just from that.”

“keisuke, please, stop it!” you squeal, ears hot. you can't believe he's basically giving you a wedgie, his fingers are in your panties and your out in public, more or less.

“all right then.” your panties snap back in place, stinging a bit. he pushes away a step, hands up. “run along then, little loser.”

you stand still head down, with a humiliating feeling settling in you. you don't want to leave.

he watches you not make a single move to your fallen bag or even to run away. 

“fuck, i knew there was something weird about you! i knew you weren't this sweet little popular preppy princess everyone makes you out to be!” he laughs, his deep voice echoing down the empty hallway. “you're a nasty little whore, aren't you?”

“m'not a nasty whore!” you whine, “i just- “

“fuck am i gonna have my way with you,” he whistles. “i was being polite earlier. turn around.”

“why- “

“talk all you like whore, but i better see you listening to what i say,” he cuts you off. He takes off his blazer, dropping it to the ground and folding his arms. “turn around.”

you turn around, with an inkling of what he's going to do. you stare at the lockers in front you and bite your lip.

“hands on the lockers.”

“what are you go- “

he lifts up your skirt and tucks it deep into the waistband, leaving you panty clad ass completely exposed. the cool air hitting you there directly makes you clench involuntarily and he almost moans from how cute and innocent that looks. he's finally got a good look at your panties. white, fitted cotton panties with a lace trim. it's ridiculous how simple it and how much it manages to choke him up. the back of the panties are still a bit yanked up from where he had pulled earlier, and you're clearly dying from embarrassment based on how low you're holding your head.

well, there's no time to waste.

he grabs onto the waistband at the back of your panties and pulls. the material disappears into your cheeks, digging up and up and up as he pulls, and you almost lose balance from the force of it. “keisuke!” you gasp, your hand coming back for some support. “i- “

“are you stupid?” he snarls, tugging up once more, causing you to jump from how mean he sounds, “or are your hands on the lockers?"

your hands are immediately on the lockers. 

“good girl,” he mutters, “goood girl.” he pulls more and more on your poor panties, and they're crudely rubbing against your hole. your feet almost leave the ground with ever tug he gives, causing you to bounce. you're almost dead with humiliation, but the grinding against your clit and the embarrassment of the whole situation has you so flustered and wrecked.

“i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, keisuke!”

he's so focused on your hot your ass looks, clenched around your panties like that, soft cheeks being put through such torture, and he can't imagine how your puckered little hole must feel from all the abuse it's taking. makes him wanna kiss it better. 

“what is it? you don't like being treated like the little loser you are, huh?” he croons into your ear. “is this not princess treatment enough for you?”

he lets you go all of a sudden, and you almost crumple to your knees, but he catches you and hauls you up, turning you towards him. 

“you havin fun?” he taunts, towering over you. 

“fuck off! you're so mean!” you sniffle, trying to pull your panties down.

“ah ah,” he says sternly, smacking your hands away. “none of that. i'm not done with you. boys!”

the door of the classroom next to you is kicked open and you see kazutora and chifuyu walk out, who follow keisuke like shadows and drank up every word he said loyally.

you glare at keisuke, who has both your wrists in a firm grip in just one hand of his. he grins at them. “told ya she's a slut.”

kazutora snickers, but your eyes remain on chifuyu. he's on the fucking math team with you! you glare holes into his eyes as he looks your way, and his cheeks turn pink, either because it's nerd recognizes nerd or it's because your skirt is tucked all the way up with your entire ass and panties exposed.

keisuke's attention is back on you as he lifts your wrists above your head, pinning them to the lockers behind you. you try to fight him, but it's fruitless. he then tucks the front of your skirt into your waistband too, leaving the front of your panties exposed too.

your panties have a little heart stitched onto the front, your pubic hair peeking out from the lace on the leg holes. 

“now, isn’t she a pretty baby,” keisuke laughs to himself, as your heart flutters a little from that praise. “hold her up for me, boys.”

“what do you mean hold me up?”

kazutora and chifuyu position themselves on either side of you and hold on the sides of your underwear. “chifuyu!” you gasp, turning to look at the boy, who refuses to make eye contact with you, but does what his supreme leader says anyways.

“hey!” keisuke snaps his fingers in front of your face. “you don't focus on anyone but me, kay?”

you narrow your eyes.

he squishes both your cheeks with one hand, making your lips pucker out. “answer.”

“okay, okay,” you whimper, breaking eye contact. 

“eyes on me, sweetheart. i'm gonna let go your hands now. if you try anything, you're gonna find out cute you look with a smack on your face, got it?”

your eyes turn watery as you look into his, lips pushing into a pout. “got it,” you mutter.

“there's my girl. now let's see what we have here.” and with that he sinks to his knees, till he's face level with your panties. he places his big hands on the outside of either thigh, running them up and down for a moment, sending shivers up your spine. he grips your thighs and watches his nails sink into your fatty flesh, and how you gasp at the pain that feels so good.

he leans forward and places a kiss on your mound, and then goes lower and places another firm kiss on your clit. the little whimper you give spurs him on. he pushes his nose between your lips and sniffs, groaning to himself. 

“fuck that's good pussy,” he presses his nose alone the slit and goes up and up until it meets your clit and he presses down as his lips comes up to rub your pussy through your panties. his nose rubbing on your clit has you moaning, as if there aren't two of your classmates holding you up by your panties, your legs weak. 

“gimme those hands,” he demands, his voice rough. you place your hands in his gingerly. he places a gentle kiss on both of them, so uncharacteristic to the situation you are in, and how he's been treating you. “i'm gonna give you a very important job, got it?”

“uh huh,” you whisper.

“you're gonna hold my hair up while i eat your pussy through your panties, okay? i don't wanna be missing a moment of it because of my hair getting in the way”

you almost short circuit. you stare at him dumbly, and are brought back to the moment when he places a sharp right onto your pussy lips.

“yes! yes!” you nod, and with your painted pink nails, you gently push back his hair and hold it in a ponytail. “this okay?”

he nods, and gives you a little wink. you gulp and look away.

“all right, we're back to business,” he mutters, going back down to your pussy. “hold ‘em higher for me.”

kazutora and chifuyu (whom you'd almost forgotten about from the previously somewhat sweet moment) pull your panties higher from the sides, making you gasp as they dig into your pussy this time.

keisuin prods and pushes at your pussy lips. he pushes the leg holes of your panties closer and closer together, little by little before he yanks on the top your panties suddenly, causing them to slip between your lips and tug up to your clit.

“ah! keisuke! that's really- “

“c'mon boys hold her higher for me, will ya? i don't mind if your bounce her for me. pussy's so wet just from all this panty action, let’s see how sensitive her little clit is, huh?”

he's talking over you like you're some thing. the boys pull you higher this time, and you can't help but marvel at the strenth of your panties for a hot second before bliss shoots up your body as the crotch of your panties rub against your clit, and you're finally getting some good direct action. 

keisuke watches the wet spot in your panties grow bigger and bigger as your panties dig deeper into your clit, your fat pussy lips hang out from either side of the thin bunched up material and your knees knock together from how horny you are and how desperately you're trying to squeeze for more friction. all while you diligently hold his hair back. even in this debauched state, you're adorable. his dick is straining against his pants, he unbuckles them and frees himself, his mouth watering as he dives right in.

panties riding up to the maximum level, he laps up against them, tasting your juices. he spreads your lips even further, making sure there's no room whatsoever for you to escape and you whine and kick. his eyes almost roll back to his skull and his soul ascends when his tongue comes in contact with the slick and gummy insides of your pussy, clenching around both him and your panties. he's growing jealous of your panties now.

“change of plans,” he says, gruffly, “hold her up by her legs, and if you drop her, i swear to god, you're dead.”

chifuyu and kazutora are quick to follow, as they each take one leg and lift you up, holding you open and ready for keisuke, but this time with your entire pussy directly facing him. you wail at the sudden change, but to no one's surprise you're ignored.

keisuke pushes your panties to the side and can finally see your pussy in all it's glory. your cute little bush and your gaping pussy from all the edging it has taken a minute ago. he rolls his saliva around in his tongue and then spits a glob of his spit right onto your pussy. you clench at the feel of how lewd it is, the warm, thick saliva coating your vagina and sliding down, dripping from your asshole. it's disgusting, but it feels so good. 

he pushes his entire face in, slurping and swallowing all you have to offer. you're glad that the two are holding you up, because you're too fucked out to even feel the tips of your toes, let alone stand. through all this, you make sure to hold his hair back, because you don't want him to be mad at you.

a finger presses on your asshole and you quiver with shock, snapping out of your daze. “kei- kei, keisuke, not there, not!”

you babble stupidly, passed the point of coherence, as keisuke lets you bounce a little on his fingertip dipping in and out of your puckered little hole, while he slurps up your perfect little pussy, sucking and flicking your clit. 

“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum!” you sob, kicking your feet a bit, like the spoiled little thing you are. 

“cum baby. i've got you,” he mutters, as he reaches up one hand to give your tits a hard squeeze. that's the final straw for you, as you finally let go, nipples aching, pussy tingling and asshole prodded open. you come on his mouth and he eagerly drinks up every last drop, jerking himself faster and faster. 

“bring her down,” he groans, and the lower you down to the floor, still holding you and keeping you spread. you look up him, your mouth agape as you watch him fist himself and push himself to the edge, cumming all over your face. at first you're taken aback, but then you just sink into the feeling of the hot cum drizzling all over your face dripping down… it almost feel therapeutic.

god. you really are a whore. and a loser.

you sigh. 

“oi, go pick her stuff up, and put it in her bag. nicely, like in however cute way she usually does it.”

you're gently set on the ground, on your hands and knees, shaking slightly. you see kazutora and chifuyu walk away and start gathering your stuff up off of the floor. keisuke kneels down to you, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. he pushes you slightly onto your knees and wipes the cum off of your face so gently and so sweetly, you could've mistaken it for your sweetheart wiping your wet face after a running home on a rainy day.

“you okay?” he asks.

you blink. “are you happy?”

“huh?”

“are you happy that you finally got to debase me and see me as a person and not some shiny new thing?”

“to be honest, you were a shiny thing till i wiped all the shininess away right now.”

you smack him on his chest with the back of your hand.

“i'm sorry,” he says looking into your eyes. “i just… um. have a crush on you that was so overwhelming that i wanted to, well, debase you,” he mutters. 

you laugh, and scratch your face. “whoa, i totally had no clue whatsoever.”

“is your face still sticky? tora, she has some wet wipes in her bags, toss ‘em over.” the wet wipes fly into his hands, and he pulls one out, wads it up and starts cleaning you up again. 

“how did you know i have wet wipes in my bag?”

“maybe i’ve looked through it before. maybe i haven't, who knows?” he shrugs, not looking at you, suddenly extremely concentrated on the area near your eye. 

“when did you even- ”

“i might also have memorized your schedule, and all the classes you take. oh, and i also need your panties from today.”

he gets a slap in the face for that.

this was 2.5k words longer than it was supposed to be. i'd love to hear what you think of it 😇

likes, comments, asks and reblogs HIGHLY APPRECIATED ❤️

read my other tokyo revengers fic!

kiss it better (ran haitani)

dividers by the super creative @anitalenia you can tell, I'm kinda obsessed 🌟

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: time travel AU

I'm finally getting around to recommending some good Sakura-centric time travel fics! There are plenty of them out there and they can be kind repetitive, but I always eat them up. Typically speaking, I really don't care much for the whole introduction bit at the start where it's the actual process of her being sent back... So just make it past there before you decide whether or not to continue!!! Also, I'm starting to think this list is getting kinda long, so maybe I'll do a second one?

I've been dying to post some of these fics in a list, so please enjoy!

Started: 2024.08.16

Last Updated: 2024.12.02

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

----

Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

If there is one thing I want you to take away from this list, it is this fic right here. I kid you not, Sakura is one of the best fics I have ever read. I have never felt so gutted, so heartbroken, so giddy, so stressed, all from one work. It's a masterpiece all while being criminally underrated. The characterizations and storytelling are beautifully done. You feel for the characters and the relationships formed along the way are truly great. Please share this author some love.

Check TWs before hand!!

.

The Misadventures of Kakashi and the Girl From No Where - Goldfishlover73 || ao3 || kakasaku || M || time travel AU || complete

When a girl called Sakura seemingly falls in the sky, Kakashi is skeptical. Far more skeptical than the rest of Team Minato are. War is approaching quickly and this strange girl is leaving more questions than answers in her wake, Kakashi must decide where his trust and loyalties lie in a constantly changing world.

Told in the perspective of Kakashi in his youth! Really interesting take and I love how strong Sakura is in this in addition to the fact that we get to see a different side of Kakashi that we aren't used to.

.

Anachronistic Drift  - Elesrea  || ffn || gen || T || time travel AU || incomplete

Her plan was flawless. Save Shisui. Save the world. Time-travel, Sakura-centric AU

Sakura spends years training to be sent back in time and save the world from Sasuke. Whilst masquerading as her younger self, she poses as an unofficial ANBU to stay anonymous in her efforts of changing the shinobi world for the better.

.

Tourniquet - lilac haze || ffn || T || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

She was his tourniquet. She stopped the bleeding, she stopped his bleeding. She stopped his pain, his despair, his loneliness. She was the first face he saw. She was the first person he trusted. She was the first person to keep his secret. She was his tourniquet. He did not love her. He only loved the idea of her. SakuraXMinato. Time-Travel Fic. Alt. Universe

I quite honestly think this is a hidden gem amongst time travel AUs since I never see people recommending it, but Touriquet is so good! What's interesting here is that it isn't Sakura that's playing with time, but rather Minato. The night of the Nine-Tails attack, rather than dying, he is sent to the future where post-war Sakura is the one to find him and keep the former Hokage alive. It's a delicate situation and one which is kept a secret from many, but through Minato's depression and difficulties with his new life, Sakura becomes a close confident.

Same author as Sakura! I gotta read more of their works

.

Armour-Sleeved Single Hit - thatdamnuchiha || ao3 || T || madasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

Sasuke always told Sakura she was weak. Even after she trained with Tsunade for years he only had eyes for Naruto whom he considered strong. She would forever be invisible to him no matter how many mountains she toppled. Being a member of Team Seven despite Sasuke’s refusal to acknowledge her meant she got herself into her fair share of sticky situations. Getting stuck a hundred odd years in the past had to take the cake though. But she was just a weak little girl and compared to the shinobi of old she’d be ridiculously pathetic. Sasuke had said she was weak to him – a modern day shinobi who hadn’t been forced into battle after battle like they did in the Warring Clans Era. Obviously she’d be nothing more than a spec of dirt in the eyes of the Founders.

Sakura manages to find herself in founding-era Konoha! While trying to prove that medical ninja are capable fighters she unknowingly gains the affection of Madara Uchiha. After all, the Uchiha find beauty in strength. Super cute read!

.

here are the fruits of your labor (would you like a cherry on top?) - snickiebear || ao3 || M || shisaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

Shisui smiles and it is unlike any smile she has seen before. She cannot remember the last time she had seen a smile. 

Sakura manages to fix everything and now tries to live her life in a past she doesn't know. Shisui is the first to find her and the two of them form a close relationship that continues through her journey of recovery.

.

The Moon Knows Best - darth_healer || ao3 || E || madasaku || time travel AU || complete

The Moon has played a cruel trick on Madara. He's still home, but it's not the same. Instead of a tranquil forest, there's a colorful vibrant village. Instead of the cliffside he knows so well, it's a collection of Senju faces, one of which belongs to his good friend Hashirama. And instead of Hashirama, Madara is saddled with a very interesting, pink-haired girl. MadaSaku in which young Madara goes forward through time.

Madara finds himself far into the future where the first to stumble upon him is Sakura. He's such a brat, but his and Sakura's interactions are rather entertaining.

.

In the Magic Hour - summersirius || ao3 || E || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

It's not perfect, but everything is beautiful. —Minato/Sakura

A sharingan mishap lands Sakura in the past where she drops down in front of team Minato. With her hope of returning to the present time dwindling, Sakura excepts her new life and tries to make the best of the situation and the new bonds that come with it. The dynamic between Sakura and the older generation is quite refreshing and her mentor relationship with the former team 7 is great.

.

Stumble - writer168 || ao3/ffn || gen || T || time travel AU || complete

Sakura wanted to die.Sasori was fine with staying dead.But it seemed fate had other plans for them, because when they both wake up younger with blood pulsing through their veins, they had to remember how to live again.Time Travel AU

Sasori and Sakura are both sent back in time and they try to make a difference in their respective villages. Told in the perspective of both characters, but primarily Sakura. She ends up forming a pretty sweet bond with Ibiki and Genma (which I love) and they help her through some things. Sakura has a rough time

.

A Twist in Time - wolf08 || ffn || sasusaku || T || time travel AU || complete

With Konoha on the verge of destruction, Sakura is sent on a last-resort mission to save her world by travelling to the past. Join her in coping with her old body's shortcomings, testing the natural laws of time, falling in love all over again, and rediscovering who she is.

With Sakura frustrated at being back to where she started in her becoming of a shinobi, she begins to train with Sasuke. This time around in her life, her relationship with her brooding teammate isn't so strained. Pretty cute read imo

.

Return & Rehash - SpaceNugget11 || ffn || sasusaku || M || time travel AU || incomplete

"You," Sakura snarled with bared teeth. Sasuke gagged for air, clutching at her forearm, but she only pressed harder into him. Her green eyes crackled, and she wished she could burn him alive with the heat of her anger.

Sasuke and Sakura certainly did not end in their last life on goods terms and it is prevalent from the moment Sakura awakens and attacks her teammate.

.

An Inch of Gold - KuriQuinn || ffn || sasusaku || T || time travel AU || complete

Team 7 is sent on a mission to investigate a disturbance outside of the village, where they encounter an unconscious girl in a crater. The mysterious Sarada insists she's a shinobi from the Hidden Leaf trying to rescue her teammates. When the team discovers she possesses a Sharingan, things become even more unbelievable. [Part of the Legacy of Fire Series]

Sarada lands herself back in time all while crashing into another team 7 mission gone wrong. An Inch of Gold is in multiple perspectives, but they're all done quite well. Sasuke and Sakura are obviously rather flustered by the situation and the fact they have to deal with it in front of the team makes it quite entertaining.

.

These Eyes of Mine (I Can See) - tsukuyue || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

They've lost. Naruto was dead, killed at Kaguya’s hands. Along with him died any illusions of hope that they could win. They couldn’t win, but perhaps they wouldn’t need to. In attempts to stop the Fourth Shinobi War from ever occuring, Sakura is sent back in time to the moment of her birth. Protecting the people she cared about would be much easier if she knew all the facts. OR Where Sakura can see the dead, and Danzō deserves to die.

I'll be honest, I can't remember much, but I do remember that it was really good! I believe a large focus is the Uchiha massacre.

.

Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

If you love Shisui then you'll definitely like Trials of Change. Him and Sakura form the most wholesome friendship ever and try their best in taking down ROOT. A huge cast is present here and the whole thing is just great. It seems as if everyone has some character development lmao.

.

Time Flies Like An Arrow - Katlou303 || ao3 || gen || K || time travel AU || complete

Sakura traveled back in time with the intent of changing everything, but something went wrong, and now she's four years old having nightmares about impossible monsters and losing friends she has yet to meet.

I always like the ones where Sakura isn't fully aware she time travelled. I find it interesting in this fic to see how oblivious Sakura is to her situation, she's a four year old in mind and body. However, she still feels the need to make a difference in the lives of the people around her.

.

cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || complete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Sakura decides that her first order of business after traveling back in time is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

.

The Danger of Smudged Storage Seals - bluemingqueen || ao3 || M || kakasaku || time travel AU || complete

Sakura should have known that Naruto taking an interest in seals would lead to disaster.

In hindsight, maybe she should have looked to see if the piece of paper she’d pressed a chakra-laden finger to was the explosive seal or the slightly smudged miniature storage seal containing all of her shinobi registration documents.

Perhaps one of my favourite kakasku fics and this was just recently completed too! Genin Sakura is sent back in time due to a faulty seal and maybe it was for the best? She ends up joining Team Minato and forms some great friendships in addition to a super sweet parental relationship with Minato and Kushina. There's a really good balance between training, missions, goofing around, heartfelt moments, etc.. I think the author did a fabulous job with the characterizations as they all feel accurate and unique to themselves. Also, fuinjutsu-user!Sakura??? Yes please! Slow burn kakasaku where they are both immature idiots

.

A Second Chance - Invisibleninja12 || ao3 || T || sasosaku || time travel AU || ongoing

A 15 year old Sasori turns up in the Leaf Village almost one year after Sakura defeats him (in canon). Not knowing what to do with this young, (semi) innocent Sasori, Sakura hides him from the world.

A teenage Sasori somehow manages to land himself 20 years in the future and he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Sakura feels she owes it to Lady Chiyo to help out (a bratty and emotional constipated) Sasori and ropes Sai into assisting. I've really been enjoying A Second Chance so far and I really love that Sai has a large role!

----

Q: Do you guys like my little comments? If you look at my other lists you'll probably notice that I tend to reuse some of what I say (bc I'm lazy), but for the most part I try to add something new whenever I put a fic on a list. I know that descriptions aren't always very helpful, so I like to put a little something for y'all to get a better idea of what to expect!

Send me recs if you have any!!!

[astraariel]

eternal snow

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: your love for sanji was unconditional, unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same seeing as there were petals coming out of your mouth.

word count: 3.6K

warnings: spoilers (?) just the name of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: loosely based on “eternal snow” from fullmoon wo sagashite; angst; hanahaki disease; implied cheating; modern!au; hurt no comfort; lovesick; requited unrequited love

author's note: I think along with everyone opla is taking over my life so it encouraged me to finish this fic I started months ago lol. once again I like angst and this is soooo ooc of sanji he would never cheat I love him so much I’m sorry. on another note, I really like AmaLee’s cover of this song so you can give it a listen if you want to feel the vibe. 

also, ignore the fact that Pudding is sixteen, she’s older than that in this. I couldn’t really think of anyone else to have/didn't want to think of a different character. just know, she’s of age. other than that, ignore grammar mistakes and enjoy♡

──★ ˙ ̟read pt2 here!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten to this point. You were certain that you two would be together forever. How you had unknowingly lost the one you love so dearly, you would never know.

Sanji was a flirt and you loved it, he could simply say that you looked beautiful today and you’d melt. Hell, that’s how you too met, Nami had introduced you two and Sanji wooed his way into your heart. You knew that he had you in the palm of his hand, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

Sanji was an attentive lover. When he loved, he showered you with his attention. You could always tell that his presence was there whenever you spoke. He’d care and cater to every request you asked of him, not allowing you to lift a single finger. It’s who he was.

You were blinded by your love for Sanji that you never noticed him slipping away from your grasp.

The two of you were currently sitting together on your living room couch. Sanji mentioned there was a new show he wanted to watch, so here the two of you were. Your attention was focused on the TV in front of you while his was on his phone.

You glance at him, “Who’s that?” 

He hadn’t looked away from it for more than 30 seconds throughout the last episode. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he looks at you. 

“Oh, it's the new dessert chef at the restaurant,” he shuts his phone off, “I've been assigned to help her around and show her the ropes,” he smiles, “It’s nothing, you want popcorn?” 

You turn to him, “Of course I do.” He gets up to walk to your kitchen, “Hey, I love you.”

He walks up behind you and bends down, kissing your head, “And I love you more.” He stands up and you hear him rummaging through the pantry for a popcorn packet. 

You cough slightly, “Could you grab me some water, Sanji?” He shouts back a response but you don’t make it out because you’re too busy pulling a petal out of your mouth.

♡‧₊˚

After that lone petal had made its introduction, it planted itself as a constant. Every so often for the following weeks, you’d feel something weird in your mouth, only to pull out a single flower petal.

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about it. On top of the weird cough you were having, Sanji was also acting off. 

It was small at first, just tiny, little white lies that he’d tell you. 

Like when he’d say he was tired, that he was going to bed, but you could hear him on his phone laughing at something from the room. Or when he claimed that his phone had died and that’s why he hadn’t texted you back even though you were hanging with Nami at the time and he had replied to a video she had sent him a minute after you texted him. 

That was just the first few weeks.

You weren’t sure when the white lies became real lies but it had only spiraled more. You had found that he wasn’t even bothering with lying anymore, simply stating that he was too busy to come over or that he didn’t even want to hang out with you that day.

Sanji would claim to be too tired and not bother to see you for an entire week, but then he’d call you complaining that he missed you and question why the two of you hadn’t gone on a date recently and then insist that he was going to cook dinner for the two of you. Those times were always the best. It made you feel like nothing was wrong. 

It was pure whiplash. 

You were never sure which Sanji you were gonna get that day. Maybe it’d be the Sanji that you loved or this new person who had taken over and wouldn’t even text you back for days on end. 

Recently, he was your loving, doting boyfriend. Which caused you to completely forget about the flower petals you were currently collecting from your mouth when you were being distracted by Sanji’s full attention. 

You were lying on Sanji’s chest recounting your day to him when suddenly the sound of his phone pinging cut you off. 

A quiet chuckle made you peek up at Sanji, his eyes were looking at his phone intently, whatever was on his screen, clearly captivated him more than what was coming out of your mouth.

You sit up, his blatant disinterest in your day annoying you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Your voice cuts through the room.

He looked up at your now sitting form, it looked like he was just acknowledging your presence.

He lets out a noise of confusion, “What?”

“Are you angry at me? Did I say or do something that pissed you off? Because, please, just tell me, I can't take it anymore.” you pleaded.

You notice Sanji’s body tensing, his brow scrunching in even more confusion. He laughs awkwardly, “Baby, what are you talking about? I’m not angry.” he looks away, “I love you, you know that right?”

And suddenly, you weren’t angry anymore. 

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He glances at his phone again.

But you don’t care, because he loves you. 

Satisfied with his response, you settle back down but are interrupted when you begin to cough. Quickly, you stand up to fetch your handkerchief from your pocket, wiping your mouth swiftly. 

You look back at Sanji, “I’m gonna-” but before you can finish, you feel the familiar flowers clawing their way up your throat. You walk out of the room coughing. 

Sanji doesn’t look up from his phone.

♡‧₊˚

He was late.

Again. 

You were exhausted. The constant lies that you fooled yourself into believing for the sake of your heart were beginning to wear on you. 

The old hoodie you were wearing enveloped you in an attempt to provide yourself some level of comfort that no one could really give you anymore. 

It’s late, around midnight, last you checked. The spaghetti dinner left on the table you had cooked had long gone cold. The Baratie had closed hours ago and Sanji still wasn’t home. 

You sit in complete darkness, the TV is currently rattling off an old rerun of some show you didn’t watch. You’re too tired to get up and find the remote to change the channel so you settle on watching the old comedic sitcom. You’re holding your trusty handkerchief that’s become your best friend in the past months; ready to close around your mouth in an attempt to catch the petals of flowers that’d come up your throat every so often. 

Your eyes glaze over the screen when you hear the door creak open. Footsteps were heard as a soft clatter sounded throughout the room from Sanji setting his keys down on the counter. 

You sit up slowly, in an effort to prohibit any intense coughing. 

Your eyes meet Sanji’s surprised ones, “You’re still awake? It’s late, you should go to bed.” he looks away. 

“You missed dinner.” You look over at Sanji’s form, he’s stiff, you note.

“I stayed late to help close, sorry we can reschedule.” He brushes you off swiftly.

“Was she there?” The argument had already begun, why not fuel it some more?

Sanji whips his head at you, an incredulous look gracing his features. “Who are you talking about?” Acting dumb was never a good look on him. 

Your tired eyes stare at him, “I know you’re spending time with her.” The venom in your tone was palpable.

You were over the lies. You were over the constant tiptoeing between each other, you’re honestly surprised he still even decided to come over. It would have been better for him to stay at his place and just call you in the morning to tell his lie. 

He has balls, you’ll give him that.

“Do you even love me anymore?”  

The silence that surrounded the room was upsetting. Of course, he didn’t, who were you fooling? You had all the proof you needed in all of the trashcans around your house, discarded tissues soaked in blood, and petals filled the bins.

Sanji scoffs, “I don’t know what you want from me.” He doesn't answer the question, “Why are you asking if I love you, you're being needy.” He stares at you before continuing, “If you don’t trust me,” he looks away, “Then maybe we should break up.” With a tone of finality, he turns around and walks toward the door, the sound of it shutting echoing throughout the house.

You’re left alone in the silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall muffling your coughs that were accompanied by flowers and blood. 

♡‧₊˚

With the new development of the blooms coming out of your throat, you felt defeated. You’re not sure what you did in a past life to deserve this. You didn’t wish this on anyone, it was a lonely and awful feeling, physically and emotionally. 

You’ve gotten used to your condition. It had been a month since you’d seen Sanji after he had broken things off and in that month, you would constantly find yourself leaning over the toilet bowl, hacking up blood and flower blooms. 

You finally had the courage to look up what you assumed was hanahaki disease. It was a rare condition, but you were certain that was what was causing you pain. The only cure was to have surgery that resulted in the patient forgetting about whomever they had loved. That you’d act as if nothing had happened, that you’d live in ignorance bliss afterward. 

Sacrificing your heart for your life. 

After that month, you had decided to go to a coffee shop forcing yourself to get out of the house and do something. 

So you went to Sanji’s favorite coffee shop. 

Why you had put yourself through that? You weren't sure.

You remember wrapping your hand around the door handle, ready to walk in when a wisp of light auburn hair had caught your attention inside the cafe. 

There she was. Pudding. The girl who had replaced you. The one who had captivated Sanji’s attention in a way you could only dream of.

Sanji stood beside her, you were certain he couldn't see you from inside, his attention was fully on Pudding’s face, absorbing whatever story she had been telling him. 

He had never looked at you like that.

Did he ever love you? Were you that stupid to even see the truth? Had it been there all along and you were simply too blind to notice?

An “excuse me” had brought you back to reality and had you rushing back to your apartment in hopes of not bumping into Sanji or Pudding. You weren't sure your heart could take it if you were forced to talk to them.

After that defeat you noticed that you were no longer hacking up petals, but fully blossomed flowers, you couldn’t walk for a long distance without wheezing, the flowers constricting your airways preventing you from wanting to do anything. You knew you were nearing the final stage, soon roots were going to begin to show up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to a doctor. You had read that the longer you kept this from being treated, you’d enter the point of no return. 

So, you simply waited.

Your mind was reeling. You never wanted to stop loving Sanji. You didn’t care about the pain that it brought you. 

You don’t care that you still long to have Sanji tell you that he loves you. To tell you and for you not to immediately have to turn away and cough up blood and flowers. 

You missed him. You yearned for him.

After Nami had found out why you and Sanji broke up, she went on a rant about how she was going to kill him, on how he could have done this to you. You weren't sure if you had ever seen her get so angry before. 

But even after that, you confessed that you still loved him. 

She proceeded to call you insane, but she simply didn’t understand. She didn’t know about how his eyes would sparkle when he would go on about a new recipe that he developed and how he was certain that it was going to be the new hit at the Baratie. She didn’t know how bashful he got when you complimented him on his food. How he’d kiss you like how it was the first time you were kissing each other.

You loved him. And you would forever love him.

But he haunted your life. Leaving you lying at night, not even allowing you to find comfort in your dreams since he haunted those too. When you’d close your eyes you could only mourn for the love that once was. To mourn for him even though he was alive and well, but could you say the same for yourself?

You had long accepted that you were going to die. If anything, you willed it. Never did you want to forget your love for Sanji. The idea that you would never be able to recall how he made your heart pound every time he’d look at you, would be a nightmare.

But you were tired. 

In the months after the cafe incident you would go through phases where the pain would turn to anger, cursing Sanji, wishing you two had never met, wishing that Nami had never introduced you too. 

But the anger would never stay directed towards Sanji. It would always circle back to you. And anger would turn to pity and pity would turn to sadness. 

You wanted to cry and scream at the sky, to yell at the world, to question why love felt this way. Why couldn't he just love you back, why were you being punished for simply loving him unconditionally?

You suffocate yourself in the love that you have for Sanji. Sacrificing your every breath to simply feel the true and fierce love you felt for him. You’d cry until you were gasping for air, til you were choking up flowers that were clogging your lungs. You wished, begged, for it to go away. Wishing that you had never fallen for him. 

But even with all the pain he caused you. You could never hate him.

You could never hate Sanji.

You can’t even bring yourself to hate Pudding, it wasn't her fault that Sanji was infatuated with her rather than you.

And you could never truly hate him for that.

The sterile white walls and the smell of disinfectant wafting through the air brought you back to reality. 

Recalling how hours before Nami had found you on the ground of your bathroom, post-hacking your brains out from the various blooms of flowers that rose from your throat at what seemed like at every hour of the day as of recently. You hadn’t heard her call for you when she entered your apartment so you weren’t able to hide anything from her. 

“Are you insane?” Her voice ricocheted in the bathroom after you had explained to her what had been happening to you for the last couple of months.

You were numb the entire car ride to the hospital as Nami yelled at you for being so careless. 

“Why are you letting that boy kill you?” 

Why were you? 

Why were you putting yourself through this pain, knowing he would never love you again?

The recent memory reminded you of Nami’s presence on the side chair that was placed beside the crunchy bed you were currently sitting on. Her brown eyes met yours and smiled softly at you. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” Nami’s attempt at reassurance was comforting to you for 5 seconds before the door swung open revealing the doctor. 

“Hello,” she said your name, “you’re the one with hanahaki disease, correct?” You glance over at Nami before replying to the doctor in confirmation. “Well, unfortunately, it has been developing for a while and if you had come just a little bit later it would have been untreatable, so I highly suggest proceeding with the procedure as soon as possible.”

Your hands grew clammy. This was it. You were going to be relieved from this grueling life you had found yourself in. You would finally be able to go back to normal. 

Normal. 

Would it truly be normal if you didn’t love Sanji anymore? Could you truly live with yourself knowing that you gave up the one thing that has been keeping you going? You guess you wouldn’t actually remember your love for him if you did the surgery but your heart would know. Your soul would know. 

You wished that all of this pain would go away. Longing to run back to Sanji, for him to stop the anguish that you felt. To have him whisper that he loved you and for you to not cough up flowers anymore. To know that he truly meant the words that he was saying.

You wondered how your life would have gone if you had never fallen for Sanji. Would your life still lead you to this very moment of hell that you’re living currently? You would think that hell would be hot, blazing with heat, but all you felt was the coldness of lies that you believed that spewed from Sanji’s lips when he spoke to you. 

You would like to think that you wished you had never fallen into this trap. That your heart never fell for him, but you knew better. You knew that he had your heart from the beginning. You were doomed from the first interaction.

Wasn’t it a true act of love if you could let the person go? Wouldn’t it be the final seal of approval of your love if you went through with the surgery? The love that you felt for Sanji would be proven by this simple act. 

You felt Nami’s hand grab yours. Her eyes were filled with remorse, a sadness that you could distinguish as the same sadness that you saw in your eyes ever since that first petal came to be.

Anticipatory grief.

She was grieving your love for him already, grieving for your heart, how you would never love again, how you would never love him again.

You sigh. 

♡‧₊˚

You wake up to the soft murmurs of the television in the corner of the room. 

Your mind was hazy, from what, you weren't entirely sure yet. It felt as if you had lost something like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t think of exactly what it was.

Guess it wasn’t important.

Your eyes wander over to your surroundings, the hospital room is bare except for the basic, usual furniture. Your eye caught movement out of the corner of your eye, turning your face to examine what it was.

A balloon with the words “Get well soon!” fills your vision, and your gaze scans over the hearts that surround the bubble letters in bright yellow hues. You reach over the side table to grab the card that sat under the balloon. 

Hope you feel better - Nami.

Sad that you had missed your friend, you made a mental note to pay her a visit after you were discharged from the hospital to thank her.

A soft knock echoed throughout the room, your attention to the door opening revealing the doctor. “Hi, glad you’re awake. The procedure was a success. You should be good to go soon, but take it easy for the next two weeks.”

The procedure.

You quickly scour your brain for answers of who it was you loved but came up short. 

Guess that was the point, wasn’t it? 

Before you could thank the doctor, rushed footsteps were heard outside the room, hasty knocks piercing the air along with the clamor of the door opening quickly. 

Sanji’s blond hair comes into view, and he stands, wide-eyed, near the doorframe. He was panting slightly, a sign that he possibly had been running before he got here. 

He says your name quietly, the doctor gives you a nod before excusing herself from the room to give you guys privacy. 

“Sanji,” you smile brightly at him, “Did you get off of work? Why are you here?”

His eyes shift over to the balloon on the stand beside the bed. “Nami told me about the…procedure.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes teasingly, “It’s not that big of a deal honestly, that Nami. Always the worrier, thank you for visiting me though, you’re a good friend, Sanji.” You look away before you can notice Sanji’s face falling. 

You look back at him, “Oh, could you take me home? I probably shouldn’t be driving right now.” you laugh quietly and scan Sanji’s face. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps he was really busy at the restaurant. “If you can, if not I’ll just call Nami.” 

“No,” he clears his throat, “Yeah I can take you home.” 

You offer him a smile, “Thanks, hey I think I may have to fill out some paperwork. Could you grab it while I go change?” You begin to stand up slowly before he rushes over to help you up.

You look up at him to thank him again when you realize his eyes are watering. 

Weird. 

Your eyebrows knit in worry, “Hey, are you okay?”

He blinks rapidly while looking away from you. His hand lets go from his grasp on your arm and runs it through his blonde hair while turning away from you. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he coughs, “Uh, I’m gonna go look for those papers.”

He walks out of the room before you can respond, leaving you slightly confused but you shake it off before you begin to look for your clothes. 

You don’t see Sanji standing outside the doorway, coughing up a flower petal. 

[squidpedia]

HI I’M PEDIA, MASTERPOST DOWN BELOW BUT HOLD ON REALLY QUICK READ MY FAQ:

Boundaries on reposting, dubbing, and pfp’s?

Dubs and reposts are ok just let me know please so i can check it out (and give credit duh)! Send it to my inbox or dm’s or something, anything, pleaseeee I’d want to see!!!!! PFP’s also don’t need permission, just include credit somewhere like your bio!

Do you like [other show/video/series]?

Maybe! All my my non utdr fanart goes to @squidpedias-fanart so maybe check/ask there?

I sent you an ask a while ago/tagged you in a post but you never responded, did I upset you somehow?

NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M JUST AWFUL AT RESPONDING TO ASKSSS OR TEND TO MISS A LOT OF NOTIFICATIONS I’M SORRYYYYYY YOUREE FINEEEEEE. ITS YOU AND LIKE 150 OTHER PEOPLE I PROMMY IM JUST TERRIBLE. don’t be afraid to rb it and tag me in the rb again, sorry for that!

I also sent you a dm but didn’t get a responce

Ohhhhhhhh yyeeeeahhhhhh😬my bad you’re far from alone and I’m sorry. I respond a lot more to people with inquiries or if they want to inform about something, but like otherwise when it comes to just chatting I prefer to limit that to my mutuals sorry! Really, really should’ve stated that sooner.

I liked this drawing concept you made. Can I make fanart, redraw it in my style, or make something inspired by it?

YEAH!!!! Flattered and happy I inspired you in that way!! Just 1) tag and credit me, because I would be so sad if I didn’t see and would love love love to rb it and 2) if it’s a redraw, try to link back to original post if possible (but I forget to mention that a lot so that second part isn’t as big of a deal)

What about writing fics?

A FEW OF YOU ARE WILD FOR THAT BUT YEAH GO OFF?????? Still let me know, give credit, tag me if possible, clarify any questions you have in the dm’s if you want! Id be happy to elaborate on literally anything!

What other socials do you have?

I have a Youtube, Twitter (for lurking only at this point), Instagram , Bluesky, and a Switch (SW-2670-2211-5056) (thats not a social but you should crash my splatoon lobbies)

Do you have any oc’s or personal works?

@an-unconscious-effort-comic and @dragontry-comic (neither stories are connected to each other and are their own projects)

Pronouns?

Any

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

UTDR/UTY COMICS MASTERPOST

(uty comics are highlighted in orange if you’re more interested in the strictly undertale comics)

Clover’s Memories (ongoing - i prommy)

(12/4 - today i had the realization that maybe i should just redraw some of the panels if i hate looking at them so much to the point that i cant even finish coloring the lineart. So i did that! Yayyyyyy)

Silence | Memory 1 | Memory 2 | Memory 2.5 Coming Soon | Sound | Memory 3 | Discrepancy | Memory 4 | Static

Clover’s Hat (post revive au)

Part 1 /// Part 2 /// Bonus

Kanako Integrity Duo (really short mini doodle comics)

Reconciliation // Introductions // Ceroba // Chujin

Miscellaneous:

Kris and Clover Interaction // Clover’s Sacrifice // Frisk vs. Clover’s POV // Clover Tells Martlet a Secret // Who’s Your Friend? // Pipe Down // Family Visit // Unwell // Letter // Humor // Gamer // They // Kicked Out // It Keeps Happening // What’s In A Name // Clover’s Nightmare (i’ll probably make a cleaner version later) // Banter // Time

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

TAGS:

#Happily Ever After and Then Some (HEAaTS?) -> everyone lives au (based on the events of undertale and uty) including chara, flowey/asriel gets his body back, fallen kids, where i offer very limited explanation for why or how because it simply makes me really self-conscious to try to come up with reasoning and really i just want to imagine these characters in fun and interesting scenarios. Theyre all alive, just go with it and have fun! Note this is not a comic series or anything, i just like doodling random scenarios sometimes. So a few comics, some doodles, whatever is fun rn for me

#Phantom integrity au -> someone sent an ask once about what if clover’s narrator was integrity. It’s a fun idea to explore and where I got the concept of Lilac’s design for! It’s not something I think about very often plotwise but I like drawing ghosty lilac. Ps if you wanna make your own content based off this concept, please go for it!! You don’t even have to use lilac, i call it the phantom integrity au and not narra lilac just in case someone wants to yoink the concept for their own integrity. I think that’d be awesome :)

#Deltarune Orange -> went crazy one too many 5am mornings in a row and started cooking this. Basically just my deltarune yellow take but i wanted a unique name and it has stuff to do, with orange

#Fallen Kids -> all posts talking about my designs and thoughts for the other 6 human souls and also clover is there too hi clover. Its mostly lilac sorry

#Pedias art -> self explanatory

#Other peoples art -> you should check them out please 🥺

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 - Self-Aware AU

Headcanons about an Alternate Universe in which everyone knows they're living inside a videogame. However, Vertin is the only one aware of the entity inhabiting her own mind, the real conductor - the "Player".

this is one of my favorite AUs to slap on whatever media I'm into so here we are <3 not sure if anyone's done this already, but PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE link me if you've seen any other ppl write for this AU! this one and any actor AUs are my absolute fave

this is just a word vomit introduction for fun, to get the basic ideas out of my head, so I can start writing for characters individually!

Okay, okay! First of all, some context for the AU before I go deranged overexplaining my HCs!

Aside from the "Storm", there is something else that haunts the people of this world: the fact that their lives are nothing but a simulacrum, part of a game.

The requirements to obtain this "self-awareness" is unknown. Those within the Foundation believe it's related to their respective "roles", that only the main and relevant characters are given the chance to fully open their eyes to the truth. Those within Manus Vindictae claim that one must be strong enough to break through the fog of complacency and their assigned scripts, to have their full potential unleashed and obtain true liberation. Either way, similar to the "Storm", this is a well-kept secret for a very good reason - everyone wants to have the upperhand.

There is one outlier to this whole system. Vertin is not only aware of the truth of this world, but also of her duty as the eyes and hands of the "Player". She must experience it all for their sake. Or rather, whatever she experiences will be the story that the Player will see.

This applies to her suitcase, the place where the Player's influence increases tenfold, bending everything and everyone to their will through her own body and voice. The longer one stays within her suitcase - or within her general vicinity - the easier it is for them to become self-aware.

How does one become "self-aware" and what does it entail?

The requirements and the catalyst for a character to become self-aware are still a mystery. But that's mostly because I specifically wanted to keep them as vague as possible, to allow some flexibility for NPCs and other characters outside of Vertin's suitcase.

The whole process of gaining sentience or self-awareness is mostly described as waking up from a nightmare, or a very, very realistic dream. It's like a switch, something that happens in a second without any warnings whatsoever.

I like to think that most of the people who wake up are easy to spot, because it's a jarring experience and panicking is the most normal reaction - but that they're often taken care of by the Foundation or recruited by Manus Vindictae.

The levels of awareness also depend heavily on each individual - some only know that nothing is truly real, that everything they've done up until that point was just a carefully scripted lie, the most basic realization. Others can understand the rules that govern this game and use them to their advantage, either through observation and study or just inherently.

Overall, the experience of being sentient varies as well, with some describing a disconnect from their body, while others feel exactly the opposite. Again, keeping it pretty vague so that people can fill in with their own ideas!

I'll talk about Vertin's case in detail when we get to her specific bullet point, but the same way the Player is able to experience the "story" through her eyes, she's able to see the same things they do - this includes the UI, the menus and everything you can interact with in-game.

Vertin as a character and a vessel for the Player.

The most common thing I've seen in self-aware AUs in my years of fandom is to turn the player stand-in (the main character that serves for the player to experience the story through and/or project onto, depending on the genre of the game) into an obstacle, one that keeps the characters from truly interacting with the Player, capital P.

The second most common thing I've seen is to simply ignore the existence of this player stand-in and replace it with the Player themself, either through isekai methods or thanks to the customization the game allows, etc etc.

When it comes to Vertin in this AU, I know I want her to retain her role as the center of everything, instead of being sidelined by the Player. She's THE Timekeeper, after all.

There's still some details I'm trying to iron out, like whether she's always been self-aware or if she became self-aware at some point during her childhood at the St. Pavlov Foundation. But I like to think that her relationship to the Player is a parallel to her immunity to the "Storm" - neither of these two things are inherently good nor bad. Surviving the "Storm" is helpful, sure, but it's painful for her. Having an entity like the "Player" haunting her is scary, sure, but it can be an advantage. It's a matter of how she utilizes the assets she was given, since her adaptability and determination are big aspects of her character. Vertin makes up for her mediocre arcane skills with unconventional plans and strategies.

But this isn't to say that Vertin isn't affected by the presence of the Player. Ironically, she's the one person whose freedom is limited. During battles, her skills and Tuning are available to you, they can also prove to be vital to win a fight, but in the end you're still the one calling the shots and choosing when her friends get to attack. You're the one choosing the layout of the Wilderness. You're the one picking which one of her friends deserves to become stronger.

In the last bullet point I mentioned that some characters can understand the rules of the game - Vertin is the most extreme case, as she can see the same UI as you do. She learns the way you like to fight your battles, your own strategies, she can see this and more.

Overall it's a very complex dynamic. It's not as easy as saying that she likes or dislikes you, that she considers you a friend or foe. You're part of her, you influence each other in many aspects and are stuck together for reasons she can't even fathom. While you may be able to read her thoughts most of the time, she becomes invisible once you enter the suitcase - the main menu of the game. Sure, the character you selected to greet you every day is actually talking to her, not you, but she's out of your view and therefore, out of our range. That's when Vertin wonders the sort of person that you are, if you care about her friends as much as she does. Are you playing just to be entertained? Are you invested in these events? Will you be there for her until the end of her story?

Another detail I like to think about is that Vertin is the only one who knows your name. Because at the very beginning, you were asked to input a name and she was there.

[screenshot was taken from this video, since it's the first one I could find that showed this specific part of the game lol]

Well, "your name" not quite right - she knows that whatever you wrote there is the name linked to your account, at least. And that's the name she knows you as.

Those who take residence in Vertin's suitcase or spend prolonged amounts of time with her, growing closer to her and all, end up becoming self-aware. This is a direct side-effect of your presence.

I like to think that characters who reach the 100% Bond can begin to sense the Player, to see the world in a similar way as Vertin does. Maybe even feel their presence EXACTLY like Vertin does whenever there's a battle. There is someone else on the other side of this screen, the fourth wall, who watches over them.

To some, it's hard to differentiate Vertin from the Player, as they just go hand in hand - but Sonetto, for example, has the easiest time telling the two apart.

On the subject of freedom and acting out of script.

The Foundation, Manus Vindictae, Laplace... It doesn't matter if they're self-aware and acting outside of what their script dictates, because they're missing one key ingredient: you. No one else but Vertin and her group knows about your existence, after all.

They don't know that the only story that matters is the one that Vertin is part of. The one that the Player gets to see and read and experience. And because the game gives you a very limited view into the lives of these characters, you don't know what neither Arcana nor Constantine do behind the scenes. You and Vertin don't see that, therefore, it never truly mattered.

Those most likely to start "acting out" are the troublemakers within Vertin's suitcase. Characters who are too curious for their own good, who are more susceptible to supernatural entities, who are just too impulsive - they would start to test the limits and see how far they can go, how much they can interact with the Player. Can the game be broken should they end up shattering the fourth wall? Is there a way for the Player to communicate with them? What will happen to Vertin?

I like to think that Vertin probably supports this, as she's rather curious herself, prone to questioning everything. She would also like to learn more about the Player, to truly tear into the game and see the full extent of your influence and her freedom.

Sometimes, Regulus and X will change their usual voicelines, just enough to be noticeable if one pays enough attention. Characters like Sotheby or Leilani might slip up and address the Player, rather than Vertin. Lilya, Pavia, Bkornblume have new animations and different expressions, ones you've never seen before - they stare ahead, as if searching for something, and then smirk or hum to themselves, deep in thought, like they realized something you're not privy of.

Sometimes, if you leave them as your selected assistant on the main menu, you can catch them muttering to themselves - idle quotes you never heard enough, about the outside world. Diggers does this the most, it's almost embarassing how easy it is to catch him talking nonsense, followed by Sonetto. If you leave Medicine Pocket alone for too long, you might come back to a screen covered in weird scratch marks.

On the subject of these characters being curious about the outside world and all, I think that a good chunk of them are generally content with the way things are?

We have to remember that in-universe, they're arcanists displaced from their respective eras. Their best chance at surviving is siding with Vertin, and if Vertin is content with the way things are, then there's no point in trying to disrupt what they have right now. They're curious enough to prod, but only as far as Vertin allows it.

And I think that's it for the word vomit!

There are some details I didn't know where to fit in, like the possibility of the fourth wall slowly dissipating the more time the Player invests in the game, leading to some characters being able to directly hear you if you talk while playing and whatnot. Or what would happen should someone outside of Vertin's suitcase figure out the existence of the Player, let alone interact with you in some way.

Or the concept of death being meaningless, unless it was pre-established by the game itself.

In Borderlands, there's this game mechanic where you can just be revived over and over and pay a percentage of your money as a fee, even though the canon that's established is that you play through the whole story without dying a SINGLE time - because the revival mechanics aren't canon. There's the divide between story and gameplay. That's pretty much the standard. But what about the deaths in battles in R1999? The amount of times I died to 1.3's UTTU's Flash Gathering is insane. How do self-aware characters feel about this, now that they know that they're bound to die over and over and be brought back because you have to do your Pneuma Analysis or reach the final stage of Limbo?

But that's pretty much it for now, I think I got most thoughts out of my system! Thank you for reading!

[multi-stays]

Make You Mine

Paring: Omega!LeeKnow/Alpha!FemReader

Genre: 18+ Smut/Hybrid AU

Summary: Another boring day at school soon takes a turn when the new student steps in, turning heads with her Alpha scent.

Note: A Smut collab with @inkandtension

✨💜Warnings under the cut💜✨

Warnings: rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, pet names(good girl, Baby), dirty talk, knotting, making out, French kissing

Minho wasn’t sure what to expect when the teacher announced they’d have a new student joining their class. Honestly, nothing good ever came from those announcements. It was either someone who’d instantly become a teacher’s pet, or someone who’d break the curve on every test. The murmurs among his classmates were just as chaotic as usual:

“Is it an omega?” whispered one girl, clutching her notebook like the mere idea of another omega might shatter her fragile dreams.

“Maybe another Iota?” chimed in a guy from the back.

“Do you think they’ll be hot?” asked another, leaning so far forward in their desk that Minho feared they might actually slide off. Priorities, apparently, were alive and well in this room.

Minho sighed, staring at his notebook and twirling his pen like a bored drummer. Why did everyone always act like this was a game of “Guess the Newbie”? What were they expecting? That the door would burst open and some sparkling creature would walk in, tossing their hair? Reality was far less exciting. It was probably just another Kappa with a questionable sense of humor or an omega with an even more questionable haircut.

The highest rank to ever exist in the building is an epsilon, Seungmin.

But Minho didn’t care. He was far more invested in perfecting the little doodle of a disgruntled cat in the margins of his notebook than in yet another transfer student who’d probably cause a minor riot for a week and then vanish into the gray blur of mediocrity. He’d seen it all before: the hushed whispers, the speculative stares, the over-the-top introductions. It was always the same routine, and frankly, he wasn’t interested.

That was until you walked in.

The moment the door creaked open, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. The shift in the air was immediate, sharp, almost electric. Conversations screeched to a halt mid-sentence. Pencils froze mid-scribble. Even the class’s notorious gum-chewer accidentally swallowed it down.

Minho, still blissfully immersed in giving his cat doodle the perfect grumpy expression, barely registered the collective intake of breath around him. Then it hit him—the scent.

He blinked.

But every step you took radiated an energy that screamed, "Yes, I’m the main character, and yes, you’re all extras."

Your gaze swept the room, scanning the sea of wide-eyed faces, ranging from shock to something bordering on fear, some confused. Maybe this was what you got for walking into a room of alpha-scent-deprived omegas and humans—a cocktail of curiosity, unease, and outright fascination brewing in the air. It wasn’t entirely your fault; the odds of encountering anyone outside the standard rankings here were slim to none.

This place was the catch—a strange little bubble where no other rankings, except for the occasional omega and a handful of kappas, existed for miles. If you were lucky, you might stumble across two or three iotas or epsilon types in the wild, like rare birds someone whispered about but never actually saw. This wasn’t just a school; it was the breach, a shaky middle ground between werewolf instincts and human normalcy.

And here you were, freshly thrust into the mix, a human (used to be) and newly turned, still figuring out what that even meant. Adjusting wasn’t exactly your strong suit, especially with instincts that swung between “protect everyone” and “don’t touch me, I’ll fucking pluck your eyes.” The city was too much—too loud, too crowded, too full of conflicting scents that tangled up in your brain and made every second feel like a fight to breathe.

So you’d come here, to this quiet pocket of nowhere, hoping for something simpler. But the stares around you said this wasn’t going to be simple at all.

But what really made Minho’s pen falter mid-stroke was the scent rolling off you. It wasn’t the typical “oh, I’m new and slightly nervous” smell that transfer students wore like an awkward cologne. No, this was different. This was like a summer storm breaking through a stifling heatwave—sharp, invigorating, and impossible to ignore.

“An alpha,” someone whispered, as if the word itself might summon divine intervention.

Minho slowly looked up, and his eyes met yours. He told himself the clench in his stomach was just hunger. Or indigestion. Or maybe his body’s reaction to realizing that, for once, this might not just be another forgettable week.

“Sit wherever there’s space."

Your gaze settled on the middle row, right before the doodling guy. There, two boys sat next to each other—one, a kappa who looked nonchalantly at his notebook, and the other, an omega. His fluffy brown hair framed his soft features, and he had the kind of face that could light up a room.

Instinct kicked in, and you moved toward them. Every step closer made the omega’s scent more vivid—sweet, with a hint of vanilla.

Stopping beside the kappa, you tilted your head.

“Move,” you said, voice steady but not unkind.

The guy blinked at you, then at the omega beside him, before grabbing his things and relocating without a word. You slid into the seat, your presence filling the space as you set your bag on the floor and leaned slightly toward the omega.

“Hi,” you said with a small smile, voice low but friendly.

His eyes—round, wide, and startled—met yours. His scent spiked, sugary sweetness intensifying as his lips parted slightly. “H-Hi…” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

It took you a second to realize that his cheeks were flushed, his breaths coming faster, pupils blown wide. Then it hit you—the telltale signs of an omega thrown into a sudden rut.

The boy’s fingers gripped the edge of his desk as he looked away, clearly trying to compose himself. “I—I need to go,” he muttered quickly, standing and nearly stumbling as he hurried out of the classroom.

The teacher paused mid-sentence, eyebrows raised, but didn’t stop him. Omegas in rut weren’t uncommon, after all.

Before you could think too much about it, someone sitting behind you leaned forward. “You’ve got some presence,” they whispered.

You turned to see another omega—this one with dark, sharp eyes and a slightly annoyed expression. His scent was more subtle than the first omega’s, but it still carried an unmistakable undercurrent of tension.

“Did you have to pick his seat?” he asked, his tone almost accusatory.

“What do you mean?”

The boy scoffed lightly. “Jisung’s sensitive. You sitting there just flipped his whole system upside down, it’s his first time sensing an alpha, everyone told him it’s so good and he didn’t believe it”

“Is that so?” you mused, a smirk tugging at your lips, noting his name in your head, cute. “And you? Are you about to run out of here too?”

“If you’re going to keep sitting there,” he said, his voice steady but his scent betraying him again, “don’t think you’ll get to me that easily.”

You leaned back in your seat, amused. “What’s your name?”

“Minho,” he said. “And don’t think you’re all that just because you made him run out.”

Your grin widened. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Minho narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. From the corner of your eye, you saw him fidgeting slightly, his scent wavering like he was trying not to be affected by you.

Jisung was still nowhere to be seen when the bell rang. Minho stood, grabbing his bag, and paused beside you.

“If you really want to cause chaos, keep sitting there,” he said, lips twitching into a half-smile. “Just don’t be surprised if the rest of the omegas around here can’t handle you.”

You tilted your head, watching him leave.

The next day, the energy in the classroom was electric. Whispers filled the air as students leaned into each other, exchanging glances and hushed remarks. The focus of their chatter? You.

“She’s the only alpha in the whole school,” one girl murmured, her eyes flicking to Jisung, who sat slouched in his seat, face burning red.

“Bet she smelled Jisung’s rut yesterday,” a guy teased, grinning.

“Leave me alone,” Jisung muttered, sinking lower in his chair. His scent spiked slightly, a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal, which only made the others laugh harder.

“Relax, Jisung,” another boy said, smirking. “Maybe she likes you. She did choose to sit next to you.”

“Shut up!” Jisung snapped, voice cracking, which only made the teasing worse.

Minho, who sat a behind, clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Would you all stop acting like pups? It’s pathetic,” he said, his sharp tone silencing most of the group.

But even Minho couldn’t completely hide the tension in his scent, a subtle undercurrent of something heated and restrained.

Before anyone could reply, the door opened, and the room instantly fell silent. Your scent hit them first—a commanding presence that rippled through the air like a shockwave. Omegas and betas alike straightened in their seats, their teasing forgotten as they instinctively lowered their gazes. Even Minho stiffened, his fingers curling slightly around the edge of his desk.

You walked in with the same confidence as the day before, your sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on your seat beside Jisung. You offered him a faint smile as you sat down, and he practically choked on his own breath, fumbling to look anywhere but at you.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel it—the way every gaze lingered, every breath hitched. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was instinctual. They couldn’t help it.

A moment later, the teacher walked in—a middle-aged omega woman whose scent was laced with the faintest trace of nerves. She cleared her throat, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. For a brief second, her scent wavered, and you caught it—a mix of apprehension and something else she quickly suppressed.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice a little too tight as she began calling attendance.

When she got to your name, she hesitated, glancing up at you before quickly moving on. It was subtle, but everyone noticed.

By the third day, the classroom dynamics had started to shift. Initially, everyone had been on edge around you, their instincts hyper aware of your alpha presence. But you made an effort to be approachable—smiling at your classmates, helping pick up dropped notebooks, and even laughing at their jokes. Slowly, the tension eased, and people started to warm up to you.

Even Jisung, who had been a nervous wreck at first, now managed to talk to you without tripping over his words. “You’re surprisingly chill for an alpha,” he said one afternoon, offering you a shy grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but grinning back.

“Just…you’re nice,” he said, cheeks tinting pink. “Like, you don’t act like you’re better than everyone.”

“Why would I?” you replied with a shrug. “I mean, sure, I’m an alpha, but that doesn’t make me more important than anyone else.”

Your casual attitude quickly became a topic of conversation. People in the class started to joke about how “cool” you were for an alpha, and some of the braver students—especially the omegas—began to test the limits of your friendliness.

One afternoon, as you were talking to Jisung and Minho, a group of omega girls approached. They giggled among themselves, their scents sugary and playful, as one of them leaned a little too close.

“You smell really good,” she said, her voice soft and sweet.

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Another girl chimed in, her tone teasing. “Can we…smell you? Like, just a little? You’re an alpha, after all.”

You hesitated, glancing at Jisung and Minho. Jisung’s face was bright red, his scent spiking with embarrassment, while Minho rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

“Um, sure?” you said, scratching the back of your neck. “If it makes you happy.”

The girls squealed in delight, leaning in closer. One of them brushed her shoulder against yours, while another pretended to adjust your collar, her fingers lingering a little too long. You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, unsure of how to handle the sudden attention.

“Wow,” one of them said dreamily, inhaling deeply. “No wonder everyone’s obsessed with you.”

Minho let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re letting them take advantage of you,” he muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“They’re just curious,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Curious, my ass,” he shot back, his sharp gaze cutting to the girls. “They’re practically rubbing themselves on you.”

At his words, one of the girls giggled, leaning even closer to you. “Don’t be jealous, Minho,” she teased, her tone playful.

“I’m not,” he snapped, his cheeks faintly pink.

The tension in the room shifted slightly, and you decided it was time to put an end to the situation. Standing, you stepped back, creating a little space between yourself and the girls. “Okay, that’s enough sniffing for one day,” you said, laughing lightly to keep the mood relaxed.

The girls pouted but didn’t push further, returning to their seats with lingering smiles.

As you sat back down, Minho leaned forward, his voice low. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“I’m just trying to make friends,” you replied with a shrug.

“Friends don’t grope each other,” he muttered, his scent spiking slightly with irritation.

You smirked, leaning your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Oh, really? What about you and Jisung?”

Minho froze, his expression shifting into something between horror and indignation. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re always smacking him on the butt,” you said, your grin widening. “Isn’t that technically groping?”

Jisung nearly choked on his drink, bursting into laughter as Minho’s ears turned pink. “She’s got you there,” Jisung wheezed.

Jisung leaned closer to you, still giggling. “Welcome to the group,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied, grinning. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

Minho took a bite of his sandwich, trying to ignore the low hum of tension in the air as the other students filtered through the cafeteria.

"Hey, you," a voice broke through his thoughts.

He turned to see a girl standing in front of you, holding her tray with a friendly smile. She was one of the more outgoing girls from their class, known for her habit of striking up conversations with just about anyone. Her omega scent was subtle but noticeable in the sea of mixed smells.

“Hey, um… you. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the sauna with the girls after school?” She asked, almost nervously, glancing around to make sure no one was listening too closely. “We all thought it’d be fun, you know, a little bonding time. Plus, I heard you’re new here, and we’d love to have you join.”

The other girls sitting around the table exchanged glances, some of them clearly waiting for your response with bated breath. It wasn’t unusual for the omega girls to invite new students to these kinds of social gatherings, but there was something about this particular invitation that felt a little more… deliberate. The scent of the group shifted slightly as the girls around her leaned forward, hoping to gauge your reaction.

Minho glanced at you from the corner of his eye, still chewing his sandwich but now far more aware of the situation than before. He had to admit, the idea of a group sauna sounded strange to him. He knew the way omegas could act when they were in groups—clustering around an alpha like they were about to do something they couldn’t do alone.

Would you go? Minho wondered. Something about it seemed off to him, and he wasn’t sure whether he should just ignore it or step in.

You glanced up at the girl, the faintest smile tugging at your lips as you assessed the situation. The air around you was thick with anticipation, the other girls practically holding their breath, eager to hear what you’d say.

You let the silence hang for a moment, letting the tension build, before you tilted your head slightly and said, “A sauna, huh? Sounds fun... but I think I’ll pass.”

The girl blinked, taken aback by your response, her hopeful expression faltering for a moment. You could practically see the other girls' shoulders slump in disappointment, the air around them deflating.

The girl who had asked you stepped back, her cheeks flushed with a mix of confusion and slight embarrassment. "Oh… okay, no worries!" she stammered before turning to leave, her friends quickly following suit.

...

A few months had passed since you’d first joined the class, and Minho had started to get used to your presence. It was strange how you could throw the entire class into a whirlwind just by walking into a room. The scent of an alpha—strong and commanding—had made everyone on edge at first. But as time went on, he found himself becoming more accustomed to it.

However, for the past three days, you hadn’t shown up.

Everyone noticed, of course.

The usual buzz of chatter and whispers had been a little quieter without you there.

For those three days, Minho sat beside Jisung. It wasn’t like you to just skip class, so naturally, they both worried. What happened? Was she sick? Something else? Minho couldn’t help but feel a nagging concern in the pit of his stomach.

As they were leaving school together, Jisung, who had been unusually quiet that day, turned to Minho.

“Do you think we left something under the desk?” he asked.

“In case we forgot something.”

Minho shrugged and crouched down beside the desk. He slipped his hand under the desk, feeling around.

He paused when his fingers brushed against something soft. A cloth. A handkerchief, to be exact.

Without saying a word, Minho pulled it out and tucked it into his pocket.

“Nothing there,” he said casually, trying to mask the odd sense of familiarity he felt as he looked at the handkerchief. Something about it seemed like it belonged. Something about it felt... personal.

Later, when Minho was alone at home, his thoughts wandered back to the handkerchief. His curiosity got the best of him, and he took it out, smelling it. The soft fabric had a faint trace of your scent—your unique, unmistakable alpha scent was strong enough to intoxicate him.

“Hey Minho, sorry I’ve been missing the past few days. I’m kind of... out of it. Could you bring me some mango juice? I’m craving it right now.”

Minho blinked, staring at the screen. There was something off about the message, something that triggered a sudden awareness in him. He knew you weren’t just sick—you weren’t the type to let something like that keep you down for long.

Before he could stop himself, he was already typing a reply.

“Of course, I’ll bring it to you.”

He didn’t tell Jisung. There was no need to explain, not when he wasn’t sure how to even explain his own feelings. You hadn’t shared much with him about your personal life, and he certainly didn’t know much about your habits—besides the scent of an alpha that always seemed to hang around you. The idea of running errands for you wasn’t a big deal... but there was something about the request that felt different now, more urgent.

After school, Minho found himself standing in front of your house, the mango juice clutched in his hand, his mind racing. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something for you. But this time felt different.

He hesitated before knocking. When you opened the door, his senses were hit by a wave of your scent—sharp, heady, and overwhelmingly potent. It hit him like a physical force, almost suffocating in its intensity. It wasn’t just the usual traces of you—this was something entirely different. Something raw, primal, and undeniably irresistible.

His breath hitched in his throat as the scent wrapped around him, clinging to the air like an invisible thread pulling him closer to you. His heart rate quickened, his body reacting to the overwhelming sensation. He hadn’t been prepared for this, hadn’t anticipated just how much your presence would affect him in this state.

You stood there, still slightly flushed, watching him with those eyes of yours—eyes that were both distant and yearning. Minho’s body tensed, caught between wanting to retreat and feeling like he couldn’t move away. It wasn’t like he could just turn and leave; the guilt, the helplessness in your voice, made it impossible to just walk out.

“Minho?” you asked softly, and that was enough to bring him back from the haze the scent had cast over him.

There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your eyes, usually sharp and focused, were clouded with something else.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling slightly. “I didn’t want to burden you, but I’m in heat. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

Minho's knees buckled and his mind went foggy, unable to put together a sentence let alone a word. With the look Minho gave, you started to have second thoughts, perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. “I'm sorry, I can see your uncomfortable. You can leave” you said with a heavy sigh “Thanks for the juice tho.”

“N-no no no it's fine, girls walk around school in heat all the time,” but none of them were Alphas, none of them smelled as powerful and overwhelming as you.

“Do you want to come in then?” you asked, trying your best to still look friendly despite the situation. Minho knew it was a bad idea, didn't know if he could control himself. He'd never been in the presence of an Alpha in heat. He was still just now getting used to being with an Alpha period.

“Uhh, sure I'll come in,” he blurted out. He didn't mean to say yes but it was too late, from then on his fate was sealed.

Once inside Minho was scared to move, everything smelled like you and his mind was still racing a thousand thoughts a second. You shuffled your way around him and sat down on your couch, opening the small drink to take a sip.

“You can sit down, you look weird just standing there,” you said patting the seat beside you.

Instinctually, Minho darted to the seat beside you, unable to control his movements and completely lost in your scent.

Minho sat down on the couch half confidently, but you could smell the nervousness under everything else. His pinky finger slid to yours causing you to look up at him, with those eyes of yours.

The moment lasted for what seemed like forever, the two of you staring at each other. His face plastered with a half-smirk, yours blank trying to read what your next move should be.

“So whatcha wanna do?” you said, devilishly placing your hand on his thigh.

The nervous in Minho smelled faint now, with his hot gaze never leaving your body. He was looking you up and down like some nude magazine and you were loving it.

“Can I be honest?” he said raising an eyebrow. All scent of Minho left the room, that sweet smell you came to love just left and was replaced with something else. What, you couldn't put your finger on but it smelled good.

“Honesty is the best in a relationship right? No matter the context.”

Minho grabbed your hand and began tracing small circles on your palm, delicately his skin brushed against yours, as he continued.

“I want you,” he said, leaning in so close his nose almost touched you. “I want to touch you, smell you, be with you, and quite frankly be in you. You have to feel something or you wouldn't have invited me over tonight, right?”

He tilted his head like he was asking a question, he obviously knew the answer to and you knew just how to respond.

“Challenge complete Minho,” you said looking down with a smirk at the bulge that was now forming in his pants.

Minho didn't mind your words or expression, almost as if he couldn't hear you. He scooted closer and placed his hand on your neck, pulling you closer to him.

“Just relax,” he said kissing you and passionately slipping his tongue in for a taste.

You let yourself fall deeper into Minho and his seductive kiss, even though you were the Alpha, you just wanted to be touched and Minho obliged.

Sliding his hand down, he flipped your skirt up and rubbed his knuckle into your clothed cunt, deep enough to be wet with your slick.

“Fuck your already wet for me huh, such a good girl,” you moaned into his mouth, as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers in, stretching you open in preparation for his cock.

Slowly you rocked your hips, grinding your clit into Minho's hand as you became desperate for friction. “Want me, want my cock in your wet pussy do ya Baby?” he asked, putting your hand in his pants. You wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and muttered a soft “please” in his ear.

Your whispers sent shivers down Minho’s spine, as you slowly pumped his penis that was now leaking with precum.

“Wanna fill me up?” you whispered, licking his ear trying to entice him. Quickly you learned you didn't need to.

Low growls started pouring out of Minho as he laid your head down on the couch and swiftly whipped his cock out of his pants.

He hoisted your legs up and lined his tip up with your soaking hole. The sight of Minho’s veiny cock, hard and twitching just for you, was enough to send you over the edge right there, until he pushed in.

Putting his hands on either side of you for support he pushed in hard, wasting no time trying to cum in your tight cunt.

You never had sex with an Omega before but knew, none would compare to Minho. His penis made your back arch with each deep thrust and your nails dug into the fabric of his sweater when he would drag it slowly against your spot.

The soft squelching of your slick and his cum churning in your vagina filled the room, making it feel dirtier and sexier while he fucked you.

With each fast slap of Minho’s balls against your ass was another slap of his necklace in your face, tickling you on the nose and earning a smile, despite being fucked roughly by an Omega.

Your room now smelled of sex and his soft spicy scent. No matter how much you cleaned you knew the smell would never leave, especially now with his cum dripping down your ass and onto the fabric of your couch cushion.

“Yes Baby take my pups like a good girl.”

~

You felt your orgasm crash over you as Minho’s thrusts became sloppy and your cunt even sloppier, walls fluttering and clenching around Minho.

“Fuck your so tight, can't hold on.”

His big knot stretched your hole and soon made it impossible for Minho to move any further. For an Omega, he surely had a big penis, perhaps his confidence and arrogance came from there you thought, as you were looking him in the eyes, stuck but very much where you wanted to be at that moment.

“You're so pretty,” he said placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his sweat making his dewy skin stick to yours.

“Don’t say something you don't mean Minho, it’s fine if you just wanted to fuck the Alpha of the school” you said, hoping he would correct you, hoping he would say your wrong and that he really did love you.

You swallowed your spit hard, when he spoke again.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I really do think you're pretty and I want you to be mine.” He stared you straight in the face with his cute earnest eyes, intimidating you whilst somehow still comforting you, a mix of emotions you've never felt before, like smells that didn't match. The only thing you could blame it on was his big soft sweater against your skin as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I think you've made me yours Minho,” you said motioning to where the two of you were still connected.

“You know what I mean,” he said rolling his eyes. Leaning up you chased him into another kiss, sloppy and wet, both your lips now swollen and red from all the desperate kissing that happened just a minute ago.

“You know, for an Omega you have a great penis.”

Minho looked at you with a cute toothy smirk and pretended to whip a piece of his hair out of his face.

“You know, when I'm rutting my knot is way bigger. You plan on taking that in your tiny pussy?”

“Of course Minho, I accept the challenge.”

Link to their post;)

Link

[yaksha-lover]

TWST x ASOIAF/Medieval AU

Introduction (Part 1)

this au will center around seven different kingdoms, with one representing each dorm. the stories for each kingdom all happen in the same universe, and thus the reader is a different ‘character’ in each part

cw: arranged marriages, political hostages, slightly yandere in malleus’ part, gn!reader

Kingdom #1 - Queendom of Roses

Riddle Rosehearts is the crown prince of this kingdom, with his mother being the current ruling monarch.

You are from another prominent noble family. There have been discussions of a potential arranged marriage to unite the two families, and so you are sent to live in Riddle’s castle to see if this deal can be made.

Riddle is initially internally opposed to the idea of being in an arranged marriage, but as he gets to know you, he begins to realize that the world he’s grown up in - full of rules and empty of care - is far from what he could have with you.

Unfortunately, Riddle’s mother quickly becomes opposed to your union, seeing it as you attempting to change Riddle and pulling him away from her and their ‘perfectly good’ way of life.

It will be a challenge for the two of you, forced to try and convince his mother to still let you marry, while helping Riddle break free from the restrictive life he’s been forced to live.

Kingdom #2 - Sunset Savanna

Leona Kingscholar, the second prince of the kingdom of Sunset Savanna, has studied and worked his entire life to be the best version of himself. A great leader, a strong swordsman, someone politically astute and aware of more than what goes on in his own castle.

Still, no matter what Leona does, he has practically no way to use his skills to better the Sunset Savanna. His brother, the king, has offered him positions on the high council, but his advice is hardly taken seriously.

Practically resigning himself to live a meaningless life, Leona is suddenly faced with a choice when you come to the Sunset Savanna to offer your hand in marriage.

The future heir to the royal kingdom of the Shaftlands, you’re looking to form a strong alliance between your family and Leona’s.

Leona has, so far, resisted any of his brother’s attempts to set up marriages for him, and so Falena thinks it will be the same. He finds himself suprised when Leona accepts your offer.

By marrying into your kingdom, Leona will become the prince consort, and you’ve promised him actual power and influence. The two of you will govern your kingdom together, and Leona will finally be able to do something with his talents.

The fact that you and Leona were once childhood friends certainly helped in his decision to agree as well. Now that you’ve both grown up, Leona is eager to rekindle your relationship. However, he’s up for a challenge when he realizes you aren’t exactly the agreeable child you once were.

Kingdom #3 - Coral Sea

Azul is a famous travelling merchant, known for his ability to grant practically any wish - at a cost, of course.

When you make a deal with him to save your younger sibling, and find yourself unable to hold up your end of the contract, the fine print comes into play: you’ll have to serve as his assistant and travel with him across the seven kingdoms.

Unfortunately, the mask of Azul’s benevolence seems to decay before your eyes, as he forces you to uptake all sorts of demeaning tasks.

However, you find the mask of his charm slipping off just as fast. The real Azul is hardly as confident as he presents, and you think this may finally be your opportunity to take advantage of a flaw and escape this situation - then you start to feel bad.

For the rather strategic and unfeeling side you’ve seen of Azul, returning to his home kingdom of the Coral Sea, you begin to realize by the way he’s treated that his demeanour may be more reactionary than you first believed.

For better or for worse, the two of you are forced to become a team when an unruly customer begins to hunt the both of you down. The two of you escape the kingdom together, but it won’t be long before you’ll have to go on the run again.

‘Partner in crime’ wasn’t exactly on the job (contract) description, but Azul is lucky that you’ve grown fond of him.

Kingdom #4 - Scalding Sands

Kalim is the prince of the Scalding Sands, with Jamil as his retainer.

You are sent by your family to marry Kalim, but it’s Jamil that seems to capture your interest more.

You wed Kalim, but the feelings between you and Jamil boil over until you begin a secret relationship.

Both of you are hesitant - if anyone were to find out, Jamil and his family would suffer endlessly, and you would lose your status, being disowned by your family.

Things only become more confusing after you begin to see Kalim in a different light, thinking that perhaps you sized him up too quickly.

However, Kalim may be less oblivious than you and Jamil both realize, and he may be more okay with the two of you than you think.

While things may still be dangerous if anyone were to find out, things are certainly much easier with the three of you to cover up any rumours.

The relationship between Jamil and Kalim even improves as a result - you come to get Jamil to have a more kindly outlook of Kalim, while being able to make Kalim more aware of Jamil’s needs so he doesn’t continue to be overlooked.

The three of you still have lots of work to do, but as the future of this kingdom, you hope Kalim will do well with both yourself and Jamil behind him.

Kingdom #5 - Shaftlands

Vil Schoenheit is the son of a prominent noble family in the shaftlands.

Known as the ‘Knight of Oleander,’ Vil is famous for both his swordsmanship and his great beauty.

Due to his family’s involvement in a current political skirmish, Vil is taken as a very valuable political hostage.

You are a knight who works for the side that has taken Vil hostage.

You are eventually told to take him and travel back to his family, in order to try and come to a resolution of this conflict.

Vil is eager to escape and get back himself, so that his family will not have to give in to the demands necessary to get him back.

The two of you seem to fight and bicker every second of the trip back, but when it becomes dangerous for the both of you, you’ll both end up seeing a different side of each other.

While Vil has tried to take advantage of your insecurity and the fact that you are often made fun of by the others for your looks to escape, he begins to see a different, attractive side when he sees how truly good you are, so different from the other knights he has met.

Conversely, you’ve only ever thought of Vil as a shallow noble, unable to understand what it’s like to be imperfect in any way. When his beauty is taken away and he feels like he’s left with nothing else, you teach him that he’s so much more than his looks.

If you’re a asoiaf fan, Vil will have a similar story/character arc to Jaime, with dynamic with the reader being that of Jaime/Brienne.

Kingdom #6 - Island of Woe

Idia’s family are nobles who have been outcasted from the main kingdoms because of their perceived threat and treachery.

Idia is sent as a political hostage to stay as the ward of the reigning noble family of the Island of Woe, in order to prove his family’s loyalty and rejoin the rest of the kingdoms.

You are the child of the reigning family, and the one who helps him adapt to his new circumstances as best as possible.

You know he’s hardly responsible for his family’s problems, and you want to lessen Idia’s suffering as much as possible.

When others in your kingdom begin to harass Idia for being a ‘traitor,’ you impulsively decide to announce your marriage to him, making him royalty and therefore practically untouchable to others (unless they are willing to face severe punishment from the royal family).

Idia, while somewhat thankful for your help, is less than thrilled with this development. He’s going to be a royal? Don’t you know what kind of responsibility this means for him? Why would you force him into the spotlight like this?

Even more than that, Idia knows, no matter how sympathetic, you still believe the narrative set by your family that the Shroud family did betray the kingdom, when that’s far from the truth.

When he confronts you with this, you become frustrated with him, stuck in between the truth and the lie your otherwise kind family has always told you.

Neither of you are able to give up loyalty to your families, and this makes for a very difficult marriage indeed.

Kingdom #7 - Briar Valley

Malleus, the future ruler of the most powerful of all the kingdoms, has nobles travelling to Briar Valley from all over the world to ask for his hand in marriage.

To the annoyance of his grandmother, he turns down every proposal. Partially because he knows they only wish for his throne, that they do not know him nor do they really care to…and partially because of you.

You are part of his Kingsguard, alongside Silver and Sebek, trained in both swordsmanship and magic to keep him safe at all costs.

Unlike your fellow knights, you actually approach and converse with him. Perhaps foolishly, if he’s being honest. You would hardly have known his temper beforehand; many think him to be cold and quite scary.

You already spent time around him when it was your rotation to guard his current whereabouts instead of the castle perimeter, but you begin to do so even more when he requests that you stay on this rotation.

Flattered and thankful, you remain oblivious to the true reason Malleus desires you close to him at all times. It would be unthinkable for anyone of your station to believe that Malleus would have any kind of romantic interest in you.

Thus, you continue to remain unconvinced of the prince’s casual touches, of the way he favours you above all his other guards.

When you begin to reciprocate his feelings but believe them to surely be unrequited, you request to be dismissed from his service, it being unprofessional and too difficult to continue with your love for him.

Malleus, also unaware of your feelings, takes this as you trying to escape him. He knows you’re confused but in time you’ll see; he’ll take care of you, just like he’s always wanted.

You just need to stay in the dungeon until you’ve gotten over this little tantrum of yours. He keeps your cell decorated with luxuries and comfort that you’d never experienced in your time as one of his guards, not wanting you to suffer unnecessarily.

When you wisen up and decide to be his, all will be well again - but you won’t be returning to your previous position.

[thetorturedfagdepartment]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Halloween Heartbeat ࿐ྂ

A/N: Hiii!!! First fic + Real post on tumblr :3 I hope you guys enjoy this fic! I took a good amount of time on it and hope to get it to 3 chapters before Halloween ends! Anywho enjoy!!! (Also I put it into grammarly so I hope the spelling and grammar is good…)

Tags: Fluff, Modern Au, Halloween Horror nights, Scare Actor Ellie, Ellie x F Reader, Strangers to Lovers?, Men DNI!!!

Your friends love Halloween Horror Nights! You on the other hand— not so much… You guys had just made it out of a house and god were you panicked… Breathing heavy, hands sweaty, vision a little blurry—

“Hey you okay?” one of your friends says placing their hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. “Damn hey chill— we can leave if you want—“

“No!” You shout cutting them off “I’m good I’ll just wait outside the next one.”

Your friends nod and they head to the next house. They wave you goodbye and you stand outside. You see a sweet treat spot across the house and make your way over. The area was crowded and filled with people in costumes, and scare actors and you just tried to stay calm and ignore it.. until a scare actor with short messy auburn hair came up behind you with a chainsaw, she pulled it and it rumbled. You let out a piercing scream, mixed with some tears. She freezes and sees how panicky you are. She then starts to feel bad causing her to break character.

“Hey, Hey, Hey… it’s fake.” She turns it off and touches the blades “See fake.”

You nod and wipe the tears, you have been filled with so much fear and anxiety since you got here.

“S—sorry… I’m usually not this pathetic.” You chuckle and she shakes her head.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone gets scared..” She smiled, you see her pretty eyes and freckles. Although they were mostly covered by the fake blood she had on. She had baggy jeans and a somewhat white tank top drenched in blood and fake cuts all over her. “I’m Ellie,” she extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie,” you shake her hand and exchange introductions. She was really sweet.

“Actually um— I’m about to start my break how about I meet you in there and buy you a treat?” She says with a warm smile that sends shivers down your spine. You look over and notice your friends have just gotten out of the house.

“I— um—.. oh my friends are back.” You say turning her down.

She seems very upset as you reject her.

“Omg we leave you alone for like 3 minutes and you already get a girl?” One of your friend’s jokes.

“Come onnn, tell us who’s the lady who stole our best friend…” Another one says shaking you gently.

“I’m Ellie, don’t worry guys I’m just about to hand her back. But first I want your number. If that’s okay..?”

You think for a second and nod smiling with a faint blush. You then take out your phone and exchange numbers.

“Heh.. thanks I’ll see you around.” She walks away leaving you with your friends cheering for you getting her number.

—

A few weeks had passed since then, and you and Ellie have begun texting often. She makes you laugh, smile, and blush, every time you guys text its butterflies. She just knows how to make you happy.. Ellie told you what time her shift ended and she had given you some sneaky tickets to come back whenever. You decide maybe it’s time to surprise her..

You get into a cute outfit hoping she’ll like it, even throwing on some makeup… just to give yourself an extra bit of pizazz. You head out the door looking super cute— all just for her.

As you arrive and head into the park, all of the anxiety from a few weeks ago comes right back. The loudness, the people, the scare actors… it’s all just too much. You walk into the gates and brace yourself. Ellie said she's over in the Terror Tram today.. Perfect. Far. You brace yourself, walking through the crowd, and scare zones trying to not cry and pee yourself. One specific actor wouldn’t leave you alone. He chases you through the entire zone. You scream and run quickly but he won’t leave! You end up bumping into someone.

A familiar freckled auburn-haired girl just so happens to be the one you run into…

“Hey, hey.. what’s going on it’s me… w—wait why are you here..?” She tries to calm you down and reassure you, but she’s a bit confused as to why you’re here.

“H—he—he won’t stop chasing me!” You point at the tall man with nice black hair and clown makeup on, who just so happened to have been chasing you with a knife.

“Him? Oh, that’s Jesse.. Jesse!! Get your ass over here!” Ellie calls him over. You then grab her hand and stand next to her.

“Yeah, Elles? Oh look you caught her!” He chuckles. He’s taller, sorta broad, and has medium-length black hair.

“Leave her alone. She’s my — uh…” she blushes and looks away “—friend…”

“Oh, so I’m just a friend now?” You chuckle nudging her.

“Hush.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Ellie’s just a friend. I’m Ellie’s friend Jesse, and that’s Dina another one of our friends.” He points to a pretty girl dressed up as a killer broken doll.

“Friends? You guys broke up again.” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“You know Dina…” Jesse shakes his head.

You seeing Ellie interact with her friend is kinda cute.. it’s a side you had yet to see of her, and now you’re worried you won’t be able to get it out of your head.. after a few moments they start saying bye.

“Well see ya, I’m still on the clock, and apologies for scaring the shit out of you,” Jesse says as he walks off.

“He seems nice, you know not when he acts like he’s gonna kill me…” you say giving her a dorky smile.

“Yeah, now what are you doing here? I told you my shift was over soon remember I was gonna go to your place.” She says shaking her head and letting out some tongue clicks.

“I know!!! I just wanted to surprise you…”

“Hey that’s really cute and sweet but I don’t want you coming here by yourself knowing you’re gonna be scared,” Ellie says giving you a reassuring smile.

“Okay, okay.. fine I won’t do it again.” You then smile back at her.

“Atta girl. Now, I’m off the clock, and its uhhhh 10 pm? How about we go grab some fast food and head back to your place, I’ll get the food and you set up your living room for a fun hangout night, huh?” Ellie smiles, and a cute pink rose tint appears on her freckled cheeks.

You agree and like Ellie says she heads over to grab some burgers, fries, drinks, and a nice ice cream each for you guys. As you wait for her you set up the living room. On your way home you decided to get some Halloween things. Such as cute spooky blankets, some cobwebs, fake pumpkins, and cute little ghost plushies. You dimmed the lights and sat on the couch waiting for her.

Ellie comes in with the food and locks your door back.

“Woahhhh cute.. I really like how you decorated the place. You know, you didn’t need to do all that.” Ellie says setting the food down and handing you, your drink. She shakes her head and chuckles taking a seat next to you.

“Yeah, I know but I wanted to make the living room look all cute..” You blush slightly and grab the food.

“So what is this like a date now?” Ellie says taking a bite of her burger.

“… if you want it to be…” you then look her in the eyes.

“I— um .. w—well yeah…” Ellie blushes feeling a bit flustered and jittery inside. It’s been a while since she had felt this way. Maybe a little too long..?

You nod your head and you guys eat dinner, with a little bit of chit-chatting here and there. You guys finish the burgers and fries and eat your ice cream cuddling on the couch.

Eventually, Ellie clears her throat and brings up the topic of movies.

“Sooo what do you wanna watch pretty girl.”

Pretty girl…

“Uhh I don’t know, I’m not that much into horror so as long as it’s not that I’m fine.” You say taking a lick of your ice cream.

“I should’ve guessed that.. well come on we have to watch something spooky or at least like with mythical creatures!” Ellie nudges you and laughs.

“Okay then..”

You get up and grab a DVD, you then insert it in your PlayStation.

“A DVD? Come on how old are you 40?” Ellie says with a stupid snort-laugh.

You then play your DVD and Ellie has no clue what you put on.

“Soooo what did you choose?”

“You’ll see…”

“I swear to god if it’s stupid I’m literally gonna murder you.. this time with a real chainsaw.” Ellie groans and you guys finish your ice creams and lay back.

Then the intro rolls in.

“You’re fucking kidding me right..? Twilight.” Ellie groans, rubbing her face, and shoves you off of her.

“Come on what’s so bad with Twilight!” You then scoot back over and flick her nose causing it to scrunch.

“It’s corny! I always cringe! I mean the plot is good it’s just cringe all right!!” Ellie whines but soon she sucks it up for your sake.

As the movie plays Ellie makes some snobby jokes and you just bounce back. About halfway through the movie she just stares at you…

You feel her gaze and look at her. Causing her to look away, a soft blush appears on her and you giggle. Butterflies sent straight to her stomach. You don’t stop staring… you keep looking at her. She’s beautiful, how has no one already swooped her off her feet…? God you wanna kiss her— what..?

“Uh— you’re … missing the best part…” Ellie says clearing her throat and still blushing like a dork.

“I’ve seen it 1000 times… Ellie I—“ You then lean in for a kiss.

Ellie’s eyes widen as her lips press yours. She places a hand on the side of your cheek leaning towards you gently kissing you. Your hands wrap around her waist as you guys cuddle while you kiss. The kiss is long and gentle.

The kiss finally breaks and a tiny piece of salvia strings between you two. Ellie chuckles wiping her lips.

“You’re so cute..” she says smiling like a dork.

“Yeah… right back at you.”

You have no regrets about going to that stupid amusement park a few weeks ago now.

Read part 2 here!

[amethystarachnid]

OPPOSITES - part II

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, tiny bit of angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: Bucky was right, your parents don't approve your relationship with him so you run away from home to stay with him, ready for the challenge that is getting used to his world.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of guns,

ᯓ★ AU: 1920s Gangstares

ᯓ★ Request: oh my god i absolutely love this <33 a second part would be amazing (no pressure ofc) ( @one-lengthiness36 )

ᯓ★ Since request didn't spicy reader's gender I'll write it as a fem!reader, as I've said in the post

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The evening is like a scene out of one of the novels you used to read in secret, back before Bucky’s presence filled the empty places in your life. The grand ballroom is swathed in soft lights, crystal chandeliers glinting above like starlight. Your parents, all too eager to show you off, parade you through introductions and polite conversation, proudly displaying their perfect, obedient daughter to the other families in attendance. But tonight, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is only half as bright as it could be. Everything feels dull because your mind is on him.

The moment you spot Bucky across the room, dressed in a dark, well-tailored suit that makes him look every inch the part of a man who could captivate a room, everything else melts away. He’s watching you, his gaze piercing even across the sea of elegantly dressed guests. He looks out of place, dangerous in the way he leans back against a wall, observing the crowd as though he’s assessing each person. You know he doesn’t come from a world like this. He doesn’t belong among these polished smiles and whispered judgments, yet he’s here, somehow making the room feel sharper, alive.

The evening’s polite conversation blurs around you, and as soon as the opportunity presents itself, you excuse yourself, slipping through the crowd and down a side hallway that leads to the garden. You barely reach the edge of the courtyard when you feel a presence behind you. A hand slides around your waist, tugging you into a secluded shadow where the soft glow of garden lights casts a warm halo over you both. Bucky pulls you against him, and the world falls away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips as you tilt your head to look at him.

“And miss seeing you in that dress?” He smirks, his eyes roving over you with a possessive heat. “Not a chance, doll.”

Your breath catches as his hand slides from your waist up to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him. You glance back at the house, watching for signs of anyone who might interrupt, but Bucky’s fingers tilt your chin back toward him, gently pulling you into his focus.

“Don’t worry about them,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your jawline. “They’ve got enough to gossip about for the night without us.”

You smile, heart pounding as his lips brush the corner of your mouth, his hand slipping up to your cheek, cradling your face as though you’re something delicate, precious. The kiss that follows is soft, unhurried, but with a simmering edge of hunger that makes your toes curl. When he pulls back, his thumb traces along your bottom lip.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, voice low and rough, as if the words themselves are too heavy to hold back.

Your heart skips, and you smile, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat beneath your palm. “You know, you being here is going to make it difficult for me to keep pretending,” you whisper. “I want to tell them, Bucky. I want to tell them about us.”

He stiffens slightly, his hand stilling against your cheek. His face softens as he looks down at you, but there’s a hint of a warning in his eyes. “That’s a terrible idea, sweetheart.”

“Why?” you challenge, the words barely above a whisper as you lift your face toward him. “Because you’re the boss of a gang? Because you think they’ll only see that and never see you for who you really are?”

Bucky’s lips quirk in a half-smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s exactly why.” His hand slips down to your waist, holding you close as he leans in, his lips trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. “They’d only see the reputation, the danger. Not… this.”

You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin as he kisses his way to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “But this is what matters,” you murmur, voice breathless. “You’ve shown me who I am, who I can be. It’s not just about who you are, Bucky—it’s about who I am when I’m with you.”

His grip tightens on your waist, and he lets out a quiet groan, pulling you even closer against him. “God, you don’t make it easy, doll,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “But they’ll never see it that way. They won’t understand.”

Your fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, threading through his hair as you look up at him. His blue eyes are darkened, focused intently on you as if you’re the only thing that exists in this moment. “Then let me make them understand,” you say, softly but firmly. “Let me show them how much you mean to me.”

Bucky sighs, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back, his touch possessive as he holds you against him. “You have no idea how much I want that. How much I want to be with you—out in the open. But your father? Your family?” He shakes his head, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “They’d never forgive you. They’d never forgive us.”

You press a hand against his cheek, feeling the faint stubble under your fingers as you guide his face back to yours. “They don’t control me, Bucky. Not anymore. You taught me that.”

His expression shifts, softening as he studies you, his eyes filled with that raw intensity that never fails to make your heart race. “You’re something else, you know that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

You smile, feeling warmth spread through your chest as he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss. His hands roam over your back, pulling you as close as possible, as though he can’t bear to let even a sliver of space exist between you. The kiss grows heated, his lips moving against yours with an urgency that makes your knees feel weak. You lose yourself in him, in the feel of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way he murmurs your name like it’s a secret he wants to keep.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathless, his hands resting firmly on your hips, keeping you anchored to him. He watches you, his gaze soft but laced with a seriousness that makes you shiver.

“Listen to me, doll,” he says, his thumb tracing slow circles against your hip. “I want this, too. More than you know. But there’s no way your father would ever let us be together. You have a future mapped out, a life that doesn’t involve a man like me.”

You shake your head, pressing a finger to his lips. “But that’s not the life I want. Not anymore.” You look up at him, your voice softening. “You’re what I want, Bucky.”

His jaw clenches, and he seems to be fighting some internal battle. His eyes dart away for a moment, looking out into the garden as though he’s searching for an answer, before he looks back down at you, his gaze conflicted. “And what if I say no?” he challenges, though his voice is barely a whisper. “What if I say it’s too dangerous?”

“Then I’d tell you that you’re worth any danger,” you respond, matching his quiet intensity. “And I’m not afraid of what comes next, as long as I’m with you.”

A low groan escapes him, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s as much an admission as it is a surrender. His hands slide up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he holds you close, pouring everything he can’t say into that kiss. It’s a desperate, consuming embrace, one that leaves you breathless and dizzy, and when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing heavy.

“I can’t let them hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “And they would. If they found out about us, if they knew what I do, what I am…”

You touch his face, guiding his gaze back to yours. “Then I’ll tell them in my own way, on my own terms. We’ll figure it out, together.”

He studies you, a flicker of hope mingling with the doubt in his eyes. And slowly, as if unable to resist, he nods, brushing a tender kiss against your forehead. “Alright, sweetheart,” he whispers. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll find a way.”

You smile, leaning into him as his hands settle back around your waist, his touch firm and grounding. And there, in the quiet garden under the cover of night, you hold onto him, feeling the weight of his promises, the warmth of his presence. The world beyond may never understand, but you know in your heart that this is real, that whatever you and Bucky have is worth every risk.

With one last kiss, you turn back toward the lighted house, your heart thrumming with the thrill of what lies ahead.

A few days after the gala, you gather every ounce of courage Bucky has helped you discover and decide it’s time to tell your parents. You’ve been rehearsing the words over and over, trying to find a way to explain, to soften the news for them. But nothing prepares you for the reality of facing them, the tension thick in the air as they sit across from you in the parlor, looking so much like the people they want you to be: poised, elegant, and completely unyielding.

As you start to speak, their expressions quickly shift from polite interest to cold, rigid disapproval. You can barely finish explaining your love for Bucky, and the way he’s made you feel more alive, more yourself, before your father’s face darkens.

“Are you out of your mind?” he spits, his voice a low, simmering anger that makes you flinch. “That man is a criminal. I knew I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight that night.”

Your mother’s expression is no better. She’s silent, but her lips are pursed in a thin line, eyes fixed on you as if you’re someone she no longer recognizes.

“Father,” you say, trying to hold your ground, despite the wavering of your voice, “I know you don’t approve, but Bucky has shown me a side of myself I didn’t know existed. He—he treats me with respect, with kindness. He lets me be who I really am.”

Your father scoffs, his voice laced with disdain. “Who you really are? Who you really are, my dear, is a woman raised in one of the finest families in this city. And you think throwing that away for some… lowlife gangster is worth it?” He leans forward, his eyes dark. “You don’t know the kind of man he is. You’re just a silly girl, and he’s made you believe you’re someone you’re not.”

The words sting, slicing through you with a pain sharper than you imagined. Your vision blurs, and you look to your mother, hoping for a glimmer of support, some sign that she might understand.

But she only shakes her head, her gaze like cold steel. “You are to stop seeing him,” she says quietly but firmly. “Or we will have no choice but to arrange for you to stay with your aunt for the foreseeable future, away from this… corruption.”

The breath catches in your throat, panic rising like a tidal wave. “What? You can’t do that! I’m not a child anymore!”

“To us, you’re behaving like one,” your father snaps. “And you will obey us, or you’ll lose everything you know.”

Tears blur your vision, the realization settling like a stone in your chest. There’s no convincing them, no changing their minds. They’ll never see Bucky for who he is, never accept the person he’s helped you become. You flee from the parlor, your mother’s voice calling after you, but you don’t look back. You run up the grand staircase to your room, slamming the door behind you as the tears spill over, shaking with anger and heartbreak.

You sink down onto the floor, clutching your knees to your chest as sobs wrack your body. It feels like you’re losing everything: the life you thought you could build, the future you’ve just begun to imagine. But through the hurt and disappointment, one thing becomes clear—you can’t stay here, trapped under their rules, pretending to be someone you’re not. Not anymore.

The decision is sudden, fierce, and entirely certain. You wipe your tears, standing up on shaking legs as you grab a small bag from your closet. You pack only a few things—a dress, some undergarments, a handful of your favorite jewelry pieces—and slip a coat over your shoulders. You can still hear your parents’ voices downstairs, discussing you as if you’re a child who’s simply misbehaving, in need of reining in.

With your bag over your shoulder, you slip quietly down the back staircase, heart pounding in your chest as you make your way out the door. You don’t dare breathe until you’re outside, the cool night air hitting your skin and filling you with a strange exhilaration. For the first time in your life, you’re making a choice all on your own.

You head for Bucky’s place, your steps quick and determined. The streets are quieter now, and the dim lights of his neighborhood feel foreign yet somehow welcoming, as if beckoning you into a new life. By the time you reach his building, your cheeks are cold, and you’re trembling, but it’s not from the night air.

You knock softly, anxiety twisting in your gut as you wait. After a moment, the door opens, and there he stands, his face softening in surprise as he takes you in.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is gentle, his hand reaching for yours as he looks down at you, his concern written all over his face. “What happened?”

The moment you see him, the tears you thought you’d left behind return, and you step into his arms, clinging to him as the weight of the night finally catches up with you. Bucky’s arms wrap around you protectively, his hand stroking your back as he murmurs comforting words, letting you cry until the sobs turn into quiet sniffles.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I… I told them, Bucky. I told them about us.”

His face tightens, and he sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I told you, doll. I knew they wouldn’t understand.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “They said… they said they’d send me away, keep me away from you. I couldn’t stay there, Bucky. I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

He watches you carefully, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that linger on your cheeks. “So you came here?”

You nod again, your voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. I want to be with you, Bucky. They don’t understand, but I do.”

His expression softens, something close to pride flickering in his eyes as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re here because you want to be?” he asks, his voice soft but thick with emotion.

“Yes,” you say firmly, your hand resting over his on your cheek. “This is where I belong.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though anchoring himself to you. “You’re sure, doll? This isn’t an easy life, and it’s not what you’re used to. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, looking up at him with conviction. “I don’t want easy. I want real. I want you.”

A small, soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapped around you protectively. “Then stay with me,” he murmurs. “Stay as long as you need. As long as you want.”

You feel a rush of relief as you lean into him, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “Thank you,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out as he tightens his hold on you, letting you feel his silent promise to protect you, no matter what comes next.

He kisses you again, soft and lingering, his hands warm on your cheeks, grounding you. “We’ll figure this out, sweetheart. Together.”

And with that, you feel the weight of the past slipping away, the future opening up before you. You’re no longer bound by their rules, no longer caged by expectations. You’re free, here with Bucky, ready to carve out a life that’s truly yours.

Living with Bucky is an adventure—an unpredictable, exhilarating departure from the perfectly orchestrated life you’ve always known. The first few days are an intoxicating mix of quiet mornings with coffee shared over soft laughter and long, lingering evenings where you fall asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling as though you’ve finally found your place. It’s your first taste of real freedom, and the thrill of it is liberating.

But you soon discover that sharing a life with Bucky means confronting a world that’s nothing like the one you grew up in. The second week, you wake up one morning to the sound of deep voices drifting from Bucky’s office down the hall. Pulling on one of his old shirts, which falls almost to your knees, you pad softly down the hall, stopping just outside the office door, where it’s slightly ajar.

Bucky’s voice is unmistakable, calm and controlled as he speaks, “That shipment better be on time, understood? I’m not going to tolerate any delays.”

There’s a low murmur of assent from the men gathered inside, their voices respectful but wary. Curiosity piques as you lean a little closer, catching a glimpse of Bucky behind his desk, his usual warmth gone, replaced with an air of authority that’s almost intimidating. You realize that these men look at him the way others looked at your father—with respect, but also a hint of fear. It strikes you how different this is from the world you knew.

Before you can pull away, Bucky looks up, his sharp gaze softening immediately as he spots you. He nods, and the men around him quickly follow his line of sight, their eyes shifting to you with expressions that range from curious to wary. You straighten, suddenly feeling the weight of their stares. You’re not used to these kinds of men—rough around the edges, hardened by a life of survival and loyalty to Bucky.

Bucky stands, moving to the door, and the men’s gazes shift downward as he opens it wider. “Morning, doll,” he says with a small, reassuring smile, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, offering him a soft smile. “It’s alright. I just… heard voices.”

His gaze flicks over his shoulder at his men, his tone turning firm. “This is my girl. I want it understood that she’s off-limits to all of you, got it?”

A few murmurs of “Yes, sir,” echo from around the room, followed by respectful nods. One man, who you’ve only seen a few times in passing, speaks up, his voice low and respectful, “Anything happens, she’s got our protection, boss. You have our word.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with something close to pride as he nods in approval. “Good. That’s exactly what I expect.”

Once they’re gone, you feel a weight lift, but a small unease lingers, a new awareness of the life Bucky leads. You glance back at him as he closes the office door, his hand slipping back around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hip.

You nod slowly, glancing around at the office now empty of his men. The heavy scent of smoke and the distinct aroma of leather fill the room, along with a faint trace of cologne that reminds you of him. “It’s… different,” you admit quietly, looking down as you search for the words. “I’m still getting used to it, I guess.”

Bucky’s hand moves up to cup your face, tilting it so you’re looking at him. There’s a gentleness in his gaze, a contrast to the hard edge you just saw him display with his men. “I know it’s different,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as he brushes a thumb along your cheek. “This world isn’t what you’re used to. It’s rough, messy… but you have me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You place your hand over his, smiling faintly as you lean into his touch. “It’s not that I’m afraid,” you say quietly. “I just… I never realized just how much of a life you built outside of me. I think maybe I was… naive about it.”

He sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe you were, but you’re adjusting faster than you think. You don’t flinch, don’t back down. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

That quiet confidence in his words warms you, and you give a small smile, letting him pull you closer. Life with Bucky might not be the fairytale romance of the novels you once read, but there’s something far richer in the intensity of it, in the way he makes you feel alive and protected in a way that no one else ever has.

Over the next few weeks, you settle into a rhythm. Bucky’s hours are unpredictable, often interrupted by meetings or calls at odd hours, and more than once, you wake in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty. But no matter how late he comes back, he’s always there by morning, slipping back under the covers to hold you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he murmurs, “Go back to sleep, doll. I’m here now.”

Some mornings, you watch him as he shaves, noting the quiet, focused way he moves, the small scars along his jawline that tell stories you haven’t heard yet. You help him button his shirt, fingers grazing over his skin as he watches you with a tender smile, his hand slipping around your waist to hold you close even in those small, stolen moments.

But one evening, as he walks through the door, his brow furrowed and jaw tight, you sense something is wrong. He doesn’t give you his usual greeting kiss, just strides to the bar in the corner, pouring himself a whiskey in silence. You approach him slowly, worry gnawing at you.

“Bucky?” you ask softly, touching his arm. “Is everything alright?”

He nods, but his eyes are distant, his jaw clenched as he takes a long sip of his drink. “Just some business. It’s… complicated.” He sighs, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve been dealing with some trouble in the city. A rival family’s stepping on our territory.”

You feel a shiver at his words, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you place a hand over his, squeezing gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

He glances down at you, his expression softening as he brushes a thumb along your knuckles. “You’re doing it already,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Just… keep being here. You’re the only thing that keeps all this from feeling like it’s gonna swallow me whole.”

As the days pass, you begin to understand Bucky’s world a little better. You learn to accept the constant presence of his men, the tension that sometimes fills the house when they discuss matters you don’t entirely understand. But through it all, Bucky is steadfast, grounding you with gentle touches, soft murmurs, and stolen moments of laughter that make the weight of his world seem almost bearable.

One evening, after dinner, he pulls you into his arms, swaying slowly to the soft hum of a jazz tune from the record player. His hand rests on your waist, his eyes warm as he looks down at you.

“Think you’re still up for this?” he asks quietly, searching your face.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m right where I want to be,” you whisper, feeling the truth of those words settle deep in your chest. No matter how unfamiliar, how dangerous this life may seem, Bucky’s presence makes it feel like home.

Living with Bucky brings a cascade of new experiences, each a lesson in how to navigate his world. His men regard you with a mix of respect and wariness, giving you wide berth, yet always keeping a careful watch. As weeks turn into months, Bucky shows you the ropes of his world in small, deliberate steps. He insists on teaching you skills he says every woman in his life should know—things that make you feel stronger, more independent, and, if you’re honest, a little daring.

One evening, he leads you to a room in the back of the house that he keeps locked, and as he opens the door, you’re struck by the cold steel of the weapons glinting from the shelves. Handguns, revolvers, rifles—they’re all there, neatly organized. Your eyes widen, and you look up at him with a mix of surprise and nervous excitement.

“Bucky… you think I need to know how to use these?” you ask, your voice wavering as you step inside.

He nods, his face serious but warm, as he wraps his arm around your waist. “Yes, doll. This life, it’s unpredictable. I need to know you can defend yourself if something ever happens. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.”

His hand trails to a revolver on the nearest shelf, lifting it with practiced ease and placing it gently in your hands. It’s surprisingly heavy, cold against your palm. “It’s a .38 Special,” he explains, his voice a low rumble as he stands behind you, guiding your hands to hold it steady. “Good for close range, packs a punch without much kickback.”

Under his patient instruction, you learn how to load the revolver, align the sights, and control your breath as you pull the trigger. He takes you out to a private spot on the edge of town where you can practice firing without drawing attention, setting up makeshift targets and coaching you on how to aim. His arms are warm around you, his words a low, steady cadence in your ear as he whispers pointers and praises your progress.

The first time you hit a target square in the middle, he lets out a low whistle and wraps his arms around you, lifting you off your feet with pride. “Look at you,” he says, beaming. “Sharp as a tack, just like I knew you’d be.”

The next week, he starts showing you hand-to-hand defense moves, teaching you how to break a hold, how to twist out of a grasp, and where to strike in case you ever need to incapacitate an attacker. “You’re stronger than you think,” he murmurs after you manage to push him off balance, grinning as you catch your breath. “Keep that up, and no one will dare lay a hand on you.”

It’s during these lessons that you realize just how deep his care for you runs. He watches you carefully, keeping you close, his focus unwavering. To him, this isn’t just training; it’s a promise that he’s arming you with the tools to thrive in his world, to share in his life not just as his love but as his equal.

One evening, as he’s teaching you how to tuck a small pistol into the folds of a dress without making it obvious, he turns to you, his face lit with a mischievous grin. “What do you say we work on making a mark somewhere a little more… public?”

You tilt your head in curiosity, and he chuckles, gesturing toward the coat rack where his hat and coat are draped. “How would you like to redesign the bar?”

You laugh, but his face is serious, his eyes warm. “I mean it. That bar has seen the same wallpaper and fixtures for far too long. Do what you like. I’ll handle the finances.”

The idea lights a spark within you, and in the following days, you dive into plans for the bar’s transformation. Armed with Bucky’s unwavering support, you work with a designer to bring a fresh, sophisticated flair to the bar, capturing both elegance and subtle mystery, a reflection of his complex world. You choose sleek, dark wood for the bar counter, deep crimson velvet booths, and warm, ambient lighting that gives the place an intimate feel. Chandeliers cast a soft glow, adding a touch of glamor to the smoky atmosphere.

Bucky watches with a mixture of pride and amusement as you negotiate with suppliers, debate over wallpaper samples, and insist on the exact shade of red for the booths. He’s there with you every step of the way, his hand on your waist, whispering words of encouragement as you bring your vision to life. And when the renovation is finally complete, you both stand back, surveying the new look with a shared sense of accomplishment.

“This place has never looked so good,” he murmurs, pulling you close as he surveys the bar, his gaze soft. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

The bar becomes more than just his place of business; it’s now a part of you, a symbol of the life you’re building together. You visit often, and each time, Bucky’s men nod in recognition and respect, their murmurs of “Good evening, ma’am” making you feel as though you’re finally part of his world.

As the weeks pass, Bucky’s men begin to notice the change in you. You hold yourself with more confidence, unafraid to meet their eyes, and they, in turn, begin to look at you with a mix of respect and a bit of awe. They know you’re Bucky’s woman, and they also know that Bucky’s trust in you means they can trust you too.

One evening, as you’re seated at the bar, sipping a gin fizz while Bucky tends to a business discussion in his office, a young, scrappy-looking man approaches, tipping his hat with a shy nod. “Ma’am,” he says, his tone reverent. “Boss says you did a fine job with the place. Just wanted to say it looks real nice.”

The compliment catches you off guard, but you offer him a warm smile, nodding graciously. “Thank you,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. “I’m glad you think so.”

Bucky joins you a little later, his hand possessive and reassuring as he places it on the small of your back, signaling to his men that you’re his. When you’re together, he’s never far, his gaze constantly checking for any sign of trouble, his fingers lightly grazing yours as though grounding himself in your presence.

One night, as you’re locking up after closing hours, he takes your hand, guiding you to one of the newly installed booths. “You know,” he begins, his voice low as he leans in, “watching you work on this place, the way you took charge… I’ve never felt more sure that you’re meant to be in my life.”

You smile, tracing the outline of his jaw with your fingers, savoring the way he leans into your touch. “I think I was always meant to be here,” you whisper, your voice soft. “Just took me a while to find my way.”

Bucky’s hand comes up, cupping your cheek as his eyes search yours, dark and intense. “And you’re not afraid?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion. “Not of me, or this life?”

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his. “Not when I’m with you.”

He smiles, pressing his lips softly to yours, his hand cradling the back of your head as he kisses you, deeply and thoroughly. When he pulls away, his voice is a soft, reverent murmur against your skin. “Then you’re my queen, now and always.”

Together, you sit in the dim glow of the bar you’ve crafted, feeling more like partners than ever. You know this world isn’t easy, and you understand that there’s danger in every corner. But Bucky has taught you to stand tall, to defend yourself, and most importantly, to embrace who you are—brave, strong, and forever his.

The proposal comes in the most unassuming way, wrapped in a quiet evening as you and Bucky walk through the city under the soft glow of streetlights. You’re tucked under his arm, your fingers laced with his, listening to him talk about everything and nothing when he pauses, turning to face you.

“Doll,” he murmurs, his eyes intent, holding an edge of something you haven’t seen before. He takes your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles as he speaks, “You’ve changed my life more than you know. I want you with me for all of it—for the long haul.”

Before you can respond, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small ring—a simple, understated band with a single diamond that catches the light just so, elegant and timeless. You gasp, feeling your heart hammer in your chest as he goes on, his voice quiet but firm. “Will you marry me, sweetheart? Just you and me, no fuss, no big to-do. Just us.”

The answer is a breathless, tearful “Yes,” and within a few days, the two of you find yourselves in a small chapel at the edge of town, where only the preacher and a few witnesses look on as you exchange vows. The simplicity of it all feels intimate, beautiful—just as you both wanted it. Bucky looks at you like you’re his whole world, his hand never letting go of yours as he speaks, each word holding the depth of his love and loyalty.

When he leans in to kiss you, sealing the vows you’ve made, his hands cradle your face, his touch soft and reverent. It’s the start of something that feels profound, and as you walk out of the chapel hand in hand, you know you’ve found a home with him that you’d never leave.

Married life with Bucky is as wild and beautiful as you expected, with Bucky’s fierce protection and deep loyalty extending now to you in every possible way. His men, though hardened and somewhat rough around the edges, respect the shift that comes with you now being their boss’s wife. Some of them even seem taken aback, perhaps not having expected Bucky to settle down, but they adjust quickly, understanding that you’re a part of their world now.

Your presence doesn’t go unnoticed, and you catch them watching you from the corner of their eyes, their expressions a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Bucky has made it clear that you’re his, but he’s also drilled it into them that you’re off-limits. Not only are they to respect you, but they’re to protect you with their lives, should anything happen.

One evening, you’re sitting in Bucky’s office, sorting through some paperwork to help him keep his records organized—a task that started as something you could do together but eventually became your little project. One of his lieutenants, a man named Red, comes to the door and knocks, glancing in with an air of hesitation. He’s got a few years on Bucky, graying hair and a hardened face marked by the years he’s spent in the trade.

“Ma’am,” he says with a respectful nod. “Boss around?”

You smile, nodding toward the main room. “He’s handling a few details out front, but he’ll be back in just a bit.”

Red shifts uncomfortably, but his gaze is sincere as he speaks, “Just wanted to thank you for the new setup in the bar. Been working here since it was falling apart. Nice to see it’s finally had a woman’s touch.”

There’s a roughness to his voice that’s softened by the genuine compliment, and you feel a small, pleased flush at his words. “Thank you, Red. I’m glad it’s been good for business.”

Red nods, glancing away as he adds, “Boss always did well by us, but since you came around, he’s… different. Happier, I’d say. Gives the rest of us some hope.”

The words linger, warm and honest, and you realize that Bucky’s men may be as loyal to him as they are because he’s given them more than just orders; he’s given them respect, a family, and maybe even a little hope. You nod back at Red, giving him a warm smile. “He’s done the same for me.”

A few of the younger men, though more rough-hewn than Red, begin to warm up to you as well, quickly growing protective of you in a way that surprises you. One afternoon, a few of them return to the house after a particularly rough day, bruised and tired but in good spirits, their banter filling the hall. You’re in the kitchen when you overhear them.

“Boss’s wife made some tea for us last time,” one of them—Jimmy—mutters with a half-smile. “Think she might be up for it again?”

You chuckle to yourself, preparing a tray of tea and a few snacks for them. When you bring it into the room, their eyes go wide with surprise and maybe a little embarrassment, but they’re grateful all the same, mumbling thanks and compliments as they tuck into the food. Their guarded attitudes soften gradually, each interaction building a bridge between you and them.

As the months go on, Bucky decides to show you more about his business dealings, explaining the basics of the operation, from shipments to negotiation tactics. He wants you to know the essentials, to understand what’s at stake if anything were to go wrong. Though you’re initially overwhelmed, Bucky’s calm and thorough explanations ground you, and soon, you’re able to follow along, asking questions and even offering ideas.

One night, as he’s going over the logistics of a particularly tricky deal, you suggest a more discreet route for his shipments, one that would minimize the chances of a police raid. He pauses, regarding you with admiration.

“That’s… clever,” he says, grinning as he pulls you closer. “You’re catching on fast.”

You smile, feeling a little thrill at the idea that you can help him. “Well, I figured if I’m going to be part of this life, I should understand it as best as I can.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Smart and beautiful. I’ve got myself a hell of a wife.”

Living in Bucky’s world isn’t easy, but with him by your side, you find yourself adapting more every day. His men, once guarded and wary, now greet you with warm smiles and friendly nods. They even start calling you “Mrs. Barnes,” a title that sends a thrill through you each time you hear it. They respect you, not just as their boss’s wife, but as someone who’s proven herself resilient and unafraid, willing to stand by Bucky’s side in every sense.

One evening, as you and Bucky sit by the fire after a particularly busy day, he takes your hand, his gaze warm and full of pride.

“You’ve done more than just fit in,” he murmurs, tracing circles on the back of your hand. “You’re making this life better—for me, and for them. They’d walk through fire for you, you know.”

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you whisper, “I’d do the same for them. And for you.”

Bucky pulls you close, kissing you deeply, his touch filled with all the love and respect you’ve come to know. In this life, he’s given you a place, a purpose, and a family of sorts. And though it may be rough around the edges, it’s everything you never knew you wanted.

It’s a quiet evening in your home when you decide to tell Bucky. You’ve known for a few days now, caught between excitement and nervousness, wondering how he’ll take the news. The idea of Bucky, this fierce man with so much fire in him, as a father—it fills you with a kind of joy you can barely put into words. You can already picture him holding a little one with his protective grip and soft touch.

You find him in his office, going over some paperwork, his brow furrowed in that familiar way. When he sees you standing in the doorway, he smiles, putting his pen down and beckoning you over.

“Hey, doll. Everything all right?” he asks, his gaze warm.

You nod, a little flutter in your stomach as you sit down beside him. “More than all right,” you say, taking his hands in yours. “I have some news.”

He raises an eyebrow, his thumb brushing over your fingers. “News, huh? What’s got that look on your face?”

Taking a breath, you let the words tumble out. “I’m pregnant, Bucky. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his mouth parted slightly, as if he’s trying to comprehend what you’ve just said. Then, his face breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen, and before you can react, he’s lifting you up off the chair, spinning you around as he lets out a loud, joyous laugh.

“You’re kidding,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “You’re not kidding, are you? We’re really going to have a baby?”

You laugh, tears in your eyes as you nod. “I’m not kidding, Bucky. You’re going to be a dad.”

He pulls back, cupping your face in his hands as he looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, you know that?” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “My girl… carrying our little one.”

From that moment on, Bucky is even more protective, if that’s even possible. He insists on accompanying you everywhere—walking you to the bar, the market, even down the street to visit friends. His arm stays wrapped around you, and he keeps a vigilant eye on everyone and everything, always hyper-aware of your surroundings.

His men catch wind of the news almost immediately—Bucky’s excitement is hard to contain, and soon it’s the talk of the whole operation. The older men, like Red, take on a near-brotherly protectiveness, fussing over you every time they see you. When you enter the bar, Red is the first to pull out a chair for you, insisting you sit down, rest your feet, and have a drink of water. He’ll even bring snacks, going on about how “a growing baby needs the right nourishment.”

“It’s just some crackers, Red,” you say with a chuckle one afternoon as he hands you a napkin with a few biscuits on it.

He huffs, shaking his head. “Crackers or not, it’s something. Boss says you need looking after, and by God, we’re all here to do it.”

The younger men, though, are even more amusing. They look at you now with a reverence that borders on idolization, like they’re seeing a saint. For them, the news of your pregnancy somehow cements you as a maternal figure—half of them treat you like a mother already, despite being barely younger than you.

One evening, you catch Jimmy and a couple of the other young guys following you at a short distance as you walk from the bar back to the house. When you turn around, hands on your hips, they come to a halt, shuffling their feet awkwardly.

“Are you… following me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jimmy scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. “Uh, just, you know, keeping an eye out, ma’am. Making sure you’re safe.”

You bite back a smile, crossing your arms. “Bucky put you up to this?”

“Well,” Jimmy shrugs, looking to his buddies for help, “kinda. But we’re, uh, happy to do it. After all, you’re carrying the boss’s kid.”

The other young men nod earnestly, and you can’t help but laugh, touched by their earnest protectiveness. “You boys are something else,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine for the two blocks back to the house. Go on and get back to your posts.”

They look reluctant, but eventually they nod, tipping their hats before scurrying back down the street, casting looks over their shoulders just to be sure you’re all right.

But the most amusing situation happens one evening at the bar when you’re seated at your usual table, nursing a glass of water while Bucky wraps up a meeting. You see a group of young men hanging back by the door, glancing at you as if they’re unsure whether they should approach. Finally, one of them, a lanky kid named Tommy, gets a nudge from his friends and steps forward, clearing his throat.

“Mrs. Barnes?” he says, his face a little red.

“Yes, Tommy?”

“We… well, we just wanted to, uh, say that we’re here for you, you know? Anything you need, even if it’s something small, you can call on us.”

You smile warmly, touched by the sentiment. “Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

He nods, looking relieved, then turns back to his friends, giving them a thumbs-up. They all visibly relax, one of them even muttering, “Told you she wouldn’t bite.”

When Bucky returns and notices the young men lingering, he chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “What’s going on here? You boys causing trouble for my wife?”

Tommy quickly shakes his head. “No, Boss! We were just… making sure she’s taken care of.”

Bucky laughs, looking at you with pride. “Hear that, doll? You’ve got your own little entourage now.”

The protectiveness doesn’t end there. As your pregnancy progresses, Bucky’s men make it their mission to see you have everything you need. They show up with all sorts of things: blankets, pillows, snacks, even a few old baby trinkets from their own childhoods that they insist might bring you luck. Bucky can’t hide his amusement, shaking his head as each new offering arrives.

One afternoon, Red shows up with a hand-carved wooden cradle, rough around the edges but lovingly made. He clears his throat, looking a little embarrassed. “Made it myself, ma’am. Thought the little one might need it.”

You gasp, tears filling your eyes as you take in the beautiful, rustic cradle. “Red, this is incredible. Thank you.”

He grunts, shuffling his feet as he glances away. “Ah, well. Figured it’d be sturdy enough for the boss’s kid.”

Bucky squeezes your hand, beaming. “Look at that, doll. Already got a nursery started.”

By the time your due date draws near, you feel almost invincible, surrounded by Bucky and his fierce band of loyal men who’d go to the ends of the earth for you and the little life you’re carrying. And as you sit back one night, Bucky’s hand resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful for this strange, wonderful family you’ve found yourself part of—rough around the edges but bound by a love as fierce as Bucky’s world itself.

The night your daughter is born is one of the most intense yet beautiful moments of your life. Labor stretches on through the evening, the pain fierce and unrelenting, but Bucky is right there, holding your hand, whispering words of encouragement. He’s a rock, his presence grounding you, his words calm and steady even when you can see the worry etched on his face.

When, finally, your daughter enters the world, she lets out a strong, piercing cry that fills the room. You’re exhausted, but as soon as she’s placed in your arms, a wave of overwhelming love washes over you, and nothing else matters. She’s tiny, with soft, dark hair and Bucky’s nose—a perfect blend of you both.

Bucky, watching from beside you, looks at her as if he’s seeing a miracle. He stares, his expression softened and filled with awe. He’s practically holding his breath as he takes in every detail, and then his hand reaches out, trembling slightly, to gently stroke her tiny fingers.

“Look at her,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

You look up at him, tears in your eyes, and ask, “What should we call her?”

After a moment of thought, he murmurs, “Rosie. I think… she looks like a Rosie.”

You smile, looking down at the beautiful little girl in your arms. “Rosie Barnes,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. “It’s perfect.”

As the hours pass, Bucky holds her close, absolutely smitten. He’s careful and tender, his large hands dwarfing her tiny body as he cradles her against his chest. She settles there, soothed by the steady beat of his heart, and Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off her, as if afraid she might disappear if he does.

The next day, word of Rosie’s arrival spreads quickly, and before long, Bucky’s men begin arriving in groups, each eager to get a glimpse of the boss’s baby girl. They linger outside the house, trying to act casual, but their anticipation is obvious. When Bucky finally steps out, holding Rosie bundled in a soft blanket, they all fall silent, eyes wide as they take in the tiny baby nestled in his arms.

Red is the first to step forward, glancing between Bucky and you with an almost shy smile. He’s seen his fair share of the world, but the sight of his boss holding his newborn daughter seems to bring a sparkle to his eyes.

“Boss,” Red says, clearing his throat, “she’s… well, she’s just beautiful.”

Bucky beams with pride, his gaze flicking down to Rosie. “Yeah, isn’t she? Strong little thing, too. Just like her mom.”

The men gather around, each taking turns to offer congratulations and quietly marvel at Rosie. Jimmy, one of the youngest, looks utterly awestruck, his face softening as he whispers, “She’s so small. Boss, how’re you even holding her without breaking her?”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “Carefully, Jimmy. You’d be surprised how tough she is.”

The men crowd around, the tougher among them looking a bit like kids as they lean in, captivated by the tiny face and the faint coos that escape her lips. One of the older men, Bruno, a giant of a guy with hands as big as dinner plates, seems almost afraid to look too closely. But when you offer to let him hold her, he stammers a bit before reluctantly accepting. His large hands are surprisingly gentle, and his face softens as he holds her, muttering, “Well, ain’t she just a little rosebud.”

Each of the men takes their turn holding Rosie, and as they do, their faces transform, hardened lines replaced by wide smiles and soft expressions. They each offer their own brand of affection, quietly promising to look after her and keep her safe.

“Boss, you can bet your life she’s got an army looking out for her,” Red says, his voice gruff with emotion. “Anybody even thinks about messing with Rosie, they’ll have us to answer to.”

Bucky’s face fills with gratitude, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “She’s got one hell of a family, that’s for sure.”

In the days that follow, Rosie becomes the unofficial darling of Bucky’s men. They treat her with a fierce loyalty, doting on her in ways that surprise even themselves. On nights when Bucky’s busy with business, some of the men stay at the house, watching over you and Rosie, always willing to lend a hand or sing a lullaby in gruff, off-key voices. It’s a strange sight—a group of hardened men cooing over a newborn—but they take to it naturally, each of them feeling a fierce need to protect this tiny life.

And as Rosie grows, you see how much she’s loved by this unlikely family. By the time she’s old enough to toddle around, she’s got each of Bucky’s men wrapped around her little finger. She even develops her own nicknames for them, each title bringing a proud smile to their faces.

“Uncle Red,” she chirps one day, tugging at Red’s sleeve to show him a flower she’s found in the garden. Red, whose heart might as well be on his sleeve when it comes to Rosie, kneels down and lets her place the flower in his graying hair.

“That’s a good look, kid,” Bucky teases, watching as Red, entirely unbothered, adjusts the flower to make sure it stays put.

Jimmy becomes “Jimmie-boy,” a nickname that sticks even when she’s older, and he loves it, wearing the title like a badge of honor. And every one of them takes her antics in stride, always willing to let her “play boss” when she totters around the bar or “inspects” the back office, clutching Bucky’s hand.

Rosie is a little sunshine in their world, a reminder of what they’re protecting, and they become even more devoted to their boss because of her. Each of them, from the youngest to the oldest, would lay down their life for her without a second thought.

But Bucky’s protection is something else entirely. He never lets her out of his sight if he can help it, always watching with a proud, fierce smile. And each night, as you watch Bucky tuck Rosie into bed, his touch gentle, his voice a soft murmur of love, you know that you and Rosie are his whole world.

As he closes the door to Rosie’s room one night, he turns to you, his eyes filled with emotion.

“You gave me a family I never thought I’d have,” he whispers, pulling you close. “Every day with you two… it’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

And as you rest in his embrace, listening to the quiet peace of your home, you know that you’ve built a life together that’s both beautiful and fierce—a life filled with love, loyalty, and the strength to face whatever may come.

me when soft men. if you liked the story don't forget to leave a like and a reblog, drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[boopshoops]

TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Jocia Gains - Second Half of the Whole

Name: Jocia Gains

Nicknames: Jojo, Jo, Hosta, Reine des Epices, Barracuda

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bicurious

Birthday: November 29

Age: 18 in canon TWST age, 20 in TCOAV AU

Height: 5'10 or 178cm

Voice Claim: Rosa

Twisted from: :)

Unique Magic: N/A

Grade: Junior

Class: 3-A

Hobbies: Figure skating, playing baseball, working out, motorcycling, skateboarding, fencing, sparring.

Likes: Animals, family, high speeds, summer, competition, the ocean, seafood, bad TV productions (to make fun of), storms, bulgogi.

Dislikes: False gossip/shit talking, olives, cooking, baking, studying, reading, school, cleaning, dry weather, her anger

Fears: Bugs, spiders, losing her family, failing to protect people, being abandoned.

Summary: The local delinquent of Royal Sword Academy. She has a threatening aura that keeps other classmates far away from her, and she is only a student in name. She spends most of her time attempting to find a way home, even if that includes sneaking out of campus and skipping class.

With a spicy hot temper equivalent to a ghost pepper, Jocia is no stranger to fights. Her anger often gets the better of her, landing her in all sorts of trouble. However, her intentions are often good. She works harder than most in order to defend and protect those she cares for, even to the point where she would prioritize them over herself.

Similarly to her sister, Yuu, she is aware that she is not a great person. Unlike Yuu, though, she does have a set of morals. She works to better herself, and she doesn't go out of her way to harm those she sees as innocent.

Character Playlist - Outfit Inspiration

Author's notes: Jocia is probably my oldest character ever. Well, at least of the ones that have stuck around. There were a few before her which have been scrapped or recycled into my newer OCs. I created her in middle school, approximately around 2015. She typically acts as a protagonist or morally-iffy anti-hero type foil character.

[weareapackofstrays]

A New Kind of Love Masterlist

Summary: After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you during freshman year with your childhood best friend, you decide to swear off love for good. Now in your second year of college, you move into the basement apartment of a house full of college boys. Inevitably crossing paths with one of them, Minho quickly gets under your skin in more ways than one. Despite your differences, you can't stay away from him.

Genre: Non-Idol college au, slight enemies to lovers/friends with benefits to lovers, smut, angst, romance, drama

Pairing: Minho x F!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Cigarette Smoking, Mention of Weed, Nonconsensual touching, Cussing, Spanking, Rough Sex, Physical Violence (Minho punches a guy), Some Degradation. Let me know if I forgot anything! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

CONTENT Chapter I: Introduction Chapter II: Keep Your Voice Down Chapter III: Those Are Mine Now Winter Break Bonus Chapter Chapter IV: As You Wish Summer Before Fall Bonus Chapter Chapter V: About Time (Final)

STORY PLAYLIST

I decided to make a playlist containing the songs that inspired me and the characters while writing this. Enjoy!

XX

[elysiaheaven]

KC band au where reader is someone they chose from an audition to be a drummer kek…

ANGEL-GOTHIC! KILLER CHAT X READER! BAND AU!

Band AU Character Introductions: Angelgothic

Ronin (Electric Guitarist, Main Member): he/him Now playing!-"Ghost Rule"

"Rolling Girl" Lost One’s Weeping" Unhappy Refrain" Tokyo Teddy Bear" "Blessing"

Ronin stands tall at 6'1" with a devil-may-care attitude that could rival any rock star stereotype. His plum-colored hair peeks out from beneath his worn black beanie, and he’s almost always clad in dark clothes that lean heavily into an alternative, punk-goth aesthetic. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his ripped shirts, telling stories no one dares ask about. Known for being post-ironic, Ronin oozes confidence and sarcasm, loving to toy with people’s expectations. He has an intimidating, haunting presence that lingers even after he leaves the room. Despite his rough exterior, there’s something enigmatic about him that keeps people guessing—and intrigued.

Specialty: Wicked guitar solos that leave the audience breathless. Personality Highlight: Snarky and complex, hides deeper traumas under layers of wit and punk. Fixing is different from healing!

Angel (Lead Singer): she/her Now playing! "World is Mine"

"Tell Your World" – "Melt" ."Miracle Paint" – Not Allowed" (ダメダメよ) "Starduster" World's End Dancehall

Angel is the heart and soul of the band, known for her magnetic stage presence and a voice that can switch from angelic to ferocious in seconds. She has blonde, hair and wears outfits that are a blend of edgy and ethereal, playing into her stage name. Her optimism and warmth make her the glue that keeps the band from falling apart during tough times. Offstage, she’s the type who remembers birthdays, brings snacks to practice, and makes sure everyone feels like part of the team. But she has her moments of introspection, shadows that creep into her usually sunny demeanor. Specialty: Bringing raw emotion to every performance. Personality Highlight: Sweet with a strong backbone; can stand up to anyone when it matters. Misaki (Bass Guitarist): she/they! Now playing! Electric Angel

"Remote Control" "Ageage Again" "Nijigen Dream Fever" "Romeo and Cinderella" "Teo" by Omoi

Misaki is chaos personified, with short, choppy hair carrying an aura of wild energy. They’re nonbinary and switch between fashion styles effortlessly, sometimes punk, sometimes glam. Misaki has a sharp grin and a knack for stirring the pot, whether it’s with mischievous pranks or daring antics on stage. They keep practice sessions lively and are always the first to suggest taking a break for spontaneous dance-offs. However, behind their playful exterior is someone who fiercely protects those they care about. Specialty: Killer bass riffs that pulse with infectious energy. Personality Highlight: Jokester with an unyielding loyalty; wild but deeply caring. V (Pianist): he/him

Now playing!-"The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku

"The Thought to Relinquish" "Judgement of Corruption" by KEMU VOXX

"Senbonzakura" "Dark Woods Circus" "Two-Faced Lovers" "Kagerou Days"

V is the brooding genius of the group, with a cold exterior that hides a mind working a thousand miles an hour. Tall, with dark, neatly kept hair and sharp eyes, he exudes an air of mystery and meticulousness. He dresses in clean-cut, dark clothing, looking more like a classical pianist than a heavy metal musician—an image he subverts with hauntingly powerful keyboard solos. V is quiet and doesn’t give away much, choosing his words carefully and never indulging in small talk. His rivalry with Ronin is palpable, fueled by differing philosophies and a history they never talk about. Specialty: Complex and dramatic piano accompaniments that give the band a unique edge. Personality Highlight: Stoic and highly intelligent; has a deep, hidden care for his bandmates.

Other characters!

Vince (Manager): Vince is the brains behind the operation, a sharp-eyed man with a penchant for sharp suits. He’s dedicated, resourceful, and knows the industry inside out. Vince has a strong bond with the band, even though he often has to play the role of the exasperated parent. He believes in Angelgothic’s potential and pushes them hard to reach it, but he’s also the first one to show up with support when things go south. Specialty: Business acumen, organizing tours, and keeping the band in line. Personality Highlight: Strict but supportive; a true believer in the band’s potential. Ai Hua (Boss’s Wife & Band Caretaker): Ai Hua is a warm, motherly figure who makes sure the band is well-fed and looked after. Though she isn’t officially part of the crew, she’s a comforting presence at gigs and practices. With a love for music herself, she enjoys watching Angelgothic’s growth and often gives them pep talks before big performances. Specialty: Bringing stability and emotional support. Personality Highlight: Kind, nurturing, but with a hidden fire when it comes to defending those she cares about.

PLAYLIST! FOR THEM! "Magnet" (with Luka Megurine) "From Y to Y" "Cantarella" Luca and Feli Just fans and "friends" Luca x Feli now playing!

"Wave" by Lily "Sayonara Memories" by Supercell (feat. Hatsune Miku) "Blue Star" by Hatsune Miku "World is Mine" (Soft Version) "Meteor" by Hatsune Miku Main lover!-you! (Y/N) (Drummer): (Y/N) embodies resilience with a rebellious streak, decked out in an emo style that reflects the turmoil and drive inside them. They grew up under strict, judgmental eyes, enduring the suffocating expectations of a religious upbringing that clashed with their true self. Every beat they strike is a declaration of independence and defiance, heavy with the promise to prove themselves and silence those who doubted them. When they auditioned, (Y/N) brought an energy that shook the room and a confidence that masked their jagged edges. Specialty: Thunderous drumming that adds explosive energy to the band’s sound. Personality Highlight: Charismatic with hidden depths; driven by passion and a need to belong.

Now playing!?

"ODDS&ENDS"

"1/6 -out of the gravity-"

Ura-omote Lovers"

PoPiPo"

"Love is War"

This is part 1! Let me know if i should continue this!

You stood outside the worn-down building, heart pounding in your chest like a drum, a mixture of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. After countless auditions, you’d finally made it here to audition for a band, and not just any band, but one called Angelgothic. The name alone sent shivers down your spine, resonating with your desires for rebellion and expression.

You’ve always wanted to be part of a band. Ever since you were a kid, the beats and riffs of heavy metal resonated with you, making you feel alive in a world that felt hell-bent on crushing your spirit. Your parents, however, saw it as nothing but a phase—something associated with rebellion, with styles they deemed inappropriate and sinful. It didn’t matter to them that music was your refuge, your sanctuary. It was just another thing to add to their list of disappointments.

Growing up in a strict household, your parents had never understood your love for heavy metal, the powerful beats and raw lyrics that spoke to your soul. You’d spent your teenage years confined within the walls of a Christian school, where the teachers preached about righteousness while you sat in the back, doodling skulls and flowers in your notebook, dreaming of a life drenched in black leather and screaming guitars. They didn’t just push you away from music; they tried to erase who you were, constantly reminding you that your style was unacceptable, that your dreams were foolish. They wanted you to be perfect, but perfect wasn’t a cage, it was a prison, and you’d had enough.

Ever since you were a kid, your heart beat to the rhythm of heavy metal, drowning out the judgmental whispers of your parents and the cruel laughter of your peers. They never understood your passion for the dark and gritty side of life; to them, it was just a phase. But you were determined to break free from the shackles of their expectations. You wanted to prove them wrong.

Every night, you’d sneak into your room, blasting the music that made your soul sing—the harsh chords and thunderous drums calling to you. You longed to be part of a band, to unleash your frustrations on the drum kit, to feel the vibrations of the music pulsate through your veins. But life was shit. Your parents had made it clear: heavy metal was a sin. So you kept your dreams hidden, nurturing them in the shadows.

You had auditioned for countless bands, hoping to find a place to belong, only to be turned away time and time again. But then came the fateful day you heard about Angelgothic—a new band formed by talented individuals who had faced their own struggles. You felt a spark of hope ignite in your chest. This could be your chance.

You walked through the doors of the rehearsal space, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You were about to meet the people you would be sharing the stage with, and while the fear of rejection crept in, the thrill of potential success pushed it aside. You had to prove to your parents that you could make it, that you were more than just a disappointment.

What you saw left you breathless.

There he was—Ronin. He was mesmerizing, his hands moving fluidly over the strings of his electric guitar, a devilish grin plastered on his face. The music he played was intoxicating, a dark melody that resonated with the chaos you felt inside. His hair fell just above his eyes, a wild plum color that contrasted against the stark black of his clothing. Everything about him screamed rebellion and artistry, and you found yourself completely captivated.

When you entered the room, you were hit by the sound of electric guitars screaming with energy. The sight of the band was overwhelming. Ronin, the electric guitarist, was in the middle of a solo, hair falling over his face as he played with an intensity that made your heart race. There was something devilish about the way he moved, a magnetism that drew you in. He was the embodiment of everything you adored about the heavy metal scene. You felt your cheeks heat as you watched him, feeling as if you had fallen in love at first sight.

Misaki, the bass guitarist, was energetically keeping up with the rhythm, her fiery spirit contagious. V, the pianist, added a layer of complexity to the sound, his fingers dancing over the keys like a master magician. And Angel, the singer, poured her heart into every note, her voice echoing through the room with a passion that sent shivers down your spine.

You watched in awe as the band played, feeling a connection to the music that coursed through your veins. It was raw, it was powerful, and it was everything you had ever wanted. You felt a sense of hope blossom within you—maybe this was your chance, your opportunity to finally become part of something great.

But then, reality struck. You remembered the trepidation that followed you everywhere. Your parents’ disapproving faces flashed in your mind, the words of your teachers ringing in your ears. “You’re wasting your time. You’ll never make it.” Doubt crept in, threatening to suffocate the excitement bubbling within you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, soaking in the atmosphere. V, the pianist, was in the corner, his fingers dancing across the keys, lost in his own world. He seemed cold and distant, the kind of person who might look right through you if you dared to make eye contact. Misaki was chaotic, dancing around the room with a laugh that was infectious, as if she were filled with pure energy. And then there was Angel, the singer—her voice cut through the air, sweet and powerful, a combination that felt like a promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights. Ronin turned slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the haze of uncertainty. The room went quiet, the air thick with tension as everyone’s gaze shifted to you.

Now, Ronin noticed you. His eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against his guitar, looking you up and down. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little lost lamb wandering into the devil’s den?”

You felt your stomach twist with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. He was teasing, and there was something about that glimmer in his eyes that both frightened and excited you. It was a challenge, and you weren’t about to back down. “Just here to audition,” you said, trying to sound confident despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Is that so?” He crossed his arms, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You think you can keep up with us? We’re not just any band; we’re Angelgothic. We bring chaos, darling.”

“Please, Ronin, be nice,” Angel interjected, her voice soothing like a gentle breeze. “You know we need a drummer, and if they made it this far, they must have some talent. What's your name?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Y/N,” you managed, feeling a bit out of place but excited nonetheless.

“Awesome! We’re about to take a break. Why don’t you grab a seat?” she suggested, motioning to an empty chair nearby. You nodded and settled in, your heart racing as you tried to absorb everything happening around you.

The band took a break, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Ronin. He caught your eye and flashed you a smile that made your heart race. Your stomach flipped, and you could feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks. Was it possible you had fallen for him just like that? You couldn’t help but admire how he seemed so comfortable in his skin, exuding a confidence you wished you had.

“What brings you here, Y/N?” Angel asked, her voice sweet and melodic

You couldn’t help but admire how Angel balanced the chaotic energy in the room with her sweet nature. She exuded warmth, making you feel more welcome. But Ronin wasn’t done with his game. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing, “You do look a little… emo for our style. What’s your story, huh?”

You felt your heart race at his words. Here was this handsome devil of a guitarist, flirting and taunting you all at once. “Just someone who got tired of being told I couldn’t be myself,” you said, trying to inject some attitude into your response. “I want to be in a band and prove everyone wrong.”

Ronin’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Rebel against the system, huh? I can respect that. But can you really handle being in a band with a bunch of misfits like us?”

Misfits. That was the perfect description. You had always felt like an outsider, the black sheep of your family, especially after years spent in religious schools that drilled the idea of conformity into your head. The trauma of being told you were wrong for wanting to express yourself in any way lingered like a dark cloud overhead. But here, surrounded by these musicians, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you could carve out a place for yourself after all.

“I’ve handled worse,” you replied, smirking back at him. “Besides, if I wanted to play it safe, I wouldn’t be here.”

Misaki burst into laughter, and V, still focused on his piano, rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Spunky, I like that, Vince is back, Let's see how you do!"

Um! What! Oh shit! This is it! Breathe y/n! Breathe!

The rehearsal came to an end, the energy in the room was electric. Ronin had been relentless with his teasing, as usual, throwing playful jabs at you and challenging your confidence. You could tell he wanted to push your buttons, testing how far he could go before you snapped back at him. But there was something about it that felt… invigorating.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, drummer,” Ronin said, leaning against his guitar with an amused smirk. “I hope you’re not just here to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ because I might have to kick you out of the band myself.” His tone was teasing, and you rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” you shot back, your ego rising as you felt a surge of determination. This was your chance to show them what you could really do, to prove that you belonged here among the chaos of Angelgothic.

Angel, with her ever-supportive nature, jumped in to defend you. “Come on, Ronin, give them a break! We all know they’ve got talent.” She shot him a look, her hands on her hips as if to say, “Don’t mess with my new friend.”

Ronin feigned innocence, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, Saint Maria, I’ll be nice. For now.” The rest of the band chuckled, and the atmosphere lightened as everyone settled down to watch you.

“Alright, (Y/N), we want to hear what you’ve got!” Misaki exclaimed, bouncing on her heels with excitement. Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you felt your heart race with anticipation.

“Yeah, show us what you can do!” V added, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Though his tone was cool, you could sense the underlying interest in his words. It was a rare moment of encouragement from the usually aloof pianist.

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained on you. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced it. You took a deep breath, letting the rhythm of your heart guide you. This was what you had always wanted—a chance to prove yourself.

“Alright, Ronin,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.” You picked up your drumsticks and took your position behind the kit, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Better not play something lame like ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep,’” Ronin quipped, his voice dripping with mockery.

With a smirk, you launched into a rhythm, the sticks flying through the air as you brought the drums to life. You started off slow, teasing the beat, but then you cranked up the energy, drumming like you were channeling every ounce of passion that had been pent up inside you.

The sound echoed around the room, and soon Ronin couldn’t help but join in, his guitar weaving seamlessly into the rhythm you created. His playful demeanor faded as he focused on the music, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to serious collaboration. You could see the spark in his eyes as he began to lose himself in the moment, the two of you creating something electric together.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” he shouted, a grin breaking across his face. The way you drummed made his laughter fill the air, invigorating the energy in the room. You poured everything into the performance, the adrenaline surging through your veins as you locked into the groove with Ronin.

Misaki bounced along with the beat, she joined in on her bass guitar, matching your intensity with her chaotic style. “YES! SLAY!” she cheered, the excitement radiating from her. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling like a part of something bigger than yourself.

V picked up the piano keys next, adding a melodic layer that wrapped around the rhythm like a warm embrace. His cold exterior melted away as the music filled the space, and you could tell he was enjoying this as much as the rest of you. The synergy between the four of you was palpable, and it felt like you were creating magic in that moment.

When you finally ended the song, a triumphant crescendo of sound echoing in the rehearsal space, the room erupted in applause. Misaki dashed over, wrapping her arms around you in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re so good!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly, her chaotic energy wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Thanks, Misaki!” you laughed, feeling elated by the praise.

V, maintaining his cool demeanor, nodded slightly. “You did well,” he said, his voice steady. It was as close to a compliment as you would likely ever get from him, and it made your heart swell with pride.

“Still not that great, but you’ll survive,” Ronin teased, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. You shot him a mock glare, your competitive spirit flaring up. You wanted to kick his nose, honestly.

“Shut up, Ronin,” you said, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your irritation.

Angel laughed softly, shaking her head. “If you keep this up, we might just have to keep you around,” she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

The band exchanged glances, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Did they really want you to stay? You couldn’t help but feel a swell of hope, a flicker of possibility igniting in your chest.

Vince, the band’s manager, watched the scene unfold with a thoughtful expression. He exchanged glances with Ai Hua, who stood nearby with a supportive smile. After a moment of consideration, he approached you, extending his hand for a shake. “I think we’ve found our new drummer,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Welcome to Angelgothic!”

You couldn’t believe it. Your heart soared as you accepted his handshake, feeling like you had finally found your place. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!” you shouted, your excitement bubbling over.

“Yasss!” Misaki cheered, jumping up and down. “We’re going to be the best band ever!”

Ronin pretended to roll his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. “Just remember, I’ll always be watching you, (Y/N). Don’t think you can slack off just because you’re part of the band now.”

The laughter in the rehearsal space began to fade, Ronin crossed his arms, leaning back against his guitar with that ever-present smirk still plastered across his face. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and take my spot without a fight? I’m gonna give you a hard time, (Y/N).” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it that made you gulp involuntarily.

But you weren’t going to let him see any fear. You straightened your posture, plastering on your best “womanizer” face, filled with bravado. “Okay, bring it on! Just remember, if you keep messing with me, does that mean you’re a little obsessed?” You winked, reveling in the challenge you had thrown his way.

The room fell silent for a split second, all eyes shifting to Ronin, who seemed unfazed by your cheeky comeback. He just leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Obsessed? Please, I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. Wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.” His smirk deepened, and you could see the playful fire in his gaze, but the tension in the room crackled with something deeper.

Nudging Misaki with your elbow, you added, “NGL, you remind me of that guy from Heathers, JD. You’ve got that whole ‘dark and brooding’ vibe down pat. How do you feel about it?”

At the mention of the character, Ronin’s expression shifted, a dark look crossing his features that sent a chill down your spine. It was a split second, but you caught it—a glimpse of something more intense behind his playful facade. Angel must have sensed it too because she immediately pulled you aside, her voice low and conspiratorial.

“Oh, you just did emotional damage to him,” she whispered, barely containing her giggles. “He’s definitely gonna hold that against you.” You wanted to glance back at Ronin, curious about his reaction, but Angel shook her head vigorously, a teasing grin on her face.

“Nope! Keep looking forward! Trust me, it’s better that way!” she said, leading you away as Misaki snorted in laughter, clearly enjoying the whole scene. You couldn’t help but smile at the chaos surrounding you.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the studio!” Angel continued, her excitement infectious as she dragged you further into the space. As she pointed out different areas—the sound booth, the lounge where the band often hung out, and the practice rooms—you felt your nervousness begin to melt away.

You walked through the studio, Angel, always the enthusiastic one, decided it was time for proper introductions. She spun around to face you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Alright, it’s time for everyone to introduce themselves properly! I mean, you’re going to be part of our little chaotic family now, after all!”

Ronin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smirk as he observed. “Sure, but don’t be surprised if I don’t like you after this,” he quipped, the playful edge still evident in his tone. You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile; it was all part of the game with him, and you were more than willing to play along.

“Okay, I’ll start!” Angel beamed, clearly thrilled to take the lead. “I’m Angel, the voice of this band. I’m basically the sunshine in this chaotic mess, and I can’t wait to work with you!” She was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to Ronin's cold front.

“V here,” the pianist said next, his tone cool and detached. “I’m the one who adds depth to our sound, or so they say. Nice to meet you.” He didn’t seem particularly invested, but his presence carried a quiet intensity that intrigued you.

“Yup, and I’m Misaki!” she chirped, bouncing on her feet. “I’m the chaos factor and the bass guitarist! If you ever need a partner in crime or someone to annoy Ronin with, I’m your lover!” She winked at you, her energy infectious.

Finally, it was your turn. You took a deep breath, channeling your inner Britney Spears, ready to be bold and sassy. “I’m (Y/N), the new drummer in this delightful chaos. I’m here to prove to my parents that I’m more than just a rebellious phase,” you said, matching Angel’s enthusiasm but adding a cheeky wink of your own. “And for good luck, I think we need to introduce ourselves again!”

The room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into laughter. Ronin, arms still crossed, rolled his eyes. “Oh great, just what we need—more introductions. Can’t wait to hear your sob story again, (Y/N).” He was being insufferable, but you loved it.

“Hey, if you don’t like it, you can just leave,” you shot back, the confidence surging through you. “Besides, I’d love to hear everyone’s sob stories. It’s like a twisted group therapy session!”

Misaki clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! I love this idea! Ronin, you first!”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather you all didn’t hear my tragic backstory,” he retorted, his tone sarcastic but the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. You could see that even beneath his facade, he was intrigued by your spirit.

“C’mon, Ronin! It’ll be fun!” Angel chimed in, clearly not ready to let him off the hook. “And it’s only fair since we’re all sharing!”

With the pressure on, Ronin sighed dramatically, finally giving in. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m a dark, brooding enigma that doesn’t need pity or sympathy, especially from someone like you, (Y/N).”

“Oh please, if you were a real enigma, you wouldn’t be making such a big deal about it,” you teased, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. “But go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Ronin opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly trying to find the right words. “Let’s just say I’m a misunderstood genius with a tragic past,” he finally said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Boring!” Misaki shouted, her laughter ringing through the room. “Angel, you go next!”

The introductions continued, the camaraderie grew. You felt a warmth spreading through you—a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Each person shared their quirks and stories, and even if Ronin continued to act like a jerk, you could tell he was intrigued by you.

The laughter and chatter subsided, Angel’s bright voice rang out again. “Alright, since you’re our new drummer, we think it’s only fair that you choose someone to look after you! It’s a big responsibility being in this band, and we want to make sure you’re taken care of!”

Everyone turned to face you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and expectation. The weight of their gazes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at being the center of attention. You bit your lip, weighing your options carefully.

“Who’s it gonna be, (Y/N)? You have to pick someone!” Misaki exclaimed, practically bouncing on her feet. “Choose wisely; you might get stuck with someone really weird!” She flashed a cheeky grin at Ronin, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Great, just what I need—a babysitter,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced at each of them, your mind racing with possibilities.

V stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression cold yet contemplative. Despite his detached demeanor, you sensed an undercurrent of interest in his eyes. “I may not be the warmest person, but I’ll keep an eye on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.” There was a strange comfort in his straightforwardness, and you could tell he meant what he said, even if he had a unique way of showing it.

Then there was Angel, radiant and sweet as ever, her smile infectious. “Oh, I would love to look after you!” she gushed, stepping closer. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need, and I’ll be here to cheer you on! Plus, we can totally have girl talk whenever you want!” The warmth in her voice made you feel safe, and the thought of having her as a supporter was undeniably tempting.

Misaki leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, you know you want me to be your guardian! I’ll make sure you have a blast, and I won’t let anyone mess with you! Plus, I have snacks!” She flashed a playful wink, making it hard to resist her chaotic charm. The thought of Misaki by your side filled you with excitement—she’d definitely keep things interesting.

Finally, there was Ronin. He watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his expression a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know I’d make the best choice. I’d keep you on your toes, and you’d never get bored,” he teased, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Besides, who else would challenge you the way I do?” There was an undeniable allure in his confidence, even if he did come off as a bit of a jerk.

The room was silent as everyone awaited your decision. You took a deep breath, glancing from one person to the next, each offering their own unique promise of companionship and support.

After a moment of deliberation, you felt your heart race as you finally spoke up, ready to make your choice. “Alright, I’ve made my decision!”

If you choose V: “I think I’ll go with V. I could use someone steady and reliable.” The moment the words left your mouth, you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he masked it with his usual cool demeanor.

If you choose Angel: “Angel, I’d love for you to look after me!” You grinned, and her face lit up with delight.

If you choose Misaki: “Misaki! I want you as my guardian!” You laughed at her excited squeal as she jumped up and down.

If you choose Ronin: “I’m going with Ronin. I think he’ll keep things... interesting.” A teasing smile spread across your face as Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your choice.

If you chose V:

V’s expression shifted slightly, his cool facade cracking just enough for a hint of a smile to appear. “Interesting choice,” he remarked, his voice steady. “Just remember, I’m not a hugger, and I prefer silence over chatter.” The others chuckled at his classic V-ness, but you could see the glint of approval in his eyes. “But if you need someone to help you focus or keep you out of trouble, I suppose I can manage.” He inclined his head slightly, making you feel like you’d made a wise decision.

If you chose Angel:

Angel squealed with delight, clapping her hands together. “Yay! I’m so excited!” She bounced on her toes, her enthusiasm lighting up the room. “We’re going to have so much fun! I’ll make sure you have everything you need—snacks, a cozy spot to hang out, and I’ll always be your biggest fan!” Her bright personality radiated warmth, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her infectious energy. It felt reassuring to know she’d be there to support you through the ups and downs of being in the band.

If you chose Misaki:

“YES! Finally, someone who knows how to have fun!” Misaki exclaimed, launching herself at you for a quick hug. “We’re going to make this band the wildest one ever!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she pulled back and grabbed your hand. “Get ready for spontaneous dance parties and chaotic practice sessions! You’re gonna love it!” Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh, already picturing all the shenanigans that awaited you.

If you chose Ronin:

Ronin’s smirk widened, a glimmer of intrigue flickering in his eyes. “Oh? You want me to look after you?” he teased, leaning closer with a playful yet slightly sinister grin. “I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, then. I promise to make you tougher.” The others rolled their eyes, but you could feel the heat of his gaze. “Just remember, I don’t do hand-holding. You’ll have to keep up with me.” There was a strange mix of challenge and allure in his words, and you found yourself oddly excited at the prospect of navigating this complicated dynamic with him.

The banter continued, everyone began to settle into their roles, the energy in the room shifting from uncertainty to an electric thrill. It felt like a new chapter was opening, and you were eager to dive headfirst into this chaotic world filled with music, friendships, and the occasional drama.

“Welcome to Angelgothic, (Y/N),” Vince said, a proud smile on his face. “You’ve officially joined our crazy family.”

The acceptance from everyone made your heart swell with happiness.

part 2!

W-what you- k-killed somone?! You h-have blood?!

"Look, sweetheart, you see this crowbar? It’s got your name written all over it. You’re just a drummer, just like the last one. And trust me, he didn’t end well. So unless you want to end up just like him, keep your mouth shut. I’ve got no patience for some whiny emo loser ruining our lives. Got it?”

Congrats Y/n! You did join a hell-den!

If this post is good, I'll do a part 2! Until then!