#and 2. that was a LOT of work in my end and i do not appreciate it when organizations that have made that work harder because of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ariestrxsh · 24 hours ago

Text

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

taglist: @skye-44 @faiyaz555 @idrk2292 @chrisclean @drewswife @trevorsgodmother @sofisturns @milo-the-dog @rockstarchr1s @bluetalia @xaristhings @nomusic-nodreams @birkinbratsworld @wastelandzella @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @drewstarkeys @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #dealer chris #dealer!chris #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo angst

173 notes · View notes

nayeoniiz · 14 hours ago

Text

WEBCAM PERV! (2)

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

genre ❥ smut

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

warnings ❥ stalking, voyeurism, fingering, oral (both receiving), raw sex (wrap it up!), missionary (reader is flexible), big dick heeseung, slight degradation, ass eating, backshots, facial (omg no cream pie?!?!)

word count ❥ 11.7k

Webcam Perv! (1)

author’s note: tbh guys i ended up rewriting a lot of stuff because i wasn’t satisfied with my work & also ended up also i had writers block so sorry for that, i just didn’t like how it turned out at the time. not proofread so beware.

taglist: taglist: @rayofsunshineeee @strayy-kidz @d-dilemma @kkamismom12 @cinnawonbabe @innocygnet @planetmarlowe @jakeswifez @river-demon-slayer @yoonglestangies @yangjungwonnie @norihoyeon @ch4c0nnenh4 @heephile777 @azzy02 @s0nnyang3ls @friedtalong @m3wkledreamy @mheretoreadff @vegahrid @ttulixia @heesexual74 @immelissaaa @heeseungssidechick @toffeehee @lavxndxrsworld @miuwonis @freaky-enhamadswriter @yohanabanana @jaeyunsbimbo @siimplestar @slut4hee @chobitos @isagistar @starry-eyed-bimbo @511rkive @skzenhalove @diorfmu @liafterhours @millis-diary @ki2rins @asscoups17 @ravenslocked

“i miss fine shit…” y/n sighed dramatically, her chin resting in her hand as she stared off into the distance. her thoughts seemed to be lost in a world far removed from the present lately. despite the fact that it’d been almost two weeks since the scandalous video call with heeseung, her mind remained fixated on him.

natty, on the other hand, had heard more than enough. she had sat through all of y/n’s endless rambling about it for these past couple of days, initially nodding along while the girl swooned, but her patience was running thin now. it wasn't uncommon for y/n to develop crushes, but this one? in natty’s eyes, it was foolish, exaggerated, and unreasonably intense. she spoke so highly of heeseung in a way that felt odd given the scenario in which they met. she couldn’t let y/n continue living in a fantasy.

“i’m sorry girl, but you don’t even know him for real,” natty words were low, her voice flat as she glanced up only briefly from their shared computer screen, where they were working on a class project. her response evoked a frown from the girl.

“maybe not,” y/n agreed, but her eyes remained distant as she was still lost in her daydreams of the boy. “but i do know that we at least live in the same country. you never know, i could bump into him,” she added with a quiet conviction, unwilling to acknowledge the more obvious reality of the situation which was leaning toward him being nothing more than a chance meeting. compared to natty, who’s had a long list of lovers, y/n didn’t seem to have luck when it came to men. she wasn’t exactly looking for that kind of attention anymore because of that fact. what she did with heeseung was completely out of character, he made her feel alive that night. she wanted to keep chasing that feeling. she had to.

“that doesn’t mean you know where he lives,” natty countered, her voice laced with softness in her tone as if she were trying her best to let the girl down gently. “he could be hours away, hidden somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

y/n shook her head slowly, her belief unshaken. she was certain there had to be a way. “then i’ll just manifest running into him. this time, in person.”

her word make natty cringe as she let out a long, exasperated sigh. “you’re crazy,” she muttered, a hint of disbelief in her voice. she knew her friend was stubborn, but never to such an extent over a boy she only knew for a couple of hours.

“oh, girl, if only you could have seen what i saw in him,” y/n sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. images of heeseung flashed through her mind. the way he spoke so smoothly, the way he said her name, his smile, his smirks, the way he was so attentive to everything she said. she craved it all. with another content sigh, she spoke again. “you’ll understand when you see him.”

natty didn’t respond this time, realizing that y/n was too far gone to be reasoned with. this fated little fantasy had already settled into her mind, and it was clear there was no pulling her away from it now.

heeseung, on the contrary, was doing just fine. in fact, he had already grown accustomed to the unrestricted access he had to y/n’s devices, marveling at everything she did. from the way y/n spent countless hours searching omegle for him, and the way he found great pleasure in reading the messages between her and her best friend natty talking about how he was the one that got away, and of course that camera access had completely shifted his jerk off sessions each night as he finally had a face to openly fantasize about.

besides his endeavors, heeseung’s focus had shifted to something far more calculated—her routine. with the help of his hacking system, he managed to piece together most of the tiny fragments in her daily life: the café she frequented, the public library she studied in, the late-night convenience store she occasionally visited every now and then. but none of these places provided him with what he was looking for. there was never a specific time she went to any of them. he needed something more reliable, something he knew would guarantee their reunion.

while stalking wasn’t new territory for him as he had dabbled with brief obsessions in the past for the thrill of it, never taking them too seriously. this was different. this was y/n. for the first time, he was prepared to go further than everything he had before, to put in the effort, and asking for advice even if it meant bending the truth along the way.

that evening, heeseung entered the kitchen, where sunghoon sat hunched over his laptop absorbed in a research paper. the rhythmic sound of the keyboard came to a brief halt as heeseung pulled out the chair opposite sunghoon, the legs scraping gently against the floor.

“yo, can i ask you something?” heeseung began, leaning forward, resting his chin in his hand, his expression serious. his fingers lightly tapped against the table as he waited for his roommate’s acknowledgment. and sunghoon didn’t look up immediately, but the edge in heeseung’s tone piqued his interest.

“what’s up?”

heeseung hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. he realized he should have thought it out before jumping straight in. “so, i went to this coffee shop a few days ago, right?” he started, his voice softening as he imagined the scene he was about to start painting. sunghoon nodded. “and i swear, i saw the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.” his gaze turned unfocused as he imagined her face, the nervous mannerisms she had shown, and the way her lips parted when caught off guard. “i just can’t stop thinking about her.”

sunghoon laughed, finally glancing up at him. “damn. she got you that down bad?”

“worse,” heeseung sighed, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i’m convinced she’s my soulmate, man. but here’s the thing… i’ve only seen her once. she hasn’t shown up since, and i have no idea how to find her again.” technically, none of this was a lie, though he conveniently omitted certain details.

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, processing this. “why don’t you just go there every day? eventually, she’ll show up again.”

heeseung frowned. “dude, that place is expensive. i can’t keep buying overpriced coffee for no reason.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes. “who said you had to buy anything? just sit there, pretend to study, or work on something. they’re not gonna kick you out for existing.”

heeseung clicked his tongue, unconvinced. the idea of sitting in a café for days, hoping for a chance encounter, felt unreliable. she was unpredictable—her schedule too scattered, her habits too inconsistent. there was no definite timeframe it’d take to catch her. he was already going crazy these last few days, his thoughts, his actions, his dreams all consisted of her. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

“might take some time,” sunghoon added, stretching his arms overhead. “but if she’s a regular, she’s bound to show up eventually.”

heeseung hummed, a sense of doubt clouding his thoughts. “yeah… i doubt that’ll work.”

sunghoon shrugged, uninterested in offering more advice. “that’s all i got. take it or leave it.” his suggestion was weak, but perhaps it didn’t need to be perfect. he could make it work, he just needed to ensure their paths crossed by his own doing.

heeseung sighed, pushing himself up from the chair. his mind was already spinning with plans and possibilities, each more elaborate than the last. that’s when the bell rang in his head and he decided to install a live tracker on y/n’s phone.

before this, his access had been limited. he could only observe the traces of her movements when she shared her location with others or after purchases were made when the receipts would land in her email. but now, with the tracker in place, everything would change. he would have real-time access, no more waiting, no more gaps in his knowledge. it almost made him chastise himself for not having done it sooner, but in a way, this felt better.

enough time had passed to make their meeting seem more like fate than manipulation. what harm was there anyway? y/n had been looking for him too. just the thought alone sent a rush of excitement through him. she wanted to see him just as badly as he wanted to see her. even if she didn’t know it yet, their mutual longing was proof that something far deeper than chance was there. they both craved each other’s connection.

once the program was fully operational, his heart was almost pouncing outside of his chest as her location flickered onto the screen. heeseung’s eyes narrowed as he observed the information. she was at a university. not just any university—sunghoon’s university. his pulse quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. there wasn’t much he could do with this information yet, so he could only store it away for later. instead, he switched to her messages, scanning her most recent conversation.

y/n: coffee, then my place?

natty batty: ok lemme finish this last slide first, im almost done

y/n: yes ma’am 🫡😁

y/n: coffee coffee coffee

natty: girl.

y/n: sorry

heeseung smirked, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. bingo. he quickly switched to her camera feed. he watched as she picked up her phone and slipped it into her pocket after a few minutes. he couldn’t see her face, buy he didn’t need to. he knew exactly what she looked like in this moment: eager, giddy, and blissfully unaware of how much better he was about to make her night. his mind raced. the university was only 15 minutes away from the coffee shop while his apartment was 25. he had to move and he needed to move now.

he looked down at his outfit realizing he was nowhere near ready to be seen by her yet. cursing under his breath, he shoved himself away from his desk and rushed into the kitchen where sunghoon was still sitting at the table, this time his headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. heeseung wasted no time.

“bro, i need you to drive me somewhere,” heeseung said, his tone urgent as he pulled one of the earbuds to the side so his friend would hear his plea.

sunghoon blinked up at him, confusion evident on his face. “why so sudden?”

“no time to explain,” heeseung said with a barely suppressed a grin. “i just have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

sunghoon squinted, still not understanding the sudden change in plans. but after a moment, he shrugged. “whatever, man. get your shit and grab my keys.”

heeseung darted to his room, quickly yanking on a gray sweater and black sweatpants. he grabbed a tub of mousse and raked it through his hair, styling it as quickly as possible. usually, he would take his time, making sure every strand was perfect, but tonight, he didn’t have the luxury.

that’s why having sunghoon drive was ideal; it gave him those extra minutes to prepare. as soon as the two of them jumped into the car, sunghoon pulled out of the driveway while heeseung sat in the passenger seat, his hands moving frantically in his hair as he tried to perfect his appearance. he didn’t even bother with a seatbelt. his mind was too focused on the task ahead.

when they arrived at the haven brew, heeseung was the first to step out of the car. he scanned the entrance, but there was no sign of her yet. “go find a table,” he ordered sunghoon, barely glancing at him. “make it look natural.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes but complied, making his way toward an empty table while pulling out his laptop and to make their presence more convincing, he ordered a couple of pastries and set them beside his notes.

meanwhile, heeseung made a beeline for the bathroom. he pulled out his phone and opened the tracker. y/n’s location was getting closer, only two turns away. his fingers trembled as he watched her dot inch toward the café. she was coming. the thought sent a shiver through him, the energy rushing beneath his skin. the idea of seeing her in person, after everything, was overwhelming. his body felt electric with anticipation, but he had to stay calm.

he inhaled deeply, shook out his hands, then left the bathroom, moving toward the table where sunghoon sat. “what do you want to drink?” he asked, keeping his voice light, forcing himself to sound normal despite the excitement rushing through his body.

sunghoon didn’t even glance up, too focused on his work. “uh… caramel macchiato.”

heeseung nodded and stepped into line. the place was busier now, the line stretching long, winding through the café. good. it gave him more time. every time the doorbell jingled, his heart lurched. was it her? was she here? where would she sit? what if she sat near him? would their drinks be ready at the same time? what if she hear his name when they call it? would she look at him and just knowㅡ?

“hello, sir. what can i get for you today?”

heeseung snapped back to reality, his gaze shifting to the barista who he now stood in front of. she was smiling politely, her presence a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in his head. he forced himself to focus, quickly rattling off his order, swiping his card, and returning to the table.

he pulled his phone out one last time, he checked the tracker. y/n had arrived. she was inside, but he couldn’t see her—not yet. the line was still too long and the building was overcrowded. his fingers curled around the edge of the table, his pulse hammering in his ears. the game had finally begun and heeseung was more than ready to play.

near the middle of the line, y/n and natty stood talking about heeseung, to no one’s surprise. the café was lively, the hum of conversation blending with the faint whir of espresso machines, yet y/n could only focus on the topic that had been consuming her thoughts for days.

“i really feel like i’ll actually see him soon,” y/n cooed, rocking on her heels, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag in excitement.

“and why’s that?” natty gave her a tired and mostly unreadable look, already growing numb to her rants. y/n tapped the side of her head with a knowing smile, her expression smug as if she were about to drop some great wisdom.

“law of assumption. look it up.”

natty sighed deeply, rubbing her temple in an attempt to ward off the headache that was beginning to make its way. she had heard enough about this so-called manifestation to last her a lifetime. it was like y/n fixated on every topic she thought of as of late. “if you want a boyfriend so bad, why not go for jake?” she asked, her tone flat, as if simply humoring y/n at this point.

y/n’s nose scrunched in immediate distaste. “jake? as in the one in our musical theory class?” her voice carried a mix of disbelief and mild horror, as if the mere suggestion was absurd. he was one of the students they both agreed was insufferable. he was a know-it all, ass kissing teacher’s pet. and just straight up rude as hell, always looking down on anyone who he felt wasn’t on his level of intelligenceㅡ and both girls had caught their own respective strays from him. natty nodded, humming in confirmation, but y/n only scoffed.

“hell no! he’s a total bore and an asshole.”

natty shrugged, adjusting the strap of her purse as she considered the argument. despite the way he behaved as a person, it was easy to forget on the rare occasion when he‘d look you in the eye. “a hot one, though.”

y/n wasn’t swayed. her expression remained unimpressed as she pursed her lips, leaning in slightly. she lowered her voice as if confessing a secret. “well, my fine shit had the looks and the personality.” her words softened at the end as her mind drifted back to heeseung’s effortless charm, the teasing tilt in his voice, the confidence he carried himself with when he spoke to her.

natty rolled her eyes. “well, jake has something heeseung doesn’t.”

y/n turned to her, brow raised in challenge. “and that is?” there was nothing he could offer that heeseung didn’t. the only thing saving jake from weirdo status was his face, it was his best and only positive attribute.

natty barely hesitated before deadpanning, “hm,i don’t know.. maybe the fact that he’s accessible and this heeseung guy isn’t?”

y/n let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze across the café. she was more than ready to tune natty out, but just as she was about to dismiss the conversation entirely, her breath caught in her chest, and it tightened. she even felt as if her heart nearly stopped. across the room, standing near the merchandised cups, was a familiar face toting a gray sweater.

“oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

natty groaned. “no. don’t ‘oh my god’ me,” she warned, already sensing where this was going. “i’ve been listening to you talk about this man nonstop for days. you need to be realistic—”

y/n grabbed natty’s shoulders and spun her around so fast that natty nearly stumbled. “that’s him! that’s fucking him!” her fingers dug into natty’s arms, grip tightening as excitement coursed through her, adding a jump in her step.

natty frowned, still skeptical. “girl, where?”

y/n’s voice was ecstatic, but she tried to contain it. “i can’t point, but he’s near the cups. purple hair, gray sweater…. oh my god, bitch. manifestation is real.” her entire body buzzed, it felt unreal. her mind couldn’t fully process that this moment was actually happening.

she had spent days thinking about this. dreaming about this. and now, here he was—standing just a few feet away.

natty, however, wasn’t as convinced. her arms were still locked in y/n’s grip, but her expression remained doubtful. “are you sure?” she squinted, trying to get a better look. the odds of this were ridiculous, impossible even. y/n had met some random guy online, obsessed over him for days, and now, he just happened to be in the same café? for a brief second, natty wondered if she should be worried. she was concerned the girl’s obsession had rendered her borderline delusional. y/n was already lost in her own world, eyes locked onto heeseung, thoughts swarming im her head.

“i will fucking go up to him right now, bro. swear,” y/n let go of her death grip on natty’s arms and attempted to push past her, but natty grabbed her wrist before she could follow through on the impulsive declaration. “okay, chill. let’s order first?”

as they stepped forward in line, y/n could barely focus. her hands felt clammy, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. the café around her blurred into the background, her senses narrowing in on one thing, and one thing only. a barista‘a voice called outㅡ “heeseung!” and y/n’s stomach flipped. her head snapped toward the employee so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. she glanced near his area and realized he was coming this way. now, it was her turn to order, but her mind was so blank. she needed more time.

“i need a second to think,” she said hastily, voice unsteady. natty shot her a look, but let it slide. she believed it now after hearing his name. and she couldn’t fathom how everything truly seemed to work in her friend’s favor, but she was somewhat happy for her nonetheless. though, she still wasn’t sure if her man of choice was the best.

heeseung was seemingly oblivious. he grabbed his cup first, then sunghoon’s, fingers wrapping around the sleeve as he turned to leave, doing everything in his power not to scan the line for his muse’s face. but y/n’s pulse skyrocketed upon he was leaving. he was finally right there in front of her, and he was leaving. before she could second-guess herself, her hand shot out, fingers curling around the sleeve of his sweater.

heeseung froze. his body tensed at the sudden touch, breath hitching as he slowly glanced down to where her hand clutched the soft fabric. the warmth of her fingers seeped through the material, faint but noticeable.

and for a brief moment, everything around him ceased to exist. the café, the noise, the people—it all faded, leaving only this. his gaze lifted, meeting hers. and in that instant, it all clicked like a puzzle piece falling into place.

y/n swallowed, her grip loosening as her fingers dragged slightly against the fabric before letting go. “hi, i’m so sorry, but i know you.” her voice was quiet, hesitant, yet certain all at once.

the sweater was soft. softer than she expected. and suddenly, she wanted to know more. she wondered if his skin was softer, how his hands would feel in between her fingers, how his lips would feel against hers, everything. she wanted to know everything about him now.

heeseung swallowed hard, forcing himself to find words to say. he had an array of scenarios that their first physical encounter would go and yet nothing could have prepared him for this. he never considered that she could approach him first. everything he knew about confidence, his charm, his certainty, all of it left him. “y/n?”

oh. his voice.

it was even better in person, smooth and warm, like a melody lingering in the air long after the last note had been played. it wrapped around her, wrapped her in something almost intoxicating. made her feel safe. made her feel wanted.

her breath caught. “yes. heeseung. hi.”

his lips parted slightly before curling into a slow, almost disbelieving smile.

“hi.”

they just stood there, staring at each other, taking in every detail, every feature. it felt like time had stopped. y/n’s eyes traced the shape of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the slight crease between his brows as he studied her just as intently. it was strange meeting someone she had only ever seen through a screen. yet, in this moment, nothing about it felt unnatural, like they had always known each other.

“do you guys mind? other people need to order,” a customer behind them huffed, shattering the moment.

heeseung blinked and turned to the man behind y/n. both of them muttered apologies, though neither of them had fully detached from the high of finally seeing each other in person. heeseung hesitated for only a second before asking, “would you… maybe want to sit with me?”

y/n’s first instinct was to glance at natty as they had already made plans. they were supposed to head straight home after getting coffee and study at her place, but y/n felt like studying could wait. in fact, everything else could wait. she exhaled, shaking her head as a slow smile spread across her lips. “we were gonna go home and study, but fuck that. this is a celebration.”

heeseung chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “you’re right.”

as they walked over to the table, sunghoon barely acknowledged them at first, reaching for his drink absentmindedly. then, he did a double take, eyes flicking between heeseung and y/n, taking in their body language, the energy between them. heeseung had talked about her before, mentioned her like she was just another girl he had met online. but now, seeing them together, sunghoon could tell it was different. heeseung met his gaze, giving a small nod. this is her.

introductions were given, natty and sunghoon exchanging brief conversations. but it barely mattered. because y/n and heeseung? they were locked in. their conversation flowed without pause or much of any effort. it was like they had already skipped past the awkward phase of getting to know each other and landed in a space that felt comfortable. natural.

sunghoon stirred his drink, watching them. curiousity piqued, and he wondered why this was so easy for them. “so… how exactly did you two meet?” he asked, his tone casual but inquisitive.

heeseung and y/n exchanged a glance, amusement flickering between them. y/n was the first to answer. “omegle,” she said, like it was her greatest achievement: meeting him by chance. she was almost sure it was, too. she’d never felt this accomplished.

natty groaned, already dreading hearing the story again. sunghoon, however, only frowned. “omegle?” he repeated in an effort to make sure he heard correctly.

heeseung leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “yeah. i went on there when i was bored the other night, wasn’t expecting much. but then y/n popped up, and we just ended up talking. for a while.”

y/n nodded. “hours, actually.”

heeseung’s lips quirked up slightly. “yeah. until you disconnected.”

y/n huffed. “i didnt disconnect, my dumbass laptop died.” heeseung didn’t argue, just shook his head, amused. he already knew that much. sunghoon, however, still wasn’t convinced.

“so let me get this straight. you met on omegle,” sunghoon repeated slowly, “and now, a few days later, you just so happen to run into each other here?” something wasn’t adding up. they claimed they met by chance, but how could that be true when heeseung’s previous mentions of the girl were allegedly in person? if the latter wasn't true, how did he know she’d be here? no one just stumbles onto someone’s location like that—especially not a stranger.

y/n nodded with a grin, nudging natty. “see? i was just telling her i’d find him again.”

natty gave her a look, unimpressed. “yeah, but you have to realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“sure, but i know better than to question fate,” y/n said with a smirk. and heeseung absolutely melted over that response. she didn’t question things, never overanalyzed. it made it all the more easier.

sunghoon, however, still couldn’t bring himself to let it go. he watched them, his mind running. he watched as y/n and heeseung continued to chat, their faces lighting up with the kind of easy conversations. heeseung had a way of downplaying things, but sunghoon had known him long enough to know when his friend was lying—or at least not telling the whole truth.

the way heeseung had flipped his story, so effortlessly, about how he truly met y/n felt so odd. it didn’t add up. and sunghoon had seen his friend fixated on something before, but this felt different. the way he was acting now as if everything had simply fallen into place, wasn’t how he’d been when they were first talking about this girl. something was off, but sunghoon couldn’t figure out exactly what.

his stomach churned as a weird feeling crept up on him. he didn’t want to be suspicious of his own friend, but something about this didn’t sit right. for now, though? he said nothing, just went back to finishing off the last pieces of his homework.

it had been a few hours now that the group had sat, chatting away at their tables. sunghoon had finished his work and put his suspicions in the back burner while he focused on being engaged in the conversation, still situationally aware in case heeseung had slipped up again. but things had gotten tame by now, and it was getting late. he didn’t say much as he packed up his belongings and put them away.

heeseung and y/n paid him no mind as they were still too deeply involved in their own conversation, and heeseung was delighted to say the least. y/n was completely different in person than she was online. her once timid demeanor has shifted into that of a devoted lover in his eyes. she was outwardly engaged, her focus was solely on him, and only him. she hadn’t even said much of anything to natty since she sat down, disregarding the times where the girl would speak to her first.

“here,” y/n said, pulling out her phone and handing it over to heeseung. he looked at it wide-eyed for a brief moment before quickly cooling his expression, tilting his head as he studied her curiously. she opened her apps section, clicking on instagram as she went to her search bar.

“i need your instagram. or would you prefer to give me your number?” she tilted her head, eyes searching his face, and when he didn’t respond right away, a small pout formed on her lips. heeseung blinked, momentarily thrown off. she was more forward than he had anticipated. too bold and it wasn’t that he didn’t like it—he just hadn’t expected it. in his mind, he had already mapped out how this would go, how he would lead the pace, dictate the push and pull, and savor every second of the chase. but in reality she was the one making the first moves. and if he was being honest, it kind of messed with his rhythm.

“unless you don’t want to..?” her voice was low now, almost being drowned out with the vibrant chatter that still boomed through the cafe. heeseung bit his lip, fighting to hold a smile. there it was. that insecurity, that approval seeking. his eyes met hers as he shook his head, grabbing the phone and exiting off of instagram and going to the phone app to dial his number. if she was going to make the first move, then he’d just have to take the control right back.

“sorry, i blanked,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something lower, smoother, as he let his charm do the work. his fingers moved over the screen, inputting his number, but his gaze never left hers. he let the moment stretch just long enough, let his words sink in before flashing her a slow, lopsided grin. “i’m just not used to a pretty girl making the first move.”

the way he leaned into it, he let the words settle between them like a challenge. and when y/n’s breath hitched, he knew he had her right where he wanted. “i don’t want to be the party pooper,” sunghoon’s voice sliced through the air of their moment, bringing everyone’s attention to him as he slung his back over his shoulder. “but i gotta hit the hay, i have AM classes tomorrow, can’t afford to be late.” he shot heeseung a look that ultimately was saying ‘let’s go’, to which the boy only pursed his lips as he handed y/n’s phone back to her without a word.

for a moment, her eyes flickered back and forth between the two boys, an uneasy feeling rising within her chest. she didn’t know what came over her before she blurted out. “do you really have to go?” her question was directed toward heeseung who was still gathering his belongings, completely ignoring sunghoon’s presence despite him being the one to speak up. heeseung almost swooned at her reaction. she truly did not care for anyone’s presence but his. he wondered how he had gotten so lucky to find a girl like her. so desperate, so eager to be around him.

“i mean, he’s my ride,” heeseung replied, his words devoid of sadness. it was evident in his tone that he had expected her to beg, wanting to see how far she would go just to not see him leave. he waited for her response as she pursed her lips, eyes wandering around the room as if she were finding the right words to say and the courage to voice them. when she finally spoke again, it was as if everything had fallen back into alignment of heeseung’s expectations

“i have a car. maybe you can stay for a while as i study, and i can drive you home afterward,” y/n suggested, her words sounding more like a question than a statement, as if she felt foolish for saying them. inviting a stranger to her home and promising a ride home? she had to be crazy. and natty seemed to think so, firmly kicking y/n’s shin under the table and shooting her a wide-eyed, warning look.

heeseung glanced at his friend sunghoon, who merely shrugged before turning on his heel. “do what you want, man.” he couldn’t care less at that point; it wasn’t his decision to make. the two of them seemed perfect for each other—young and reckless. maybe that’s what his friend needed.

“i do still have work tomorrow, so i can’t be out too late,” he chuckled, grabbing his cup as he got up, the two girls doing the same.

“oh of course, just let me know!”

and with that, they made their way to y/n’s car where y/n had offered heeseung passenger seat as courtesy while natty sat in the seat directly behind him. the vibe from there had changed. though y/n and heeseung were able to keep the chat going, natty refused to engage, ignoring every attempt y/n made to include her. instead, she scrolled through her phone in silence—until she sent a message that expressed everything she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

natty batty: are you fucking crazy? i understand you like him but there’s levels to this. you don’t even know him, y/n. this is dangerous.

y/n, focused on the road, didn’t see it. but heeseung did. his gaze flicked to the notification popping on his phone, his expression darkening for a split second before he forced it back into neutrality. it was a shame, really. he had hoped natty would warm up to him, but she was already resisting. that left him at risk if y/n listened to her best friend over him. and heeseung didn’t like obstacles. he needed to take control.

the drive was only fifteen minutes, but with the tension hanging thick in the air, it felt like an eternity. when they finally pulled into the driveway and made their way into the house, natty was lagging behind, every step she took a protest to the situation. she wanted to go home. she didn’t feel safe being here with heeseung, a complete stranger that she and y/n barely knew, but it was also the very reason she had to stay. she couldn’t bear the thought of leading y/n in harm’s way by leaving her alone with him. it was a dilemma. and if something happened, she’d never forgive herself.

so she settled onto the loveseat, keeping her distance while y/n and heeseung took the couch, sitting too close for her liking. she kept her eyes on her phone, but her ears were trained on their conversation, which seemed to flow endlessly.

heeseung didn’t know if it were the change in scenery or the close proximity he had to her, but y/n’s demeanor had transformed. she was no longer the playful, assertive girl from earlier. now, she was quieter, more reserved. the version of her he had first seen through that screen. he liked it.

“should we watch a movie?” he inquired, his doe eyes meeting hers as he titled his head. god, he was so damn handsome under the warm-toned lights. he looked too perfect to be real. but he had to be because he was right in front of her. y/n nodded, tossing him the remote before getting up to turn off the lights.

as the movie began playing, the soft glow of the screen casted shifting shadows across the room. y/n reached for the blanket draped over the couch, unfolding it with care before settling back into her spot beside heeseung. she threw it over herself, a good half of it falling on top of him as well.

and while they watched the screen, he couldn't help but get lost in the warmth from her body being near his. the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the small blanket enveloping their heat, it was intoxicating. a new kind of yearning settled in his chest. his hand moved beneath the blanket, fingers searching until they found the smooth skin of her thigh.

her fingers twitched at the unexpected contact, but she didn't pull away. heeseung hesitated for a moment, then let his hand linger, gently rubbing slow, soothing circles against her skin. it was then that he noticed that her hands were the skin he made contact with, her fingers brushing against his. without thinking, he took a hold of them, intertwining their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. and she wavered at first but then squeezed his hand in return, a silent confirmation. this was okay. this was wanted.

everything with y/n was effortless. she made it so easy for him to get close, to break unspoken boundaries without pushback. it made him wonder what made her this way. why was she so trusting, so soon? more than anything, though? he was grateful for it.

before long, their quiet hand holding turned into a more cuddling-like state. y/n inched closer, her body molding against his until she was laying on him. heeseung shifted to make room, one arm wrapping around her shoulder, and embraced the added heat from her thighs that she had thrown over his legs. the movie played on, but neither of them were paying attention now.

as y/n nestled closer into heeseung's embrace, his fingers traced lazy circles against her thigh, each circle inching higher. not too fast, not too slow, but just enough to keep her on edge. she tried to focus on the glowing screen, but the way he touched her made it impossible. every breath he took, she felt. every soft, raised movement of his fingers sent a ripple through her. it was overwhelming in a way she didn't expect, and she swore she could hear his heartbeat against her ear as she rested her head on his shoulder. she wondered if hers was just as loud, if he could feel how consumed she was in this moment.

across the room, natty glanced up from her phone. at first, the sight made her stomach churn. she wanted to be mad. she wanted to march over to y/n, drag her away and slap some sense into her. but as she watched them cuddle, something in her almost softened. maybe y/n was right. maybe she shouldn't question fate. so with a quiet sigh, she turned back to her phone, choosing for now to let it be.

heeseung, on the other hand, was losing himself completely. she didn’t even deny him access when his hands finally grazed her clothed cunt. she only silently spread her legs to give him more access. the small action made his grip tighten just slightly around her. all mine. the thought crept into his mind before he could stop it, and once it was there, he couldn't let it go.

she didn't know it yet, but this was already far beyond a casual moment for him. he had no intention of letting this be fleeting. he wanted her, in every way possible, and he was going to make sure she felt the same.

y/n shifted in his arms, adjusting herself to get more comfortable, and the movement snapped him out of his thoughts. he began pressing his thumb against the thickness of her jeans so she could feel him rubbing her clit. he looked down at her, watching as her lashes fluttered, her lips parting slightly as she let out a soft breath before biting her lip. the action, albeit not being much, felt so, so damn good.

"you like that?" heeseung murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. he maneuvered his fingers under her pants and panties in a swift motion, shoving his fingers down past the uncomfortable tightness that engulfed him. she nodded against his shoulder as his fingers finally made contact with her bare clit. he smirked, leaning down slightly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "good."

his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but before she could react, he pulled back, his focus returning to the movie as if he hadn't just sent her heart into a frenzy. now, y/n wasn’t the type to admit when she wanted something, but the moment his hand left her, she felt the absence like a chill against her skin.

she huffed, shifting slightly, adjusting the way her legs draped over his lap to graze against the growing erection in his pants. he barely reacted, but she could see the way he stiffened. she scooted just a little closer, her knee raised before brushing against his stomach, an unspoken demand for his attention. still, nothing.

her frustration simmered, and she shifted again, more deliberately this time, grabbing his free hand and putting it on the button of her jeans, an intense stare in her eyes as if daring him to ignore her.

“getting comfortable?” he didn’t know whether to be more amused or aroused. he knew exactly what she was doing, and the boldness surprised him. he didn’t think she was the type to seek sexual pleasure in the presence of others, but it was just another way the two of them were alike. she only hummed in response, making him chuckle.

he let the silence stretch, waiting. then, with a smirk, his fingers found their way down again. he struggled to unbutton her jeans, so she moved hers down to swiftly unbutton them for him, letting him drag the zipper down as she lifted her ass slightly. once his fingers met her cunt, she shuddered. his touch was light at first, but the way it spread warmth across her skin, combined with the slow massaging on her nub, was so stimulating.

heeseung made sure to leave no areas untouched. dipping two fingers into her folds, he almost groaned at how soaked she already was despite his movements being little to none. y/n tried to keep her eyes on the screen, pretending to follow the movie, even as his fingers made their way inside, curling slowly as he thrusted them into her. she bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay still, doing everything in her power not to react.

natty was still right there, although absorbed in the movie, y/n wasn't about to give herself away. but heeseung wasn't making it easy. his thumb met her clit, pressing down just enough to make her breath hitch. she masked it with a cough, casually shifting her weight as if she was just getting comfortable, but she only wanted more.

"you good?" natty asked suddenly, eyes flicking toward y/n who looked like a deer caught in headlight. y/n nodded, her expression nearly failing to be perfectly composed.

"yeah. just stiff from sitting."

she could feel heeseung smirk beside her, his fingers scissoring her insides, testing her poker face. she refused to give him the satisfaction. so she kept her face neutral, eyes on the screen, and pretended she wasn't losing her mind.

heeseung could tell she was forcing herself to act unaffected, keeping her face blank like she wasn’t even paying attention to him. and maybe at first, it was amusing—watching her fight to stay composed, but the longer she kept up the act, the more it got to him. he pressed his thumb down a little firmer, moving his finger in slow and deliberate circles, the way he knew would make any girl melt. but still, nothing. she didn’t even spare so much as a glance his way. her eyes only stayed glued to the screen with an unreadable expression.

his jaw tightened. so that’s how she wanted to play? fine. he shifted, using one knee to lift her up, the other forcing her legs more open. he adjusted his hand, his touch becoming just a little more purposeful as he picked up his pace. he curled his fingers, shoving them as deep as he could until they brushed against that elusive spot deep within her that made her breath hitch. a barely there twitch in her jaw, a slow inhale she tried to contain. he smirked. got her.

now, he knew exactly what would get to her. slow, hard, calculated, and unrelenting thrusts. again, the tiniest reaction slipped through. a soft moan was cut short as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, though her body still responded to his every movement as he continued.

he chuckled, leaning in slightly. he murmured just low enough for her to hear, “you can keep pretending, but we both know you’re losing it.”

y/n’s fingers curled into the blanket draped over their legs, her poker face still intact—but he could see the way her shoulders tensed and the way her breath came just a little quicker. he had her right where he wanted.

and heeseung was relentless. his touch stayed slow, but each movement served its purpose, making y/n swallow hard. all she could focus on was him, the way his fingers moved inside her cunt, the way his thumb still circled ever so slowly around her clit. he was dragging it out just to mess with her.

her hips buckled upward, just enough to press closer, hoping he'd realize the silent plea she was making. but instead of giving her more, he eased up pulling his fingers out almost as quickly as he buried them inside. he was barely touching her now, only offering clit action to keep her in an aroused state.

"heeseung," she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely made a sound. he heard it loud and clear, and almost wanted to pretend as if he didn’t, but the look on her face made the blood rush to his already painfully hard cock. he couldn’t ignore it. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feign innocence.

"hm?" he hummed, acting like he had no idea what she was calling him for.

her fingers moved under the blanket, grabbing at his hand each time he’d move it from her, frustration bubbling under her skin. she knew he wanted her to say it, to admit that she needed more. but she wasn't going to.

she tried again, thrusting as subtly as she could into his hand, pressing into his touch, silently begging him to just do something. but his lack of reaction was all she was met with.

“please,” it was almost a whisper yell at that point, and she was thankful for the tv’s loud volume because if natty were to hear, it would be over. her breath came out shaky as her patience wore thin. she hesitated for only a second before finally whispering again, "faster."

his lips curled into a smirk. thatta girl. "what was that?"

she shot him a glare, barely holding it together. "please," she gritted out, her voice so soft that only he could hear. "please go faster."

satisfied, heeseung finally gave in, fingers wasting no time to dive right back inside of her cunt as if it were their rightful place. the quickness of it all made her body jump as he picked up the pace, just enough to make her whole body tense and her pussy to clench around his fingers.

"good girl," he murmured. it was hell for him to only be able to sit there and work his magic, he wanted to feel all over her, kiss her neck, leave hickeysㅡ he wanted to hear her moan out his name, hear her beg aloud. but for now, the sight of her facial expressions, eyes squinting with lips parted only slightly as she tried to fight back any noises her body so desperately wantedㅡ no needed to make. it was enough for him for now.

y/n was barely holding it together. every nerve in her body was burning as that oh so familiar knot started forming in her stomach. she was getting dangerously close, her body betraying her despite how hard she tried to keep still and stay quiet. her breaths were coming out uneven as she gripped the blanket tighter.

her head tipped back slightly, her lips parting just enough for a shaky breath to slip out. she bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to hold herself together. but heeseung wasn’t making it easy.

“so quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. he was finding it hard to contain himself as well as he thrusted his hips into her thigh, his cock wanting so badly to be put to use. “thought you were watching the movie.”

she wanted to rebuttal or at least snap back with some kind of sassy retort, but she couldn’t trust herself enough to speak because at this point it would give everything away. natty was still there, completely unaware at how much of a desperate slut her best friend was being. she didn’t even want to think about how the girl would react if she got caught up.

she shifted slightly, trying to get more. her nails found refuge as they dug into her palm, her body wound so tight she thought she might break. just a little more, just a little closer, her hole was now throbbing around him, everything felt hot and she was sure she’d come undone with a few more thrusts.

her whimpers were becoming more audible as his speed slowed to a more rhythmic pace, her orgasm crashing almost seconds after. she threw her hand to cover her mouth as he continued fingering her through her high, biting hard into her palm’s skin.

heeseung smirked at the sight of her. by now, his tip was leaking a pool of precum through his sweats. he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. he pulled out and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking up her juices before pulling them out with a loud pop.

now his eyes were dark, filled with something primal as he watched her. he could barely restrain the desire burning beneath the surface. "lay down," he growled, his voice low, rough with lust.

y/n hesitated for only a second, her eyes flickering towards natty, who paid them no mind, before obeying. she scooted downward, allowing the blanket to engulf her as her head disappeared underneath the fabric. heeseung’s eyes followed hers. hovering the blanket, his gaze traced every inch of her like he was memorizing the sight of her beneath him as she looked up at him with bedroom eyes. the movement alone made his dick twitch.

slowly, she helped him push his sweats down while he lifted his hips to aid the process, his cock springing up and smacking his lower belly region. she gawked at the sight of it, it was even bigger than what she had seen on their video call. it was intimidating almost, how did he expect her to fit all of that? his hands found the back of her head, grabbing a chunk of her hair to push her mouth onto his tip. she complied, opening her mouth to take it in as she kitty licked it, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

heeseung let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenched, and his composure slipped just a little as he let out a choked up groan. it was like a reward, the way her mouth moved at his cock’s head, bobbing as she hollowed her cheeks. he sucked in a breath, biting his lip as he pushed her head lower forcing her to take in the entirety of his length, not caring for the gags she let out from not being able to handle all of his size.

“aw, fuck,” he praised, voice thick with something almost dangerous. heeseung's grip tightened in y/n's hair, his breathing ragged as he thrusted his hips upwards, fucking into her face. she could only look up at him, a knowing glint in her teary eyes, as she let him continue hammering her throat. the sensation burned, but that made it feel all the more rewarding.

his control was slipping with every second. it felt so good, she made him feel so good. the sounds filling the room were obscene, his low groans mixing with the wet, muffled squelching noises beneath the blanket.

lost in the moment, he sped up, chasing the high that was coming dangerously close. he whimpered, biting his lip, ignoring the way y/n punched on his thigh for a breather. neither of them had noticed when natty finally turned her head. a sharp gasp cut through the air like a slap.

"are you guys fucking serious?!" natty's voice shrieked, filled with disbelief and absolute disgust.

y/n froze, her entire body going stiff as shame crashed over her. she was glad she couldn’t see the scene unfolding in front of her, but she knew exactly how it looked. heeseung cursed under his breath, helping y/n pick her head up to save face, but the damage was already done.

natty shot up from the couch, snatching her things with loud, unexaggerated gags. "you're so disgusting. you are actually so disgusting, y/n."

y/n’s face burned, her heart was pounding against her ribs. she opened her mouth, searching for something—anything to say, but what was there? an apology? for something she could have easily chosen not to do? for something she didn’t regret in the slightest?

the door slammed behind natty as she stormed out, the sharp sound lingering in the heavy silence her absence left behind. shame settled between them, thick and suffocating, but y/n barely let it sink in as she sat up, peeling the blanket away.

her eyes flicked to heeseung as she pursed her lips in thought. for a moment, she debated, then shrugged. grabbing the remote, she switched off the movie before turning to him with a playful grin. “so… do you wanna take this to the bedroom now?”

heeseung blinked. the shock was clear on his face as his mind scrambled to process her words. confusion flickered in his eyes, but beneath it was something else. something darker, something intrigued.

he watched her carefully, still trying to understand the way she brushed everything off so easily. natty had just stormed out, disgust practically dripping from her words, and yet y/n sat there like nothing had happened. he raised a brow, leaning back against the couch. “you’re not gonna go after her?”

“it’s not like it would change anything,” y/n said as she stretched her arms above her head, rolling out the tension in her shoulders before meeting his gaze with another shrug. “she made her choice, we’ll talk it out later.”

heeseung didn't bother responding. words felt pointless when the only thing running through his mind was her, the way she sat there, so shameless, so unbothered. maybe she really didn’t care. or maybe she just refused to let it show. either way, he found himself even more drawn in.

without warning, he leaned in, crashing his lips against hers, his hands immediately finding their way to her waist and pulling her onto his lap. y/n let out a muffled gasp, but she didn't resist. if anything, she melted into his touch, matching his tempo, her fingers slipping into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan against her mouth.

the kiss was messy, desperate. all teeth and hunger, like they were both chasing the same high. heeseung's hands roamed her body, gripping at her as if to reassure himself that she was really there, really his. not only in the moment but forever. when he pulled back, his breathing was jagged while his forehead rested against hers. "bedroom. now."

and y/n didn't hesitate. she slid off his lap, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the hallway, her smile never fading. as soon as they made it into the bedroom, heeseung barely gave her a chance to steady herself before backing her up against the door. his lips found hers again, deepening the kiss as he bathed in every sound she made.

y/n breathed out a moan as he pressed closer, his warmth a great contrast against her skin. her fingers curled around the hem of his sweater, tugging impatiently. heeseung smirked against her lips but didn't make her wait, he pulled it off in one swift motion, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for her in return.

the air between them was thick, charged with the desire that neither of them cared to hold back anymore. his hands found the edge of her shirt, his fingertips skimming her skin as he leaned down, voice low against her ear. "you really don't feel bad about natty leaving?"

y/n shivered at the way his breath ghosted over her skin, but she only smiled, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "i have better things to focus on."

his gaze darkened, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips before he closed the distance again. his hands found the small of her back, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. they were firm as he guided them backwards, their lips never breaking apart as he stumbled toward the bed.

as heeseung hovered over y/n, his gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, like she was something delicate yet untouchable, a dream he had finally been granted permission to hold. his fingers traced the strands of her hair, admiring the way they fanned out against the sheets, the way the warm glow of the bedside lamp reflected in her eyes.

he wanted this moment to be perfect. he needed it to be. everything about y/n consumed him, embedding itself so deep that he wasn’t sure he could ever get rid of her. not that he wanted to. she was meant to be his, and he wanted to make sure she felt that—make sure she never doubted how much he wanted her, how much he needed her.

his fingertips ghosted over her cheek, trailing down to her jaw before brushing against her collarbone. he took a seat next to her, his touch never leaving her skin.

y/n’s breath hitched. she had never wanted someone the way she wanted him. her entire body felt like it was on fire under his gaze, his touch leaving trails of heat wherever it lingered. she had imagined moments like this before, but none of them compared to this—to the way he looked at her, to the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.

her fingers twitched, aching to reach for him, to pull him closer, to feel more of him. she didn’t care that they had only just met or that everything about this was reckless. all she knew was that she wanted him, desperately, completely, and genuinely.

heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, as if he could sense her thoughts, as if he knew exactly what she wanted. he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with possessiveness. all he needed was her word.

“tell me what you want, y/n.” his fingers traced down her arm, sending a shiver through her. her lips parted, her mind hazy with longing, with desire, but the words were caught in her throat.

“please don't make me beg.”

heeseung chuckled, low and sensually, before capturing her lips in his once more. “oh baby, i think you’ve earned it now.”

y/n bit back a smile, as he dipped his head in between her legs. he licked up a stripe, and it felt like magic. every suckle on her clit, every time his tongue dipped deep between her folds, it sent shivers through her body. he could taste the sweat she had worked up from their endeavors on the couch. he savored the salty flavor mixing with the sweet juices leaking out of her.

she held herself up by her elbows and could only watch with hooded eyes as she stared down at him. there was something about the way he effortlessly held eye contact, as if he wasn’t nearly sucking her soul, that almost made her eyes roll back. she was in awe at the sight of her slick covering his nose, lips, and chin. he was gorgeous.

he began leaving a trail of wet kisses amongst her thighs as his fingernails unintentionally dug into her soft skin as he smiled against it. oh, he was gone. and he lost himself even more the minute her fingers slipped into his hair before grinding against his face.

heeseung was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. everything he did left her wanting more. as he lay sprawled out on the bed, his legs subconsciously lifted and started swinging back and forth.

he was having a time. at that point he wasn't sure if he was eating more for his own pleasure or not as he buried his face deep into her cunt. his hips bucked into the satin blanket, though it did nothing to ease the ache he grew from being so hard for so long. and there was no need for fingers when his tongue and nose were an even better substitute. she was getting every form of stimulation from his face alone.

her grip on his hair was harsh as she threw her head back with a loud moan. he let out a combined and muffled whimper-moan against her cunt, tongue fucking her. then he moved to suck on her clit. she couldn’t hold it back, her body had only given her a subtle warning before an orgasm crashed over her.

“fuck!” she exclaimed as she gripped her breast. arching her back into his face, her hand forcefully held his head in place as she rode her high out. not that he wanted to move anyway, she was literally cumming inside his mouth. he would stay here forever if he could help it.

and it took her a second to pry him off, immediately tongue kissing him when she did. she tasted as much as she could of herself and heeseung found it so sexy. he deepened the kiss, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her closer with roughness.

when he finally pulled away for a breath, his eyes lingered on her like he was afraid to look away, as if she might disappear if he did. they held so much love, admiration, possession. he had never felt this way before, he’d never knew he’d need someone like this.

he was desperate for her in a way that scared him, in a way that felt like he would never be the same without her. she had slipped into his lifeㅡinto his mind so suddenly, so effortlessly, and yet it felt like she was always meant to be there, in his arms, under his touch.

he pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched hers. his hold on her head softened, his cheeks burning red while he held gently onto her like she was his lifeline.

"fuck, y/n, i want you so bad." his voice was raw, almost shaky, thick with emotion and something deeper, something unspoken. his lips hovered near hers again, not quite touching, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. he searched her eyes, desperate to see the same hunger, the same longing reflected back at him.

"then have me," she murmured, voice barely above a breath, but it was all he needed.

his lips met hers, rushed and deep, without failing to pour every unspoken word, every hidden feeling into the kiss. he grabbed his cock, lazily lining himself at her entrance and coating his tip with her juices before pushing in. the stretch made y/n’s back arch as she winced in pain, but he kept moving, slowly sliding in until he bottomed out. her nails found their way to his back as she scratched. he slowly started moving after letting her adjust for a moment, each thrust hitting perfectly on her g-spot.

"you don't know how much i've been thinking of you," he murmured between breaths, his chest pressing against her as his lips lingered near her ear, the words coming out almost desperately. "you're mine, y/n. everything i've done, everything that's happened... it's all to show you how much i want you. how much i need you.."

she didn’t hear much of anything he was babbling about because not too long after, he had her legs to her head, penetrating her deeply. her moans were loud and pornographic, echoing against the walls. she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. her senses were at an all time high and the only constant was heeseung. she could only see heeseung, only breathe him, only taste him. and she was on the verge of tears because of how good he made her feel. her body stiffened before another orgasm shot throughout her body.

he didn’t even try to give her body a break as his thrusts never lost their tempo. he had her whole body shaking, her hands alternating between gripping his hair to scratching his back unsure of where to go as they desperately tried to exude the overwhelming amount of pleasure still brewing.

“f-feels so good,” was all she could manage to get out. “so, so good.” he smirked before pulling out swiftly. he almost came just from hearing those words. but he had to hold back because was nowhere near through with her.

heeseung's grip on her tightened as he guided her into a position where she was on all fours, his touch firm as he did so. he leaned in, placing a tender kiss on each ass cheek.

he took a deep inhale as he licked her asshole, tongue flicking away happily. he pulled back to spit before diving back in, swirling, lapping away. his breath was heavy when he pulled back, his body humming with unrestrained hunger for her as he slammed back inside of her, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady.

“and here i thought you were the innocent type," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. he let out a low chuckle, leaning over her, his chest flush against her back as he whispered in her ear. "but seeing you like this.. so shameless. such a slutty and desperate whore for me—" he exhaled sharply, a groan rumbling in his chest. "it's so much more rewarding."

his hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, pushing her face down into the mattress as he moved with deep, relentless strokes. the room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath them, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

heeseung's grip on reality was slipping; all he could focus on was the way she felt, how she responded to him so willingly, so perfectly. her cunt clenched around her, letting him know she was close again. her moans were past the point of emitting sound louder than occasional high squeals.

"mine," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with unshakable certainty. "all mine." he could feel himself unraveling, could feel the intensity building with each thrust he managed to get out despite the effort he put into holding back his own climax.

his free hand slid to her waist, holding her even closer, anchoring himself. she was everything he had ever wanted more than he had ever expected. and in this moment, nothing else in the world existed but her. even her backside was sexy. he was enchanted by every part of her.

“fuck, let me cum on your face, baby.” he bit his lip as he pulled out after a few thrusts, replacing her cunt with his hand as he stroked himself. she complied and turned onto her back, gazing up at him with sparkly eyes. her breath was unsteady, lips slightly parted as she stuck her tongue out, waiting for his next move. heeseung’s heart pounded at the sight—she looked so delicate beneath him, completely trusting, completely his. he never broke eye contact as he continued stroking, fucking into his hand.

his hips stuttered as sprouts of his cum painted her face. she caught as much as she could on her tongue, licking her lips as she smiled at him. it was sweet, it was tangy, and it was so deliciously his. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as his fingers intertwined with hers. he never wanted to let her go.

Webcam Perv! (1)

#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x you #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung x female reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut

205 notes · View notes

essektheylyss · 2 days ago

Note

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

#sorry this took me ages. I should be doing homework lmao rip #was I expecting to go cite class material in this? no. did I realize it was apt for my argument? yes #cr spoilers #cr meta #critical role #cr discourse #edited cuz I totally forgot a clause about essek's arc. it's under the cut so it doesn't matter but anywayyyy

118 notes · View notes

urge4divinty · 3 days ago

Text

Your ex’s hidden feelings about you ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

pac tarot reading paired with intuition, take what resonates and remember energy can always change readings aren’t set in stone. + their signs or dominant placements

3 cards pulled for each pile ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ gender neutral

Pile 1

the first thing i feel before even pulling cards is warmth, a warm feeling? maybe they felt that with you and it was something they miss deeply they can’t find that in someone else so they might be completely tweaking out about the kind of warmth you brought them. song i’m also channeling is just dance by lady gaga? “wish i shut my playboy mouth—control your poison, babe, roses have thrones they say”

after pulling cards the exs hidden feelings give a very “i need to be soul searching after you”they are alone and possibly becoming independent in a introspective state. dealing with insecurity and trying to understand their inner feelings it confuses them how hurt they are and they never expected to be—they are trying to distract themselves so they might be in a hustling state where they obsess with work/or obsess over material possessions. i’m getting heavy insecurity they’re not able to express how they feel nor do they want to their usually assertiveness is muted, they feel imbalanced like maybe you weren’t giving a even amount? could be hesitant due to past hurts. they’d invest in the connection again if they felt it was safe to right now they struggle with vulnerability. guarded, uncertain, wanting clarity? signs: leo virgo taurus/libra

donut pile what’s teaaaa omg

Pile 2

the first thing i feel is slight annoyance? like very annoyed—it’s this energy of being slightly bothered. the song that came on while thinking of pile 2 was off to the races by lana del rey “god , i’m so crazy baby i’m sorry that misbehaving” oh?? “i need you i breathe you ill never leave you” “i love you forever? not maybe you are my one true love”

After pulling cards their hidden feelings is definitely defeat? like they lost something big? could’ve been married or just a really committed and serious relationship it gives a loving bond, or was loving such a “i wanted to propose to them i wanted marriage” oh they are in deeeeeep dude. but they are trying to seem stoic like they aren’t totally sick but they don’t seem like they’ll openly express any of this. they still think of you as their ideal partner!! but the ending was so painful for them they feel emotionally done and still hold on to the memories of you two. forcing themselves to accept that it’s actually over. signs: aries cancer/pisces gemini/scorpio

Pile 3

this piles energy is so different from the rest? its almost unexplainable it’s like they don’t know what they feel but they definitely know what they lost “i feel stupid” popped into my head.

after pulling cards i’m getting that they are having a lot of thoughts about you they have a strong urge to reach out to say something replaying conversations thinking of what they SHOULD of said or done to make a difference. they might’ve been emotionally detached while with you but after you left they got out of this state with a quickness they stopped ignoring their feelings and now they feel regret—they are becoming aware of what this relationship meant to them lots of self reflection going on for them and they are understanding their role of what happened, they feel pulled towards closure they want to try again tbh. their feelings are active and shifting going from indifference to “oh shit i lost them” they see the relationship in a way they didn’t see before this urge to reach out could be impulsive they are rushing into it to say their piece it’s chaotic and not at all well thought out so it could lead to aggressive communication.

signs: gemini/libra/aquarius cancer scorpio

#tarot reading #tarot cards #tarotblr #pick a card #pac reading #tarot pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a photo #tarot pac #tarot pick a pile #free tarot #relationship tarot #love tarot reading #astrology

107 notes · View notes

bananayuyu · 2 days ago

Text

just friends (2) - back to the beginning

pairing: san x f reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 12.6k

summary: could you really call this a friendship anymore? what was it really, when you spent nights curled up in the sheets with him, days fighting till your blood ran cold? this was more than anything you'd had with anyone; but what it was, you didn't know. you'd fight to keep it alive, for it held you together; but how much more of this could San take before he breaks?

warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal sex, cream pie, oral, cum eating

a/n: i have become completely obsessed with these two. I've mapped out 10 parts for this series (help me), please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the rest <33 new parts won't be coming out on any certain schedule as I have many other writing projects I'm working on, but I will for sure finish his series within the year. I'm too obsessed not to. also the argument at the end of this part is pretty nasty so please proceed with caution <3

<- previous part | next part -> | series masterlist | read it on ao3

One Year Ago

"Titi, it's 4:15, get your ass up!" you called from her desk, squinting at your eyes in the mirror as you put the finishing touches on your dark, heavy face of makeup.

"I know, sorry," she grumbled from her bed, slowly pushing off her comforter. "Winter makes me so sleepy," she yawned, stretching as long as she couch reach, her feet falling off the side of her mattress.

"You just love being late, I think," you joked, slapping closed the lid of your highlighter, putting the brush you used back into the drawer it came from.

"You'd think I do, with how often I am," she laughed, another yawn escaping her lips, her palms rubbing circles over her eyes.

"I'm leaving without you if you're running late, just so you know," you responded, stepping up off her desk chair and over to your trusty bag, double checking you had your costume for tonight, your phone, your keys, wallet, and makeup bag.

"I'm coming, just give me a second," she muttered, pushing herself up dramatically, a deep sigh wracking through her. "I didn't get to sleep till like ten in the morning."

"What were y'all doing?" you asked, chuckling, zipping closed your bag with a satisfying sound, everything packed just right for the day ahead.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she laughed, waggling her eyebrows at you.

"You're a couple of fucking rabbits, you two," you shot back, staring at the disheveled state of your best friend. She tipped her head back, laughing hard, that bright full smile showing across her beautiful face. She'd been smiling a lot like that lately, ever since her and her girlfriend had made things official, ever since they'd decided to move in together.

"I'm sorry, I won't talk about it so much if it's annoying," she said, finally standing herself up and shlepping off her pajamas.

"Don't stop, it's very adorable," you responded. "Why would it be annoying?"

"Just cause, you know, your last situation was such a disappointment. I don't want it to feel like I'm rubbing it in," she said, grabbing for a pair of black leggings and pink sweater in the pile of clothes on the floor.

"My last, what, three situations, actually?" you said, trying to remember each of the ridiculous members of the cast of dates you'd been on last year.

"Dating sucks," she said, pulling her leggings on, stumbling a bit.

"Not for you, it doesn't," you responded, crossing your arms.

"Well, not now, but it did for my whole life up until this point," she said.

"Ah, turned twenty-two and now you have it figured out?" you joked, rolling your eyes.

"Hey, don't get snippy with me missy," she pouted, pulling the sweater over her head.

"Sorry, you know I just like arguing for no reason," you sighed, chuckling a bit.

"I need to find you someone who likes it just as much as you do," she joked back, grabbing her phone off it's charger.

"But who's not actually an asshole?" you said.

"Yeah, exactly," she laughed, shooting off a quick text. "Shit, 4:20," she said, stuffing her phone into her own huge bag, not bothering to check it's contents like you just did.

"Okay, we're going now," you said, walking out into her living room, heading straight for the front door.

"Wait, just let me make a cup of coffee!" she called to you, stumbling behind.

"They have coffee where we work, you know," you remarked, looking back at her over your shoulder.

"Oh my god, you love saying shit like that," she rolled her eyes, following close behind you.

"I'm not wrong," you said as you opened the front door, stepping out into the hall.

"I just wanted my pretty mug," she sighed, stepping out after you.

"Then go grab it," you said, holding the door open.

"I can do that? Make coffee into a mug I've brought in?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," you responded, shrugging your shoulders.

"Okay, if I get in trouble I'm blaming you," she said, running back in to grab her favorite mug from the cabinet above the sink.

"Fine, fine," you shook your head, closing the door once she'd come out again.

As soon as you exited the building you realized you'd worn too much; it might be January still, but it was hardly cold at all, this dense desert city holding all the heat the rest of the world must be craving.

"Can we slow down?" Tina asked from beside you, your shoulders bumping as you stepped around a huge group standing on the sidewalk outside of an Italian restaurant, chatter filling the air.

"I don't wanna be late," you answered, keeping your pace as it was.

"Dude, you're so wound up," she said, snaking her hand through your upper arm, genuinely worried you'll start sprinting off if she didn't ground you somehow.

"Sorry, I know," you said, linking your arm around her's. "I'm good, I swear. Just stressed about my manuscript submission," you said, flashing her a wary smile.

"They said they'd get back to you by next week, right?" she asked, gently pulling on you to help you avoid a dark spot of something sticky on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, next week," you sighed, letting out a disgruntled noise.

"Okay, so, you just gotta wait. You did all that work last year finishing that play, you should let yourself have some fun for a few weeks. We should all go out after work today, we haven't done that in forever," she said, the two of you snaking around a line of people standing outside the old movie theater that sat just a block from your place of work.

"Doesn't Maya work Sunday mornings?" you asked, pulling up at the corner to wait for the light to change.

"Usually, but not this week. She's on a later shift today so they gave her tomorrow off," she answered you, eyes darting around at the cacophony of sounds streaming through the streets from every direction.

"Oh, that's nice," you said, and Tina started laughing, squeezing onto your arm. "Shit sorry, did that sound sarcastic?"

"It's so funny when your tone goes all flat like that," she said beside you, a genuine smile on her face. "Seriously though, there probably won't be a Saturday night where she can come out with us for a very long time. We should do it. Maybe we can even convince Sasha and Bibi to come too."

"I'll think about it," you said as the light changed, the two of you stepping down onto the asphalt in front of you. A car honked loudly from your left, wanting to turn down the street you were walking across, and you both shot the driver identical looks of confusion over your shoulders. Only another minute and you were pushing through the side door of the bar, stepping right into the back of the kitchen and waving hi to the cooks on the line. The hallway to the dressing room was already uncomfortably hot; your light layers were far too much now, so you stripped them off quickly, shoving everything into your locker and checking your phone. You weren't late, after all. Thankfully, because you were on early tonight, second in the program, and you only had time to change into your costume and warm up a bit before Ilya was calling your name and pushing you down to the left wing of the stage.

It was a fairly normal night, by all accounts. You'd been working at the bar for nearly two years by then, one of the longer standing performers. There was high turnover in the staff, as was typical in a bar, but especially amongst the performers, who'd often find sudden success in movies or TV, or decide that pursuing this was just not for them anymore. Ages varied wildly; your boss Julie was not one to obsess over youth, or any other conventional markers of beauty. All she cared about was talent; she wanted to create the most interesting, jaw dropping, entertaining show this whole city had to offer, and there was no doubt she had succeeded. Every kind of person could be found working here; sometimes servers would take on a performing shift or two, and sometimes the opposite. It wasn't rare for you to be asked to take drinks to a certain table, your costume still on, sometimes staying in character as you placed them down in front of wonder-filled eyes. You all were expected to help each other out; once or twice you'd even been requested in the kitchen or behind the bar, when there'd been one too many sudden call outs.

It was a classy establishment. Doors opened at 4:30, the show promptly starting at 5pm; it ended at midnight sharp, the bar closing only half an hour later. It was the earliest place to close on the block, only open four days a week, Wednesday night through Saturday night. It was a place people went to pregame, to start their evening with a bang, or a place people went to see a great show before heading back home at a reasonable hour. There was a drinks limit; you all could deny a customer another if they were acting unruly, your security team inconspicuous under the dark shadowy light inside, but always watching. The food served was regular bar fare: tacos, wings, pizza, burgers, but it was high quality, so good that some people came frequently just for their favorite menu item. The place was known for its drinks, too, having hoards of non alcohol options that put every other bar's mocktail lists to shame. It was known for its organized and sparkly atmosphere, known as a reliable place to have a good ass night. The patronage was a mixed bag, but the place wasn't cheap; it tended to skew a bit older, a bit more mature. You didn't hate that; it meant the behavior was generally predictable, even if you didn't exactly fit in amongst the crowd cheering you on.

Halfway through the night you plopped down on your stool in the dressing room, scrubbing free the bits of eyeliner that had smudged below your eye during your first two solo performances of the night.

"Hey girl, sorry to bug, do you have any lashes I could borrow?" Sasha came running in, a slightly panicked look on her face.

"I should, let me see what I have," you said, setting your makeup wipe on your bare thigh and zipping open your bag.

"I'm so sorry to ask, but I literally don't have any with me," she sighed, coming to sit beside you. "My right one fell off on stage and I couldn't find it for the life of me. I was trying to look for it without making it obvious," she said, a nervy chuckle escaping her.

"No worries, here, look through there. Take whatever you need," you said, handing her the small box you kept your old and new lashes in.

"Oh darling, you're a lifesaver," she sighed, snapping it open and rifling through, finding the size she needed. She still had some of that newbie air about her, not six weeks into working with you. But already she had established herself as irreplaceable; by then she emceed almost every night she worked, and thank god for that, as none of the rest of you had any talent or desire for it. Julie tended to do it, if no one else was available, but having a beautiful drag queen host the evening, one who also performed in the show, was a much better choice in every way.

"A group of businessmen just walked in and took table four, I'm hoping one of them is interesting in all this," she said, leaning forward to place the replacement lash on her right eyelid.

"I'm sure one will be, Sash, you're fucking gorgeous," you said, wiping the last of the smudged makeup from your face and giggling.

"Oh sweetheart, you flatter me," she drawled, looking over her face in the mirror. "Do you think those straight-" she lifted her hands, making air quotes, "men can tell I'm not a woman in all the typical ways?"

"Girl, I wasn't even sure the first time I saw you. Your makeup skills are unmatched," you said, chuckling at her.

"Oh stop it," she joked, shaking her head at you. "I hope my hosting skills are half as good," she sighed, finally placing the lash on her eye just right and batting her hand in front of her face in a desperate attempt to get the glue to dry quickly.

"Sasha, are you kidding? You put the rest of us to shame. You should have seen me the one night Julie made my try it out," you laughed, tossing your used makeup wipe in the waste basket beside you.

"I'm sure it was just fine, you little genius," she responded, blinking her eye open and closed a few times. "Sorry to cut this short, but I should probably get out there again."

"Go get 'em, girl," you responded, shooting a playful wink her way.

"Thank you again, darling," she said as she walked past, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You squeezed it briefly; "of course," you said. Then her heels were clacking past you, and soon the room filled with noise as nearly every performer on your cast came in to start their makeup, all of you preparing for the big group number of the evening.

You'd discovered the song, randomly, a few months back. The title, Kalyna, and the album art had intrigued you; after your first listen you were imaging the choreography immediately, turning on your phone to record the sudden ideas flooding your brain. You'd never choreographed a number for the bar, but you knew Julie would be open to it if you pitched it correctly. Three weeks later and you were teaching your coworkers the choreography, chaotic short lessons between everyone's normal performances, all of them picking it up lightning quick. It was an instant hit with your audiences, the night it debuted, and had been kept in the rotation longer than most of the other numbers ever were.

That night the air was buzzing in the dressing room; everyone looked sharp and stunning in their body suits, hair slicked back and pulled tight into buns. The makeup was angular; this number was meant to evoke a bit of tension, maybe even some fear in the audience. But it also showed the strength of the team, the strength of community, and the physical strength of each of you. It was your absolute favorite number that winter; you looked forward to it every night you worked, proud to know you'd created something that stuck so fondly in the minds of the people who watched.

As you hit the stage, you saw immediately what Sasha had just mentioned. Table four, which sat just off the right side of the stage, was cramped full of men in suits, every single one sharp and fitted and so obviously expensive. There was every type of man you could imagine at the table; you spotted immediately the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, Sasha's dream come to life. And when she led the first eight counts towards the front of the stage, you saw his eyes take in everything, her long legs, her face, her deep rich eyes he seemed lost in. You nearly broke character; so rare was is that people in here flirted with the performers, oddly enough, and normally you were very thankful for that. It was all a part of the classy environment your boss had curated, and it meant you felt safe. But you couldn't deny how giddy it made you to see this playing out in front of you, mere feet from where you danced.

You danced the rest of the number focused, determined not to drop your professionalism for too long, the crowd erupting in cheer as you all finished. Clasping hands down the line, you took one giant bow, spinning and running off stage as the number ended.

"Lina needs help y'all!" Ilya called as you ran through the wings, and immediately you headed down the short hallway to the back of the bar, bursting through to find her. Stacked along the bar were multiple trays of drinks; a line was forming, and your head bartender looked the tiniest bit stressed. Sweat dripped form her brow, and she wiped it away quickly with her hand, punching something into the computer before whipping around to take another order.

"Oh, good, please take those out!" she said when she saw you and Tina, pointing to the trays of drinks in front of you. "The beers are for table four, the cocktails table seven!"

In an instant you grabbed the tray in front of you, sliding past Tina as carefully and quickly as possible. This was sometimes your favorite moments of the evening, when in the adrenaline of post-performance you had to run out drinks to an excited table, who'd marvel over your performance and ask you every question they could think of. As you started weaving through the room, several iterations of 'great job!' and 'amazing, just amazing!' were thrown your way, making your smile so wide it nearly stretched off your face. You barely payed attention to the drinks in your hand, only to make sure they didn't spill, as you nodded in thanks to the compliments, smiling at the half-lit faces around you.

It wasn't until you stopped, stood close to the wall to let another server past, that you realized which tray you'd grabbed. Both table four and seven sat on the far side of the room opposite the bar, and in the chaos of the moment you'd just headed this way, not bothering to actually take note. Now, you did; eight beers sat on the tray balanced on your hand, all identical dark ales. You shot a look to your side at Tina's tray, littered with pink and blue and clear cocktails, fun decorations sticking out the top of them all. Your's was meant for table four, for those businessmen Sasha had spotted, the one's you'd just performed mere feet from.

It shouldn't have worried you, but you couldn't help remembering it now. The only time you'd felt uncomfortable at work had been when serving a giant table full of just men, when one of them had said things severely over the line with you, just to make his friends laugh. It'd only ever happened that once, but the feeling was humiliating enough to have stuck with you, your mind whirring a bit as you made you way towards the crowded table. You decided you'd set the tray down by the man eyeing Sasha; maybe you could subtly hint at her interest, though you had no idea what you'd say. But as soon as you entered their proximity and reached between two of them to set down the tray, a man across the table spoke to you.

"I love that song!" he said, and you looked up to find a sweet, bright smile and deep dimples staring back at you.

"Oh, thank you!" you replied, giving him a genuine smile back, your mind immediately put at ease. You started placing the beers around, one in front of each man, careful to avoid the plates of food already littering the table.

"Do you know the significance of the Kalyna plant in Ukraine?" the same man asked, and your head snapped to him, eyes slightly wide.

"Yeah, that's why I chose to make that number," you said before you could think, so shocked that someone here knew anything about the song you'd spent long hours researching months ago.

"You choreographed that?" he asked, his eyes going wide a bit too.

"Oh, yeah," you said, slightly embarrassed that you'd just openly admitted that. It wasn't something you tended to do, when making light chatter with customers. You grabbed the last beer, which was for him, and made your way around the table to set it down in front of him. "It's just such a great song, easy to choreograph to," you added, trying to make yourself sound less conceited, less interested in talking about yourself.

"It is great, haven't heard it in years," he responded, taking the beer from your hand as you moved to set it down.

"You've heard it before?" you asked, genuine shock in your tone. The band was not one very popular here; not a single person you knew had heard of them, and no one in the months you'd been performing it had mentioned knowing anything about the song.

"Yeah, my freshman roommate in college was from Ukraine and he played a lot of their music. He's a drag queen, I would go to his shows a lot. He actually did a routine to that song, too, for a while," he responded, turning in his seat a bit to better face you. By this point the rest of the table had fallen into another conversation; it seemed none of the rest of them had heard of the song before, or cared to learn much about it. Kind of made them seem like shitty friends, to you. But you were thankful for it, because all of the sudden it felt like you and this gorgeous man were all alone, your back against the west wall of the seating area, Sasha's voice booming through the speakers around you.

"Next time he's visiting I'll be sure to take him here, he'd love it," he added, taking a swig of his beer.

"Well we might not be performing that number anymore, depending on when he's coming. Our numbers are put on a rotation, and this one's overstayed it's welcome already. Though it's still quite popular, we might be able to perform it a while longer," you said, words coming easily, the normal walls you kept high when talking to customers nowhere to be found.

"That's too bad, I hope you get to keep it for a while. It's fucking great, you're a real genius," he said, looking up at you again with those perfect dimples.

"Thanks," you said, blushing, the smirk he was sending your way bringing sudden heat to your face. You'd had time now to take him in; his hair was black, short at the sides and longer on top, his suit black to match it. His skin was honey, smooth as can be, and his face was pure perfection, pouty lips and a perfect nose, a strong jaw, strong eyebrows. He was very masculine, but very pretty too, so stunning you couldn't believe your eyes. And his wire framed glasses held his look together perfectly; he looked sharp, smart, and confident. He looked the way you were pretty sure every man wished he looked in a suit.

"I don't usually say stuff like this, but, when are you free tonight? We're all headed to a huge party up in the East Heights after this, if you'd like to come. There's gonna be an open bar, a pool, it's supposed to be pretty crazy," he said, taking another quick sip of his beer, his face pure and calm as he said it.

'I don't usually say stuff like this' my ass, you thought. The words had flown off his tongue too easily for that to be believable. But it was working on you, his confidence. You'd experienced too many instances of vague flirting, of indirectness, of shaky voices and shakier hands. You'd dreamt of a moment like this, when someone saw you and liked what they saw, liked it enough to ask you out then and there with no hesitation.

"Uh, I get off at 12:30, when the bar closes," you answered him, words falling out of your mouth without intention. "I- uh- I'll need to think about it though. I wouldn't be comfortable coming by myself, would I be able to bring some friends?"

"Yeah, bring whoever you'd like. It's a big event, a few extra bodies should be no big deal," he responded, smirk turning to a full on smile. His teeth were perfect, god he was perfect, and you got lost in his face for a few seconds, resting your hip against the wall behind you, your lower lip grasped between your teeth.

"I'm San, by the way," he said, reaching out his free hand in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, I'm y/n," you replied, placing your hand in his. His handshake was strong, hand warm around yours, your fingers nearly disappearing in his palm.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, holding onto your hand for a second longer than needed, gently releasing it and looking you straight in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," you said awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. "I should probably get back to work, it was nice chatting with you," you said, finally walking around the table to grab the tray and bring it back to the bar.

"We'll be here till closing, so just let me know then if you'd like to come," he said, nodding in your direction as you started to turn.

"Okay, thanks," you said, smiling over your shoulder, before walking off hurriedly between tables, suddenly worried sick that you'd be in trouble for talking to him for too long.

"Titi, you still wanna go out tonight?" you asked as you rushed back into the locker room, two slices of sweet bread you stole from the kitchen in your hands.

"Yeah, you actually wanna?" she said excitedly, reaching forward to grab one of them from you.

"I just got invited to a party in the Easy Heights," you said, a bewildered look gracing your features.

"Hello? What?" she responded, her mouth open in a comical O.

"I don't even know, but yeah, apparently some big party is happening at a house up there? He said it will have an open bar and pool?" you said, shaking your head in disbelief at the words coming out of you.

"Who said this?" she asked, mouth full as she chowed down.

"He said his name is San, he's in that group at table four," you responded.

"Oh my god, Sasha was just telling me she was making eyes at one of those men," Tina laughed, a hand coming to your shoulder.

"Yeah, I saw that while we were performing Kalyna," you said, giggling too.

"You sure you wanna go to an East Heights party? There's definitely gonna be like coke and shit, probably worse. It might be crazy," she said, head tilting to the side.

"If it's awful we can just leave, but I kinda feel like going. I doubt we'll ever be invited to one of those again," you laughed, giving her an assured smile. "I kind of want to see what tomfoolery those rich assholes get up to."

"So this isn't about hanging out with that man?" she asked.

"He seems cool, but I think he might be gay," you said to her, crossing your arms.

"Um, why?"

"He said his roommate in college was a drag queen, and that he went to his shows a lot. And he talked to me way too confidently to be into me. If he's not gay, then he's definitely not interested," you said, shrugging.

"Babe, he invited you to a party with him, barely knowing you. He definitely finds you attractive," she said, giving you that look she does when she thinks you're being just a bit dumb.

"Okay, but, well-" you cut yourself off, holding your hands out in a gesture of pity. You were dumb when it came to this relationship stuff, downright stupid. You knew that, as frustrating as it was. You wanted to be confident in your suspicion he was into you, but you'd been wrong enough times when you were younger about this sort of thing to assume it now. You'd been made fun of countlessly in high school, person after person laughing at the mere thought that they'd be into you. You were always baffled; you'd been told by some other person that this person had a crush on you, and were only asking them about it because of that information. They were pranks, and it took you embarrassingly long to figure that out. You understood that now, you recognized it had just been childish bullying; but still, even years later, you doubted any instance of even a suggestion that someone found you attractive.

You were different back then; you'd changed so much in the few years you'd lived away from home. But still, you doubted yourself. Maybe you had a complex about being undesirable, but who didn't? And frankly, when you looked around the world, it seemed like more of the "ugly" people had partners than not. It must be more about personality, you reasoned, which made your undesirability all the more painful. A silly, sick side of you began to feel attached to being single, began to feel better than other people for it, even your ride or die perfect friend standing in front of you. You didn't need romantic love like everyone else did, you decided; you had your art to give you passion, your friends to give you companionship. And you could physically satisfy yourself just fine. It was all projection; it was how you coped. How else could you deal with the pain of never being loved, lusted after, wanted the way all of your friends had since puberty?

But even as attached to your single identity as you were, you'd perused the apps last year, a tiny buried part of you wishing and hoping that there was someone out there for you, perfect in every way. It had been a bust, as expected. You felt like a fool for even trying. You had hoped that it would give you at least a little self-esteem, even if no relationship came of it. But it had only driven that painful truth of your undesirable personality deeper into your heart, cracking it further.

"I don't even want a relationship right now, Ti, I've said that for like the past three months," you said, pulling your hands back to your chest. You felt your heart thumping there, trying desperately to come alive despite the year of terror you'd put it through.

"It doesn't have to be a relationship, you could just hook up with him, you know, have a little fun," she answered you, grabbing your hands in hers. "Let's go, let's have some fun. Just relax, spend the evening enjoying ourselves." You hadn't seen her so excited all winter; her moods were severely affected by this season, and it always felt like a part of her left you for the cold months. It made a complex mix of sadness and excitement swirl through you, staring back at her perfect face. There was no way you'd be saying no to her now, despite anything.

"Okay, fine," you sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

It took little convincing for Sasha and Bibi to join you, and soon the four of you plus Maya were standing on the sidewalk outside, stuck like a barnacle to the side of San's huge group. You were all waiting on two limos, according to him; when he's said this the five of you looked between yourselves with huge wide eyes, grabbing each other's arms and trying desperately not to laugh.

"You realize none of us have ever been to the East Heights, right?" you said to him, the soft arm of his suit jacket brushing up against the exposed skin of your own upper arm.

"That's fine, I've only been once. It's nothing that crazy, the houses are just big," he said, looking down at you, his shoulders intimidatingly broad now that he was standing beside you.

"I thought you said this party is gonna be crazy though," you replied, squinting your eyes playfully.

"Well, it's possible. I don't really know," he responded.

"So you just said that to say it earlier?" you questioned him, head cocked to the side.

"I was trying to make my offer sound enticing," he replied, looking you up and down, that smirk back on his face.

"So you lied to me?" you shot back.

"Hey, like I said, I don't know much about this thing, it could very well be crazy," he responded, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Wow, what have I gotten us into," you said, turning to the group, all of whom were suppressing their laughter at the interaction unfolding in front of them.

"The best night of your life," he answered, nudging your shoulder in a way that almost could have been accidental, making your eyes snap back to his again.

"I hope that wasn't a lie," you said, eyeing him sharply.

"I'll make sure of it," he shot back, one eyebrow raised slightly.

A titter sounded behind you, Tina unable to keep her composure at the ridiculous bickering unfurling between you. Your eyes were locked on each other, faces closer than either of you realized. It was so damn obvious to all of your friends, then, what was about to happen. The two of you couldn't hide it for a second, how affect you were. You were still locked in eye contact when the first limo pulled up, the rest of San's group filing in, waving him goodbye.

"You can go with your friends if you'd like," you said as he closed the door, stepping back.

"Oh they're not really my friends, just guys I know through work. This whole thing tonight is a networking opportunity, what fun," he joked sarcastically, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Oh wow," you said, eyes glued to the limo as it pulled away. "People network at one in the morning?"

"Us tech bros do I guess, we just love it," he said, laughing sarcastically again. "I don't really like this stuff, but my manager is making me go. He gave me Monday off, so, I can't really complain."

"Wow, you have like a normal job," you said, laughing.

"And you don't?" he asked.

"I just mean, you work Monday to Friday, 9 to 5, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I literally don't know a single other person who does. My mom is a doula, and my twin sister is a nurse, and my dad has early-onset Parkinson's so he's been on disability almost my whole life. And the rest of my friends work here, or work at other bars or restaurants around here. Even my best friend from high school works in a library at her university, but she works weekends and nights."

It all came stumbling out of you so fast, your hand shot up to your mouth.

"Sorry, that was crazy. Just forget all that shit about my dad..." you trailed off, eyes wide with worry as they met his.

"What shit about your dad?" he answered, and your expression immediately changed to one of relief, one of laughter. Just then the second limo pulled up to the curb, and the five of you excitedly gathered by the door, San opening it for you.

"Ladies," he said, bowing his head slightly and beckoning you all to step inside.

"None of us have ever been in a limo either," you told him, chuckling as your friends excitedly squealed while carefully entering the sleek black car.

"Uh, I have, speak for yourself miss thing," Bibi said as she crouched down, shooting you a look over her shoulder.

"Well damn, I guess one of us has," you said to San as you finally stepped inside, his body following quickly after you, rich laughter ringing in your ear.

San, it turned out, was most definitely not gay. Which of course, deep down, you'd already known. You'd known it from the moment he asked you to go to that party with him, from the moment he smirked and your body sizzled under his glare. But he was so different from anyone you'd dated before; too kind, too upfront, too knowledgeable about musicals and theater and all the things you loved so very much. It almost pained you to find out he'd been studying theater in college before switching to computer science. That was why he'd been paired with his freshman roommate; at the time, they'd had the same major. That roommate, Antin, became one of his best friends; the two bonded over coming from overseas, the pressure their parents put on them even thousands of miles away. It was so sweet, so charming, and in the two hours you spent at that raucous party, you learned what seemed like all there was to know about him.

He was too perfect; it was too easy to say yes when he'd asked if you wanted to see his apartment, too easy to bid your friends goodnight as your Uber pulled up in front of their places. You thought of nothing but the hunk beside you, about what he'd look like with that suit strewn on the ground. You tried not to jump his bones the second you were alone, but damn was it hard; as soon as you arrived he'd taken your purse, and placed it in the front closet of his apartment. His apartment was huge, his front closet bigger than the bathroom you shared with three other roommates; it was fancy too, well kept, stacks of books and DVDs in the living room, only two dirty dishes in the bottom of his kitchen sink.

It was all simply too good to be true, and in that moment nothing felt real. You were present, sure, but you felt like you'd been knocked into an alternative timeline, getting to live out the life of someone far better than you, who deserved all this.

"Aren't you hot in that suit?" you asked him, your loose minidress hanging free, your body unburdened with extra fabric. You always kept a few random clothes at work in case you needed to change suddenly, and even though it was the last day of January, this tiny dress had been a great option. Outside you'd thrown a large old flannel of your dad's over it, but at the party you'd tied it around your waist, the mass of bodies creating more heat than you could bear.

"Yeah, I was sweating all night," he laughed, slowly and methodically pulling off his suit jacket, finally revealing the shape of his shoulders to you. Under his white button-up they bulged; you did all you could to stop yourself from just staring, especially as he loosened his tie and finally pulled from his head, setting it down on the small table just inside his front door.

"You can put your shoes in there, if you'd like. Oh and your shirt, here, let me hang it up," he said, reaching for the flannel still tied around your waist. His touch was electric as soon as his hands made contact; even through the material of your dress you felt the spark, your body shivering. It only lasted a second, his nature too respectful to make anything more of a moment like that, especially after what you'd said at the party to him not twenty minutes ago. You wished you could have frozen time, wished every little detail of this night could be burned into your memory forever. It would be hard to believe then that you'd forget a lot of it in just a year, that somehow so much would happen that this one night would come to feel almost insignificant.

"Can I make you some hot cocoa, or tea, coffee?" he asked as he walked towards his kitchen, pouring you both glasses of water.

"Some herbal tea sounds nice, if you have any," you answered, and he opened his pantry to reveal a small collection. You picked out the lavender mix that sounded refreshing, placing the purple tea bag in a black mug he'd set down on the counter. As he set his tea kettle to boil, you hopped up on the counter beside him, bare feet swinging in air.

"So, you think that was the best night of my life?" you quipped, looking sideways at him as he set the kettle to temperature.

"Night's not over," he responded, eyebrows flicking up in amusement.

You were squirming under his gaze, your face now level with his. His shirt and pants fit him immaculately; you were so obviously ogling him, your thighs rubbing together as you did, your eyelids heavy with lust. He could feel it pouring off of you, but he kept replaying what you'd said, and kept trying to keep his composure, because he really wasn't that guy. He wasn't the guy who slept with the girl right away; he had known too many of those guys at college, seen too many of them back home too, when he visited his brother in the fall. He found the hookup culture he was surrounded by almost unnerving. He'd been raised with integrity, with respect; and being here in a new country had challenged his beliefs, for sure, but not when it came to sex or romance.

But you were determined. Your body had a mind of its own, and this whole night had felt surreal for hours now. Your own, already loose morals were thrown out the window, and you didn't give a fuck. You wanted him now, forget whatever the hell you'd said earlier; you didn't even remember it anymore, too filled with arousal to think straight.

You grabbed onto his arm closest to you, pulling him in.

"Hey, I thought you said-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling his face towards yours, leaning back slightly to arch into him. It was feverish as your lips met, mouths open, your legs already shaking as you wrapped them around his waist. It didn't take long for his hands to find your hips, your waist; he dug in, feeling the softness of you, softness he wanted to be wrapped in forever. He'd kept his composure the whole way here, not putting a hand on your thigh in the Uber, not a hand on your back as you walked through his front door. But now, it had left him; just five seconds of you in his grasp, and he knew he could never let go. His tongue swiped into your mouth, sucking hard on your lower lip, and without thinking he was reaching under your dress, feeling over the bare expanse of skin.

You hadn't worn a bra or panties tonight. He could tell about the bra, from the way your dress caught on your chest, but the panties were a surprise, making his head fuzzy as he reached down to your ass and found it bare for him. Your hands now were desperately grabbing at his over-shirt, trying in vain to undo each pesky button as you kept kissing him, your hands stumbling and failing over and over. Finally, he reached up and just ripped his shirt open, buttons popping and falling onto the floor in a soft rattle. He flung it off his arms, his tight under shirt leaving nothing anymore to your imagination. His abs rippled underneath it; you'd never seen abs like that in person before, weren't sure that they even existed. Especially not on a man who worked in tech, whose face was prettier than a porcelain doll's.

He came back to you, breathing hard; you grabbed at his abdomen, his shoulders, his chest, desperate to feel all of the perfection in front of you. You could smell the sweat on him now, musky and rich notes hitting your nose and making your body heat even more. He moved his mouth to your neck, your ear, making you whine and squirm with pleasure, sharp sparklers of energy running down the entirety of your body. You were pulling at him, desperately, forgetting any sense of where you were, or what you'd planned for tonight. As he licked a stripe up your collar bone you squealed loudly, the feeling ticklish and pleasurable all the same, and you jerked away from him momentarily, falling into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly there was a crash; the mug next to you was sent flying to the floor by your hip, and now it's pieces spread out across the grey tile, littering it in shards.

"Fuck, sorry," you gasped, your hands flying up to cover your open mouth. You were expecting maybe a light chuckle, maybe a shocked noise, for San to want to clean this up right away before you two got to whatever you were doing; instead he laughed deeply, his bright, wide smile back on his face, dimples staring you in the face for the probably thousandth time that night. He looked down to each side of his feet, sighing ever so slightly, before moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes thoughtful.

"Fuck it," he laughed with a shake of his head, grabbing you again, his hand on the back of your neck, soft lips wrapped around your own. You giggled into his mouth, so overcome by the chaotic set of events; but it only took a moment of his lips on yours again for you to melt, your legs around him, your breathing hot and heavy as he grabbed at your dress, pulling it up at the front to reveal your bare crotch to the room, running two of his fingers down your slit to see how wet you were.

"Fuck, San," you gasped, feeling how easily his slippery fingers moved, his movement unexpected.

"You want this, right?" he asked you, voice husky and deep. His eyes were boring into yours, and his look was dark and intense. It made you shiver to look back at him, and a part of you wanted to look away, to not feel the complex string of emotions tumbling through you. It almost felt like dread; dread laced with beauty, laced with desire and sweetness and everything addictive, and you just couldn't bring the rest of yourself to look away.

"Yes, please," you responded, pushing your hips down onto his hand, grinding onto his fingers. "Please fuck me, San."

You'd never said anything like this in your life; you'd only imagined it, or read it. As cheesy as it could feel on the page, in that moment it felt consumingly empowering, downright sexy. You pulled at his belt in front of you, your mouths meeting again, his teeth scraping over your upper lip as he nearly devoured you. Once again, you struggled with undoing his clothing; he moved his hands away from you to unclasp it himself, pulling it hard and tossing it to the ground when he had. Your hands were around his chin, holding his face to you as you messily kept kissing, his hands now working on the button and zipper of his jeans. In a matter of moments he'd pulled his hard cock out of his pants, and held it in his hand, hungrily eyeing your flushed cunt in front of him.

"Let me get a condom," he huffed, clearly having to work at pulling his eyes away from you.

"No, I have an implant," you said, pointing to your left arm. You saw his eyes twitch to side for a moment, like his brain was struggling to process what you'd just said. "It's fine, I can't get pregnant," you added, in case he didn't know what the hell you were trying to say. It took another few moments for him to accept it; but once he did he moved his cock closer to your aching entrance, and rubbed it along your slit where his fingers had been just seconds ago.

"Fuck," you sighed, head hitting his shoulder as he leaned into you, as he spread your wetness over his tip. Your closed eyes cloaked you in almost darkness, only the soft light in the kitchen illuminating the room, and all you could feel was your throbbing cunt and San's movements, already whimpering and moaning in his ear. He lined himself up carefully, pulling your hips to the very edge of the counter to give him room, and slowly sank halfway down.

"Oh my god," you squeaked, the stretch not at all what you expected. He was far bigger than any man you'd ever been with; it almost hurt, and you'd never experienced this before, so you had no idea if this was a hurt that would subside, or a hurt that would grow and fester. You clung to his shoulders for dear life as he slowly pulled out of you again, thrusting back in just slightly deeper, his movements slow and controlled.

"Ahhh, shit," you whined again, grip on his shoulders even tighter.

"I need you to relax for me," he said in your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending tremors of pleasure through you.

"I'm trying," you squeaked out, face stuck in his neck as you tried to breath slowly.

"Need me to stop?" he asked, stilling his movements completely, holding onto your lower back for support.

"No, please don't stop," you whispered, finally finding some control of your breath. "Just give me a second."

San obliged, kissing the top of your head as he ran a comforting hand down your back. You continued to breathe deep, continued to take in his scent, and in a few short moments you felt the walls of your cunt finally release a bit, allowing you to rock yourself against him without pain.

"Okay, I'm ready," you said, bracing yourself, and a moment later you felt him push himself in further, finally bottoming out. You both let out a guttural groan; it felt like you'd discovered new parts of yourselves in that moment, like your bodies were made for each other, made to pleasure each other just the way you needed.

"Fuck, y/n," San moaned your name, your walls tight around him as he pulled back again, thrusting short and soft at first. Hearing your name roll of his tongue made your chest swell; it was far to intense, all of these emotions you were having, for you to utter a thing. Soon he was thrusting faster, setting a steady pace as he held firm onto your hips, his mouth on your neck leaving bruising bites that you'd have to deal with tomorrow. You were breathing ragged, an eruption of feelings so perfect coming from your core that you couldn't quite believe it.

Then it happened; he picked you up by your hips, holding you dead in the air, still thrusting into you. If anything his thrusts were harder, deeper now; the position had given him space, and he used every bit of it, his thrusts becoming longer, harder, his cock nearly falling out of you when he pulled out. Your moans turned to screams; you were no longer aware at all of what sounds you were making, so overcome with the severe intensity of the feelings in your core.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you started babbling, breathing desperately, your hands again grasping at his shoulders.

"What?" he asked between grunts, a chuckle following.

"I didn't- fuck- think this was po-ossible," you stuttered, his thrusts not letting up, the feeling so intense it almost was zapping you back into the moment again, reversing the drifting that your mind had started to do. This felt real; felt too real, too intense. You swore you could feel every vein in his shaft, feel the exact shape of his head. Your orgasm was building, fast, and you'd never come just from penetration.

"Now you know, baby," he chuckled again, not letting up. Soon you were clenching hard, the rippling feelings of your climax building to their peak, your legs around his hips, squeezing him.

"Fuck, fuck," you screamed, biting down on the top of his shoulder, shaking hard.

"Did you come?" he asked, still thrusting hard, wanting you to ride it out as much as you could.

"Yes," you almost sobbed, drool dripping down onto his bare skin. "Slow down," you whined, and he did, gradually slowing his movements until he'd stopped, placing a quick kiss on your neck and making you squeal again.

After that, the night was a blur. He took you again, on the couch, and you came so many times you couldn't keep track. He was flipping you around, holding up your legs; he seemed to know every perfect angle to make your cunt feel even better, and you gladly accepted every movement from him. When he finally came he dropped down between your legs, eating you out as his cum dropped out of you, his face a flushed mess when he looked up to take a breath. You came again; finally, you begged him to stop. Your body was spent, you couldn't take anymore. When you looked at your phone it was nearly six in the morning, and when you ventured a look over to his kitchen window you recognized the first signs of winter dawn, the sky not as dark as it had been.

He made you stay put, cleaning you up in a fluffy towel, picking you up to carry you to his bedroom. He helped you out of your dress; then his own clothes came off entirely, and you ogled him all over again, as he scolded you and told you to get some much needed sleep. Wrapped around him your cunt seemed to stay permanently wet; you thought there was no way you'd fall asleep, but it was late, even for you. Soon you were both out cold, San's blackout curtains tricking your bodies. It wasn't until nearly three that afternoon that you woke.

"You stay, I'll go make us some food," San yawned, kissing your forehead, your face smushed in his chest.

"Are you sure?" you pouted, looking up at him. Even with his curtains open the sky outside was dark; what time it was now, you had no idea. After you awoke and showered, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. Another slew of hours had flown by, and your pussy was aching, begging you to give her a break. You couldn't help how fucking good it felt, though. You wanted it to never end. You were sure you could be satisfied with your life if all you ever did from now on was fuck him.

"Oh god, don't give me that look," he groaned, turning his head away. You laughed, tugging yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around his torso. "I thought you said you were hungry," he said, arms around you too.

"I am," you answered, snuggling into him.

"Well I can't make you food if you're laying on top of me," he responded, squeezing the tops of your thighs.

"I think you're definitely strong enough to carry me around," you said, giggling.

"Oh, is that what you want? You done with walking?" he joked, pinching your thigh.

"Ah, hey!" you squealed, jerking off of him, trying to reach for his ribs to tickle him in retaliation. But just then your stomach rumbled, so loud you both could hear.

"Come on, let me make food. What do you want?" he asked, sitting himself up.

"Do you have eggs?" you said, and he nodded. "Can you make just some toast and scrambled eggs?"

"Of course, anything else?" he responded, standing up off the bed. The naked form of him in front of you was so distracting, especially in the hazy light coming in from outside, the evening street lights shining in through San's huge window. You took a mental screenshot; no one else could ever look this good, you thought, in such low light. It accentuated every nook and cranny of his body; he was so perfectly built, every little part. It was hard not to stare at the curve of his ass as he threw on some sweats, or the muscles of his back as he stretched his arms.

"No, I just have that for breakfast every day. I like simple food," you said, yawning again and sitting yourself up.

"Me too," he smiled, looking back at you for a moment before exiting the room, clinks sounding from the kitchen as he started preparing.

It took you some time to finally get yourself up; your body was wracked with exhaustion, but you'd never felt better. You felt on a permanent high around him; you grabbed your crumpled dress from the floor and slipped it over yourself, finally walking out to the living room to check your phone, which was probably dead. As you came out you saw San on the floor cleaning, the remnants of that poor mug swept into a pile at the corner of his kitchen.

"Oh shit, let me help you with that," you said, making your way over, but San stopped you.

"No, don't walk over here, you'll cut your feet. I'll take care of it, it's no biggie." You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, but already this dynamic felt comfortable. If he really was fine with it, then you were fine letting him deal with the mess you'd made. You turned on your heel and walked over the couch, grabbing your phone off the coffee table, checking the time.

|6:14 pm|

You saw a slew of texts, but your battery was at ten percent, so you ran to your purse to grab your charging cable, plugging it in.

{Titi}

|3:43pm| how was your night bestie?? |5:58pm| please tell me you didn't get kidnapped |6:14pm| fuck sorry, I hadn't looked at my phone till now |6:14pm| I am alive and well

|6:15pm| oh thank god, we were worried |6:15pm| nothing to be worried about 😌 |6:16pm| so how'd it go?? |6:16pm| girl, we fucked for like three hours last night 😭 |6:16pm| HELLO |6:16pm| are you okay??? 😭 |6:17pm| Maya just said you're putting us lesbians to shame 💀 |6:17pm| 💀💀 |6:17pm| we fucked for like three hours this morning too |6:17pm| GIRL |6:17pm| RIP to your vagina |6:18pm| she's never been happier 😭

|6:18pm| this is so crazy |6:18pm| you home now? |6:18pm| I KNOW |6:18pm| no I'm still here, he's making some food for us

|6:18pm| wow |6:18pm| just wow, idk what else to say 😭 |6:19pm| girl same |6:19pm| you busy tomorrow? |6:19pm| no, why? |6:19pm| I'll bring over some dinner at seven, I have so much to tell you |6:19pm| I can't wait 💕

Present

It was nearly noon, when you woke. Slowly your consciousness came back to you; at first you only felt the warmth of the sheets beneath you, and you knew for sure you weren't in your bed, nor on your friend's couch like you'd planned. You were in the place you'd ended up so many times this month; maybe close to twenty of the nights of January you'd spent here. Thinking of it pulled at you. You knew this was a mistake, ending up here, knew something terrible would come of this. But you hadn't had the will this morning to stop it. You woke grumpy, worried, with the events of the morning spiraling through your head, especially Tina's flushed face of agony and the guttural sounds she made as she threw up.

You were worried, as much as she told you not to be. You'd never seen her like this in the five years you'd known her. As soon as your eyes melted open you were reaching for your phone on the night stand, finding it plugged in to San's charger, a glass of water there too.

You shot off a quick text to your group chat with Tina and Maya. How are y'all feeling? You didn't want to smother them with your worry, so you kept it as casual as you could, sipping at the water beside you and scrolling mindlessly through the other notifications littering your screen. There would be no convincing Tina to go get checked out; you had to accept it, had to welcome the fact that it'd be you and Maya keeping her well. She mistrusted doctors, on top of the unneeded expense, and you completely understood why; with the experiences she'd had, there would be no reason to give them a second chance. But she'd always had a stomach of steel; to see her so unwell was unnerving you, tremendously.

Finally you pushed yourself up; your stomach was rumbling, your head still aching with exhaustion, but the feeling was duller than this morning. The sleep you'd just woken from had been helpful, no doubt, but you wished you felt a little more normal today, instead of sleep deprived and emotionally unsteady. You had important work to do; you needed to head home fast, needed to not get distracted by San like you always did. You couldn't afford to spend the rest of the afternoon here eating and watching a musical, forcing him to recreate it with you. You had a musical of your own to edit.

"Hey," he said when you poked your head out of his room, walking gingerly over to him in the kitchen. He was preparing some lunch for himself; a block of tofu lay resting on the counter, as San chopped peppers and onions and broccoli. The smells of ginger and garlic already wafted from the pan, and San stood shirtless, in just grey sweat pants as he cooked, looking like someone out of any person's dreams.

"Hey," you responded, sighing. His body was alight with energy; he must have hit the gym while you were sleeping, which always left him feeling perky and bright. It was wafting off of him, this positive energy, and it couldn't have conflicted more with the heavy stress coursing through you. It was abundant in your tone; you'd gotten less and less good at hiding it from him, how you felt. Especially this last month.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked you, tossing the onions and peppers into his pan before stirring them with a spatula.

"I can make it," you mumbled, crossing past him to the refrigerator and grabbing the carton of eggs from the bottom shelf.

"Let me do it, I know you're exhausted," he said, coming over to you to grab the carton from your hands.

"No, I want to," you sighed, holding it to your side and out of his reach, a grumpy frown on your face.

"Okay, if you insist," he responded, palms up. Your terrible mood was worrying him deeply, but he was trying to convince himself that everything was fine, that this afternoon was in fact the time to finally do it. He'd been at the gym almost two hours, pumping himself up, doing every exercise he could think of to distract himself from the dread that was slowly filling him. It was like sand in an hour glass, falling slowly enough that he could forget it if he tried. Which he'd successfully done all morning, until your tired form appeared from his bedroom door.

You started preparing your food in silence, the sizzling of San's stir fry and clinking of dishes the only sounds in the room. You were thankful you'd be leaving him in a good mood; it was always hard to leave when he was sad, or grumpy, because every single part of you needed to make him feel better, needed a happy look on his face for you to feel okay. There was no doubt he was meal prepping for the week, given the amount of food he was making, and you sighed in hoping that the future days were on his mind now, instead of the past few.

"I realized something this morning," he said out of nowhere, tossing in his chopped tofu. Your eggs had just finished, so you turned off the burner, plopped them onto your plate, and grabbed your two slices of bread from the toaster, carefully spreading on the perfect amount of butter.

"What's that?" you asked, mind still elsewhere, running in circles and figure eights.

"We met exactly one year ago, today," he said, voice bright and breathy.

"Oh shit, really?" you asked, grabbing a fork from the cutlery drawer, then shoving a piece of toast in your mouth.

"Yeah, don't you remember?" he responded, voice lilting a bit. You mindlessly stuffed some eggs in your mouth, savoring the flavor of the local organic eggs that San always had in stock.

"Yeah, I just didn't realize it was that da-" you cut yourself off when you saw his face, his eyes glassy and jaw set. "Sannie, oh my god, don't cry. I'm not that special," you said, almost scoffing at the emotion coming off of him.

"Yes you are," he said, turning back to the pan on the stove, wiping something that must have been a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand.

"I'm really not," you responded, walking back towards his bedroom to find your phone again, which you'd accidentally left behind. Inside his room you could hear him speak from the kitchen, but you couldn't make out the words. You were distracted by the text you'd received from Maya, i'm doing even better, but Titi is still pretty bad. the Tylenol and everything has been so helpful though. and whatever those anti-nausea meds were, please thank San for me. she's able to keep down fluids now.

I'm glad to hear that. I hope she keeps getting better. She looked awful this morning, you responded, typing it out with your right thumb as your left hand balanced your plate of food.

"You gonna eat in here?" San asked from the doorway, and you snapped your head around to meet his gaze.

"No, sorry, just checking my phone. I had texted Maya asking how they were doing," you responded, mouth in a tight line.

"How's Tina?" he asked.

"Fine, it sounds like. Maya said to thank you for all the stuff you got them," you said.

"It's no biggie. I'm glad it's helping," he said, eyes blinking and face neutral. No biggie, the words made you want to roll your eyes. It was always 'no big deal' to him to do so much, and you'd started to realize that those words were total fucking bullshit. 'No biggie' was seemingly just a favorite English phrase of his, one that made him sound selfless and kind in the way he wanted to be. But you could see the flash of irritation in his eyes, you knew damn well that he was upset that you'd called this morning and made him feel obligated to come and help. He'd wanted your thanks for doing so, which you could recognize was fair. But he also should have said no, if he really didn't want to do it. You couldn't help the fact that he'd been lax with you since the start; one year now, as he'd just reminded you, of you pushing his boundaries and him relenting, and somehow he was still frustrated every time it happened. Like he didn't realize this was just how things were.

You waited till he turned around to point your eyes to the ceiling, a long deep sigh matching the movements of your eyes. You just had to eat and get out of here, one simple task. Then you could be home and worrying about the work ahead of you, or you could be on the phone to Tina and checking on her. You couldn't wait for the relief of hearing her voice.

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" San asked as you walked out of his room, sitting yourself down on his couch to finish your food.

"I don't know, what did you say?" you asked, placing your phone face down next to you.

"I asked if you remembered what you said to me that night we met, right before we came here?" he said, his own bowl of food in hand as he sat down a few feet from you.

"I don't think I do," you responded, sighing as you took another huge bite.

"Really?" he asked you, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes really, San, was it something I should remember?" you asked.

"It's just kind of funny, given what happened next," he said, taking a bite of his stir fry. You gave him a confused look, head cocking to the side. "You said, 'sure I'll come to your apartment, but I'm not fucking you'," he said, chuckling.

"I did not," you scoffed, shaking your head at the thought of it.

"You did, I swear," he continued, eyeing you. "Kind of crazy considering that's exactly what you did for the next forty-eight hours."

"Oh my god, shut up," you rolled your eyes, grabbing the throw pillow to your right and smacking his arm with it. He laughed and batted it away, careful to protect his food as you swung it recklessly. "Also, you say that as if I'm the only one involved in that activity, you ass. That was very much a 'it takes two to tango' situation, Sannie."

San laughed hard in response to that, his dimples popping and his chest rising and falling with each chuckle. He was satisfied to have brought out some humor in you; he knew that was the way he could get you to calm down, to feel a little better and be ready for everything he was about to launch into.

"Do you know that you're the only one other than my mom that I let call me Sannie?" he said, voice softer.

"No I didn't- wait, why?" you asked, suddenly really thinking about what he'd said.

"Uh- you just, I..." he looked at you with a confusing expression, face a mixture of what looked like shock and anticipation.

"Sannie is a special nickname only your mom uses for you?" you asked, tone harsher than he'd hoped.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking at you.

"Then why do you let me call you that?" you asked, placing your finished plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, then leaning back and crossing your legs and arms.

"Cause you're special to me," he said, resting the side of his head on his palm, eyeing you deeply now.

"San- I- I thought that was what everyone called you, I thought it was just your nickname. I wouldn't have started calling you that if I'd known it was a you and your mom thing. I'm not trying to be some replacement for her, or something," you stuttered, hands gesturing in front of your face to emphasize your point.

"Of course you're not a replacement for here, god, you're just special to me, can't you understand-"

"San, why would I be the only one who gets to use the special nickname? You have closer friends, a brother, other family you're close to, I'm just a girl you sleep with sometimes. I'm not the love of your life, or something, we're not married with a baby on the way, and now that we're a family unit of our own you're letting me use this special name for you. We're just friends, why didn't you tell me!?" you snapped, cutting him off mid sentence without a care in the world.

"We're not just friends, y/n," he grumbled, face stony. "And I don't see what a big deal it is that I let you use that nickname. You're the one who started using it without even asking me if it was okay," he shot back, face and body completely still.

"Fuck you," you muttered, standing up and grabbing your plate, walking over to the sink to clean it. "I know you think everything bad between us is my fault; you probably somehow think that shit you pulled last night is my fault, too."

"I wanted to talk to you about that, I wanted to apologize-"

"Oh, you wanted to apologize for choking me? Slapping me? Practically raping me?" you turned around, staring at him with wide, petulant eyes.

"Oh god, please don't use that word," he sighed, his food long abandoned as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"Why, cause it's honest?" you shot back, rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I did that baby, I know it was wrong, it was so wrong, I'm just, please know I'm so fucking sorry and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you..." he trailed off, mumbling, a deep sniffle cutting off his words. He was sobbing into his hands, his bare shoulders moving up and down as he heaved, trying with all his might to stop himself from completely breaking down. The sight of it immediately shot right through you; you started crying too, in an instant a huge deluge of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor below. It was so painful, whatever this feeling was; it was like the entire foundation of your body was cracking, like you were about to crumble in on yourself and die on the spot.

"Sannie, please, stop crying," you managed to say, haphazardly wiping the tears from your eyes. But they kept coming; they wouldn't stop until his stopped, you realized; there was something in you that was breaking with him, like your beratement of him was a boomerang, swinging back and hitting you too.

"I can't, I'm sorry," he squeaked, and you'd never heard his voice like that, never seen him break down so severely.

"Sannie, please," you cried, and suddenly your feet were rushing over to him, and you wrapped your hands around his folded torso, your tears now falling onto the smooth plane of his back. "Please, when you cry I cry, and I don't wanna fucking cry right now."

It made him cry harder, hearing the desperation in your tone; he tried with all his might to calm himself, to take some deep breaths. But he didn't have the strength; the exhaustion from this past month was really catching up with him, and that high he was riding from the gym this morning was long gone. There was nothing he could do now to stop this; he never cried like this, he was sure the last time was more than a decade ago. He had no idea how to put an end to it.

"I'm sorry I used that word, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you chocked out, breathing through your tears as best as you could, holding onto him for dear life. There were no words on his tongue; he couldn't think of anything now, couldn't remember a single thing he'd planned to say to you, the conversation he'd worked himself up to all morning. Instead he was left with this terrible hollow hole in his chest; one you had created, one you filled, one that he feared more than anything. Your tears were the worst thing for him; the gash you'd carved only grew, deeper, wider, getting closer to the exact shape of you, and all he could do was sit himself up and grab you, wrapping you around him and holding you tight.

"You're not just my friend," he said, voice thin and weak with tears. "And right now I fucking hate you."

next part ->

Taglist: @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starhwa1024 @pyeongstarr @hwaromi @completelyjae

@midnightrebel1028 @pautiny27

Thank you for reading and supporting me my loves! <3333

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez san #choi san #choi san smut #san smut #san x reader #choi san x reader

92 notes · View notes

cloudgirlsonfilm · 3 days ago

Text

just answering these all on my own for hitorei because im thinking about them... :] (also gonna be focusing on lili as opposed to myself but some answers might be about me val ^^)

1. rei reminds me of many! snakes, peacocks, tanukis, foxes, hawks... anything flashy or elusive. hitoya is like a bulldog to me

2. me personally i'd give hitoya a gift card to some high-end steakhouse. or a bottle of scotch. and i'd give rei a pie to the face or perhaps rocks. lili might give him something slightly better but idk what

3. i don't know if hitoya lili OR rei have hobbies 💀💀 they're all too employed for that (and rei... is rei). THOUGH i do think hitoya wanted to do magic tricks at a point? it'd be cute if he still knew some tricks and taught them to lili, and then she uses the sleight of hand on rei to make him laugh... lili and rei used to read together a lot when they first became a couple too

4. hitoya sweeps dusts vacuums washes dishes you name it. i think he's very clean, and would make sure to stay on top of it even if he's run thin from work (just more distraction from The Feelings). rei leaves a mess in his wake

5. both of them yes. bonus points for hitoya for (probably) being able to drive a motorcycle too

6. unsure... i think hitolili both use very generic ones, rei has a special ringtone for lili that he like.. recorded himself or something so its unmistaken

7. hitoya would if a situation called for it, rei would if a situation called for it but he's manufacturing the situation himself so he can logically argue with someone online and then get something out of them

8. i think hitoya would seem outwardly stressed by the idea, but actually be very accepting of it (guy who has probably sat through kuko talking about reincarnation). to me rei is the opposite, outwardly indulges the idea but secretly feels stressed or even forlorn about it

9. OH GODDD lili probably gets mixed reviews when introducing rei because everyone can tell there's something about those two that needs to stay in containment

10. receiving a hug from behind in the kitchen or laying in bed together

11. idfk. old woman yaoi

12. hitoya i think is a silvery purple, rei i associate with dark red and gold

13. hitoya introduces lili as a good friend (no one believes him, which she's amused by), rei introduces lili as a drinking buddy of sorts (not exactly wrong, but it frustrates her)

14. if they're not perceiving lili as a doggirl what's the point...

15. hitoya would take lili out to dinner, rei would take lili out for drinks

16. hitoya/rei probably don't consciously think of any pet names for lili... rei calls her 'baby' all the time, but he calls a lot of girls 'baby' LOL. just saying lili's name makes him flustered though

17. hitoya likes sitting in the same room and doing seperate things, rei likes drinking (a given) and engaging in hands-on things together (he strikes me as a type to enjoy mixing vegetables while the other chops them, or doing lego sets together [first hands-on thing i could think of 😭😭😭 but tbh he probably needs that instead of inventing crazy shit])

18. hitoya shows it best through staying by lili's side, trying to be of some comfort, providing her with a place to stay when she needs to fall back on someone. rei shows it best through indirect actions-- ordering in food without being asked to, placing elaborate gift bags on the counter for lili to find later, putting her through a busy day so she feels alive again. lili also has a very weak spot for whenever rei talks really smooth

19. hitoya likes lili's eyes and lips, rei likes her legs and her freckles (her legs happen to have a lot of distinctive moles too)

20. i love how compassionate hitoya is, even if he doesn't give himself the credit that he is!! i love his conviction and his dedication to helping others find justice, peace and joy. rei i love for very opposite reasons LMAO i like that he's elusive and scheming. but i also like how he has a very obvious soft side no matter how much he tries to play the bad guy, but i ALSO like that this cruelly blends into all the bad things he's done. i like how complex he is...

21. i think hitoya's drawing of lili would be kind of sharp, brick-like, and i think she'd laugh and say it's kind of abstract in a way (this is not at all what he intended). i think rei's would be a little more realistic, maybe even scarily so, but i think he'd struggle to make it not look like a scientific plan of sorts (which would make lili roll her eyes a little)

22. yes. hitoya might complain about how big of a bite is taken, rei orders extras to make sure no one goes hungry

23. hitoya associates lili with blue (her uniform) and salmon (her favourite colour), rei associates her with pink (her affiliation with chuo and it's close to her favourite colour, also a colour she used to wear a lot of)

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them?

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online?

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go?

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o?

What color do you associate with your f/o?

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything?

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most?

How does your f/o show their love best?

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

#hitolilirei #long post #.💬

221 notes · View notes

starringmycoffee · 2 days ago

Text

Different Ways Fusions Can Result

(This post is specifically about fusion in CDD systems. I am open to questions, but I am not open to people shaming others' chosen recovery paths. Keep that off this post, please!)

Integration is the process of breaking down dissociative barriers between alters. The alters fuse when they accept and integrate with each other to such a degree that they function as one. This can end up several different ways! I'd love to show you some, using my own system/alters to explain & conceptualize.

#1: The "New Guy" (with traits from both)

Jayden, a 17 year old verbal protector, and Glyph, an ageless dragon soother/protector, fused to make Marcus, who became our system's primary caretaker. The alters both balanced each other out, with Jayden's "chill unless pissed" mixing neatly with Glyph's strong need to keep things in order/safe to make one responsible, organized, and laid-back alter.

#2: The "Old Guy With An Update"

Gemini, our co-host, fused with a bunch of memory-holding fragments. Nothing fundamental about Gemini changed, but he did have access to more memories and some skills.

#3: The "New Guy" (that mostly seems like an old guy)

Echo, our nonhuman shadow being of a gatekeeper, fused with Zeke, an avenger and anger holder who was also the host of his subsystem. Echo kept the name Echo and mostly seems the same at first glance, but sometimes Zeke's bluntness and habitual swearing come through. Zeke has found a lot of peace and healing by fusing with Echo, and Echo gained the perspective of "hot" emotions.

#4: The "Lava Lamp"

Finn, a happiness/energy holder, and Jukebox, a trauma holder, fused to who became Jukebox 2.0. Sometimes, this new alter is a lot more like Finn or a lot more like Jukebox or a perfect mix of the two. The ratio varies and he is ever-shifting. Consistently, he loves dinosaurs, orange juice, and gummy bears.

Overall, fusion can look different for everybody, and it can even look different in the same system! Fusion is a very diverse experience.

While fusion is a good thing, sometimes people do need to grieve it, just like any other large change. That's okay and it doesn't make you a bad person, nor does it make you "anti-recovery". Big changes can be very hard.

In my opinion, the most important thing to keep in mind about fusion, for those who seek it, is being kind to yourself throughout the whole process.

Sometimes, fusions don't work out too well. Sometimes, two alters aren't a good match yet. Sometimes, it takes a few tries. Ultimately, it's up to you and your system how or if you go about it - there's no "wrong way". Just don't rush things, trust yourself, and take it easy. It'll all settle in the end, I promise!

#sysblr #system #recovery stuff #did system #did recovery #actually did #sysconversation #fusion #final fusion #recovery #actually osddid #syscourse #integration #did

84 notes · View notes

concretejunglefm · 18 hours ago

Text

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 5 - finale)

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: None really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 1.8k

AN: This is the final part in this fic. I hope all of those who've read it have enjoyed and thank you to the anon for requesting this idea, I hope that it met any of your expectations. I had so much fun playing with this trope.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Maybe it had all been a fluke. Perhaps the vulnerable side of Noah you had witnessed in his candidness had been a fleeting glimpse into something you would never encounter again.

As you retreat to the bar and adhere to your initial plan for the evening—wallowing in self-pity with a few cocktails—you find Noah seated there with his friends, his usual smug expression restored.

This time, it irks you more, especially when he briefly glances your way but chooses to ignore you. It shouldn't bother you as much as it does. You thought that you had somehow moved forward, yet it feels like you've taken several steps backward.

After ordering a drink, you seek a quiet corner, or as quiet as can be found in a bustling bar within a Vegas hotel, and settle down, sipping contentedly on your cocktail while your eyes slowly scan the room.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

You briefly glance up to find Noah standing over you, but he doesn't wait for a response before sliding himself into the booth beside you.

"Can I help you?" You can't help but let your attitude slip through, as you felt slighted by earlier and him choosing to walk away.

"Retract those claws, kitten. I'm here to apologize." Somehow, you don't believe him, but you choose to relax slightly and offer him a genuine smile.

"Go ahead." You encourage him.

"You realize that you're the only woman who's ever made me get down on my knees and apologize, right?" You catch a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, as if he's suppressing the enjoyment he derived from that.

"And I would do it again." You retort, maintaining a composed face and concealing any indication of your own thoughts behind it, by taking another sip of your drink.

"I don't doubt that." He scoffs, settling back against the seat, and you feel his arm brush against yours. "I genuinely mean it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away earlier. It was just… a lot to process."

"And you've never been good with big boy emotions?" You quip, closing your mouth around the straw in your glass after apologizing, allowing him to continue.

He chuckles, despite the brief glare he had given you prior. "I suppose you're right. I've never really been good at expressing my feelings. But I also didn't know about your trip and whatever the guys had planned."

Your head perks up, and your brow furrows slightly as you pull your drink away. "Yeah, what was all that about? You said you knew I was coming?"

"Listen, all I knew was we had a show in Vegas. Apparently, Jolly, Sloan, and Nick had been planning this trip ever since. I only found out you were coming the week before we left. Apparently, Sloan asked what flight we were on."

Suddenly, everything began to make sense; the last-minute trip, the separate seats, and the fact that you were conveniently sat next to each other.

If you were a betting person, you would bet that she had also arranged the hotel rooms, given that this entire trip had been paid for using her hotel points through her work. "That mother—"

You grumble before Noah cuts you off. "I can't say it was the best idea, but I can't deny that I'm not happy it happened."

"Why? You realize that all this has only made us fight more than ever before."

"Yeah, but you're kind of hot when you're all fired up like that." Noah smirks, and you feel his eyes rake over you in a way that makes you squirm.

You hadn't expected that response from him. He was naturally flirty and charming, but there was some level of sincerity to his words, like he wasn't just trying to woo you.

"I still hate you." You clarify, and there's that smirk, wider than before, as he leans in close to you.

His mouth against your ear, he whispers, "I hear that hate-fucking is the best kind of sex."

His breath, hot against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, between his words and the unexpected closeness of him.

Before you can respond, Folio's voice calls for him, and Noah swiftly slips away, giving you a wink in return.

There he is again, the same old cocky guy you've always known. Despite the frustration, it's strangely comforting, knowing that beneath it all, he remains the same.

"I come in peace." Sloan says as she approaches you at the bar.

"Why are you acting like that?" You laugh and reach out for her hand, pulling her towards you.

"Because." she pouts. One glance into her eyes reveals the slight glassiness from a few too many drinks this evening. "Noah mentioned he told you about the whole plan. I thought you would be mad."

You shake your head and sigh. "I'm not mad."

"Just disappointed?" Her pout deepens, and you can't help but laugh.

"No! I mean, a bit, but I should've expected it from you. Meddling in my life is your second favorite pastime, after breaking boys' hearts."

"I do really well at the first one, don't I?" Losing her pout, Sloan stands up straight, as if proud of her accomplishment in your eyes and flips her hair over her shoulder. "But I don't want to break this one." She confesses, shuffling closer to you before her head turns, and you follow her gaze towards Jolly and the rest of the guys.

"Then don't. Let yourself actually be happy with a guy for a change." You gently nudge your hip against her, and she looks back to you, nodding in agreement.

"And you should let yourself get a guy."

"Like who? Noah?"

She instantly shakes her head and scoffs, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. "No. But I did see that cute waiter from the other night over there." She points to another table where a group of guys are sitting together. To your surprise, she's right. The waiter from the other night is sitting on the edge of the couch, talking to his friends.

With a nod and a quick pep talk from Sloan, you head over to his table, holding your head high as you try to think of anything flirty enough to catch his attention.

"Fancy seeing you here." you purr down at him. The guys' eyes shoot up to you, and surprise quickly turns to delight.

"What a nice surprise." he flashes you a smile and shuffles over, patting down for you to join him and his friends.

"Stare any harder, and you might just set him on fire." Jolly quips, passing Noah and patting him on the back with a chuckle.

Noah's eyes have been fixed on you ever since you approached the waiter from the other night and sat down. "What on earth is she doing talking to him?" he struggles to hide his annoyance at the thought of you entertaining someone else.

He doesn't notice the look shared between his friends, who are all watching him. Instead, he remains fixed on you with a heavily possessive stare.

Noah's jaw clenches with every giggle, every arm touch, and every movement that brings you closer to the guy you're with. He quickly looks away whenever he catches your head turning in his direction, afraid that you might see him staring.

"What are you going to do? Stop her from leaving with him?" Nick asks.

"If I have to." Noah replies.

At that moment, he notices you moving from the seat, your hand still holding onto the waiter from the other night, and watches you move through the crowd of people.

He tries to follow after you, but he doesn't know what he'll do if he catches up. Will he tell you not to go with him? Will he ask you to leave him with him instead?

He has no real plan of action, except for a determination to rush over and stop the lift after he sees you both stepping inside.

The doors close just a second too soon as he finally reaches it. "Fuck!" he grumbles under his breath and looks towards the doors leading to the stairs. Quickly, he runs over to them, pushing through the door and taking two steps at a time, determined to catch up with you.

David, as you learn the waiter's name to be, is a pleasant guy. Despite the fun and flirty nature of your conversation, Noah's words remain heavily on your mind.

Between his apology and his comment about hate-fucking being the best type of sex, your eyes constantly wander to the bar until you spot him.

Convinced you've caught him staring, you can't resist the urge to tease him and decidedly invite David to join you for a nightcap in your room, slipping away with him.

It only takes a quick glance back at Noah's direction to see him already making his way through the crowd towards you.

You've got him right where you want him.

As you reach the lifts, you pull David inside, pressing the button for your floor. When you catch Noah heading in your direction, your hands move to the front of David's shirt, grasping him tightly and pulling him closer as the doors close.

Once alone with him, you push him back and reach for the buttons, pressing for the next floor. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have invited you up. I was just trying to make someone jealous." You confess, feeling a pang of guilt as you meet his gaze.

"Is it the guy from the other night by any chance?" He asks, and you remain silent, making him chuckle as he steps out of the lift on the next floor.

"I think you don't have to worry about trying to make him jealous. I think he's already there." You catch the way his eyes move across the hall, and you peek out of the lift to see Noah standing at the door to the stairwell.

As David passes Noah and enters the stairwell, you watch him approach you, and step back into the lift, him following, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "So, you were trying to make me jealous?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

He backs you into the corner of the lift, and your back presses against the cool, mirrored wall as you gaze up at him. "I hate you." You growl, Noah taking a step closer and closing the gap between you.

"I know, you've said." he says with a smug grin, trapping you between his body and the lift wall. His arm stretches out, and his hand rests just above you.

For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, and you catch a glimpse of the heat in his own eyes. They unmistakably flicker down to your mouth.

"Kiss me then." you can't help but smirk as you watch him lean in towards you.

Your lips meet in a passionate exchange as the lift doors finally close, sealing you together on the ride back up to your shared floor.

If you truly hate him as much as you claim to, then why do you find yourself waking up in his bed the next morning?

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @annthepenguin @samanthasgone @littlebear423 @aprosiacperson @flowery-mess @nyriastark @blackgirlmagicforever, @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #lovers to enemies fic

67 notes · View notes

hoo-n-i-ki · 2 days ago

Text

Cold One. (Chapter 2)

Anyone but her.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 7801 (I got carried away)

WARNINGS - Vampires, graphic violence, blood, death (like a lot of it). Very plot heavy. Morally grey Riki (this is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of him).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

The throne room is silent, save for the footsteps of a messenger approaching the dais. The hooded figure kneels before the three kings. Aro, perched on his throne, eagerly extends a cold hand for the messenger to press his own against.

Excitement flickers in Aro’s eyes—then, he laughs.

“Well, well,” he muses. “Carlisle has turned another for the first time nearly a century.”

Riki, leaning against the carved stone walls with his arms crossed, finally looks up. Very little intrigues him after exactly 200 years of this life, but hopefully this is something as rousing as the Cullens’ hybrid debacle from 18 years ago.

Caius scoffs in distaste. “I assume this one will be another vegetarian?”

“If Carlisle turned them, he must believe they’ll adapt to his way of life,” Jane says simply from the side, youthful face as stony as ever.

“Pity. Setting up yet another for an eternity of insatiability.” Marcus shakes his head.

Aro hums. “What do you think, Mind Stealer?”

Riki’s crimson gaze meets the ancient ones. “He’s sired several, before.” He shrugs.

“Such apathy,” Caius sneers.

“Someone has to keep an eye on the bigger picture.”

Through his several altercations with them, Riki knows that this coven doesn’t seek trouble, but they’re always at the center of it, and it always finds its way to Volterra.

They are a family of honor. As honorable as he once was.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Present day.

The crack of thunder drowns out the sound of the victim’s screams.

You finish feasting on the redhead, and toss her corpse into a nearby dumpster like she’s nothing but an empty sack.

To be fair, that is true.

Let the cops find her. Even on the off chance that they could trace this back to you, then what? You can now take 20 of their strongest in a heartbeat.

As you saunter out of the alleyway, a lone car drifts by, music playing in the dead of night.

“Ooh, you set my soul alight,” you sing along to the familiar tune beneath your breath, off-key.

This is what sets your soul alight. The hunt. The taste running down your throat like no expensive champagne ever has.

Your heart? A different story. Perhaps it’s your human self’s dedication to saving lives rather than ending them trying to peek through.

But your heart stopped a month ago—so it certainly does not win this battle. It is merely a symbol, just like your humanity altogether.

You are now certain of three things.

First is that you are now a vampire.

Second is that your parents were murdered by vampires.

And third is that you are now a murderer.

You strut without a care in the world. Even if someone were to discern your features despite the dark, Vancouver is full of interesting characters. No one would bat an eye at some messy hair, and you could easily play off your blood-stained lips and red eyes as some new goth makeup trend.

You consider chasing the car’s driver, but you’re full.

For now.

So why you ended up finding yourself at your aunt and uncle’s neighborhood? You can’t really tell—you’re just going off on the instincts that have carried you thus far.

There weren’t any street cameras back when you lived here, but just in case there are now, you use your speed to move so fast they wouldn’t even be able to catch a single glimpse of you, and you enter the damned house without a sound.

The only problem, probably, with being a newborn is how heightened your emotions are. This isn’t you, (Y/N), you have to endure, Carlisle tried to tell you the last time you saw him.

But he doesn’t know a single thing about you.

He doesn’t understand the bitterness you carry.

You’re 11 years old, standing in this same doorway, clutching your school bag that’s soaked from the rain because they conveniently forgot to pick you up.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting so pitiful,” your aunt sneers, “if you weren’t so ungrateful, perhaps we’d actually want to help you.”

She wipes imaginary sweat from her brow as she flicks through primetime channels. “Do you know how hard it is to take care of a child that isn’t even ours? We had plans, (Y/N). You ruined them. We should’ve sent you to a foster home.”

You’d scrub the floors until your fingers ached, only for her to find some invisible speck of dirt and make you do it all over again. You remember how they’d lock the fridge at night, how they’d turn off the hot water before you could shower, how they always reminded you that you don’t belong there.

And your uncle’s attention would only come in the form of disappointment. “The chores aren’t done? Didn’t we feed you last night? Maybe you need to start earning your keep before you start demanding so much.”

But the chores were always done—just not in his wife’s eyes. Demanding so much? The only thing they give you is a roof over your head—and even that comes with strings attached.

You never forget.

And now you truly don’t belong in this house, so let’s see if they recognize you.

Your lips curl into something between a grin and a snarl in preparation as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

“(Y/N?)” Your uncle gasps as he rounds the entryway.

You can only imagine what he’s seeing. It’s what you saw that first time you looked in a mirror after you woke up. You, but not really you. A version so polished it almost gives off the uncanny valley effect.

You wonder if he noticed your eyes. If they’re unsettling him as much as the dreaded man’s did to you.

“Hi, uncle!” You chirp.

He gulps. “Um. How did you get in? We had the locks changed years ago.”

You inwardly scoff. Of course they did. Surely, the second your 16-year-old self left, they decided that you’ll never be welcome here again. It was probably your aunt’s idea—he’s always been her puppet.

You’re glad you’re seeing him first. That way, you can save the best for last.

“Hm? Aren’t you happy to see me?” You ask, faux confusion dripping from your voice.

Your uncle takes a step back, bumping into the console table behind him. The lamp wobbles, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are locked onto yours.

Then—her voice.

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Right on cue.

You hear her heels clicking as she approaches, the sound triggering something deep in your bones. An old instinct, long since buried. But that fear isn’t yours anymore.

She steps into view, arms crossed, annoyance painted across her face. “Oh, it’s you.” Her gaze flicks over your bloodstained clothes, your too-perfect features, your red eyes. She scoffs. “God, you look ridiculous.”

You grin. She has no idea.

Your uncle makes a noise—half gasp, half whimper. She turns to him, irritated. “What is your problem?”

That’s when you strike.

You’re on him in an instant, fingers wrapping around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground. His feet kick uselessly.

“You should’ve been nicer to me. I would’ve spared you.” You fake-pout.

A choked gurgle escapes him, cut short when your teeth sink into his flesh.

The first time you were forced to scrub wine stains out of the carpet, you cried. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but the red wouldn’t come out.

Now, you don’t care if the stains never fade.

Your aunt screams.

You drop his lifeless body and turn to her, licking the blood off your lips.

She stumbles back, trembling, clutching the silk of her robe as if it’ll protect her. “What—what are you—”

You mimic her earlier words, tilting your head. “God, you look ridiculous.”

She turns to run. You let her. For just a second.

She barely makes it three steps before you cut her off, slamming the door shut with one hand.

She gasps, spinning around, eyes wide with terror. “Please—”

“Please?” You chuckle. “Please?” You lean in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You never listened when I pleaded.”

Then, you take what’s yours.

Afterwards, you finally step outside, not caring enough to hide the bodies the way your parents’ killers did.

The night air is cold and crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked pavement and something else—something vaguely familiar. You stiffen.

“Newborns. Always so messy.”

The voice is warm, teasing. You turn just as a towering figure steps out of the shadows, arms crossed over his chest, dimples flashing.

“Hey, little sis.”

Your jaw clenches. “Emmett.”

From behind him, Rosalie emerges, golden hair cascading over her shoulder, arms folded like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her sharp eyes flick to the bodies inside the window, then back to you.

“I see subtlety isn’t your thing,” she remarks dryly.

Your lip curls. “What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Emmett answers. “Carlisle was hoping you’d come back on your own, but…” He gestures vaguely at the crime scene. “Yeah. That wasn’t happening.”

You scoff. “And what, you’re here to convince me? Because I’m not interested.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes. “You’re barely over a month old, and you’re already acting like you know everything.”

“I know enough,” you snap.

Emmett sighs, stepping closer. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. You think we don’t understand, but we do. We’ve been there.” He gestures between himself and Rosalie. “But this isn’t the way.”

You bark out a laugh. “And what is? Playing house with a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites?”

Emmett doesn’t flinch, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. Something that makes your throat tighten.

“Come back with us,” he says. “Just for a little while. Hear Carlisle out.”

Your eyes flick between them. Rosalie’s expression is unreadable, but Emmett… Emmett is genuine.

You glance back at the house, at the bodies cooling inside.

Then, after a long beat, you sigh. “…Fine.”

You follow the couple as they run to Victoria, your feet taking you faster than a helicopter could have. The ocean breeze whips against your face as you make the leap from the mainland to Vancouver Island, landing on the rocky shore with grace.

Within moments, the Cullen house is in sight, nestled in the trees, glowing softly against the dark night. Emmett and Rosalie lead you inside, not a word spoken, but the tension in the air thick enough to taste. You cross the threshold into a house that doesn’t feel like home but feels oddly familiar all the same.

Carlisle is the first to greet you. He’s calm, even in the face of your obvious disdain. “(Y/N),” he says with a warm tone. “We’re glad you’re here. Let’s sit down, please.”

You look around at the family, noting their stiff postures, their eyes full of… concern. Each couple stands off to a side, watching you, even the dhampir girl with brown eyes with her werewolf—now human—mate, who has long since healed from the tiger shifter attack since the last time you saw him.

Carlisle gestures for you to sit, and you do so reluctantly, crossing your arms. “We need to talk.”

You don’t respond at first, your eyes narrowing as you keep your attention on him. Carlisle continues, his voice steady. “There were questions about you at the hospital. They asked if we had seen you. I told them you had to leave suddenly. Your uncle fell ill, so you went to take care of him.”

You freeze for a second, a bitter laugh slipping from your lips. He did indeed fall.

“Does Dr. Park know?” Not that it matters. It’s not like you’ll be returning to that open buffet of death.

Carlisle nods. “He knows, but he can’t say anything without directly implicating himself. It’s why he just… let us go.”

“Our chief convinced the tigers to make a treaty with the Cullens—with you—to leave them be as long as they no longer turn anybody else or drink from locals,” Jacob, the wolf, speaks up.

Which drags your eyes once more to Renesmee, next to him. There is blood coursing through her veins, and her scent is very sweet. It doesn’t beckon you as strongly as human blood does, but it doesn’t stop you from looking.

Bella follows your eyes, and her head whips toward you instantly, eyes narrowing. “Stay away from her,” she warns, voice low and dangerous.

You raise an eyebrow and lean back in your seat with an exaggerated casualness. “Relax, Bella,” your voice drips with amusement as Renesmee rolls her eyes, her vampiric side giving her enough courage to not be phased by your red gaze. “She smells good like perfume, not like food.”

She’s still tense, growling ever so quietly, but her shoulders relax a bit.

You roll your eyes and turn to Carlisle. “I’m obviously not welcome here. Can I go now?”

He sighs. “You are always welcome here, (Y/N). You’re one of us now—this can be your home. We really needed to make sure that you were safe.”

“Safe?” You echo with an incredulous laugh. “I am safe. You want to weaken me with your animal blood.”

Carlisle’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he waits for you to continue, and you do, your emotions swelling as the words slip out without thought.

“Do you know what my entire life has been about, doctor?” you ask, the last word bleeding with mockery. “It’s been about studying so I could get away from my aunt and uncle, or wondering what happened to my parents—why they were murdered, why I was left behind, and working on how I could be the savior I couldn’t be as a three-year-old. But now? Now I know, and now I can live.”

The room goes silent. The family watches you, each of them processing what you’ve said. You don’t look at them as they exchange glances. You don’t need to. Your mind is already made up.

You stand to leave, but Carlisle doesn’t back down. “I understand you’re angry. But what happened to your family… it doesn’t have to define who you are now.

“What you call weakness, is actually anything but. It’s the strength to endure, to be able to live publicly. You can learn to temper the cravings, if you would just allow yourself to try—you’d thank yourself for it, in the long run. And you’ll never have to be alone.”

You can feel the anger rising within you again. You’ve heard this speech before. The right way. The safe way. You’re done listening to those words.

“I don’t feel alone,” you growl, eyes locking with Carlisle’s, and your voice comes out cold, controlled. “And don’t treat me like I’m broken, because I’m not. I’m free.”

You’re not sure if you’re convincing them or yourself. If this is true freedom, or if you’re letting yourself into a new cage, one barred by thirst.

The Cullens are silent, watching you carefully, but you don’t let your voice waver. Every single one of your senses is telling you what you want, so no one is going to take that from you.

“Don’t worry.” You turn to them one last time. “For saving me, I’ll respect you enough to not drink from locals.”

You step outside, where the only sound accompanying you is the crunch of leaves and snaps of twigs beneath your feet.

Until another set of footsteps catches up to you, and you groan.

“I know what it’s like.”

You turn around to see the quiet one—Jasper.

“The hunger. It’s like an intrinsic part of you that you can’t outrun. And I didn’t. When I first turned, I couldn’t fathom living without it. Every human scent, every drop of blood, it felt like I was drowning in it… and I enjoyed that drowning.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

He groans, as though remembering his red-eyed days pains him. Whether out of temptation or guilt, though, you can’t tell.

“It wasn’t like I decided to become vegetarian overnight,” he continues. “At first, I kept giving in. I slipped up, again and again. But I needed to learn that I’m now different, and that I can’t spend an eternity surviving instead of living.”

You cross your arms, but it feels like your armor is starting to crack.

“It was about progress. Day by day, it’d get easier. Of course, I had Alice through it all.” He smiles fondly at the ground at the thought of the pixie girl. “She was my anchor.”

You don’t respond right away. You feel your jaw tighten as you scoff inwardly. An anchor. Right. How nice for him. Alice might have been there to hold him steady, but you? Nada. Romance, connection, it all seems so… impossible with your current circumstances. You’ll never have someone like Alice, and you sure as hell won’t let yourself rely on anyone else. Not now.

Jasper watches you closely, sensing your hesitation, but he doesn’t push. He simply waits.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The idea of controlling the thirst, figuring out a whole other way to live this life that still feels so foreign, it’s completely overwhelming.

Jasper gives a quiet, knowing smile. “I can train you, if you want, because I didn’t know if I could, either. But I didn’t let myself give up. And neither should you. Not if you want to be more than just alive.”

For a moment, silence hangs between you, and then, finally, you nod. “Okay. I’ll let you train me. But don’t expect me to be easy to work with.”

His grin widens just slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a newborn.”

A week.

Two weeks into this stupid training.

And it’s not getting any better.

You’ve always tried to be someone who dealt with things head-on, but this… this is something else. The thirst is an ever-present beast, gnawing at your insides, and yet, no matter how hard you try, the animal blood just doesn’t sit right with you.

Jasper’s patience is a constant, though. Every time you fail to control your desire for human blood, he’s there, offering gentle guidance, but it feels like you’re fighting a losing battle. And you hate it.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Jasper urges, his voice calm but persistent. “You’ve got this. Just focus on the hunt.”

You growl, fangs flashing as you push through the motion, trying to force yourself to focus on the deer in front of you. But every time you go in for the kill, the blood is just… wrong. The taste is foreign and metallic, the warmth lacking. This hunt isn’t the same.

“I don’t get it,” you mutter under your breath, stepping back from the animal. “Why can’t I just do it my way?”

Jasper sighs. “Because, (Y/N), that way isn’t sustainable. You’re a doctor, for fuck’s sake. You will have to live with the guilt for eternity once the newborn frenzy passes.”

You were a doctor.

You’ve been trying, for weeks now, to make the animal blood work, but it’s just not you—not the current you, at least, and to hell with that meek, old version. It’s too bland, too unsatisfying. Like trying to replace a steak with a bowl of cereal.

“This isn’t living.” You shake your head. “This is sacrifice.”

Before Jasper can respond, a smooth voice breaks through the tension.

“What a nice surprise!”

You both turn to see a black-haired girl leaning lazily against a shadowed tree, arms crossed, watching you intently with a smirk playing at her lips. You catch the now-familiar smell of immortality. A vampire with the relaxed air of someone who’s seen a lot and doesn’t care to hide it.

Jasper’s eyes narrow slightly, recognizing her. “Misora.”

“Jasper.” She nods coolly, pushing herself off the tree and taking a few steps forward, her gaze shifting to you. “And who’s this? A new recruit?”

You glare but say nothing.

“Carlisle turned her a couple months ago, and I’m trying to teach her how to hunt animals.” He turns to you. “Misora is a nomad. We traveled with the Mexican coven around the same time, over a century ago.”

“Still not fond of animal blood, huh?” Her smirk widens, voice dripping with casual amusement. “You know,” she continues, her voice low and thoughtful, “forcing yourself to drink from animals is never going to feel right. It’s unnatural. But that doesn’t mean you have to give in to the bloodlust completely. You just need to learn how to control it in moderation.”

Jasper stiffens at her words, but Misora doesn’t seem to care. Her gaze never leaves yours, her confidence only growing as she speaks. “You’ve got that thirst in you. I can see it in your eyes. But the trick is not to drown in it. You can learn to kill subtly. Take what you need, don’t waste. You’d be surprised how much you can get from a little. You’re a predator, after all. You just have to think like one.”

She walks by close enough for her red eyes to shine beneath the afternoon sun, and for her skin to sparkle as brightly as you and Jasper’s.

You look at her, stunned. “You… drink from humans.”

“Of course I do,” she responds with a chuckle. “Why would I waste time hunting animals? Humans are far more interesting. And, let’s face it, they’re a lot more filling.”

Jasper steps between the two of you, his eyes flashing with warning. “I don’t think this is the kind of training (Y/N) needs.”

Misora raises a brow, clearly not intimidated. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve taught her all about controlling her impulses, Jasper. But there’s a world out there beyond your little rules. She needs to learn how to survive in it. You can’t live in a bubble forever.”

She is speaking your language.

“You’ll never feel alive if you’re constantly fighting yourself. Live for what makes you feel whole,” she says with a knowing look.

You feel the pull of her words, and for a moment, you’re caught between the two very different perspectives: the Cullens’ careful, controlled existence and Misora’s unapologetic freedom.

You turn your eyes to Jasper. “Well. I already gave your way a try.”

The girl grins as you walk over to where she stands in the clearing.

“I’m gonna teach her the Nishimura way,” she laughs in Jasper’s direction and drapes a hand over your shoulder as she leaves, and without a second look, you choose to follow.

Your life is too long for you to not explore every option.

Over the span of just a week, the girl helps you adapt to the art of subtleties—of doing what you want, but having the peace of mind that you did not cause a ruckus.

Not that you’d ever felt guilt at your messiness, but you’ll take the Cullens’ word for it that you’ll be hit with more sense after the newborn frenzy passes.

See? You did gain something from the righteousness they spewed.

“So where are you from?” You ask your new mentor.

“Japan.”

“A long way from home, huh?”

She remains quiet for a second, jaw clenched, not turning to you. “There is nothing that makes it a home for me there, anymore. Hasn’t been in over 150 years. It’s why I travel all over, except Japan.”

“How did you turn?”

Misora doesn’t speak right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped.

“I was sick,” she finally says. “I knew I didn’t have long.”

Something tightens in your frozen chest. “What kind of sick?”

“Didn’t have a name for it, back then, but it was the same thing my father had. My body was weak. My bones ached, my breath was short. Healers tried, but I always knew.” She shrugs. “So I lived as much as I could. Climbed mountains, even when my lungs burned. Ate what I wanted, danced even when I was coughing blood.” She pauses. “I wasn’t afraid. I made my peace with dying. I was surrounded by my mother, my sister, my friends, and if I’d died, I would’ve been with my late father and brother.”

Her smile is all sorrow, but you can do nothing but listen with furrowed brows.

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “But I woke up, and I was this.”

You don’t have to ask what this means. The blood-red of her eyes, the effortless grace in her every movement, the unnatural stillness that clings to her. The inescapable weight of eternity.

“I don’t even know who did it,” she admits, voice bitter. “One moment, I was dying, and then… I wasn’t. Instead, I was forced to live long enough to be the one watching everyone I love die.”

You don’t know what to say. You think you should say something, offer some kind of condolence, but what would that even be worth? Misora doesn’t seem like she’d appreciate it anyway.

“I hate this,” she says, her voice raw, but her expression carefully blank. “I hate this immortality. It’s a curse. A joke. But I have to make the most of it, I guess.”

You glance down for a second, before deciding to ask the question you’ve been wondering for a while. “So why do you bother being discrete? Fuck this world and its rules. It’s not like anybody could harm you, anyways.”

“Oh, but there are people who can.”

You frown. The Cullens—Carlisle, especially—always made it sound like it’s morality.

“If we’re that powerful, we should be able to handle it.”

Misora laughs—actually laughs—but it’s sharp-edged. “Tell that to the Volturi.”

“The who?”

“The leeches who think they’re kings,” she says dryly. “They’re the reason we hide. The moment a vampire gets too flashy, too ambitious, too noticeable—” she drags her thumb across her throat. “Gone.”

You tilt your head. “And they’re strong enough to make everyone listen?”

“They have numbers. And power.” Her pale fingers flex at her sides. “There are vampires in their ranks who can do more than just be strong and fast. They can blind you, torture you, there’s even one they call the Mind Stealer, or the Puppeteer—very few people actually knows his name, but he can make you do whatever he wants with a single thought. If he wanted, he could make you kill yourself, and you’d do it with a smile.”

A chill runs down your spine, remembering the moments you behaved quite noticeably. Did Emmett and Rosalie clean up after you?

Misora scoffs. “Cowards, all of them. They hide behind their pretty little powers, thinking they’re gods.” Her lip curls. “Aro, their dear leader, is the worst of them all. Slimy little bastard.”

You smirk at her words. “Not a fan, I take it?”

She laughs, sharp and cold. “Not in the slightest.” There’s a dangerous glint in her eye. “If I was able to, I’d rip those smug assholes apart, just to watch the dust settle.”

So you follow in the cynical, but lively vampire’s footsteps.

In the span of another week, you feel more spirited than you did in the two months before. Hell, in the 22 years before.

Every night, you and Misora scour various cities, blending into the nightlife, finding your prey with ease. Her laughter is infectious, and her confidence bleeds into your own.

Tonight is no different.

You lay your lovely squad of victims near a warehouse deep in the city—somewhere no one should care to notice, but you’ll clean up after yourselves regardless.

Then you indulge.

Your movements are gradually growing more precise, with razor-sharp instincts. You sink your teeth in before the woman can scream, drinking deep, feeling the familiar rush flood your senses. The warm tang of fresh blood coats your tongue, leaving you buzzing with energy and satisfaction.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, chuckling at something Misora’s saying, but the laughter dies in your throat when moonlight casts a silvery glow over the woman crumpled at your feet.

A middle-aged woman. Her face is ashen, eyes wide open, unseeing, accusing. Your hands shake as you take her in. The faded scars along her limbs. The slight dent in her chest where a surgeon once worked to save her life.

Your hands worked to save her life.

The memory crashes into you like the most vicious wave. Around six months ago, your first week as an intern at Victoria General. A late-night car crash. Blood pooling on the gurney.

You’d stabilized her, alongside Dr. Cullen.

And now, you’ve killed her.

Your breath hitches, the remnants of her blood burning like acid in your throat. Memories flood back—the beeping monitors, the tense urgency as you prepped her for surgery, the relief that had filled you when it went well.

Something inside you breaks. Your knees buckle, hitting the cold, hard ground. The weight of your actions crashes over you, suffocating and heavy. This isn’t just a random victim. This is someone whose life you held in your hands—twice.

“(Y/N)?” Misora’s voice is sharp, alarmed. She crouches beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

You shove the body away like it burns. Your fingers tangle in your hair, pressing into your scalp, like you can dig into your own skull and tear this moment out.

But you were never able to do that.

“I—I knew her,” you choke out, eyes glued to the lifeless body. “I saved her. I saved her, and now she’s dead because of me.”

You were a doctor. You were supposed to save people. Not this.

The breaths you don’t even need, just taking them in because you need to feel human right now, rattle in your throat. The newborn instincts that have ruled you since your turning are drowned out by something deeper. A guilt so raw it feels like it’s killing you. The heightening of emotions makes your horror so unbearable, it’s sickening.

Misora’s expression shifts, her usual indifference faltering, shifting to worry, as she processes your turmoil. “Shit.”

The world tilts, spinning around you, and all you can see are the faces of the people you’ve drained. Were any of them people you saved, too? Are you undoing all the good you did in your human life?

Misora tugs at your arm, desperation seeping into her voice. “We need to get you out of here.”

You don’t resist as she hauls you to your feet, your body numb as she practically drags you away, leaving the carnage behind.

The night blurs past you.

And suddenly, you’re at the Cullens’ doorstep. The house is quiet, lights dim against the backdrop of the dense woods. Misora pounds on the door, her urgency echoing through the trees.

Esme answers, her eyes widening at the sight of you. Blood on your trembling hands. Red eyes shattered. “What happened?”

“She’s breaking down,” Misora blurts, a rare tremor in her voice. “She needs help, and I’ve never dealt with this before.”

The Cullens are there in an instant, guiding you inside, their faces painted with concern. But your gaze remains fixed on the floor, unable to lift the crushing weight pressing down on your chest.

For two days.

You don’t hunt.

You don’t move.

Carlisle sits with you in quiet understanding. Esme’s soft voice tries to soothe. Jasper subtly tamps down your emotions when they get too overwhelming. But none of it fixes the gaping hole inside you.

You don’t know how to live with this. You can only sit with the haze of guilt and horror hanging over you like a storm cloud.

But then Alice gasps.

Your head snaps up, and find her with her fingers gripping the back of the chair, knuckles like stone. Her golden eyes are distant, unfocused.

She’s the one that can see the future.

“Alice?” Jasper’s voice is low, worried.

Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with dread. “The Volturi. They’re coming.” She turns to you, eyes shaking. “For you.”

The room falls into a suffocating silence, everyone’s eyes on Alice as the reality of your actions settles over them. You share a glance with Misora, and it hits you.

You didn’t clean up after yourselves.

Now you’re gonna be the prey.

You brace yourself for the fallout. For Carlisle’s disappointment, for Esme’s soft but inevitable grief. Maybe even for Bella to suggest running and get her own little family away from everything, or for Rosalie to outwardly scoff that this isn’t her problem.

But Carlisle steps forward, his expression calm, steady. Decisive.

“Then we prepare.”

You blink. “What?”

His voice is firm, without hesitation. “We stand with you.”

Your chest tightens.

Esme nods, her warm, unyielding presence wrapping around you like a shield. “You’re family now,” she says softly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “And family doesn’t abandon each other.”

Alice finally blinks, the vision fading, and when she refocuses, there’s something sharp in her gaze. “They’re not here yet. We have time.”

Jasper crosses his arms, his posture shifting into something subtly protective. “Not much, though.”

Emmett grins, cracking his knuckles. “Doesn’t matter. Let them come.”

Rosalie exhales sharply through her nose, but there’s no venom in it. “You’re a reckless idiot,” she mutters, but then, after a long pause— “And if you die, it’ll reflect badly on us.”

The words are sharp, but the meaning underneath them is clear.

She’s in.

A lump forms in your throat. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve their loyalty. Not after what you’ve done.

But they’re giving it to you anyway.

“I’m staying too.”

You snap your head toward Misora.

She leans against the wall, arms crossed, but her usual smirk is gone. There’s no amusement in her eyes, no mischief. Only something cold. Determined.

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, shut up.” She rolls her eyes. “I messed up right there with you. Do you think I’d let you die alone?” She shoves her hands into her pockets. “You’re annoying as hell, but you’re my friend, now. And besides, the Cullens are gonna need someone on their side who actually knows how to fight dirty.“

Jasper arches a brow but doesn’t argue.

Night shifts to dawn. Saturday shifts to Thursday, and the air isn’t any less thick with anticipation.

A suffocating stillness settles over the clearing outside the Cullens’ house. As the sun starts to rise, your skins begin to glimmer, a show of beauty despite being braced for a fight. With bodies coiled like springs, golden, crimson, and even two pairs of brown eyes lock onto the shadowy figures emerging from the trees.

A group of five. No fanfare, no grand entrance—just the soft rustling of their cloaks as they step forward, but the air of authority that radiates from them is unmistakable.

“Why is it always your family, Carlisle?” A blonde girl, barely a teenager, starts.

“Lovely to see you again, Jane.” He responds with a curt smile at her.

There’s a guy who’s identical to her, another guy who’s insanely tall. But it’s the fourth one that steals your breath away.

The moment you see him, something in you stops.

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Of course, all vampires have an unnatural allure, but him? It’s something else entirely. Sharp jawline, full, rosy lips, hair as dark as the midnight sky. His presence is quiet, effortless, but every movement is precise, lethal in a way that doesn’t need to be flaunted. And his eyes—deep crimson, glinting like polished rubies beneath his hood—fix on you, unreadable.

Jewels. Not the bloodstains that are your eyes, that are the eyes of the vampire from your childhood, but rubies.

You should be afraid. You are afraid.

But a part of you can’t look away.

Until Misora gasps. A choked, disbelieving noise.

She’s staring at him, wide-eyed, something breaking across her face.

Edward stiffens beside you, his eyes flicking between them as he reads her thoughts. “Riki is your brother?” He murmurs.

Your gaze snaps to Edward, then back to Misora.

Misora, whose lips part soundlessly, whose expression is stuck somewhere between recognition and denial.

“Riki?” she echoes, like the name is foreign in her own mouth.

You whip back to her, confusion knotting in your chest. “I thought you told me your brother was dead.”

Her hands clench at her sides, voice barely above a heartbroken whisper, “My brother is dead.”

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

For the first time since Riki became the Volturi’s most valuable weapon, he is distracted.

He doesn’t get distracted. It’s not possible. His gift demands complete control. His mind is a fortress—impenetrable, untouchable, locked into his duty like an ironclad machine. He does not waver. He does not hesitate.

And yet.

When his eyes land on her, something fractures.

She is standing among the Cullens, body tensed. She’s afraid, but she’s hiding behind the bravado of a newborn. But all he can see is her eyes. They aren’t golden like the rest of the coven. But it’s not just the color that pulls him in—it’s the weight behind them, the quiet storm she carries in her gaze.

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

A foolish thought. A human thought. One that shouldn’t exist in his mind.

But it lingers.

Then, he sees the other pair of red eyes—a stranger vampire who didn’t stand with the Cullens 18 years ago.

At first, he doesn’t register who she is. Because this girl—no, this woman—is not Misora. Misora was fifteen. Misora was still human, still soft around the edges, still warm. This person standing before him is none of those things. She is tall, fully grown, her limbs no longer awkward with adolescence but poised, sharp. She does not have a heartbeat.

And yet—

He knows.

Knows in the way an older brother knows his little sister, no matter how many centuries, how much distance has warped them apart.

For the first time in decades, something cold and dangerous slides under Riki’s ribs. An emotion he was never supposed to feel again.

What have they done to you?

Jane is saying something. Bringing up all of the newborn’s victims.

Riki isn’t hearing her.

The words slip past him, distant and irrelevant. Even the steady presence of the guard beside him is background noise.

His focus is fixed entirely on his baby sister, except she’s not.

He takes a step forward, the movement small but purposeful. The Cullens tense. The girl with the beautifully scarred eyes watches him with something unreadable in her expression, but he barely registers it.

He does the only thing he knows how to do.

“Step forward.”

The words are soft. Deceptively calm.

Misora flinches.

And something inside Riki wrenches.

The command had been soft—barely more than a breath—but the moment the words leave his lips, he sees the exact second she realizes what’s happening.

She knows.

She knows what he’s doing. Who he is. What he is.

A flicker of resistance shudders through her, instinctive and useless. His grip is too strong. His gift—so carefully honed, so ruthlessly wielded—is absolute.

And still, she fights.

Misora has always been stubborn.

Even now, as her body jerks forward against her will, her jaw locks tight, her eyes burning with defiance. The others react immediately—a low growl from the golden-haired one, a blur of movement—protection, Riki realizes, they’re protecting her—but before anyone can intervene, Misora lifts a hand. Wait.

Riki swallows against something thick in his throat.

He tightens his hold, his gift slithering into her nervous system like an iron vice, seizing control of her vocal cords, pressing against her prefrontal cortex. His voice, when he speaks, is measured. “What is your name?”

Misora’s jaw locks.

But against her own will, against every ounce of resistance in her body, the truth gets wrung from her throat. “Misora Nishimura.”

The sound of her voice, of the name he hasn’t heard in centuries, his name, hits him like a stake to the heart.

“This isn’t the newborn we were sent to kill,” Demetri leans in to whisper, “this is her accomplice.”

But Riki knows, and he doesn’t care. Not anymore. He holds up a hand to silence the guard—his peer in title, but Demetri knows which one of them is truly in charge.

“When and by whom were you turned?” He forces his expression to remain neutral.

Her teeth clench. She’s fighting so hard.

Something curdles in his chest. This is the girl that used to play fight with him, when he’d come home from a long, painful day with the Yakuza. She didn’t fight against him. She’d tug on the sleeves of his kimono, demanding his attention.

“1832. I don’t know who turned me, I was sick.” A tremor runs through her limbs. Her eyes burn with fury, with desperation, with something pleading.

And for the first time in 200 years, his hands start to shake.

And he lets her go, taking a second to steady himself.

He turns to the other girl—the one who isn’t his sister, the one he should’ve questioned first. The one who, for a split second, had stolen his breath before the rest of the world fell away.

But now, he hesitates.

It’s a minuscule thing, barely a fraction of a second, but in his line of work, in his particular skillset, a fraction of a second is an eternity. It’s the difference between absolute dominance and doubt. Between control and chaos.

“You’re working with her?” He asks Misora, voice quieter than before, almost contemplative.

He shouldn’t have asked. He should’ve commanded. He should’ve taken the answer like he always does, forced his will into her bones the way he’s done with so many others.

But he doesn’t.

And Misora—now free, her limbs shaking, her breathing ragged—fixes him with a glare that’s both razor-sharp and filled with something wounded, something raw.

And then she scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound. “Eat shit, Riki Volturi. Or should I say Mind Stealer? Or Puppeteer?”

The name lands like a strike of lightning, coming from her mouth.

Not Nishimura. Volturi.

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t let himself react. Doesn’t let himself acknowledge the way it burns. But she’s staring at him like he’s nothing, like he’s a stranger, like he’s already long gone.

He remains silent as he sorts his mind for what to do. A side of him that has long been dormant is now resurrected, and he doesn’t know what to sacrifice.

“You hesitated.”

The other girl with red eyes.

The girl with eyes like his. Maybe his eyes are even as broken as hers, right now.

One whose voice sounds like music to his ears.

Carlisle and Esme try to tug her backwards, but she’s already caught his attention.

A scoff from the guard behind him. “Hesitated?” the vampire sneers, like the very idea is laughable. “The Mind Stealer doesn’t hesitate. Don’t delude yourself, newborn.”

Riki doesn’t react.

Alec takes a step forward, eyes gleaming with malice. “She’s wasting our time. They’re wasting our time. Kill the two girls and be done with it.”

Kill them?

Anyone but her.

Misora stiffens beside (Y/N). The Cullens brace themselves, prepared to strike.

And Riki exhales his first breath in two centuries.

Slowly, deliberately.

“No.”

Silence.

Absolute silence. Like the Earth has stopped rotating.

“What?”

Riki doesn’t look at Alec. He doesn’t need to. His focus is elsewhere.

He takes a step forward. Towards Misora. Towards her.

The Cullens shift instantly, poised for defense, but he doesn’t stop.

He’s barely taken another step, when he’s met with white-hot agony.

The force of it is instant, an explosion of suffering detonating inside his skull. He crumbles to his knees before he can stop himself, hands clawing at the cold ground.

A curse tears from his lips.

Jane. He doesn’t have to see her to know. He can feel her amusement, her punishment from here.

“You dare defy an order?” Her voice is sweet. Delighted. “How strange. Have we gotten soft, Mind Stealer?”

Another wave of pain. It burns. He grits his teeth, locks his jaw, and endures.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears something. Murmuring. The Cullens. Something fast.

Then the pain stops.

It’s not gradual. It doesn’t fade. It just… ceases.

Riki gasps, shuddering. He blinks up at the sky, disoriented, reeling, and realizes he’s standing.

Not collapsed. Not writhing.

Standing.

He turns, dazed, and then he sees it.

The translucent shimmer of a shield encasing him.

Bella Cullen’s eyes are locked on him, jaw set, hands clenched at her sides. And the shield he found his way around 19 years ago is protecting him.

The murmurs behind him are hushed, but Riki hears everything.

“This shouldn’t be possible.” Felix’s voice is low, urgent. “Chelsea’s gift, she’s supposed to bind us. Our loyalty. Our devotion.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Demetri exhales sharply. “She does. But her ties don’t work when opposed by true love.”

True love.

There was a time when he would’ve mocked such things—love, feelings as a whole, even—after spending a century with the Volturi, and forgetting how to feel them, to begin with. He would’ve thought they were a liability.

But Misora is not a liability. She is his sister. And he truly loves her.

The realization settles into him like fire in his veins. Steady. Absolute. And love—true, unbreakable love—frees him.

So he does what would’ve once been unthinkable.

In a flash, he turns faster than any vampire could expect.

His power surges outward, deadly and precise. He seizes two minds at once—Jane and Alec, the Volturi’s twin nightmares, their most precious weapons besides him.

Their limbs jerk violently against their own will. Jane’s eyes widen in shock, and Alec lets out a strangled sound of protest.

Let them scream. He isn’t focusing on their vocal cords, right now.

They reach for one another.

Gasps ring out, but he doesn’t stop to relish in the astonishment. Jane’s shriek is cut short as her own hands grasp Alec’s throat. Alec’s arms move like a puppet’s, seizing her head in turn.

With their own hands, they rip each other’s heads off.

Silence.

Horrified, disbelieving silence.

The twin blades are reduced to nothing but limp, severed bodies.

The Cullens stare. The newborn stares. Misora stares.

Even Felix and Demetri are frozen. The two guards—once his comrades, witnesses of centuries of executions—stagger backward, fear flashing through their crimson eyes.

And then they run.

They don’t fight. They don’t look back.

They flee, blurring into the trees, retreating to Volterra. To Aro, Caius, and Marcus. To report the unthinkable.

Riki doesn’t stop them. His hands are still shaking, but he doesn’t care to.

Because for the first time in centuries—

He is free.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Ok tbf I really could’ve cut this into two chapters and I do think we have lost the plot slightly BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION

Comment if you’d like to be tagged on the next one (where the romance starts) :)

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

@angelengene3011 @wrldhypen @opheliaas-stuff