#and look forward to part2!

[nekonaps0]

Excuse me… SIR?! Pt1

✦part2 part3

✦ characters: third years

✦ gn!reader

✦the boys suddenly cracked a naughty, suggestive joke

✦you guys really loved the “You are NAUGHTY!!” Series so what if we switch it up and the boys gonna surprise you this time!?👀

Trey Clover

You were just baking together, things were perfectly normal. Flour smudged your cheek, his sleeves rolled up, the kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar. Then he suddenly leans in and says, casually:

“You know… if you keep looking at my hands like that, I might start thinking you want me to knead you instead.”

Your jaw drops.

Your brain short-circuits.

Did TREY just say that?!

“T-Trey!!”


“What? You like bold flavors, don’t you?”

He just chuckles, unbothered. Keeps going like he didn’t just ruin your soul with that line. And if you try to protest. He’ll lean closer and murmur

“Your cheeks are redder than the jam we’re using… cute.”

He’s so chill but absolutely enjoying watching you fall apart.

Cater Diamond

You were scrolling on his Magicam, casually cuddled on his bed, when he suddenly pointed to a blurry selfie and said:

“Hey, we should totally take a thirst trap together sometime. Like… you on my lap. My hand on your thigh. Caption it: ‘who needs dessert when you’ve got this snack?’ 🍑✨”

You drop the phone.

“C-Cater—!”

He grins so hard and wiggles his brows. He lives for this. Especially the way your face is heating up faster than one of Trey’s ovens.

“Aww~ look at you getting all flustered~ You’d look so sweet. Just say the word, cutie~”

You try to hide behind a pillow. He steals it and takes a selfie of your flushed expression.

“#CursedButHot #ShyBabyEnergy”

Leona Kingscholar

You were sitting together in the greenhouse. It was quiet. Peaceful. He was laying on the grass with his arms behind his head when, without even opening his eyes, he murmured:

“Y’know, if you keep straddling the line between cute and sexy like that… I might have to pin you down and show you what happens to teases.”

Silence.

You choked on air. Your entire face lit up like a tomato.

“W-What did you just say?! I didn’t even do anything!”

He cracks one eye open. Smirks.

“Heh. Look at that. One sentence and you’re already redder than Riddle after a rule-break.”

You stammer. He yawns.

“Come here. I’ll cool you off. Or warm you up. Dealer’s choice.”

You are not surviving this man.

Vil Schoenheit

You were trying on outfits with him, modeling in his room, doing your two private fashion shows. Vil stepped forward, adjusted a strap on your shoulder, then whispered near your ear:

“Darling… if you look this good now, I can’t imagine how divine you’d be wearing nothing but my lip gloss and your confidence.”

You gasped. You literally forgot how to breathe. You couldn’t even form words.

“V-Vil—?!”

He pulled back with a dazzling smile, like he hadn’t just murdered your entire nervous system.

“What? It’s a fashion suggestion.”

Your hands flailed. You made an inhuman noise. He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

“Mm, I should make you blush more often… it's a stunning color on you.”

Rook Hunt

You were out on a nature walk with him when he suddenly grabbed your hand and spun you under the dappled light.

“Ah, my darling~ Even the sun envies the way you glow… but I envy your clothes most of all.”

You tripped. He caught you with a chuckle.

“Oh? You blush so easily~! Like a rose kissed by morning dew!”

You tried to escape. He followed, twirling you again with flair.

“Shall I write an ode to how divine you’d look draped only in moonlight?”

You are not making it out of this woods walk alive.

Idia Shroud

You were helping him adjust something on his console when he quietly muttered under his breath, clearly not meant for your ears:

“...God, if you bend over like that again I’m gonna need a moment to reboot my systems…”

You blinked. Slowly turned.

“E-Excuse me?!”

Idia's hair flared up like a bonfire and turned completely pink. He absolutely lost it.

“NO WAIT—THAT WAS—THAT WAS A THOUGHT!!! A PRIVATE THOUGHT!! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO COME OUT!!”

He tries to crawl under his bed, hoodie over his head, wheezing like you just hacked his server. You’re flushed. He’s panicking. And then, you stammer something like:

“...W-Well I didn’t mean to distract you...”

His head bonks the floor.

“YOU’RE KILLING ME.”

Later? You’ll both blush every time you lean over for anything. Ever.

Malleus Draconia

You were walking in the moonlight, having a peaceful chat, when Malleus suddenly turned to you and said:

“Do you think the stars envy me, my love? For while they must shine cold and distant, I am allowed to hold the sun in my arms.”

You melted a little… until he took your hand and continued:

“...And if the night allows it, I would like to burn in your warmth until dawn.”

Your brain: error 404.

You nearly tripped on nothing. You squeaked. Literally squeaked. And Malleus, ever amused by your reaction, smiled faintly.

“Have I said something bold? Forgive me. I merely speak the truth.”

His voice was low and intimate, like velvet smoke. You were barely standing.

“You are divine, and I am quite undone.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he’s not stopping.

Lilia Vanrouge

You were helping him tune his guitar when he suddenly leaned down, his voice a purr in your ear:

“You know, I’ve got a few songs I’ve never played for anyone before. But for you, I might make a private concert… clothing optional.”

You dropped the tuner. Screamed internally. Possibly externally.

“LILIA— WE ARE I. THE CLUB ROOM!!”

He cackled. So proud. Zero shame.

“Aw, don’t go shy on me now~ You started hanging out with a fae general and didn’t expect a little mischief?”

He’ll chase your flustered face around the room, teasing and winking until you flee. He will literally hover over you upside down just to see you blush harder.

“Oh? Speechless already? Shall I start the encore?”

..............................................................................................................................

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[niwaart]

i yearn for batmom angst !! please give us more of divorced batmom !!

Family Without Light

[#Part1, #Part2, #Part3, #Part4..]

The first time Y/N held Jason in her arms after Bruce brought him home, she knew—she wanted to be a mother. Not just to him, but to any child who needed her. She had grown up in a cold household, where love was a transaction, not a gift. So when Bruce’s adopted sons came into her life, she poured everything into them. She stayed up with Dick when he had nightmares, bandaged Jason’s scraped knees, and later, when Tim and Damian arrived, she fought for them—against Bruce, against the world, against *themselves* when they pushed her away.

But there was one dream she never spoke of.

A child of her own.

She never told anyone, not even Alfred. It was a quiet hope, tucked away in the deepest part of her heart. She had imagined it—a little girl with Bruce’s stubbornness, or a boy with her smile. She had even picked out names in secret.

Then Jason shot her.

Twice.

The first bullet tore through her abdomen. The second grazed her spine. The doctors said she was lucky to be alive.

They never told her the other part.

Not until weeks later, when the tests came back.

"The damage is irreversible. You won’t be able to conceive."

She had smiled at the doctor, thanked him, walked out of the clinic, and collapsed in her car, sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

No one knew.

Not Bruce, who had barely looked at her since their marriage of convenience began.

Not Alfred, who had held her as she wept but assumed it was from the physical pain.

Not the boys, who had no idea the cost of Jason’s rage.

She buried it.

She buried it so deep that even she sometimes forgot.

Until Damian called.

Until she heard his voice.... small, trembling, lying....and something inside her snapped.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t pretend anymore.

She couldn’t look at him and remember how she would never hold a child of her own.

She couldn’t look at Jason and remember that he was the reason.

So she hung up.

She ignored the way her hands shook.

She ignored the way her vision blurred.

She ignored the way her heart screamed at her to go back, to hold him, to fix this.

Because she couldn’t.

Not without breaking all over again.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Tim had never seen Damian like this.

The kid was begging.

Not with words... Damian Wayne didn’t beg... but with the way his fingers dug into his own arms, the way his voice wavered just slightly when he said, "I need to know who they are."

Tim exhaled, rubbing his temples. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. But this?

This was worth staying awake for.

"Alright," he said, sitting at Y/N’s old desk.... his desk now, technically, though it still smelled like her perfume. "Describe them."

Damian hesitated. "...Twins. Around my age. They called her Auntie."

Tim’s fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the school’s database. "names?"

"I don’t know," Damian snapped, then immediately looked ashamed. "...They had dark hair. One wore glasses."

Tim hummed, filtering the student records. It didn’t take long. Gotham Academy wasn’t that big.

"...Got them."

Damian lunged forward, gripping the edge of the desk. "Who are they?"

Tim frowned at the screen. "...They’re her brother's twins. Their parents died last year in a gang crossfire. Social services was going to split them up, but...she intervened.

Damian’s breath hitched. "...She adopted them?"

Tim shook his head. "No. Legal guardianship. They still live in their old house with Y/N’s sister, but..." He trailed off, staring at the records.

Y/N visited them every day.

She signed their permission slips.

She attended their parent-teacher conferences.

She was raising them.

Just like she had once raised him.

Just like she had once raised Damian.

Just like she had once raised all of them.

And now she had replaced them.

Tim’s chest ached.

Damian’s fists clenched.

For the first time in their lives, they were on the same side.

"...We need a plan," Tim said quietly.

Damian nodded.

And for once, there was no argument.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Dick Grayson hadn’t stepped foot in Wayne Manor in months.

But the moment he heard Y/N was gone, he ran.

He didn’t care about the mission.

He didn’t care about the criminals.

He didn’t even care about Bruce.

He just needed to see...to understand... why she left.

The manor was too quiet when he arrived.

No laughter.

No arguments.

No Y/N.

Alfred greeted him with a sad smile. "Master Dick."

"Where is she?" Dick demanded, voice cracking.

Alfred’s expression tightened. "She’s... no longer here, I’m afraid."

"I know that," Dick snapped, then immediately regretted it. "...I mean—I need to talk to her. Where is she staying?"

Alfred hesitated. "...She’s residing in her family’s penthouse downtown."

Dick didn’t wait.

He turned on his heel and ran.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man.

But even he noticed the change.

Dick had stormed into the manor like a hurricane, panicked, according to Alfred.

Tim and Damian were working together in patrol something that should have been impossible

Jason was quieter than usual, his usual snark replaced with a hollow silence.

And Alfred...

Alfred looked at him with something like disappointment.

Bruce didn’t understand.

The marriage had been for business.

Y/N had known that.

So why did it feel like he’d lost something far more important?

But it's not important, since children are still very efficient at catching criminals, everything is fine and everything else is unimportant.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Tim and Damian sat in Y/N’s old room, a whiteboard between them.

Step 1: Find a way to make her listen.

Step 2: Make her remember what she meant to them.

Step 3: Bring her home.

Damian crossed his arms. "... but we need leverage."

Tim smirked... the first real smile he’d had in months. "Good thing we know her weakness."

Damian raised an eyebrow.

Tim tapped the photo of the Y/N’s brother twins on the screen.

"Kids."

Damian’s eyes darkened. "...You’re suggesting we use them?"

Tim shook his head. "No. We help them. And in doing so... we remind Y/N exactly who she is."

A mother.

Their mother.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not

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[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Xavier's non-mc significant other. part2

Imagine Xavier had always been the quiet type. He didn't know how to make love sound poetically nor did he know how to decorate his emotions in extravagant words or gestures. But that's okay, because when he love, it was with a quiet certainty. A kind of presence that said, I'm here. I chose you. I'll stay. That was how he had always been with you.

Imagine the way he remembered the way you smile at him as he stood at your doorway, exhausted to saying anything and is just watching you. The way you quietly shift to make space on the bed so he would be able join without speaking. No declarations. Just the way his hand brushed over yours beneath the covers or how he kissed the crown of your head, wishing you goodnight before falling asleep.

Imagine Xavier had always been quiet in the way storms are quiet before they hit. He wasn't one for confessions or long declarations. So when he love, he did so in actions. Subtle, consistent, unspoken. And you understood that. That was your-our rhythm, the silence, comfort, understanding.

But Imagine, lately, things had shifted. The silence wasn't soft anymore. It was stiff, almost sharp. Like something had settled between the two of you and neither wanted to name it.

Imagine he didn't notice it at first. His mind had been somewhere else, work. The deadlines, cases, then new assignment. He and MC was partnered at it. She was sharp and easy to work with. He didn't have to explain things twice. She got it. Then comes the jokes, stupid ones passed between them during late hours. It wasn't anything serious, not in the way people assumed. Just a shared wavelength that made long shifts easier to bear.

Imagine he should have realized how it looked from the outside. He should have seen and notice the way you, his lover started watching him more closely. The way your laughter didn't come as easily. The way you stop asking questions about his day the moment MC’s name came up. He did not see the danger in comfort until it started costing him the one person who mattered. You.

Imagine he never needed to say 'you're mine' because you are. And he was yours. Not by words, but by presence. When he showed up. When he stayed. That had always been enough. But love doesn't always speak the same language. And now, he was starting to see the cracks. And the worst part? You never accused him. You never even asked. That was how he knew it was bad. You didn't demand his attention. You just quietly mourned in a way that you no longer had all of it.

Imagine he caught you staring at him tonight. Not like before, not the way you used to, with warmth and ease, but with quiet hesitation. There was something unreadable in your eyes. He came home late again. Another shift, another report, another excuse. The apartment was dim and quiet like always. But it didn't feel like peace anymore, it felt like a pause.

"Can we talk?" You asked softly. But Xavier’s body went still. It was the way you spoke. Not with hurt. Not with hope. But with certainty. And for the first time, Xavier realized he might have made you feel like your were an option. And once again, the worst part was, he loves you. But now you're was standing there, looking at him like he was already halfway out the door.

Imagine the way he open his mouth only for no words to came out. His chest grew tight, a quiet panic creeping up his spine. He looked at you, the only person who had been his constant. The only one who understood his silences, who loved him in the absence of words. “Xavier.” You spoke again, softer than ever now. “Please.” Your voice didn't shake. But something inside him did. So he took one step forward. Then another. And then he stopped.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: okay I'm done, bye. It trully feels good to update on laptop.

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[cheolieji]

when you’re the 14th girl member of svt but you’re especially close with scoups and you’ve liked him forever but you didn’t do anything about it but he found out (by overhearing you talk to one of the members about it) but then u guys got into a huge fight one day and the members try to comfort u and scoups feels super bad cuz he said a lot of hurtful things and he’s trynna apologize and get with you to tell you how he truly feels but u ignore him PLS WAH also please add lots of angst PLEASE (you can add smut or whatever as you please)

unspoken pt 1 - choi seungcheol

wc: 2,257

Idol au

14th member fic

angstttt

guide for requesting on my page [17] check it out before requesting please

Scarlet's Masterlist

other parts: part2 - part3

part 2 is outt!!

You’ve been in this group for years, and Seungcheol has always been the person you felt closest to. Not just because he’s the leader, not just because he’s good at holding the team together, but because he sees people. He saw you when you were struggling during pre-debut. When you thought you didn’t belong. When you thought no one noticed how hard you were trying. He always noticed.

And of course you fell for him. Slowly at first, then all at once. But you never said a word. You told yourself it wasn’t worth ruining everything over a stupid crush. Told yourself you could live with just being close to him. You learned to ignore the way your heart clenched when he smiled at you. You learned to bury it.

Until yesterday.

You didn’t even mean to say it. You and Jeonghan were up on the rooftop after practice, your head full of exhaustion and your heart heavier than usual.

“I’ve liked him for years,” you admitted, voice so low you were barely sure it even counted as speaking. “I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried so hard. But I can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyway. He’d never feel the same.”

Jeonghan just looked at you with that sad kind of knowing in his eyes. He didn’t try to argue. He just let you feel it.

Neither of you realized Seungcheol had followed you up there. He turned around and left before you could say anything.

The next day, you expected him to say something. Anything. But he didn’t even look at you. He was cold. Distant. And tense during practice.

It started when you missed a move. Small mistake. You were distracted. Tired.

“Again,” Seungcheol said. “From the top.”

You reset your position without arguing. But the second time, you hesitated for half a beat.

“For god’s sake, can you just focus?” he snapped.

Your head shot up. “What?”

“You heard me.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I made a mistake,” you said, forcing your voice to stay calm. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

“Maybe if you actually tried instead of moping around like a kicked puppy, we wouldn’t be wasting time.”

You blinked, stunned. You felt the words hit harder than they should have.

Jeonghan stepped in. “Come on, that’s enough.”

Seungcheol turned on him. “Don’t start.”

“You’re overreacting,” Joshua said from the side, voice low but steady. “You know you are.”

“I’m the leader,” Seungcheol shot back. “I’m allowed to be frustrated when people stop pulling their weight.”

That was when you laughed. Just once. Quiet and bitter.

“Pulling my weight?” you said. “I’ve done nothing but try. I’ve been here just as long as you have. I’ve bled for this group too.”

“You’re always making everything about you,” he snapped. “You think we don’t see it? You think we don’t notice how you sulk every time something doesn’t go your way?”

“Stop it,” Jihoon said, stepping forward.

“No,” Seungcheol said. “I’m sick of pretending this isn’t a problem. We’re walking on eggshells around someone who clearly doesn’t care anymore.”

Your stomach turned. “You think I don’t care? Are you serious?”

“You’re selfish.”

No one spoke after that.

You grabbed your bag and walked out.

No one stopped you.

You spent the whole day locked in your room. You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t respond when Seungkwan knocked softly and asked if you were okay. You didn’t open the door when Jeonghan came back later and whispered your name like he was afraid you'd break just from hearing it.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t let yourself. But your chest felt hollow.

When night came, the dorm was quiet. Everyone tiptoed around the tension in the air. No one played games. No one turned on the TV. No one dared to speak too loud. Like they were scared something fragile was already hanging by a thread.

And then Seungcheol knocked once before pushing your door open.

You didn’t look at him.

He stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him like that would soften anything. It didn’t.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” he said. His voice was low. Unsteady. “But please. Just let me talk.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, facing the window. Completely still.

He took a breath. Then another. And then he started talking.

“I messed everything up. I know that. I know what I said today was... it was unforgivable. I was angry. I was confused. And I took it all out on you because I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I made you hate me, maybe it’d be easier. For you. For me. For everyone.”

You didn’t move.

“I heard you yesterday,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t follow you on purpose. I just... I was going to ask you something. I don’t even remember what now. But I heard what you said to Jeonghan. About me. About how long you’ve felt this way.”

His voice cracked then, and he swallowed hard.

“I wanted to say something. I should’ve said something. But I froze. Because the truth is I’ve been trying to pretend I don’t feel the same. I’ve spent so long trying to lead this group the right way, trying to keep everything balanced. And I told myself it was safer if I stayed away from anything that could shake that.”

He stepped closer, slowly, like you were something fragile. Like he was scared to breathe wrong and shatter you completely.

“But I like you. God, I like you so much it makes me feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t control. And that scared me. Because you matter to me. Not just as a member. Not just as a friend. You matter in a way I don’t even know how to explain.”

Still, you didn’t turn around.

“I never thought I’d be the one to hurt you like this,” he said. “I hate myself for what I said. I keep hearing it play over in my head, the way your face looked when I said you were selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve carried so much on your own, and I saw it. I’ve always seen it. And I still tore you apart.”

He crouched down in front of you now, trying to meet your eyes. His voice dropped even lower.

“I’ll do anything to fix this. I’ll wait as long as you want. I’ll say sorry every day until you believe me. Until you can look at me again and not feel disgusted. I’ll earn your forgiveness even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You blinked, but still didn’t look at him. The ache in your chest was too loud. His voice couldn’t reach through it.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “But I want you. I want to try. Not just to fix what I broke. I want to be by your side. I want to hold your hand and not have to hide it. I want you to know that I’ve been yours longer than I ever realized.”

He waited.

You gave him nothing.

Not a word. Not a glance. Not even a breath that told him you’d listened.

So he stood. Slowly. Like gravity was heavier around him now.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. “And the next day. And the next. Until you don’t flinch when I say your name. Until you believe that I mean every word.”

Then he left.

And you let him.

Again.

[norristrii]

STAND BY YOU.

Engaged on a Las Vegas pavement, you and Lando now look forward to the next chapter—your wedding awaits.

pairing. fiancé! Lando Norris x bsf! fiancée! fem! reader.

warnings. none, just fluff. This is part2 of Stand By Me ! Glad you liked it <3 For better understanding, I recommend to read it first.

THE WEEKS BLURRED TOGETHER in a whirlwind of planning, laughter, and Carlos’s dramatic antics. True to his word, Carlos had insisted—demanded, really—that he would officiate your wedding. The delay for the certificate became a running joke, his overly enthusiastic updates on the process making it impossible to take anything too seriously.

Still, amidst all the chaos, being engaged to Lando felt strangely… natural. The teasing, the inside jokes, the easy camaraderie—all of it had shifted subtly into something deeper, more meaningful. You couldn’t help but think about how absurdly obvious it seemed now, how perfectly it all fit together. Why hadn’t you done this earlier? The thought lingered in your mind, bringing a smile to your face every time it crossed your thoughts.

The room buzzed with excitement as Rebecca, Lily, and Alex worked tirelessly to perfect every detail of your dress. You stood in front of the mirror, the reflection staring back at you almost surreal. The gown flowed effortlessly, hugging you in all the right places and radiating an elegance you hadn’t quite imagined for yourself. Your bridesmaids hovered around you, adjusting tiny details, smoothing fabric, and offering reassurances that you looked stunning.

“Who will walk you down the aisle?” Lily asked casually, her voice breaking through your thoughts. The question hit you like a thunderbolt. Your eyes widened, panic bubbling to the surface as realization struck. Oh fuck. Of course, there was something you’d forgotten—there had to be.

Your gaze darted around the room as your mind raced. The answer you sought came in the form of Lewis. He seemed oblivious to the whirlwind of activity around him, his presence grounding in a way only Lewis could manage. In many ways, he had always been like an older brother to you—constant, supportive, and unshakable in his quiet strength.

You quickly texted him, your fingers flying over the screen as you summoned him to the room. Moments later, the door swung open, and there he was, his expression curious as he stepped inside. “What do you need, Y/n?” he asked, his tone casual but tinged with concern.

“I need you to walk me down the aisle,” you said, the words tumbling out in your moment of desperation. His eyes widened in horror, the surprise evident in his reaction.

“What? Me? I don’t know, Y/n—” he hesitated, his voice trailing off as he processed the request.

“C’mon, Lewis, you are perfect for that,” you assured him, your voice carrying all the conviction he needed.

He raised an eyebrow, his teasing nature kicking in despite the seriousness of the moment. “Do I look like your father? Am I that old?” he joked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but amused. “Lewisss,” you said, drawing out his name in a way that left no room for argument.

He paused for a moment, then nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll do it,” he said simply, his voice steady and warm.

The avenue was alive with chaos, a far cry from the calm serenity one might expect at a wedding. Flower petals littered the ground, already prematurely scattered by Kimi and Isack, who stood off to the side with expressions that ranged between regret and mischief. “Can you remind me why we agreed to do this?” Kimi muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with quiet exasperation.

Carlos, however, was having none of it. His booming voice cut through the disarray, rising above the hum of last-minute preparations and hushed conversations. “C’mon, boys! You’re not at a funeral, you’re at a wedding!” he shouted, his arms flailing for emphasis. His enthusiasm, as always, was impossible to ignore, and it served as an attempt—albeit futile—to inject some order into the madness.

By the arch, Lando shifted uncomfortably, his nerves all too evident as he tried not to let the chaos get to him. Carlos stood next to him, a grin playing on his face despite the commotion. “Relax, mate,” Carlos teased, nudging Lando lightly. But Lando barely reacted, his focus elsewhere—on you, on the moment to come, and on the reality of what was about to unfold. Chaos or not, this was happening, and he couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling under the surface.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Lando muttered to Carlos, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and nervous excitement. His hands fidgeted slightly, as if his body hadn’t quite caught up with the enormity of the moment. The chaos surrounding them—Kimi and Isack’s antics with flower petals, Carlos shouting directions, and the hum of last-minute preparations—almost felt distant, the weight of the occasion taking center stage.

“And I can’t believe you actually got the certificate,” Lando added with a laugh, the tension breaking just enough to let a grin tug at his lips. Carlos smirked in return, pride evident in his expression. “I’m a man of my word,” Carlos said dramatically, adjusting his position by the arch with a flourish that bordered on theatrical.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he cast a glance towards the avenue where you were still out of view. This was it—the moment he never imagined he’d experience, but now couldn’t fathom it happening any other way. This was happening, and the thought alone made his heart race.

The soft hum of conversation in the avenue was replaced by the first notes of the music, filling the air with an elegant melody that signaled the beginning of something extraordinary. The bridesmaids walked out one by one, their dresses flowing gracefully as they moved in sync, their smiles radiant and genuine. The crowd stirred, heads turning to watch Rebecca, Lily, and Alex take their places.

Carlos, now standing taller by the arch, adjusted his jacket as he stole a glance at Lando, whose nerves seemed to return with a vengeance. Lando’s eyes darted toward the aisle, the anticipation in his expression palpable. The music swelled, each note carrying the promise of what was to come, and the avenue seemed to hold its breath as the moment unfolded.

The soft hum of the music filled the venue as you entered, Lewis walking confidently by your side. All eyes turned towards you, the room buzzing with quiet awe as you made your way down the aisle. You couldn’t help but grin, the joy radiating from you as you took in the sight of your friends standing together, groomsmen perfectly aligned—Charles, Oscar, and Max—all dressed immaculately, each wearing a mix of pride and amusement on their faces.

But your gaze lingered longest on Lando. The way he looked at you—eyes full of love, amazement, and just the tiniest glimmer of nerves—made your heart soar. For a moment, it felt like time slowed, as if the chaos of the world outside had melted away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect bubble.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Max whispered, breaking the spell as his voice carried to Charles and Oscar beside him. Oscar gave him a sideways glance, half amused, while Charles raised an eyebrow in mock judgment.

“It’s not even your own wedding,” Charles muttered, his dry humor earning a quiet chuckle from Oscar.

Max wiped at an imaginary tear, a playful grin breaking across his face. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be emotional,” he quipped, his dramatic flair adding yet another layer of charm to the moment.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, their banter grounding the surreal beauty of the day. But when your eyes flicked back to Lando, the world around you seemed to fall quiet again. This was your moment.

As you reached Lando under the arch, the music softened, replaced by the warm sound of Carlos clearing his throat. Standing tall, his charisma on full display, Carlos began his speech with a tone that was equal parts heartfelt and lighthearted. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, his smile broad as his gaze swept across the crowd, “we’re gathered here today to celebrate a very unique love story.”

His words resonated, and the crowd quieted, eager to soak in the moment. “What started years ago as a friendship,” Carlos continued, “is now turning into marriage.”

Lando’s hands found yours, his touch grounding you as Carlos spoke. You could feel the slight tremble in Lando’s grip, betraying his nervous excitement, even as his grin remained unwavering. Carlos threw a playful glance Lando’s way, his tone shifting into something cheekier. “I still remember how Lando simped over Y/n into my DMs,” he said, his laughter spilling out in a way that drew chuckles from the crowd. Lando’s blush deepened as his eyes momentarily dropped to the floor, his embarrassment evident but undeniably endearing.

Carlos grinned at the memory, glancing back at you both. “And how we planned the proposal,” he added, his expression growing warmer as he recalled the effort and camaraderie that went into orchestrating the big moment.

“And, to be honest,” Carlos said, turning to meet your gaze directly, “I didn’t think she would say yes.” His words carried a teasing note, but his sincerity was unmistakable. “But here we are now.”

The crowd erupted in laughter and applause, the warmth and joy of the speech permeating the venue. You caught Lando’s eyes, his blush still lingering, but his expression was full of love, gratitude, and a quiet thrill that made your heart flutter. Carlos’ words captured the essence of your journey—unconventional, chaotic, and perfectly yours.

Carlos cleared his throat, adopting a playful yet sincere tone as he began, “So, Lando, do you promise to always stand by Y/n? Even when she’s yelling at you for something that, let’s be honest, you probably deserved?”

The crowd chuckled softly, the humor in his words breaking the tension of the moment. Lando smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he answered confidently, “I do.” His voice was steady, carrying every ounce of love and commitment he felt in that moment.

“And Y/n,” Carlos continued, his tone teasing yet undeniably warm, “do you promise you’ll always stand by Lando—through wins, through losses—and do you promise to always love him, even though he’s going to complain about, well, almost everything?”

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, the lightheartedness of Carlos’s words easing the tension of the moment. You turned to Lando, who was already grinning, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment at Carlos’s playful jab. His eyes locked onto yours, full of love and anticipation.

“I do,” you replied, your voice steady and filled with certainty, carrying the weight of everything this promise meant. The simplicity of those two words held all the chaotic adventures, heartfelt moments, and laughter you’d shared—and all the beautiful unknowns still waiting ahead.

Carlos beamed, spreading his arms wide as he declared with flair, “Well then, with that, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” The cheers and applause erupted around you, the joy and celebration wrapping you both in a perfect, unforgettable moment.

Lando didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat. The moment Carlos’s words faded into the cheers of the crowd, he closed the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face as his lips found yours with an intensity that made the world around you disappear. The kiss was full of emotion—love, relief, and the overwhelming joy of finally reaching this moment.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, but it all felt distant, like background noise to the electricity sparking between you and Lando. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin wide and uncontainable. “You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, though the love in his eyes was anything but playful.

“No way, Oscar is crying!” Max exclaimed, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads. You and Lando glanced back, curiosity piqued as you looked over at Oscar. Sure enough, there he was, subtly wiping at his eyes, clearly trying—and failing—to be discreet about it.

Oscar noticed the attention and immediately straightened, his expression shifting into something resembling nonchalance. “I’m not crying,” he muttered, though the slightly red hue in his eyes betrayed him. “There’s just… something in the air.”

“In my wildest dreams, I never imagined Lando would be the first of us to get married,” Charles said, shaking his head with a playful shrug. His words drew a few laughs from the group, but his expression held a touch of genuine disbelief.

“Especially to Y/n,” he added, glancing over at you and Lando with a grin that bordered on teasing. “I mean, she’s everything—smart, beautiful— and he’s... well, he’s Lando.”

“Shut up, Charles,” Lando retorted, rolling his eyes as a smirk tugged at his lips. His tone was playful, though it was clear he wasn’t going to let Charles get away with his teasing without firing back.

The group erupted in laughter, Max clapping Charles on the shoulder as if to commend him for stirring the pot. “Come on, he’s just jealous,” Max added with a grin.

“I’m not jealous!!” Charles exclaimed, rolling his eyes so dramatically it was almost theatrical. The emphasis in his voice only made his claim less convincing, and you couldn’t help but suppress a laugh as you exchanged a knowing glance with Lando.

“Yeah, definitely not,” Lando muttered under his breath, a cheeky smirk lighting up his face. Max burst into laughter, clapping Charles on the back. “Sure, mate,” Max said, his tone dripping with amusement. “We totally believe you.”

Charles crossed his arms, trying to hold his ground, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. The playful banter continued, fueling the lighthearted, chaotic energy of the day—a perfect reflection of your close-knit group of friends.

You just smiled at them, their playful banter fading into the background as you stood next to Lando. The moment felt surreal, like something out of a dream you’d never dared to believe could come true. From childhood best friends, sharing secrets and laughter, to that impulsive, imperfectly perfect engagement on the pavement—just the two of you and the overwhelming love you couldn’t contain. And now, here you were, standing together in front of everyone who mattered, taking the next step into forever.

Lando must have sensed your thoughts, because when you glanced at him, his soft smile told you everything without saying a word. The way he looked at you—the same way he always had, but now with the added weight of this day, this moment—made your heart swell. What started as a friendship built on late-night chats and shared dreams had grown into something deeper, stronger, and absolutely unshakable. This was your story, and it was only just beginning.

© norristrii 2025

@haniette , @ughyoustink , @quinquinquincy

[zeroseuniverse]

heyy first of all dont listen to anyone sending hate no one deserves that and specially you🫶

so ive been inactive for a couple of days and i was just catching up with your fics and i was wondering if you would consider doing a part2 for lovesick fool?

i was thinking like rival gang kidnaps reader and cheol goes all crazy looking for her BUT i was thinking (since i get baddie energy from her oops) that maybe he shows up to save her but girlie already saved herself like a girlboss

just a thought haha

i hope you have a great day and remember that you deserve good things 😚🫶

Lovesick Fool III

Word Count: 1.1K Summary:“No,” he mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket. “You almost got kidnapped today. I deserve this.” Pairing: S.coups X reader

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

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The warehouse reeked of gasoline and sweat, the flickering overhead light casting eerie shadows across the concrete floor. A group of men stood around, some pacing, others leaning against crates, each one glancing nervously toward the chair in the center of the room.

Their hostage sat there, bound and blindfolded, head tilted slightly as if listening.

“You sure this was a good idea?” one of the men muttered.

“Boss said to grab her,” another replied, though his voice wavered. “Said it would bring Choi Seungcheol to his knees.”

At the mention of that name, the air seemed to grow heavier.

Everyone knew Seungcheol was terrifying. Everyone knew messing with him was a death sentence. But no one had ever dared to lay a hand on you.

Until now.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made them all tense.

And then—

A soft laugh.

Slow. Amused. Dangerous.

“Bring him to his knees?” your voice cut through the silence like a blade. “You really thought this was going to work?”

The blindfold slipped, revealing sharp, unreadable eyes. The ropes that had bound your wrists lay loose at your sides.

The realization hit them all at once.

You weren’t waiting to be saved.

You were playing with them.

Someone moved first—bad decision.

Before he could react, you grabbed the chair leg and swung it, knocking him to the ground. Chaos erupted. One reached for his gun—too slow. You ducked, sending an elbow into his ribs before grabbing his wrist and twisting, forcing him to drop the weapon.

Another lunged, but you sidestepped, using his momentum to slam him face-first into the crate behind you.

By the time the last man standing realized what was happening, you were already in front of him, pressing the stolen gun beneath his chin.

“Go ahead,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Make a move.”

He didn’t.

The only sound in the room was his shaky breathing—and the unmistakable click of a safety being turned off.

Then—

BOOM.

The warehouse door flew open with a resounding crash, the walls practically shaking from the force of it.

A storm in human form stood at the entrance.

Choi Seungcheol.

Gun in hand, eyes blazing, chest heaving as if he’d torn through hell itself to get here.

His men flooded in behind him, weapons drawn, ready for blood.

And then—he saw you.

Standing in the middle of a room filled with groaning, barely-conscious bodies, a gun still poised under one man’s chin.

His eyes flicked over the scene. The broken chair. The scattered weapons. The men who had dared to take you.

And then—back to you.

Untouched. Unbothered.

Unapologetic.

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping slightly, though the fury in his eyes remained. “Are you kidding me?”

You smiled. “Took you long enough.”

He dragged a hand down his face, stalking forward with slow, deliberate steps. The remaining conscious man whimpered as Seungcheol’s gaze landed on him.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in and whispered, “Run.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Seungcheol watched him go, then turned his full attention to you. “Are you hurt?”

“Do I look hurt?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer until you were standing chest to chest. “I’m fine, Cheol. They were sloppy.”

Seungcheol inhaled deeply, forcing himself to breathe. To push past the primal urge to hunt down every last one of the bastards who had taken you.

Because you weren’t just fine. You were standing there, smirking at him, like this was all just a mild inconvenience.

And maybe that was the real reason he was losing his mind.

Because no one else could do this to him.

No one else could terrify him and make him fall harder in the same breath.

Finally, his hands found your face, tilting it up as his forehead pressed against yours. His touch was firm but careful—like he was grounding himself in the fact that you were really here.

“I swear to God,” he murmured, voice rough, “if anyone ever lays a hand on you again—”

“They won’t.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. You weren’t reassuring him. You weren’t telling him to let it go.

You were making a promise.

Something dark and possessive flickered in his gaze before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

You grinned. “That’s why you love me.”

His grip tightened slightly before he let out a quiet chuckle, lips curving upward. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Mingyu, who had been standing behind them, muttered, “I don’t know if I’m turned on or scared.”

Jeonghan sighed. “Both, probably.”

Joshua just shook his head. “They deserve each other.”

And Seungcheol?

He just kissed you—hard.

Because damn if they weren’t right.

Back at Seungcheol’s penthouse, you barely had time to take off your shoes before you found yourself tackled onto the couch.

“Cheol—”

“No,” he mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket. “You almost got kidnapped today. I deserve this.”

You huffed out a laugh, trying (and failing) to push his massive frame off you. “I did get kidnapped.”

“And you saved yourself like a badass.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes with a devastatingly soft pout. “But what about me, baby? Do you know how scared I was? I almost set the entire city on fire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He ignored that, nuzzling into your neck. “You can’t just be all fearless and independent. Let me save you at least once, damn it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart flipped at how ridiculously clingy he was being. “Cheol—”

He groaned dramatically, tightening his hold. “No. Don’t ‘Cheol’ me. I’m in distress. You’re my weakness. I need to recharge.”

“You’re being so dramatic.”

“I almost went feral for you. You can’t just walk away from that.”

You sighed, giving in and running your fingers through his hair. That earned you an immediate, satisfied hum as he melted into you completely.

From the hallway, Jeonghan leaned against the wall, sipping his drink. “Told you,” he muttered.

Joshua nodded beside him. “He’s done for.”

Minghao scoffed. “The scariest gang leader in the city… reduced to a lovesick puppy.”

Seungcheol, who had somehow maneuvered himself so his head was now in your lap, cracked open one eye. “Jealous?”

Jeonghan just smirked. “No. Just impressed.”

You chuckled, stroking his cheek. “Guess I do have too much power over you.”

He grinned, tilting his head into your touch. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[xichilie]

YOUR MYDEI TRYING TO COURT US FIC WAS SOSOSO CUTE IT HAD ME GIGGLING LIKE A MANIAC.

Would our amazing author pretty please consider making a part 2 when they have time 🙏 mayb they get together and mydei asks y/n out on an actual date but still is getting use to flirting in their way. No pressure though, love every morsel of mydei content from u 😭😭😭

I got multiple requests for a second part, so it's time to feed you guys♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader Part2

Part 1

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich, comforting scent of butter and spice. Y/N sat on the edge of the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched Mydei work. His movements were precise, methodical—hands dusted with flour as he kneaded the dough with ease, rolling it out before folding it again. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain focus in the way he handled the ingredients.

“You’re really good at this,” Y/N noted, resting her chin on her hand.

Mydei didn’t look up, but the corner of his lips almost twitched. “I’ve had practice.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“Hm.” He paused, carefully pressing the dough into shape. “It’s just… preparing food. Like anything else. Following the right steps, controlling the heat.”

Y/N hummed. “You make it sound so simple, but I’m pretty sure I’d mess it up in three seconds.”

Mydei glanced at her, golden eyes briefly flicking over her face before he returned to his task. “You’d just need to learn.”

She pouted. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Another pause. Then: “Maybe.”

Before she could tease him about it, another voice chimed in.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Y/N turned just in time to see Phainon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with unmistakable amusement. His blue eyes flickered to the baking ingredients, then to Mydei, and his grin widened.

“Mydei,” he said slowly, stepping into the kitchen, “are you baking?”

Mydei’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. “…Yes.”

Phainon looked delighted. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve had the ability to make delicious pastries, and I’m only now finding out?”

Y/N snickered. “I know, right? He’s been holding out on us.”

Mydei ignored them both.

Unbothered, Phainon walked over and leaned on the counter beside Y/N. “So, what are we making?”

“We aren’t making anything,” Mydei corrected.

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He glanced at the dough, inspecting it with mild curiosity. “Looks fancy. What is it?”

Y/N answered before Mydei could. “He said it’s a spiced honey pastry. Apparently, it’s something Kremnoans eat after big feasts.”

Phainon raised a brow. “Huh. Never imagined you as the type to make sweets.”

“I don’t make them often.”

“So, what, is this a special occasion?”

Mydei didn’t answer.

Phainon smirked. “Interesting.”

Y/N, completely missing the implication, just nodded along. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing! He said he felt like making something, but he won’t say why.”

Phainon shot Mydei a look that screamed, You’re so obvious, it hurts.

Mydei, sensing it, leveled him with a sharp glare.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, just tilted her head. “So, what’s next?”

“…Shaping the dough,” Mydei muttered, shifting his focus back to the counter.

Phainon grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

And with that, the three of them continued—Y/N genuinely interested in learning, Phainon occasionally throwing in unhelpful commentary, and Mydei just barely tolerating them. (Barely tolerating phainon)

If nothing else, at least the pastries would turn out well.

The sweet, warm scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air as Mydei pulled the tray from the oven. Golden and crisp on the outside, soft and honeyed within—perfect.

Y/N leaned forward, eyes bright with admiration. “Wow, Mydei, these look amazing.”

He huffed softly, carefully plating a few. “Taste it.”

She didn’t hesitate, breaking one open and taking a bite. The moment the flavors melted on her tongue, her eyes widened, and she let out a delighted hum. “Oh my, Mydei—this is so good.”

Mydei allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

Meanwhile, Phainon, who had been eyeing the pastries the entire time, reached for one. “Alright, my turn—”

Without even looking, Mydei smoothly pulled the plate just out of his reach.

Phainon blinked. “Wait. Did you just—”

Silence.

Mydei focused solely on Y/N as she savored the pastry, blissfully unaware of Phainon’s suffering.

“Are you seriously not giving me one?” Phainon asked, incredulous.

No response.

Y/N, completely oblivious, just kept talking between bites. “This is honestly unfair. You can fight, you can cook, you can bake—” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “You’re great with kids, strong, good-looking—”

There was a pause.

Mydei stilled.

Phainon, who had been mid-complaint, went silent.

Y/N, not noticing, casually continued.

“You really are husband material.”

The room went dead quiet.

Mydei, who had just taken a bite of his own pastry, suddenly choked. He coughed violently, setting his plate down as he tried—and failed—to recover. His golden eyes widened slightly, his usual composure cracking for the first time.

Phainon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to explode.

His entire body trembled as he bit down on his knuckles, his blue eyes darting between Y/N—who was still completely unaware—and Mydei, who was struggling between coughing and processing what just happened.

“H-Husband—” Mydei stammered, voice unusually strained. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “What?”

Y/N glanced up, chewing. “Hmm?”

“You just—” Mydei exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at her like she had just knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just call me—”

Phainon made a choked noise.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” She shrugged, finishing the last of her pastry. “I mean, you kinda are. You’ve got all the qualities.”

Phainon slapped the table so hard the dishes rattled, wheezing.

Mydei shot him a sharp glare, but it did nothing to stop him from completely losing it.

Y/N, still unaware of the absolute chaos she had just caused, tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

Phainon, gasping for air, barely managed to choke out, “N-nothing—nothing at all—please, keep talking—”

Meanwhile, Mydei looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His face, usually unreadable, was visibly strained—his golden eyes flickering between frustration and something else. His ears burned just slightly, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Anyway,” Y/N continued, utterly unfazed, “this was amazing. You should bake more often, Mydei.”

Mydei, still recovering, only managed a short nod, unable to look at her.

Phainon wiped a tear from his eye, still trembling from silent laughter.

Y/N stretched. “I think I’ll go for a walk. Thanks for the food!”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Phainon collapsed.

His laughter erupted into the open, uncontrollable, as he leaned back against the chair. “Oh—oh, Mydei—” He gasped between wheezes. “Did you see your face?!”

Mydei scowled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Shut up.”

But the pink dusting his ears did not go unnoticed.

Phainon was still laughing.

It had been a full minute since Y/N left, and he was not letting it go.

“Husband material,” he wheezed, barely holding himself upright. “You really are husband material, Mydei!” He clutched his stomach, shaking his head. “Oh, this is too good—”

Mydei, sitting rigidly across from him, looked like he was this close to throwing him out the window.

“Are you done?” Mydei said, voice tight.

Phainon wiped at his eyes, trying to calm himself, but every time he looked at Mydei—his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes glaring anywhere except where Y/N had been sitting—he started up again.

“I mean—” Phainon exhaled, catching his breath. “I just—wow. Of all the things she could’ve said.” He grinned. “And you choked.”

Mydei did not dignify that with a response.

Instead, he grabbed another pastry off the plate, taking an aggressive bite, as if the food could somehow make him forget all of it.

But it didn’t.

Because Phainon was still watching him.

And worse—Mydei was still thinking about it.

Husband material.

The words repeated in his mind, unbidden, making something coil uncomfortably in his chest. Not because he disliked the idea, but because of the way she had said it—so casually, so unaware of the effect it had on him.

She really didn’t get it, did she?

Didn’t realize what it meant for someone like him to hear something like that?

He scowled, setting his plate down with a little too much force.

Phainon, of course, caught onto everything.

He smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Still thinking about it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

Phainon chuckled, tilting his head. “So. What’s your next move, husband?”

Mydei shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel.

Phainon just grinned wider.

The streets of Okhema were alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, travelers bargaining for supplies, the distant clang of a blacksmith hammering steel. But Mydei barely noticed any of it.

He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, his golden eyes narrowed in thought.

The previous day’s events played in his head on repeat.

Y/N had called him husband material—out loud, in front of Phainon, without a second thought. Did she mean it? Would he really be a good Husband? But when he’d tried to gauge her reaction, to see if she had finally understood what he’d been trying to do, she just kept eating her pastries, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

The memory alone was enough to make him grit his teeth.

He had tried everything. Gifts. Training. Spending time with her. He had been obvious—at least, by Kremnoan standards. Back home, anyone would have understood his intentions immediately.

But Y/N?

She was clueless.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting the gauntlets on his wrists.

Phainon had said he needed to be more direct. That was easier said than done. It wasn’t in his nature to be… soft. Kremnos didn’t have words for love. They had words for strength, for battle, for survival. Their affections were shown through actions, not flowery phrases or pointless compliments.

And yet, despite everything, he was losing this battle.

His next attempt had to be unmistakable.

But how—

A familiar sound stopped him in his tracks.

Laughter.

And not just anyone’s laughter—hers.

Mydei’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze scanning the marketplace.

And then he saw her.

Y/N stood in an open space near a merchant stall, surrounded by children. She was crouched down, talking animatedly, hands moving as she spoke. The kids around her giggled, some clapping their hands, others tugging at her sleeves excitedly.

Then, without warning, she bolted.

The children shrieked in delight and ran after her, their laughter ringing through the street as they chased her through the crowd.

Mydei stared.

What in the world was she doing?

His feet moved on instinct, his curiosity outweighing his frustration as he stepped closer, watching the scene unfold.

She was playing with them.

She twisted around a cart, narrowly dodging one of the kids who lunged for her. “Too slow!” she teased, sticking out her tongue before dashing away again.

The children shouted in protest, determination burning in their eyes as they picked up speed.

Mydei couldn’t help but huff a quiet breath of amusement.

She was ridiculous.

But then—

“MYDEI!”

Her voice cut through the noise, bright and full of excitement.

His muscles tensed.

Slowly, cautiously, he met her gaze.

A grin spread across her face, her eyes practically glowing.

One of the kids tugged at her sleeve. “Oh! It’s the warrior prince!”

Another turned toward him, eyes wide. “He’s really big…”

A third tilted their head. “Do you think he knows how to play?”

Mydei’s brow twitched.

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Perfect timing! We’re playing tag, but the teams are uneven.”

She pointed at him.

“You should join us!”

The kids immediately erupted in cheers.

“YES!”

“Play with us!”

“You’ll be really fast, right? You’re a warrior!”

A beat of silence passed.

Mydei stared at Y/N, then at the eager faces of the children.

Play? Him?

He was a Kremnoan warrior. He had never played tag in his life.

This was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But then Y/N tilted her head, her smile softening just slightly, and—

…Damn it.

His fate was sealed.

One second, Mydei was standing tall, arms crossed as he observed the game unfold—the next, a child had launched themselves at him.

The impact barely made him stumble, but the little hands clinging to him and the triumphant laughter left no room for doubt.

He was it.

Mydei blinked, processing what had just happened as the other children burst into cheers.

“YOU’RE IT NOW!”

“CATCH SOMEONE!”

He let out a slow exhale, golden eyes scanning the gathered group. The kids stared at him in wide-eyed excitement, giggling behind their hands. Some were already shifting nervously, ready to sprint for their lives if his attention landed on them.

But Mydei wasn’t looking at them.

His gaze snapped to Y/N.

She was just standing there—until their eyes met.

A slow grin spread across his face, sharp as a predator about to pounce.

Y/N’s own smile faltered.

“Oh, shit.”

Then she bolted.

Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she sprinted through the streets of Okhema, dodging past merchants and startled pedestrians.

Behind her, the children cheered and whooped.

“GET HER, MYDEI!”

“RUN, Y/N, RUN!”

“I’M BETTING FIVE COINS ON MYDEI!”

“You don’t have five coins!”

“I’M STILL BETTING THEM!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder—

And immediately regretted it.

Mydei was already closing the distance, long strides eating up the ground far faster than they should have. He was fast—too fast.

Her heart pounded.

If she wanted to win this, she had to think fast.

She darted toward the marketplace, weaving between food stalls and carts, leaping over crates with practiced ease.

But he didn’t slow down.

She could hear the heavy thud of his boots behind her, smooth and relentless.

She turned a corner sharply, hoping to throw him off. But then—

A strong arm shot out, just barely missing her.

A laugh rumbled from him.

“Oh, you’re dead now,” he called.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She needed height.

Spotting a stack of barrels, she vaulted onto them, then used the momentum to grab onto a wooden beam, swinging herself up onto a rooftop.

The kids gasped.

"WHOA! SHE'S LIKE A NINJA!"

"MYDEI, CAN YOU DO THAT?!"

Y/N grinned smugly, peeking over the edge. No way he's following me now.

Then she heard a heavy thud.

Her grin vanished.

Not even a second later—

Mydei had scaled the wall with brute force, gripping the ledge and pulling himself up in one swift motion.

The kids screamed in excitement.

"HE DID IT!"

“HE’S LIKE A HERO FROM A STORY!”

Y/N groaned. Of course he did.

She turned and ran again.

Now, they were tearing across the rooftops of Okhema.

Y/N moved like the wind, ducking under laundry lines, leaping between buildings, twisting midair to grab onto beams and pull herself up with effortless grace.

But Mydei—

He was a force of nature.

Where she dodged, he barreled through. Where she leaped, he jumped higher.

She landed on a narrow ledge, catching her breath for half a second

Then she felt a presence behind her.

She turned her head—

And nearly screamed.

Mydei was right there.

His golden eyes gleamed, his smirk wider than ever.

“Caught you.”

Before she could react, he lunged.

Y/N barely had a second to react before Mydei lunged.

With one smooth motion, he caught her wrist and pulled—sending them tumbling together onto the rooftop. She let out a startled gasp as she landed on her back, Mydei’s weight hovering just above her, pinning her down with ease.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath.

His golden eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

There was no cocky remark this time. Just silence.

His grip on her wrist was firm but not tight, his other hand braced beside her head. His body was warm, muscles taut from the chase, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Y/N’s heart pounded.

Not just from running.

Her lips parted slightly, trying to find words, but her mind had gone completely blank.

Why… why was he looking at her like that?

Like she was something to be hunted.

Something claimed.

She swallowed hard, face growing warm under his gaze.

And Mydei noticed.

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, and—

“WHOOOAAAAA!!!”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin at the explosion of cheering from below.

The kids had caught up.

And they were going wild.

“HE CAUGHT HER!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“MYDEI IS A WARRIOR KING! DID YOU SEE THAT LEAP?!”

“Y/N, YOU LOST!”

The spell was shattered.

Y/N immediately turned her head, face burning. Mydei, however, just huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

Still holding her wrist, he leaned down a fraction—just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Looks like you’re mine now.”

Her brain short-circuited.

But before she could even process a response, Mydei finally released her and pushed himself up with a smirk.

She stared at him, flustered beyond belief.

What… what just happened?!

Still trying to steady her racing heart, Y/N sat up as Mydei extended a hand to her. She hesitated for a second before grasping it, letting him pull her to her feet with ease.

His smirk hadn’t faded.

Before she could say anything, the children’s excited chattering reminded her that they weren’t alone.

"THAT WAS SO AWESOME!"

"You guys were so fast!"

"Did you see when Mydei jumped from the cart to the roof?! That was just like a hero in the old war stories!"

"Y/N almost got away! But then BOOM! Caught in one swoop!"

Y/N cleared her throat, desperately trying to compose herself. “Alright, alright, settle down,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “So what now? We’re all sweaty and covered in dust.”

One of the kids, a boy with wild curls, suddenly gasped as if he had the greatest idea in history.

"WAIT!" He turned to the others, his face glowing with mischief. “Since Mydei won, he needs a reward!”

A chorus of agreement followed.

Y/N felt a sense of dread creeping in.

"Yeah! He totally deserves something!"

"Like a feast fit for a warrior!"

"Or a cool new weapon!"

Then, before she could stop it—

"A kiss from the loser!"

…Silence.

Y/N felt all the air leave her lungs.

Her brain shut down.

Her soul left her body.

Did—Did that little gremlin just say—?!

The group of kids immediately exploded into laughter and cheers, clapping and nodding as if it was the most brilliant idea ever conceived.

“Yeah! A KISS!”

“A real warrior’s reward!”

“That’s what happens in the old stories! The victorious warrior gets a kiss from the fair maiden!”

Y/N’s face was on fire.

The cheering hadn’t stopped.

The kids were still bouncing around, giggling, and chanting for Y/N to give Mydei his “victory reward.”

Meanwhile, she was still frozen.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her face burning as she kept her gaze trained anywhere but on Mydei.

But then—

She dared a glance at him.

And what she saw stopped her brain completely.

He wasn’t looking at her.

Or at the kids.

Or anywhere really.

Instead, Mydei was staring off into the distance, arms crossed, posture stiff—trying so hard to look unaffected.

But.

His ears.

They were red.

Y/N blinked.

Then blinked again.

He was flustered.

The realization hit her like a boulder.

Mydei, the warrior who faced armies without blinking, who never seemed bothered by anything, who was always composed—

Was actually flustered.

Something about that made her heart flip.

And before she could stop herself—

She acted.

She reached out, tapped his shoulder.

He turned, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha—”

Y/N grabbed the collar and pulled him down slightly—

And pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The world went silent.

For a long second, Mydei did not move.

His golden eyes went wide, his entire body going rigid.

And then—

His face turned completely red.

It started at his ears, then spread down his neck, creeping across his cheeks.

His lips parted slightly, as if trying to form a sentence.

But no words came out.

Instead, what left his mouth was—

“…I— You— Wha—”

He couldn’t even speak.

And that—

Was absolutely amazing.

Before he could even recover, the kids exploded into cheers.

“WHOOOOAAAAA!!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“I KNEW SHE’D DO IT!”

“Mydei lost his brain—look at him!!”

“I think he DIED!”

Y/N, cheeks still burning, looked up at Mydei—who still hadn’t moved.

His mouth was slightly open, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch his cheek but refused to do it in front of everyone.

Finally—

He turned away sharply, crossing his arms.

“…Tch.”

Y/N grinned.

But unbeknownst to both of them—

A little distance away, hiding behind a pillar, Phainon was grinning ear to ear.

And in his hands?

A perfectly timed picture of the exact moment Y/N kissed Mydei’s cheek.

The blue-eyed warrior chuckled to himself, tucking his phone away.

“Oh, this is going to be useful.”

[salynaa]

Past Shadow Milk x reader!Witch

Warning : Very very short, Angst, cute drawing at the end<3

"Once upon a time, in a world filled with magic, two pure souls crossed paths. One had just been freshly baked, still warm with the goal of knowing and share it to those who seek it. While the other was only beginning to learn how to bake, craft, create them. Both craved something, knowledge.

So they met in secret night after night, to share in whispers some truths hidden in forgotten scrolls and parchments. Their voices always soft and low, as to never break those intimate moment between them, those moment who only the moon herself was aware of it.

But the more they pushed each others forward in their quest for more and more knowledge, the less they noticed that they were dragging each other toward a unfortunate end.

Knowledge, as powerful as it is, carries a heavy weight. And the more they uncovered, the heavier it became, until the light that once guided them began to dim. And yet, even as the darkness crept in, they held on to one another…

Until one of them broke their promises, a promise that was once, oh, so dear to them, broken into a thousand of forbidden pieces of knowledge now forgotten.

What began as a beautiful journey slowly twisted into a quiet tragedy that neither of them would speak. It was their new secret, to pretend that their existence had never crossed their path…"

—

“Shadow Milk. You dared to say that you hated witches, but could you look her in the eyes and repeat those words after so many quiet whispers between you two? I saw how lonely you were. Your loneliness, it began after her…”

“..I-…You know nothing about her!”

That my witch Au, thanks for reading!!🫶

Do you guys want a part2? PLEASE ,REALLY, tell me if you want one!!

[nekonaps0]

Is Your Girl Single? pt3

✦part1 part2

✦characters: first years + Kalim, Silver, Cater

✦fem!reader

Ace Trappola

Ace was joking with some of his classmates when someone casually asked “Yo, that girl you’re always with—is she single?”

He laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke.

“Hah! Good one.”

The guy just blinks. “No, seriously.”

Ace freezes mid smirk. His head turns. Slow. Calculated.

“You’re seriously asking me… if my girlfriend… is single?”

His voice drops low. You can practically see the gears turning.

“Do you wanna fight? Or do you just have a death wish?”

He walks over, hand slung lazily around your shoulders, glaring daggers at the guy the whole way.

“Look at her. She’s beautiful, funny. Way too good for you . And she chose me.” He smirks “So no, she’s not single. Try asking again, and I’ll make sure you leave this conversation with a black eye and a broken pride.”

Later, he flops next to you and groans

“Babe, you need to stop being so cute. I’m gonna have to start carrying warning signs or something.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce was just minding his business, studying, being responsible, when the question hit him like a thrown potion bottle.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“...What?”

Deuce straightens up like he’s been called to duel. Serious face ON.

“No. She’s not. She’s my girlfriend.”

The guy started mumbling something that “he didn’t know.”

“You should know.”

He’s not angry. He’s just disappointed like a sweet, protective puppy turning into your knight.

“She’s amazing. She deserves someone who notices everything about her including the fact that she’s in a happy relationship.”

Afterward, he tells you everything and gets adorably shy about it.

“Sorry if that was too much… I just… didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking they had a shot with you.”

Jack Howl

Jack’s usually a calm, keep to himself type. So when someone strolls up to him during P.E. and says, “Hey, that girl you’re always walking to class… is she single?”

Jack pauses mid stretch. His ears twitch. His tail stills.

He doesn’t even turn around at first just processes the words slowly, like they offended his very sense of logic.

“What?”

This time, he does turn around fully. His eyes narrow, his jaw sets, and he looks at the guy like he’s weighing whether this is worth causing a scene over.

“She’s not just ‘seeing’ someone. She’s dating me.”

His voice is firm. Deep. No anger just pure, top-level authority.

“You seriously asking that knowing I’m with her? Or are you just stupid?”

The guy tries to laugh it off, but Jack steps forward once. Just once and the other guy steps back instinctively.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that. Not like she’s just another pretty face to chase.”

Jack crossed his arms now. His tail flicks behind him.

“She’s smart. She’s strong. She sticks by people even when it’s hard. I don’t date her just because she’s cute I date her because she’s worth everything.”

Then he turns away, muscles still tense, and mutters:

“Don’t let me hear you ask that again.”

Later, when he walks you home from class, he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye like he’s still riled up.

“… I don’t get why people ask that. You make it so obvious you’re with me. And I’m not letting anyone take that away.”

Epel Felmier

Epel hears the question and nearly spits out his apple juice.

“She what?!”

Epel stands up slowly, placing both hands on the table.

“That’s my girlfriend, you twig-lookin’ scarecrow.”

He steps forward like he’s about to throw hands. His accent slipping into thick.

“She’s the most amazing woman in this world. You think she’d waste her time with… you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Epel doesn’t care that he’s shorter or anything. That pride? Untouchable.

“Look somewhere else, or I’ll show you what it’s feels like stepping into your mouth.”

Later, you hear him muttering about “darn peacocks” and “flirting idiots,” and when you ask what happened, he turns red.

“Nothin’…just, you’re mine, right? And people need to remember that.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is mid rant about Malleus when the question lands.

His jaw drops.

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

He whirls, eyes glowing with pure offense.

“SHE IS NOT SINGLE! SHE IS DATING ME, THE LOYAL KNIGHT OF MALLEUS DRACONIA!”

His shouting echoes through the hallway. Students flinch. A vase breaks somewhere in the distance.

“You impudent fool! To think you could stand a chance with her! She is strong, kind, radiant! And she belongs to—ahem—that is, she is in a deeply committed relationship.”

When you find out, you’re torn between laughing and hugging him.

“I would never allow such insolence to go unchallenged. Fret not—your honor is safe with me!”

(...You’re the only one who can handle his dramatics anyway.)

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is all sunshine and open smiles… until he hears the words

He tilts his head.

“Huh? Oh—wait, you mean my girlfriend?”

His smile doesn’t drop… but there’s a shift. His eyes twinkle dangerously, and he laughs softly.

“She’s so nice. So beautiful. So smart. And, nope! Not single!”

He places a hand over his heart.

“She’s mine. We’re very happy together.”

Then he beams. But behind the grin is a very subtle threat:

“I love sharing food, clothes, parties… but not her. Try to flirt with her, and I’ll make sure you’re airlifted out of Scarabia by carpet.”

Later, he twirls you into a hug and giggles:

“People keep asking if you’re single! It must be hard being so amazing~”

Silver

Silver’s sleepy, peaceful demeanor makes people forget that he’s a trained knight. So when someone casually asks:“Is your girlfriend single?”

He blinks slowly.

“No.”

The word is calm. Flat. But final.

“She’s not single. She’s dating me.”

The person tries to laugh it off, but Silver straightens. A rare flicker of intensity flashes through his gaze.

“She’s kind. And trusting. I’m grateful to be with her. Don’t mistake her warmth for availability.”

Then he leans in slightly, not threatening, but firm.

“Some people in this school think ‘polite’ means ‘interested.’ Don’t be one of them.”

When he tells you later, he’s still calm but there’s a spark of protectiveness in his tone.

“You deserve to be respected whether I’m around or not. But I’ll always be around.”

Cater Diamond

It’s between classes and Cater’s leaning against the wall outside the cafeteria, scrolling on Magicam and humming to himself when someone nudges him.

“Yo, Cater. That girl you’re always posting with—she single?”

He doesn’t even look up at first, thinking maybe he misheard.But the guy repeats it.

Cater pauses mid-scroll.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

He turns, expression unreadable for a split second.

“You’re asking me… if my girlfriend… is single?”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. But his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes now… it’s tight.

He gestures toward the screen of his phone where the latest photo is you hugging him, captioned with “#taken 💕 #mine”.

Then his smile widens, and he throws an arm around the guy’s shoulder in a way too friendly manner.

“She’s not single. Not even close. In fact, she’s absolutely crazy about me~”

His tone is chipper, but there’s a warning tucked just beneath the honey.

“So hey! Just a tip? Maybe scroll through someone’s feed before you start sniffing around their girl, y’know?”

Then Cater pulls back, spinning on his heel like nothing happened, casually waving you over when he sees you approach.

He slings his arm around your waist and pecks your cheek right in front of the poor guy.

“This guy thought you were single. Can you believe that? Pffft~”

As you both walk away, he’s grinning but once you’re alone, he turns serious for a beat.

“You know you’re my everything, right? I don’t care who flirts or who asks dumb questions. As long as you know I’m all in? Nothing else matters.”

He winks, brushing a finger under your chin.

“Though… I might post a few extra couple selfies tonight just to remind people what’s what~”

..............................................................................................................................

I know I messed up the part two but LOOK! I fixed everything here✨

[niwaart]

LOST OMEGA

*Part1 *part2 *part3 *part4

As the car drove toward Wayne Manor, Bruce thought about all those years he'd spent searching for Y/N to no avail. He'd thought she'd run away after her fight with him, especially since she'd been angry at him for not giving her the chance to join Batman as a partner. If only he'd known she'd been kidnapped... if only he'd known she'd seen Jason killed...

In the backseat, Nightwing held Y/N's frail hand, feeling guilty every time he looked at her faded scars and her cuffed wrists. She smelled of fear and neglect, and though she'd fallen asleep now, her eyes bore traces of tears.

When they arrived at the manor, Alfred was waiting anxiously by the door. When he saw Batman holding Y/N in his arms, he nearly dropped the cup he was holding. "Oh...!" he whispered, his voice broken.

"Alfred, get her old room ready... and the medical exam room ready," Bruce said, his voice ragged.

Alfred was confused. "Y/N?" He thought she was gone, thought she'd left the family. After pulling himself together, Alfred nodded quickly as he led them inside.

Damian, still angry, paused at the door. "Dad, who is she?"

Bruce paused. "She's... your adopted sister."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "My adopted sister? No one ever told me about her."

"Because we thought she... wasn't with us anymore." Dick said sadly as he followed Bruce upstairs.

Bruce gently placed Y/N on the bed, while Alfred began a quick examination. "She's severely malnourished... and signs of torture," Alfred said, his voice trembling.

Bruce clenched his fists. The Joker... will pay for this.

Suddenly, Y/N jolted awake, her eyes wide with terror. "Robin! Where's Robin?!" she screamed as she struggled to get up.

"Y/N, you're safe now, this is your home." Bruce tried to calm her down.

But she looked at him apprehensively. "No... The Joker will take Robin again... I can't leave Robin!"

Damian, who was standing by the door, hesitantly stepped forward. "I'm here... no one will take me."

Y/N stared at him, then pointed a trembling finger at the "R" logo on his chest. "Robin... you're okay!" She jumped out of bed and ran toward him, but Damian quickly backed away.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, trying to hide his confusion.

Y/N paused, her eyes filling with pain.

Bruce put his hand on Damian's shoulder. "She still thinks you're Jason... she just didn't know years had passed."

Damian looked at Y/N, then at the floor. "This is... stupid." But his voice wasn't as strong as he'd wanted it to be.

That night, after Y/N had settled back down to sleep, everyone gathered in the living room. Dick was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. "All this time... she was there, locked in the dark."

Bruce was standing by the window, looking out. "We failed her."

Suddenly, they heard the door slam open.

"Where is she?!"

Everyone turned toward the sound. Jason Todd, now known as Red Hood, was standing in the doorway, his helmet to the side and his eyes burning with rage.

"Jason..." Dick whispered.

"You told me she ran away! You told me she left us! And now you're saying she's been with the Joker all these years?!" Jason's voice nearly shook the walls.

Bruce sighed. "We made a mistake."

Jason stormed into the room. "I want to see her... now."

When Jason entered the room, he saw the sleeping Y/N, and it felt like a knife had been pierced through his heart. She was almost a skeleton, her pale bunny ears moving slightly in her sleep.

"Oh my God..." Jason fell to his knees beside the bed. Jason couldn't speak, he just held her hand tightly.

Dick watched from the door of Y/N's room, while Bruce went with Alfred to more accurately review the scan results. Dick entered the room and placed his hand on Jason's shoulder, looking at Y/N's sleeping form.

"I could barely take one day of beatings from the Joker before, and that damn Lazarus Pit only made it worse and I went crazy... But her? She spent over five years under the Joker's torture... We're lucky she's still alive..." Jason whispered in pain, sobbing silently, his tears falling onto Y/N's hand as Dick hugged Jason tightly.

Damian was just watching silently from the doorway.

The next day, Y/N woke up screaming Robin's name. Dick was beside her, hugging her and gently cooing, trying to calm her down. "It's okay... Robin's fine, I promise... Jason's fine..." Dick said gently, wiping Y/N's tears away. Jason was outside the room, scared and nervous. He could hear Y/N calling his name... His hands were shaking, his breathing shallow. He hesitantly entered the room after removing the aka scent blockers from his glands. "I'm here..." He approached the bed where Y/N was and knelt in front of her.

Dick was beside Y/N, brushing her messy hair back. Y/N looked at Jason in shock. She tried to get closer, then backed away, looking at Dick as tears filled her eyes again. "It's okay, it's Robin... it's Jason," Dick said in a low voice.

Y/N turned to Jason. He smelled like Jason, but with slight differences. Y/N slowly approached Jason and gently cupped his face. "Robin?..." she whispered.

Jason leaned into Y/N's touch. "Yes... I'm fine, and alive." As soon as he finished speaking, Y/N pulled him into her makeshift nest and hugged him tightly, crying bitterly. Jason hugged her back and cried with her. Dick held himself back so he wouldn't cry too. It wasn't long before Y/N lost consciousness, but this time she transformed into a small, fragile rabbit. Omegas only transform into their secondary species when they feel completely safe, and what surprised Dick and Jason was how fragile and small Y/N was. Jason's hands were larger than Y/N's, which worried Jason and Dick.

Damian entered the room with a frown on his face, carrying food. "I brought breakfast, Alfred said-..." Damian couldn't finish his sentence at the sight before him... Was that a rabbit? He didn't know rabbits were that small... And where was Y/N? After a few seconds, he deduced that the rabbit was Y/N! He immediately placed the food on the table and went to see the rabbit closer.

"Is... Is that Y/N?" Damian asked, placing his hand on the rabbit's head. "Yes." Dick answered, snapping a picture of Y/N and sending it to Bruce.

"She's so small... can I hold her?" Damian looked at Jason excitedly. Damian was known to love animals, so this was only to be expected.

"Of course not." Jason carried the small bunny away from Damian and held it close to his chest.

Damian frowned and shouted angrily, "Why?!"

"Because you're still a kid." Jason sneered.

Damian was about to reply if Dick hadn't interrupted, "That's enough. Bruce asked us to bring her downstairs for another checkup." Jason and Damian turned to Dick, who snatched Y/N from Jason's grasp and rushed downstairs before the two could fly him away.

"You bastard!!" Jason shouted, running after Dick, followed by Damian, who pulled out a sword from God knows where.

I'm sorry to make you wait so long for this part, but I made more than ten scenarios for this part and I was torn on which one to choose 🥹 thank you for waiting and reading ❤️🤍❤️🤍

Tagelist:

@reeyy0-2

@natsukicookies

[haikyuuusimp]

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5

part4

Atsumu was devastated. Tears started flowing.

He tried contacting you for many days. Now it’s been years.

He misses you. He misses everything. And it’s too late.

He was wrong. What he had with Sakusa wasn’t love. They broke it off — maybe it was better off as just friends.

The truth?

Atsumu got scared. You were his future — the serious, forever kind. And deep down, he didn’t feel worthy. Sakusa offered something easier. Less pressure. Less responsibility. It wasn’t love — just comfort. A safe distraction he mistook for something more. But it was always you. Everything was always you.

He sits in the gym, sprawled out and exhausted. His fame increased. He’s winning more and more games.

But still… There’s something hollow in his heart.

He dreams of you every day.

Oh, how he wishes you'd come back to him.

His teammates tried to help him — even Sakusa.

“C’mon, man, just leave it. There are so many hot chicks out there.”

There were. Many models. Many superstars. But all he had in his mind was you.

He missed your touch. Your cooking. Your comfort. Your eyes. Your smile.

But it was too late.

So he kept his fake smile, his flirty attitude, and worked himself until he was no more.

Then one day, the coach called everyone up in front.

“Gather up. We have a program where you guys will go to schools and teach young kids how to play volleyball. It’ll help the club’s image.”

Bokuto and Hinata were very excited, practically jumping.

Sakusa clearly hated the idea — germs all around him.

Atsumu… well, he looked forward to it. He had nothing to lose.

Everyone was assigned different schools and warned not to get too excited or accidentally throw a ball at a kid’s face.

Atsumu went to his school — a small one, full of lovely kids.

He could tell some of the teachers had the hots for him.

But among all the kids, he noticed one quiet boy.

Something about him felt so familiar.

Then he saw the energetic girl next to him — she had the same eye color as him.

He could tell both were so excited to meet him.

“Oh my god! I’m a big fan!” the girl shouted. “I’m Aoi, and this is Akira!”

“We watch you on TV! You were soooo cool — like whoosh and bam! I wanna do that!”

“Oh, you wanna be a spiker, huh?”

“YEAHHH!! Akira always sets the ball to me — just like you! He’s sooo good at it!”

You could see Akira smiling shyly, trying to look unaffected.

Atsumu couldn’t help but chuckle at them.

They were so cute. They reminded him of… He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Teaching the kids was way more fun than he expected. He especially bonded with Akira and Aoi.

“Bye guys!! I’ll see you! I’ll miss youuu!!”

Atsumu truly enjoyed it.

As he was about to leave the school premises, he saw his two favorite kids (he knew he shouldn’t have favorites, but he couldn’t help it) running.

He was about to call out to them to say a final goodbye — until…

He saw who they were running to.

“Mommy! Mommy! Guess what!!”

Their voices faded.

All he saw… was you.

After years of waiting, everything he had hoped for stood right in front of him.

You looked tired. Thin.

But still… So. Beautiful.

So heartbreakingly beautiful.

His heart dropped.

“Atsumu!! There, that’s the one!” Aoi shouted excitedly, pointing at him.

You looked up.

Atsumu stood frozen, his breath caught in his chest. And you — wide-eyed, stunned — like time had just stopped.

You hadn’t changed. Still so achingly, devastatingly beautiful.

And in that moment, it all made sense.

Why Aoi’s eyes looked just like his. Why Akira’s quiet smile felt so familiar. Why he felt drawn to them without knowing why.

The pieces fell into place

They were his.

His children.

His heart dropped.

He staggered back a step, breath caught in his throat, chest tightening.

“They’re mine.��

mlist

[sweetlikecandysstuff]

Luca changretta x reader

Choices, part2

Part 1

Warnings: Smut, oral(fem!recieving). That's it I think...

I was blushing so hard writing this.

(I really think Luca would be so sweet and soft with his lover despite what he does as a Mob.)

Luca Changretta had never been a man who allowed himself to want. Wanting was a weakness, an indulgence that could be exploited. But you.... you were different.

He had wanted you long before the war, before the bloodshed. Before your name became something whispered in meetings, before your family became his sworn enemies. And now, as he stood before you, rain clinging to his dark suit, his patience worn thin, Luca felt something rare curl in his chest.

Desperation.

He had given you time. Time to consider, time to weigh your choices. But it had been agony. He could control men, manipulate entire families, dictate life and death... but not you. Never you.

And so, he came back.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the door as you met his gaze, wary, guarded. "You're impatient."

His lips quirked, though there was little amusement in his eyes. "I’ve waited long enough."

You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest, but Luca could see it... the flicker of conflict, the way your breath caught in your throat when he took a step forward, the way your eyes darted to his lips before you looked away.

You wanted him too.

But you were afraid.

“Amore mio,” he murmured, reaching for you, his fingers skimming the bare skin of your wrist. His touch was reverent, almost hesitant. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

You inhaled sharply, but you didn’t pull away.

“Tell me you haven’t imagined it.”

His voice was low, coaxing, laced with something dark and sinful. Luca watched as your resolve wavered, as you fought against the undeniable pull between you. His hands came to cup your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to look at him, to see the sincerity etched in every line of his face.

“I would give you everything,” he promised, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “A life you could never dream of, far from blood, far from war.” He paused, his eyes burning into yours. “And I would worship you, cara mia. Every night, every morning. You would never regret saying yes.”

Your breath hitched, and Luca knew then... he had you. You could lie to yourself, you could fight it, but this was inevitable. He had already claimed you, long before this moment.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Luca’s eyes dropped to your mouth, his grip tightening ever so slightly. He was holding back, restrained only by the thin thread of control he had left.

And then, finally, you whispered, “I don’t trust you.”

Luca exhaled sharply, his grip on you firm but gentle. “Then let me prove it.”

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Marry me, and I will give you no reason to fear me. No reason to doubt me. Only a life where you belong to me, and I belong to you.”

A shudder ran through you, your hands finally coming up to rest against his chest. The war was still there, lurking in the background. But in this moment, under the weight of his gaze, it felt small.

Luca had won many battles. He had conquered men, cities, entire legacies.

But this... this was his greatest victory yet.

You.

And when your lips finally met his, when you surrendered with a whispered, breathless yes, he knew he would never let you go.

Your brothers didn’t try to stop the wedding. They could finally see a way out, a chance to end the bloodshed. For them, it was a reluctant peace. For Luca, it was the ultimate triumph.

The wedding was an extravagant affair, not for the world to see, but for him... for you. You stood before him, draped in white, a vision of something he had long craved but never allowed himself to believe he could have. As he slid the ring onto your finger, Luca wasn’t thinking of war, or power, or vengeance. He was thinking only of you. Of how you were his now.

And he would make sure to keep you.

That night, as he held you close, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along your bare skin, he whispered, “You don’t know what you’ve done to me, amore.” His voice was thick with something raw, something unrestrained. “I thought this was about the war, about power, but it was never about that. It was always about you.”

You swallowed hard, shivering under the intensity of his gaze, his hands roaming, claiming. “And what happens now?”

Luca smirked, but there was something dark, possessive in his expression. He dragged his lips along your jaw, trailing down to your throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “Now? Now, I show you that this wasn’t just a deal.” His hands slid lower, gripping, pulling you flush against him. “This was fate.”

You didn’t know if you believed in fate. But as he pushed you back against the bed, as his lips descended on yours with a hunger that made your knees weak, you knew one thing for certain.

Luca Changretta had won.

And he was never letting go.

Luca's lips crashed against yours with a fervor that stole your breath, his hands sliding possessively down your curves as he lowered you onto the plush silk sheets.

His hand moved to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your dress, making you arch against him. "Do you know what this means," he whispered against your neck, "being married to a Changretta? Being married to me ?" His touch was both gentle and commanding, making your heart race.

"It means you're mine, completely. And I intend to worship every inch of my wife's body." His fingers traced the edge of your wedding dress, slowly pushing the material down your shoulders, revealing more of your smooth skin. .

"Every..." he murmured, kissing along your collarbone, "single..." another kiss below your ear, "inch..." His fingers traced the hem of your dress, slowly gathering it higher, revealing more of your thigh.

"You have no idea how many times I imagined this moment, laying you out on my bed and taking what's mine." He nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent as his fingers hooked into the straps of your dress.

"I've waited so long to have you like this. Soft. Yielding. All to myself." His lips found yours again, this time with a languid hunger, his tongue exploring your mouth with deep, deliberate strokes as his hands continued to hike up your dress, revealing your lacy panties.

Luca pulled back only long enough to strip you out of your dress and toss it aside, his gaze roaming over your bare skin with intense admiration. "You're fucking exquisite," he breathed, leaning down to kiss your stomach, his hands sliding up your arms to pin your wrists above your head.

"Keep them there," he ordered, his voice low and commanding as he began to trail kisses down your body, his hands trailing heat along your sides.

He kissed you again. Luca's mouth moved lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, in between your breasts, before capturing one taut peak.

You gasped as his tongue swirled around your nipple, eliciting a deep moan from you. He pulled it between his teeth, sucking gently.He switched to the other breast, giving it equal attention, making you arch your back with pleasure. "God, you're responsive," he murmured against your skin.

His hands slid to your thighs, spreading them gently as he settled between them."Perfect," he breathed, spreading your legs wider to fit between them. He nuzzled his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent deeply. "So perfect..." He used his thumbs to part your folds, exposing you further to his hot breath. "And all mine."

His tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time, making you cry out and grip the sheets above your head. "So sweet," he murmured against your sensitive flesh, licking deeper. "My sweet little wife."

Luca wrapped his arms around your legs, holding them open as he buried his face between your spread legs, devouring you hungrily. His tongue laps at your wetness, circling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth. His name fell from your lips on a broken cry.

"That's it," he growled against you, "say my name again while I make you come." His tongue stroked you in long, steady movements, while one hand slid up your stomach to cup your breast. Your hips lifted involuntarily, meeting each stroke of his tongue, feeling yourself losing control.

"Luca..." you whimpered, your body tensing as you felt the pleasure building too quickly. He could feel it too, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively as he held you open wider. "Look at me," he ordered, lifting his head briefly to give the command.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust, locking onto Luca's molten gaze. His tongue flicked out, teasing your clit mercilessly, pushing you towards the edge. "You're going to come on my tongue like a good little wife,"

Luca growled those words against your sensitive clit before sucking it back into his mouth, sending jolts of intense pleasure through your core. His tongue moved relentlessly, bringing you to the brink as he maintained eye contact, commanding your orgasm with nothing but his heated gaze and skilled mouth.

"Yes," he hissed against you, feeling your walls ripple and quiver. His fingers tightened on your legs as he pulled you closer, pressing his mouth to your pulsing clit. Your loud moans filled the room as he pushed you over the edge, consuming your first orgasm as his wife with greedy hunger.

Luca slowly lifted his head, his lips glistening wet with your juices as he crawled up your body with a smug, satisfied grin. "That was fucking gorgeous," he murmured, capturing your lips in a deep, dirty kiss so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

You could feel his hardness pressed against your thigh, his body shaking with need as he hovered over you. "Need to be inside you right now," he growled, breaking the kiss to murmur hotly into your ear. "But I don't want to rush this. I've waited too fucking long."

He trailed hot kisses down your neck as his hands roamed your body, squeezing your curves possessively. "Want to savor this," he murmured against your collarbone, "take my time with this sweet little body that belongs to me now." His voice was filled with reverence and hunger for you.

And he did indeed take his time...

[simpforchuchu]

My Enemy’s Sister | Mitsuya Takashi x Haitani!reader - part3

a/n: Hello, it’s been a long time since I wrote for Tokyo Revengers. I’m watching season 2 again and wanted to write something for my dear Mitsuya… Anyway, I hope you like it 🌸💕

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my native language.

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: fights, violence

part1 part2 

“Where are you going, y/n?”

The young girl was about to leave the door when she was startled by her younger brother’s voice. Everyone in the house had been acting strangely since that night. She knew they wanted to protect her, but it was strange that they quickly dismissed her whenever she tried to ask them about Toman and Mitsuya.

That’s why she was going to go to Toman’s meeting place, which she had learned by giving money to a few people. She wanted to thank Mitsuya herself.

“I need to buy some materials for my project. By the way, can you give me some money?”

She didn’t need money. She had enough in her pocket. But the young girl didn’t forget to ask her brother for the materials so that he wouldn’t get suspicious. Rindou gave up his suspicious gaze and nodded. He handed her more money than she needed from his pocket and closed the front of the young girl’s jacket with his usual cold gaze.

Y/n smiled at what he did and put the money in her pocket. Ran had been cold towards her for a few days. Rindou, on the other hand, felt like he was stuck between the two. “See you, onii-chan!”

The young girl waved to her brother with a big smile and left the house. 

It wouldn't take long to get from Roppongi to the temple where Toman was meeting. She quickly walked to the train station and started looking out the window after finding the right platform. ***

After walking a little from the train station to the temple, she realized she was in the right place when she saw the boys in black uniforms and motorbikes. She realized now that she shouldn't have come here alone, but it was too late. So she took a little step forward with timid steps and called out to one of the boys. 

"Excuse me, can I ask you something?" 

Both of the boys had blonde hair, but one of them looked panicked. 

"Are you... lost? You shouldn't be here." 

"Takemichi, don't be that rude!" The other blonde scolded him, then turned to the young girl. 

"But he's right... You shouldn't be here, miss. Do you know where this place is?" 

Y/n nodded her head nervously. The two in front of her didn't look like bad people, but she was still scared. At that moment, a tall person appeared behind her and Y/n understood this from the shadow on the ground. She turned around in fear and looked at the tall, blonde, braided boy behind her in fear.

“Huh? A girl? What are you doing here?”

 Draken was surprised. He also thought the young girl’s face was familiar.

When Y/n took a step back in fear, the tall boy tried to change his expression, realizing that he scared her.

“If you’re lost, one of the boys can take you home, you don’t have to be afraid. Toman would never hurt girls.”

Y/n didn’t know if she should tell him why. She didn’t know if they knew Mitsuya, but she didn’t want to leave here without finding Mitsuya.

“I’m… looking for Mitsuya-san. My name is Y/n… Y/n Haitani.”

After the young girl said her name, all three of their eyes widened. The young girl smiled nervously, thinking that they might know her older brothers too.

“I guess you know my older brothers too… I didn’t know they were so famous…”

Draken was surprised at first.

“Haitani? You-”

When he realized that Chifuyu was about to say something, he stopped him with his hand, thinking that the young girl really didn’t know anything. Or was she stupid enough to come here knowing that her brothers were the most wanted criminals and Toman’s enemies? 

Draken slowly turned to the young girl

“Y/n-chan.. May I know why you’re looking for Mitsuya?”

When Draken asked the young girl this question, the young girl’s cheeks unintentionally blushed. Why was she looking for him? What was she going to tell him? Yes, she didn’t know either. 

“I… well…”

She was here to give him his kerchief, right? But she didn’t know why it was so hard to say. 

Just then, Mitsuya noticed Draken and the other two. And the young girl he saw the other night. 

“Y/n-chan?”

Y/n turned to him in surprise when she heard the voice she heard the other night. Mitsuya was also looking at her in surprise. Draken looked at the two. After making sure that they knew each other from their looks, he decided to talk about it later and dragged the two away with him.

“Mitsuya-san. I apologize for coming without telling you. But I didn’t know how else to find you.”

Mitsuya looked at the young girl’s shy face and smiled.

“It’s okay, y/n-chan, but as you can see, it’s not very safe here. Please don’t come here alone again.”

When Y/n sadly nodded her head, Mitsuya spoke in a softer tone, afraid that he was being rude.

“Your brothers… were they angry with you?”

Y/n was surprised by the question. Mitsuya knew how angry the Haitanis could be. Toman and them had always been enemies. The Haitanis especially didn’t like Mitsuya at all. So when they saw Y/n with him, he was afraid that their anger would be reflected on her.“No… They weren’t angry. They seemed more worried. And…Ran doesn’t talk to me much nowadays.” Y/n smiled sadly. “Ran and Rindou are little delinquents, but they’ve always been really sweet to me. It’s just… I don’t know what happened between you two, but they don’t really want me to talk to you.”

Mitsuya wasn’t surprised.

“Although, your friends don’t seem to like my brothers very much either.”

Mitsuya chuckled at Y/n’s smiling words. He could guess their faces when she said her last name. Besides, Y/n looked a lot like her brothers. Anyone could guess that.

“We had a fight with your brothers, so we never got along.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her how dangerous her brothers were. Y/n thought they were just little hooligans.

“I see…” the girl nodded. “By the way-“ Y/n took out Mitsuya’s kerchief from her pocket. She also took out a new one too and smiled. “I couldn’t get the blood stain out, no matter how much I washed it. That's why I bought a new one for you." 

Mitsuya laughed and took the kerchiefs from the young girl's hand. He put them in his uniform pocket and looked into Y/n's eyes. 

"Thank you, Y/n-chan. I hope I don't have to use them again." 

Y/n laughed and nodded. 

"I hope so, Mitsuya-san. Again, I apologize for my older brothers' rude attitude. They-" 

Mitsuya smiled 

"I can understand them, Y/n. I have two little sisters too, I know what it means to be an older brother." Y/n smiled. Mitsuya was a good person, if his older brothers knew him better, they would definitely love him. 

"Thank you. I... I should probably go now." 

Mitsuya nodded when he saw Toman slowly starting to gathering. He took out his phone and quickly texted Mikey. 

"At least let me drop you off at the train station, Y/n-chan. It's getting dark." 

Y/n stared at the boy smiling at her in surprise for a while. Could someone really smile that beautifully?

[barcapix]

✮ Always On My Mind - Pablo Gavi

pablo gavi x ex!fem!reader

sy: after a message back, only three simple words, you have the highest hopes that things will restart. but all it takes is one step into his apartment to have your dreams crushed.

a/n: idk if anyone still remembers this but wooo it’s been months since i’ve updated this. i’ve tagged who wanted to be, hope this makes sense tbh<3

warnings: angst.

PART1 || PART2

remind yourself, why did you agree to this?

agree to another round of absolute torture, horror—a second tragedy waiting to unfold. for the foreseeable future, was this even worth it?

a part of you, your heart, says yeah.

you’ve longed to see him again. to hear that boyish laugh— the one that still echoes in your dreams like a ghost refusing to leave.

better yet, you told yourself it had to mean something: that he reached out because some part of him missed what you had. why else would he say he needed to talk?

wasn’t that code? wasn’t that always the code?

and isn’t love worth fighting for?

the other part, your brain, says no.

he’s caused you so much pain, that it’s not worth it. not worth the hassle, the unforgettable pain that would follow. what if this is just another scandal so he can stamp over your heart again?

even though you dwelled on said thoughts, you fully believed he’d invited you over in a plea to restart—because he wanted you back.

or so you thought.

its only 8am on a saturday morning, the spanish sun creeping its way over past windows of shops, and heading over rooftops. your knuckle hovers over the wood of his new apartment, but before you make contact, it swings open.

“hi—hey. you actually came.”

god, seeing his face again, now two, weeks ago, you’d never imagined he’d be looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes again.

pablo looks different. more.. grown. it’s viable to see he’s let his facial hair grow, his hair is no longer settling on his forehead, and he looks rather like a man now, not like the teenage boy you remember.

not the one who used to fall asleep on facetime or text you song lyrics at 3am.

someone else. someone else’s.

“please, come in,” he steps aside, gesturing into his apartment. you nod, flashing him an easy smile despite the churning acid pitting in your stomach.

the fresh smell of laundry hits you like a gust of wind within the first step. it’s neat, tidy, in here and suspiciously organised.

you scan around the room, its entirely different to how your house used to look. there’s simple, modern artworks on the wall—ones with bland colours and shapes, whereas you had both agreed vibrant and wacky ones looked best.

fresh flowers in every pot—but he’d always opted for fake plants, because they “lasted longer.”

how does he change so much in so little time?

you swallow thickly. “hey, since when did you become such a neat freak?” you take in the folded clothes on his sofa. “i don’t recall you being this tidy.”

you almost awkwardly laugh, until he says. “it’s not me, it’s my girlfriend.”

“she’s very much a neat freak, like you were,” he explains, not really expressing another emotion rather than joy. “although, she doesn’t put up with my used socks lying around.”

his lips curve into a smile as he mentions her. your stomach spins like a washing machine eating its own wires—sick and twisted.

“aren’t you going to sit?” he motions to the sofa behind you, plopping down himself. you blink thrice, eventually lowering down onto the cushions, cautiously, as if they’d bite.

“beer?” he pulls one out of the ice bucket you never even noticed; you refuse.

pablo shrugs, popping the lid off and taking a sip. was this a mind game? a performance? if he invited you, sought you out, why does he seem so.. detached?

he’s here, but he’s also not here.

after drinking and a rather stiff silence, gavi shuffles up a little closer to you, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. that posture—it’s too familiar. it used to mean i’m sorry or i fucked up.

his lips part in a breathless whisper, until you take the words from his mouth.

“—ill save you the breath pablo,” repeatedly you tap syllables into your bare knee. “why did you wanna talk to me?”

he opens his mouth, then shuts it again. exhales, slow.

“it clearly seems you’re still in love with her—“

his eyes stop staring ahead of him, now at you as he stops you. “what? i am. why do you think i invited you here for?”

your brows furrow. right.

his face drops in realisation. “oh.. look.” your eyes well up with tears, and he reassuringly grabs your forearm. “i want us to clear the air between us,” gavi says, trying to be as polite as possible.

fuck. what were you thinking?

all you crave to do is knock unconscious, crawl back into the burrow of your bed and rot. building a fairytale over the words, “can we talk?” like a fool; you’d convinced yourself it was a love story waiting for its second chapter.

he didn’t leave you, move onto other woman for funsises. it was clear enough to see, but evidently not enough for you.

you glance down at your hands, how they tremble slightly like all your tendons are trying to hold you together. “i just.. i didn’t want to leave things messy between us,” he continues, running a hand through his hair like that could smooth out the past.

a dry laugh slips past your lips. “they were always messy, pablo.” he winces in response—he knows you’re right.

that gauche silence returns.

outside of the building, a car honks. someone laughs in the apartment next door. the world doesn’t pause for heartbreak.

“she’s good for me,” he says after a moment and you flinch. “i think… i think you were too. but at the wrong time.”

you swallow that like poison. “yeah,” you breathe. there’s a question hovering on your tongue, like if you don’t ask him for the answer your body might implode. “so what was i to you?”

he leans back, eyes closing briefly. opposed to the iron-fisted grip he had on it earlier, the beer sits loosely between his lap.

“everything,” he admits eventually, almost too prolonging. “you were everything to me.”

it felt like he was toying with your feelings. anger rises within you.

first, you think he wants to start over, he denies you. then, you think he doesn’t care—and he says he did. does.

“was i?” you press. “because if i was, you wouldn’t have just.. moved on like it was nothing,” your mouth runs dry and suddenly his face seems distorted. “like i was nothing.”

“it wasn’t like that. it wasn’t nothing.”

“then what the hell was it?”

you’re raising your voice now. you don’t care. your heart is already halfway shattered— what’s a few more cracks going to do?

he opens his eyes, and this time, there’s emotion. guilt. regret. exhaustion. everything he wanted to tell you, but couldn’t.

“it was me panicking. being naive. selfish. i didn’t know how to be what you needed.”

you look away, jaw clenched but still with a pang of softness. “and now you do? for her?”

“maybe,” he says. too honestly. too honestly than you would of liked.

you blink at him, stunned by the ease of it. how casually he admits it. his words say one thing, his actions say another.

“wow. okay.”

“i didn’t bring you here to hurt you..” he jumps in his seat, voice softer now. “i’ve been carrying this. what i did to you. i needed to say it.”

“say what?”

you’re practically shaking to the sheer bone.

“that you loved me and ruined me? that you regret it, but not enough to come back? that you sleep better now because you told me sorry?

his silence is an answer enough.

you nod in recognition, swallowing the lump that’s been growing in your throat since the moment you walked in.

“did you ever love me, pablo?”

he answers too quickly, as if it’s a rehearsed act. “of course i did.”

“but not enough,” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek to compose any tears. “to stay.”

“not in the way you deserved,” he replies. and that feels worse. you sit in that—in the quiet kind of hurt that hums in your bones.

he sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

you stand. you can’t bear to sit in this mausoleum of what-ifs another second.

he follows your movement with his eyes, but doesn’t stop you. doesn’t beg. doesn’t ask you to stay. and that says everything.

you walk to the door. your hand on the knob, you hesitate—just for a breath, a second, a flicker of time where you pretend he’ll say something. anything.

but he doesn’t.

and when the door shuts behind you, the finality hits like a slap. your first love, your first heartbreak, and the first time you wished you’d never met him.

the tears don’t come right away, they wait until your legs feel like jello, that if you were to take a singular step, they’d give way.

you collapse against the door, letting your head fall back, as the water from your eyes unleashes freely and ruins the makeup you spent two hours, doing.

the tears fall just like the night he left.

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