#and this one only took a few minutes so it's fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misanahrs · 2 days ago

Text

urs. — park jihyo.

now playing: urs - niki.

synopsis - jihyo, drawn to the mysterious new bodyguard, fights growing tension and unspoken desire. after you’re injured protecting them, emotions boil over, forcing jihyo to admit—she doesn’t just want safety, she wants you.

pairing - park jihyo x fem reader.

jihyo didn’t know why you got under her skin the way you did.

maybe it was because you were impossible to read, a quiet enigma dressed in black. from the moment you joined their security team, you were different—tall, poised, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. nayeon had joked that you looked like a spy. momo had tried to make you laugh within the first ten minutes. sana had taken it as a personal mission to tease a reaction out of you.

but you remained unshaken. professional. untouchable.

you were so professional to the point of frustration. not unfriendly, just distant. always standing by the door, always watching. nayeon had even tried to sneak up on you once, and you’d turned to face her before she’d even reached your arm. your reflexes were sharp. impressive. terrifying.

“i’ll do my best to protect you,” you had said on your first day, voice low, unwavering.

and you did.

jihyo had watched as you became a shadow at their side, always a step away, always watching. never intrusive, but never at ease. like you were built to be on high alert. she wondered if you ever let your guard down. if you ever allowed yourself to relax.

but it wasn’t her place to wonder.

except she did. and it only got worse the day she saw you smile.

⸻

jihyo hadn’t been looking for you. not consciously, anyway.

she had just finished a meeting when she walked into the practice room, expecting to see the girls getting ready to leave. instead, her steps faltered.

because there you were—leaning against the wall beside sana, sunglasses pushed up onto your hair, arms crossed, body tilted just slightly toward her in a way that felt… natural. comfortable. intimate.

but the worst part, the part that made jihyo’s stomach twist in a way she refused to acknowledge, was your mouth.

you were smiling.

not a smirk. not a polite, barely-there curve of your lips. no, this was real. soft. quiet. something she had never seen on you before. sana whispered something in your ear, giggling, and your shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

jihyo felt something sharp lodge itself in her chest.

she turned away before either of you could notice her standing there.

she wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—the fact that you were smiling, or the fact that it wasn’t for her.

jihyo had never seen you smile before.

and she hated how it made her stomach twist.

she forced herself to shake it off, ignore the way her chest felt too tight. it was stupid. it was nothing.

⸻

when she heard you were the one accompanying sana to paris, she felt ridiculous for the way her pulse spiked.

it was fine. it didn’t mean anything. you were a bodyguard, not hers, not anyone’s in particular. you were simply doing your job—doing what you were told. it shouldn’t matter.

but when she saw the headlines a few days later, she knew she had been lying to herself.

“twice bodyguard physically removes stalker at paris fashion week”

the video was everywhere. grainy footage, but jihyo still watches it all—more than once.

the sasaeng had been lingering outside the event, eyes locked onto sana, moving closer every time she shifted. she had looked uncomfortable, her usual smile strained, her fingers tightening around the clutch in her hand.

you had noticed.

jihyo saw it—the slight shift in your stance, the way your body tensed as sana took a step back.

and then it happened too fast.

the man grabbed sana’s wrist, fingers pressing into her skin, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

jihyo didn’t even have time to register her own anger before she saw you move.

one second you were standing at sana’s side, the next you had the man’s arm twisted behind his back, shoving him away with so much force that he stumbled. jihyo couldn’t hear what you said to him, but whatever it was made him blanch, made him scurry off like the coward he was.

but the next clip made something tighten in her chest.

you were walking into the hotel, shoulders squared, expression unreadable, but there was blood on your knuckles. a thin cut on your cheekbone.

jihyo’s fingers clenched around her phone.

it was concern, she told herself. concern for you, concern for the fact that you had gotten hurt on their behalf.

so why did it feel like something else?

⸻

she didn’t mean to overhear the conversation when you got back to korea.

she had been passing by one of the smaller meeting rooms in the building when she heard your voice inside, low and even—justifying yet somehow simultaneously belittling the situation. “it wasn’t a big deal.”

“you hit a wall,” the manager’s voice was sharp.

jihyo frowned.

“he wouldn’t back off,” you said, tone clipped. “even after i put distance between them, he kept pushing. he said some things that made her uncomfortable, and he tried to grab her again. i had to make it clear that he was not going to get away with it.”

silence.

“so you put him on the ground,” the manager said flatly, sighing.

jihyo could almost hear your shrug. “i did what i had to do.”

“and the injury?”

“he tried to swing at me. i dodged, but i hit the corner of a wall. it’s fine.”

jihyo felt something warm curl in her chest—something she didn’t want to name.

she walked away before she could hear anything else, yet she couldn’t shake off the thought of you protecting her from whatever dilemma presented itself.

⸻

she wasn’t expecting to find you in the dressing room that night.

the shoot had wrapped early, and she had gone back to grab something she had left behind.

but you were there, sitting on the couch, rolling up the sleeve of your black shirt.

jihyo froze.

you hadn’t noticed her yet. your focus was on your hands, fingers carefully unwinding a bloodied bandage from around your knuckles. your jaw was tight, a faint crease between your brows.

she should say something. she should leave.

but she couldn’t move.

the way you sat, posture slightly more relaxed than usual, forearms tense as you worked with precision—it was different from the way you carried yourself in front of them. your guard was still up, but there was something raw here, something real.

you exhaled softly, reaching for fresh gauze.

jihyo swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

her eyes traced the cut along your cheekbone, the faint bruising beneath your knuckles.

she wanted to know what those hands would feel like on her. in her.

she wanted to know what it would take to make you lose control.

you finally looked up, noticing her.

your expression didn’t change. but your eyes did, just slightly, just enough that she caught the flicker of surprise before you masked it. “you’re back early,” you murmured.

jihyo’s pulse was loud in her ears.

she nodded, stepping closer before she could stop herself.

“you should be at the hospital.”

your lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement she had ever seen from you. “it’s just a scratch.” and once again, jihyo thought, belittling the situation with a small smile.

jihyo clenched her jaw.

the tension between you was thick, suffocating.

her fingers itched to touch you, to trace the bruises, to feel the heat of your skin.

she swallowed hard.

“let me help,” she murmured, reaching for the bandage.

your fingers brushed against hers, and jihyo felt it like a shock down her spine.

you inhaled, barely, but she caught it.

for the first time since she met you, your guard was down.

and jihyo was going to take full advantage of it.

jihyo was going to make her desires come true.

jihyo’s fingers closed around the bandage, but she didn’t move to take it from you just yet.

you didn’t pull away either.

the room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the lights overhead, the soft rasp of your breath.

jihyo’s gaze flickered to your face, tracing the sharp line of your jaw, the way your lips parted just slightly as you studied her.

your eyes, normally so unreadable, had shifted.

she wasn’t sure if it was the dim lighting or the tension thrumming between you, but there was something different in them. something dark, something hungry.

jihyo’s pulse hammered in her throat.

she knew that look.

her fingers tightened around the bandage, her other hand hovering just above your wrist.

“you’re always so careful, y/n” she murmured, voice softer than she intended. “so controlled.”

you didn’t answer.

jihyo tilted her head, her lips curving slightly as she let her fingertips ghost over the bruised skin of your knuckles.

she felt the way your breath caught.

slowly, deliberately, she traced the edge of the fresh gauze, barely touching, just enough to feel the heat of your skin beneath her fingertips.

your jaw flexed.

jihyo exhaled, low and steady, watching the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fingers curled just slightly against your thigh.

“you’re tense,” she noted, pretending to be unaware of the very obvious effect she was having on you.

you gave a short, humorless huff, shifting your gaze away.

jihyo let her hand trail up your forearm, dragging the tips of her acrylics lightly against the fabric of your sleeve before stopping just shy of your elbow.

you inhaled sharply. “jihyo,” you said, voice low, edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

“yes?” she smiled, tilting her head.

your fingers twitched, like you were fighting the urge to grab her wrist, to stop her from teasing you any further.

she kind of wanted you to.

“do you always push people like this?” you asked, exhaling through your nose.

jihyo hummed, letting her fingers drift just a little higher.

“only when i want something.”

the words hung heavy between you, sinking into the charged silence like a stone dropped into deep water.

jihyo could feel the tension thrumming between you, could see the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard.

you were holding yourself back.

and she was curious—achingly curious—about what would happen if you didn’t.

“you’ve been watching me,” she murmured, pressing just a little closer, enough that she could see the flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “haven’t you?”

you didn’t answer immediately. but you didn’t deny it either.

jihyo’s smile widened, slow and knowing.

“i think,” she mused, tilting her head, “that you’re just as curious about me as i am about you.”

your fingers twitched again.

jihyo could see it now, the restraint in your posture, the way your entire body was wound tight, like a coil on the verge of snapping.

you exhaled slowly, deliberately, before your eyes finally met hers again—steady, unwavering.

“jihyo,” you said again, her name like gravel in your throat, rough and quiet.

and then, finally, you did what she had been waiting for.

your hand caught her wrist, stopping her teasing touches, holding her firmly but not harshly and jihyo’s breath hitched, lowkey wishing you would hold her tighter.

your grip was warm, solid, your fingers pressing just enough to send heat curling through her stomach.

for a long, charged moment, neither of you moved.

jihyo licked her lips, watching the way your eyes darkened as you tracked the movement—your grip tightening just slightly.

“be careful,” you murmured, voice lower than before.

jihyo let out a slow breath, deliberately shifting her wrist in your grasp, feeling the strength in your fingers, the quiet power coiled beneath your skin.

“or what?” she challenged, her voice barely above a whisper.

your jaw clenched.

and then, finally, your control snapped.

with a fluid motion, you pulled her closer, forcing her to stumble just slightly, until she was standing between your legs, until your faces were close—too close, close enough that she could feel your breath against her lips.

jihyo’s breath hitched.

your other hand came up, fingertips brushing against her waist—light, barely there, like you were still holding back, still unsure.

jihyo wasn’t.

she leaned in, closing the last bit of space between you, lips hovering just over yours.

“i don’t think you want me to be careful,” she whispered.

and then she kissed you.

⸻

your lips were warm, firm, and for the briefest second, you didn’t move—frozen, caught between restraint and desire.

but then you exhaled, a sharp sound against her mouth, and your grip on her wrist tightened.

jihyo barely had time to register the shift before you were kissing her back, deep and consuming, like you had been holding back for far too long.

her pulse roared in her ears.

your other hand, the one that had been hovering at her waist, finally settled, fingers spreading against the fabric of her shirt. you pulled her closer, just enough that she could feel the tension in your body, the quiet strength you carried so effortlessly.

jihyo’s head spun.

you kissed like you did everything else—calculated, controlled, precise. but there was something else there, something underneath the composure, something rough and raw and hungry.

jihyo wanted more of it.

her hands moved before she could think, one sliding up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, the other pressing against your shoulder. she could feel the tension in your muscles, the way you held yourself taut even as your lips parted against hers.

she wanted to unravel you.

so she tilted her head, deepening the kiss, pressing closer, until she could feel your breath hitch, until she felt the faintest tremor in your grip.

and then—

you pulled back.

jihyo let out a sharp breath, eyes fluttering open just in time to see you looking at her, gaze dark, unreadable.

her lips tingled, swollen from the force of the kiss, and she could still feel the warmth of your hands on her.

but you didn’t move.

“jihyo,” you murmured, voice low, steady despite the tension humming between you.

her heart pounded against her ribs.

you were looking at her like you were trying to decidewhether to pull her back in or push her away.

jihyo wasn’t sure which she wanted more.

her breath was uneven, her pulse a steady, insistent thrum beneath her skin. you had kissed her like you had been holding yourself back for months—controlled but hungry, precise but desperate. and now, with the way you were looking at her, like she was something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you should want—god, it made her burn.

your fingers twitched against her waist, like you wanted to let go but couldn’t bring yourself to.

jihyo swallowed, gaze locked onto yours, lips still tingling with the ghost of your kiss.

she licked them slowly, deliberately, watching the way your jaw clenched.

“what?” she asked, her voice softer than before, edged with something knowing.

your grip tightened—just barely, just enough that she felt the heat of your palm through her shirt.

jihyo let herself lean in again, not quite kissing you, just close enough to make you feel it.

you exhaled sharply, like you were struggling to keep yourself in check.

“this isn’t—” you started, but your voice was hoarse, unsteady in a way she had never heard before, all because of her—giving her a slight ego boost.

jihyo’s lips brushed against yours again, feather-light, teasing. “isn’t what?”

you were silent.

jihyo smiled, slow and dangerous.

she liked this—this tension, this push and pull, the way you were usually so unreadable but now? now you were struggling. now your restraint was breaking, unraveling thread by thread beneath her hands.

“you kissed me back,” she murmured, tracing her fingers along the collar of your shirt, feeling the way your breath shuddered beneath her touch. “you can’t take it back now.” your throat bobbed and jihyo tilted her head, waiting, giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it went any further.

but you didn’t.

and that was all she needed.

jihyo moved without hesitation, kissing you again, this time with intention—with purpose.

and this time, you didn’t hold back.

your hands gripped her tighter, pulling her flush against you, and when you kissed her, it was different—no hesitation, no restraint, just raw heat.

jihyo gasped into your mouth, hands sliding up your shoulders, pressing closer, closer, until there was nothing between you but the heat of your skin and the rapid beat of your hearts.

you kissed her like you were making up for lost time, like you had been waiting for this just as long as she had.

and god, jihyo was going to ruin you for it.

she shifted, pushing you back against the couch, straddling your lap in one fluid motion, barely giving you time to react before she was pressing her weight against you, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, nails dragging against the smooth, warm skin of your stomach.

you groaned softly, almost inaudibly, but jihyo heard it.

she smiled against your lips.

“not so composed now, are you?” she murmured, voice edged with amusement.

your fingers flexed against her hips.

“jihyo,” you warned, but there was no real threat in your tone, only heat, only need.

jihyo smirked, leaning down, lips brushing the line of your jaw, the shell of your ear.

“tell me you don’t want this,” she whispered, voice like silk, like sin.

you didn’t answer.

your silence was enough.

jihyo exhaled, slow and satisfied.

she had spent months wondering what it would take to make you break.

and now, she finally had her answer.

jihyo smirked, the heat of your silence wrapping around her like a vice, tightening, thrilling. she had you. she knew it.

your fingers twitched against her hips, your chest rising and falling in a slow, measured rhythm, like you were trying to steady yourself, like you were trying to regain even an ounce of the control she had so effortlessly stripped from you.

but jihyo wasn’t done playing with you yet.

she rolled her hips, just barely, a slow, deliberate shift of weight that sent heat rushing through both of you.

your breath hitched—so quiet, so barely there that most people wouldn’t have caught it. but jihyo did.

her smirk deepened.

“you’re holding back,” she mused, her voice a soft purr against your ear. “why?”

your fingers flexed, gripping her tighter, but you still didn’t move.

jihyo dragged her lips down the column of your throat, a slow, lazy trace of heat, lingering just long enough to feel the way your pulse thrummed against her mouth.

“i thought you were supposed to be the tough one,” she teased, nails tracing absent patterns against your shoulder. “but here you are, letting me do whatever i want.”

you inhaled sharply.

jihyo pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes again, her expression knowing, triumphant.

and then—

you moved.

before she could process it, your hands were gripping her thighs, strong and unwavering, and then suddenly, the world shifted.

jihyo let out a breathless gasp as you stood, lifting her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her fingers gripping your shoulders as you carried her across the room.

your pace was steady, unhurried, every step a quiet, deliberate statement.

jihyo’s heart pounded.

you didn’t stop until you reached the vanity, until you set her down against the cool surface of the makeup desk, standing between her legs, your hands firm against her thighs, holding her there.

jihyo blinked, breathless, her smirk faltering for the first time.

you looked at her then, eyes dark, gaze heavy, something unreadable burning beneath the surface.

you leaned in, just enough that your lips hovered inches from hers, close enough that she could feel your breath against her skin.

“you like teasing, don’t you?” your voice was low, steady, a quiet edge laced beneath the calm.

jihyo swallowed.

your fingers traced the hem of her shirt, slow, barely there, the same way she had tormented you moments ago.

“you think you’re in control,” you murmured, your lips brushing the corner of her jaw, featherlight, teasing.

jihyo shivered.

your hand slid up her thigh, stopping just short of where she wanted you most.

her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her breathing uneven.

you smirked against her skin, lips ghosting over her ear.

“but you’re not.”

jihyo’s breath hitched.

and suddenly, she wasn’t so sure who had the upper hand anymore.

jihyo swallowed hard, her entire body thrumming with heat, tension coiling deep in her stomach as your words sank into her skin.

she was always in control. always the one leading, teasing, pushing.

but now—

your fingers pressed just a little tighter against her thighs, your lips tracing the shell of her ear with devastating precision, your voice smooth, composed, laced with quiet dominance.

now, she wasn’t sure of anything.

jihyo’s fingers clenched around the fabric of your shirt, searching for something solid, something to ground herself, but all she found was you—unwavering, steady, the same way you always were. except now, instead of standing stoically in the background, you were here, between her legs, teasing her like you had been waiting for this moment just as long as she had.

your thumb brushed a slow, torturous line along her inner thigh, barely there, just enough to send a fresh wave of heat crashing through her.

jihyo exhaled shakily.

you hummed, pleased, tilting your head as your lips hovered just over hers, not touching, just close enough to make her ache.

“you were saying?” you murmured, your voice impossibly low, impossibly steady.

jihyo’s breath caught.

you were toying with her now.

she could see it in the slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, in the way your hands stayed firm but teasing, in the infuriating patience in your gaze.

it wasn’t fair.

jihyo wet her lips, watching as your eyes flickered down, tracking the movement.

two could play this game.

with a slow, deliberate shift, she rolled her hips, just enough to meet your touch, just enough to break your composure.

your jaw tensed.

jihyo smirked.

“you’re holding back again,” she murmured, voice thick with challenge, with anticipation.

your fingers flexed against her thighs.

jihyo leaned in, her lips grazing your jaw, teasing the way you had teased her.

“what are you afraid of?” she whispered.

and that—

that was what did it.

before she could say anything else, your hands tightened, your body pressing fully against hers, pinning her to the vanity in one fluid motion.

jihyo gasped softly, her smirk slipping as your grip turned just a little more possessive, just a little more demanding.

“you talk too much,” you murmured, lips brushing the corner of her mouth, teasing, taunting.

jihyo barely had time to respond before you kissed her again, deep, consuming, stripping her of whatever control she had left.

and this time, she wasn’t sure she wanted it back.

jihyo barely had time to process before your hands moved—gripping her thighs tighter, pulling her closer, pressing her against the cool surface of the vanity until there was nowhere left for her to go.

this wasn’t like before.

before, you had been measured, composed, teasing her in the same way she had teased you. but now—

now, you were in control.

your lips moved against hers with purpose, deep and demanding, fingers pressing into her skin, your body flush against hers, leaving her no room to think, no space to do anything but feel.

jihyo was drowning in it, in you.

you dragged your hands up her sides, slow and deliberate, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt, your fingers tracing fire against her skin.

jihyo shivered, her breath stuttering against your mouth.

you smirked against her lips.

“not so confident now, are you?” you murmured, voice edged with amusement.

jihyo’s nails dug into your shoulders, her frustration mixing with the heat curling low in her stomach.

you were enjoying this.

enjoying the way she was unraveling beneath you, the way she had pushed and pushed—only to find herself backed against the vanity, completely at your mercy, waiting for you to pleasure her.

you leaned in, lips ghosting along her jaw, down the column of her throat, slow, teasing.

jihyo let out a shaky breath, tilting her head slightly, giving you more access before she even realized what she was doing—your lips curved against her skin.

“you like this,” you murmured, your voice dark, satisfied.

jihyo clenched her jaw, refusing to give you the satisfaction of a verbal response.

but then—

your hands tightened, thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles against her hips, your lips dragging lower, pressing against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

jihyo inhaled sharply, her grip on your shirt tightening.

your smirk deepened.

“you can admit it. i won’t hold it against you,” you whispered, your breath warm against her skin. “maybe.”

jihyo exhaled, slow, unsteady.

you were insufferable. but you were so, so attractive.

and god, she wanted more.

your hands slid further beneath her shirt, nails scraping lightly against her ribs, the sensation sending a shiver straight through her.

jihyo’s breath hitched, her resolve slipping, cracking under the weight of your touch.

you knew exactly what you were doing.

and for the first time, she wasn’t the one in control.

you tilted your head, lips brushing her ear.

“tell me,” you murmured, your voice impossibly low, impossibly steady.

jihyo swallowed, her fingers tightening around your shirt, her entire body burning.

you were waiting, patient, knowing.

jihyo wet her lips, her breath uneven.

she could fight it—could push back, could try to reclaim control.

but instead, she exhaled, eyes fluttering shut as she finally—finally—gave in.

“…i like it.”

your smirk was the last thing she registered before your lips crashed against hers again, stealing whatever air she had left.

deep. passionate. sensual.

jihyo was sure she had never been kissed like this before.

your lips moved to her jawline, inching downwards with every kiss, lick, suck you did before pulling away to look at her narrowed eyes, hands on the hem of her shirt, silently requesting permission.

with a nod of her head, her shirt was being tugged over her head, revealing her chest clad in a black lace bra.

and jihyo noticed—noticed the way your eyes darkened at the sight of them, noticed the way you bit the inside of your cheek, noticed the way your fingers pressed into her plush thighs even more—so she brought her hand to her back and undid the clasp before shrugging off the fabric, her other hand moving to the back of your head and pushing you into her breasts.

⸻

the car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you and jihyo. she was lost in her thoughts, occasionally glancing at her phone. then, the sound of her ringtone broke the silence. “excuse me,” she said softly, glancing at the caller id before answering.

“hey, jihyo! how’s everything going?” the voice on the other end of the line asked brightly.

jihyo smiled, her posture relaxing slightly. “oh, hey! everything’s great, actually. had a really good night, so i’m feeling great today.”

you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in her tone, the way she spoke. it was almost like she was glowing.

“ohh, sounds like someone had a bit of fun,” her friend teased, a laugh in their voice.

jihyo’s smile widened, though she kept her voice light. “yeah, i guess you could say that.”

you raised an eyebrow, curious but choosing to stay silent.

after a few more casual words, the phone call ended, and jihyo tucked her phone back into her bag, her fingers lingering for a moment as she sighed contentedly.

as the car started moving again, you glanced over at her, a sly smile curling on your lips. “so, good night, huh?” you said, the words casual but laced with something playful.

jihyo turned to you, a small but knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you leaned back in your seat, your tone light, almost teasing. “nothing. just seems like you’re in a… particularly good mood. a little too good, maybe.”

jihyo’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was still that glimmer of amusement in them. “oh, please. don’t start.”

you smirked, glancing at her again. “what can i say? you’re always so… desperate for attention.”

jihyo’s smile faltered for just a second, her gaze flickering towards you, before she quickly recovered. “you’re one to talk,” she shot back, her tone still playful.

“me?” you said, raising an eyebrow, “i’m just observing.”

jihyo let out a soft laugh, but the tension between you both had shifted again, now lighter, more teasing. there was something almost unspoken hanging in the air. you both knew the unspoken dynamic between you—always dancing around each other, always testing boundaries.

and today, it seemed, the game was just beginning.

⸻

the night buzzed with energy as twice made their way through the crowded venue, the flashing lights and excited chatter creating a lively atmosphere. you hung back a little, keeping an eye on everything and everyone around you. the girls were in high spirits, but you remained focused, as always.

as they walked down the hallway toward the stage, you noticed joy from red velvet rushing past, her dress getting caught on a lighting fixture. she stumbled, trying to free herself but only getting more tangled in the fabric, gradually tugging her strapless down further and further each time. you stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to steady her before the situation could escalate. without thinking, you shrugged off your blazer and draped it over her shoulders to cover the wardrobe malfunction.

“oh my god, thank you so much,” joy said, looking relieved. her fingers brushed against your arm as she adjusted the blazer, flashing you a smile that was a bit too warm. “you really saved me there.”

you gave a small, polite smile, though you kept your distance. “it’s no problem,” you replied, voice even.

joy seemed to linger a little longer than necessary, a playful smile on her lips. “you look great in that outfit. maybe you should wear it more often, or… we could grab a coffee sometime?” she said, her voice teasing but with a flirtatious edge, her hand squeezing your bicep.

before you could respond, sana spoke up from behind you, her voice teasing as she looked at the two of you. “well, well, seems like someone’s caught your attention,” nayeon said, nudging the others who were walking behind her.

sana smirked. “they’d look good together, don’t you think?” she added, glancing at you both with a playful grin.

jihyo, who had been walking beside them, glanced over. her expression was neutral, but there was something unreadable in her eyes as she observed the interaction.

“they do,” momo agreed, her voice light and teasing. “maybe you two should go out for dinner after this?”

jihyo said nothing, her eyes flickering briefly between you and joy. she didn’t react outwardly, but the air seemed to thicken for a moment.

sana, enjoying the tease, added, “i can see it now. a cute couple in the making. what do you think, jihyo?”

jihyo quickly cleared her throat, flashing a tight, polite smile. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a casual tone, though her gaze moved away from you almost immediately.

joy, sensing the light teasing, smiled at you again before turning to head off with her group, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

you didn’t show any discomfort, shrugging off the interaction with ease. “well, that was interesting,” you muttered dryly, your tone almost bored.

jihyo, still quiet, nodded vaguely. “yeah,” she replied, her voice flat.

the teasing stopped, but the subtle shift in the air remained. you couldn’t help but notice how calm and collected you were in contrast to jihyo’s reserved response.

⸻

the bathroom was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above. you stood in front of the mirror, touching up your appearance and checking up on the scratch ok your cheekbone, while the faint sounds of the award show continued outside. you had only just entered when the door swung open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

jihyo.

she stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. her footsteps were calculated, deliberate, and the tension in the air was palpable. you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, noting the tight set of her jaw and the way her eyes didn’t quite meet yours.

“you know,” she said, her voice steady but cold, “you’re getting awfully comfortable with other idols.”

you didn’t respond immediately, finishing what you were doing before turning to face her. your expression was neutral, unreadable.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice calm but edged with something darker beneath the surface.

jihyo’s gaze flickered to the floor before locking onto you again, her brow furrowing slightly. “don’t play dumb,” she muttered. “you know what i’m talking about.”

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “i don’t know what you’re referring to,” you replied coolly, your tone giving nothing away. “i was just helping someone out. nothing more, nothing less.”

“helping someone out?” jihyo scoffed, her voice a little louder now as she stepped closer to you. “is that what you call it? draping your blazer over her and looking at her like that? do you think we didn’t notice?”

you could see the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. you didn’t answer right away, just watched her with a calm gaze. you were getting used to this—this subtle tension between you, this push and pull. but something about tonight felt different.

“you’re jealous,” you said quietly, your voice low but carrying an almost dangerous undertone.

jihyo stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she stared at you. “i’m not jealous,” she said quickly, but the way her eyes flickered to the door and back to you betrayed her. “i just think it’s… inappropriate.”

you tilted your head slightly, not buying her words. “inappropriate?” you repeated. “so, it’s inappropriate for me to be friendly, to help someone when they’re in need? or is it just because she’s… a woman?”

jihyo took a small step forward, her eyes narrowing. “i’m not saying that,” she snapped, her voice rising. “but don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it. the attention, the flirtation. you know exactly what she was doing, and you played along.

you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning against the wall. “i didn’t play along with anything. i was just being polite. if you want to believe something else, that’s on you.”

jihyo’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the frustration flash across her face, a crack in her usually composed exterior. “it’s not just tonight,” she said quietly, her voice a little softer now, but still filled with tension. “it’s… it’s always. you always seem so distant, so detached. but when someone else pays attention to you, it’s like you suddenly care. it bothers me.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the weight of them settle between you. the silence was thick, filled with something unspoken, something that neither of you had ever fully addressed. your eyes locked with hers in the mirror, and for a moment, there was no escaping the raw emotion that simmered beneath the surface.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you said finally, your voice almost too calm. “i’m not here to play games or cause drama. i’m doing my job. that’s it.”

jihyo swallowed, her hands clenched at her sides, her expression unreadable. but the way her eyes softened for a brief second, the way her shoulders relaxed, told you everything you needed to know. she didn’t know how to deal with this—whatever this was between you.

you pushed off from the counter, standing up straight as you took a step toward her. the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel the heat between you, a crackling energy that neither of you could quite ignore anymore.

“look,” you said, your voice quieter now, but still firm, “if you’re upset about me helping her out, fine. but i’m not going to apologise for doing the right thing. you’re reading too much into it.”

jihyo’s eyes flashed with something—anger, frustration, maybe even regret—but she didn’t back away. instead, she stepped forward as well, closing the distance between you both.

“it’s not just about that,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper now. “it’s about you.”

your eyebrows furrowed slightly, the words sinking in, though you didn’t immediately respond. “what do you mean by that?”

jihyo swallowed hard, her gaze drifting downward for a moment before returning to meet yours. “it’s like… no matter what i do, i can’t get close to you. you push everyone away. i try, and you act like nothing matters.” her voice cracked just slightly, but she regained control quickly, forcing her next words out. “i care about you. and i hate that you can’t see it.”

there it was, the raw emotion she’d been holding back. it was a shock, hearing it all laid bare like that, so vulnerable and exposed. for a moment, the anger, the tension—all of it seemed to dissipate, leaving behind something much deeper.

you stood in front of her, the silence between you stretching out. you hadn’t expected this, not like this.

“jihyo,” you started, your voice softer now, but still guarded, “you don’t get it, do you? it’s not about anyone else. it’s about me—i’m the one who’s hard to get close to. i’m the one who’s been holding everything back.”

jihyo’s lips parted, her eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. “why?” she asked quietly.

you took another step closer, the distance now barely existent between you. “because i’m not sure what would happen if i let you in. and that scares me.”

her breath hitched, and for a split second, you could see her fighting to maintain control. but you could feel it, the pull between you both, undeniable.

“you’re scared?” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

“yeah,” you replied, almost too quietly, your gaze flicking to her lips before locking with her eyes again. “scared of what it might do to both of us.”

jihyo looked down, her hands still clenched tightly at her sides. you could see the way she was processing everything, the battle of emotions playing across her face. she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the bathroom door creaked open slightly, a sound that brought both of you back to reality.

“we should probably get back,” you muttered, your voice breaking the heavy silence.

jihyo didn’t respond immediately, still standing there, her expression unreadable, but her eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer. there was so much left unspoken, so much still hanging in the air.

“yeah,” she said finally, her voice distant, though it was laced with something softer than before. “we should.”

as you both made your way back out of the bathroom, the weight of the conversation still clung to you, the tension unresolved. but something had shifted—something that neither of you could deny anymore.

⸻

the day had been long, draining in the way these schedules always were, but your focus never wavered. you were trained for this—watching, anticipating, stepping in before anything could happen.

the chaos of screaming fans and flashing cameras had become white noise to you, something you had learned to filter out, but something about today felt different.

a tension lingered in the air, an unease you couldn’t shake.

you stayed close behind sana as she moved through the crowd, her usual bright smile present, but you could tell she was a little uncomfortable. the people around her weren’t just fans—there were some who felt different, who stared too long in ways that didn’t seem completely innocent, who moved too deliberately. you were already on edge when you noticed him.

he was following too closely. his eyes never left sana, and unlike the others, he wasn’t reaching for autographs or pictures—just her. your grip on your earpiece tightened as you subtly shifted, stepping between them without making a scene.

then sana flinched.

it was small, barely noticeable, but you caught it immediately. his hand had grazed her back, fingers lingering too long, and something in you snapped.

“don’t touch her.” your voice was low, controlled, but firm enough that sana looked up at you in surprise.

the sasaeng just smirked. “what, i can’t say hi to her?” his tone was light, mocking, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. his eyes flickered to you, then back to sana, and something dark passed through his gaze as they narrowed.

you stepped fully in front of her now, body tense, ready. “i won’t say it again.”

he clicked his tongue, feigning innocence. “relax, bodyguard. she doesn’t mind, do you, sana?” his voice was too casual, too confident, like he thought he was untouchable.

sana didn’t answer—she just stepped back, her body language making it clear she was uncomfortable—nervousness etched into every corner of her face.

and that was enough for you.

you moved before he could react, grabbing his wrist with one hand and shoving him back with the other. the smirk dropped from his face as he stumbled, his shoulder colliding hard with the wall. for a moment, there was silence—shock rippling through the air—but then he lunged.

you barely had time to react before his fist came flying toward you.

you ducked, narrowly avoiding the hit, and countered with a sharp sucker punch to his ribs. he grunted, stumbling back, but he was fast—too fast. he recovered quickly, swinging again, this time catching you across the cheek once and then your ribs. pain flared, but you didn’t let it stop you.

your body moved on instinct, years of training kicking in. you drove your elbow into his stomach, using his momentary loss of breath to grab the front of his shirt and slam him back against the wall.

“you think you can touch her?” your voice was dangerously low now, barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight to make him freeze.

his breathing was ragged, eyes wild, but before he could respond, security rushed in, pulling him from your grip.

you staggered back, your side aching, your cheek burning, but you ignored it. your attention snapped back to sana, who was staring at you with wide eyes. she looked shaken, but safe. and that was all that mattered.

“are you okay?” you asked, voice softer now.

she nodded slowly, glancing between you and the sasaeng, who was now being dragged away. “are you?” her eyes flickered to the cut on your cheek, the way you were holding your side.

“i’m fine.” it was a lie, but she didn’t call you out on it. instead, she exhaled shakily, stepping closer.

“thank you,” her voice was quiet, but full of sincerity. “really.”

you smiled softly and nodded, the adrenaline still coursing through you, making it hard to process anything else. but in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over.

because jihyo was going to find out. and you had no idea how she was going to react.

⸻

jihyo had been waiting in the van for you, her phone in hand as she absentmindedly scrolled through messages from the managers. the schedule had been tiring, but she wasn’t thinking about that. she was thinking about you. wondering if she had pushed too hard the night before, if the confrontation had been too much. she had noticed the way you avoided her gaze after—had felt the tension shift into something unspoken.

but that thought vanished the moment the van door slid open, and instead of you stepping in, a different bodyguard took your place.

jihyo frowned instantly, sitting up. “where’s y/n?”

the bodyguard, a newer recruit, looked momentarily uncomfortable before clearing his throat. “she was injured during sana’s schedule,” he said, keeping his voice even, professional, as if that wouldn’t send a wave of cold panic through jihyo’s chest.

her stomach twisted. “what do you mean injured?”

“there was an altercation with a sasaeng,” he continued. “she stepped in to protect sana. security handled it, but y/n got hurt in the process.”

jihyo’s fingers clenched around her phone. “how bad?”

the bodyguard hesitated, and that hesitation made her pulse spike. “she insisted she was fine,” he finally said, “but she was taken back to jyp to be checked over.”

jihyo barely registered anything after that. she wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that you were hurt, or the fact that you hadn’t told her. you had gone through something serious, and yet, she had to find out from someone else.

the drive back to jyp felt unbearably long, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

she knew you. she knew how you hid your pain, how you brushed everything off, how you refused to let anyone see you weak. it frustrated her. it worried her.

and when she finally arrived, stepping out of the car with barely a goodbye to the staff, her heart was hammering. she found you near the practice rooms, leaning against the wall, your hand pressed to your side as if the pain was finally catching up to you.

her breath hitched.

you looked exhausted—physically, mentally. the cut on your cheek was sharp, angry-looking, and she noticed the way your stance wasn’t as solid as usual. you were struggling. and yet, you still straightened up the moment you saw her, your expression unreadable. guarded.

jihyo’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “why didn’t you tell me?”

your lips pressed into a thin line. “it wasn’t important.”

her eyes flashed. “not important?” she took a step closer, the worry she had been holding in all day finally bubbling to the surface. “you fought someone, y/n. you got hurt. and you didn’t think i deserved to know?”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “jihyo, this is my job. it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

that made something in her snap.

“stop saying that like it doesn’t matter,” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “you always do this. you pretend you’re fine, you act like nothing can touch you, but look at yourself.” her gaze flickered to the way you were still pressing into your ribs, to the slight unsteadiness in your posture. “you’re hurt, and you didn’t even think to tell me.”

you exhaled through your nose, clearly frustrated, but something in your expression softened. “i didn’t want you to worry.”

jihyo let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. “too late for that.”

silence stretched between you, thick with tension, with unspoken emotions.

jihyo’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “you could have been seriously hurt. and i wouldn’t have even known until it was too late.” she swallowed, her throat tight. “do you know how that feels?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you studied her, something unreadable in your gaze. then, finally, you sighed. “i’m sorry.”

jihyo blinked.

it wasn’t the words themselves that shocked her—it was the way you said them. soft. sincere. no walls, no defences.

for the first time, you were letting her see past the front you always put up.

jihyo took another step closer, hesitating only for a second before reaching out, her fingers brushing lightly over the cut on your cheek. you tensed at first, but didn’t pull away.

“next time,” she murmured, “just tell me. okay?”

your eyes searched hers, and for once, you didn’t argue. you just nodded. “okay.”

⸻

jihyo didn’t know what she expected after that conversation, but she knew she couldn’t just walk away—not when the sight of you, bruised and bandaged, was still burning in her mind. she let her fingers linger against your cheek for a second longer before dropping her hand, exhaling slowly as if trying to release some of the tension in her chest.

but it didn’t work.

because despite your promise, despite the way you had finally let her in just a little, she could still see the walls in your eyes. still see the way you were holding yourself back, as if allowing her to worry was some kind of weakness.

and that pissed her off.

she crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “so, are you actually going to rest now? or are you planning on getting into another fight the moment i turn my back?”

you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “depends. are you planning on getting yourself into trouble?”

jihyo narrowed her eyes. “don’t deflect.”

“i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

you sighed, shifting your weight slightly—she caught the wince you tried to hide. “jihyo, i’ll be fine.”

she clicked her tongue in irritation, stepping even closer, enough that you had to actually look at her instead of dodging the conversation. “you’re bleeding through your bandages.”

your eyes flickered down to your side, where, sure enough, a faint red stain was starting to bloom through the white of your shirt. you muttered a curse under your breath before pressing your hand against it, as if that would do anything to fix it.

jihyo didn’t even hesitate. before you could stop her, she reached for your wrist and grabbed it, pulling your hand away so she could get a better look.

you stiffened. “jihyo—”

“sit down,” she ordered.

“i’m fine—”

“sit. down.”

it wasn’t a request this time, and judging by the way your jaw clenched, you knew that arguing was pointless. reluctantly, you lowered yourself onto the bench against the wall, watching as she crouched in front of you.

her fingers were gentle as she lifted the hem of your shirt slightly, her gaze darkening at the sight of the bandages beneath. the wound wasn’t deep, but it was still fresh, still raw, and she hated the thought of you walking around like this, pretending it didn’t hurt.

she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her fingertips brushed against your skin. “when was the last time you changed this?”

“earlier.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“…a few hours ago.”

jihyo exhaled sharply, shaking her head before standing. “stay here.”

you frowned. “where are you going?”

“to get a first-aid kit, since you’re clearly too stubborn to take care of yourself.”

before you could argue, she was already gone, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

you sat there, exhaling slowly, pressing your fingers against your temple. this wasn’t how you expected your day to go. you knew jihyo would be mad, but you didn’t expect this—not the lingering touches, not the quiet concern beneath all the frustration.

and you definitely didn’t expect the way your heart had skipped a beat when she looked at you like that.

when she returned, she had a first-aid kit in one hand and an expression that told you there was no point in trying to stop her. she set the kit down, pulled out a clean bandage, and then—without hesitation—moved to straddle the bench next to you, getting close enough that you could smell her perfume.

you swallowed. “jihyo, i can do it myself—”

“shut up.”

you blinked.

jihyo’s fingers brushed against your skin again as she undid the old bandage, her touch far too careful, far too deliberate.

your breath hitched.

she smirked slightly, as if noticing. “something wrong?”

you clenched your jaw. “no.”

“good.” she leaned in just a little, her breath fanning against your neck as she wrapped the new bandage around you. “because i wouldn’t want you to get… distracted.”

your eyes snapped to hers, but she looked completely unbothered, her hands steady as she finished securing the bandage in place.

then, finally, she pulled back, her smirk widening at the way your shoulders had tensed.

“there,” she said, standing up and dusting off her hands. “all done.”

you exhaled through your nose, flexing your fingers. “you enjoyed that way too much.”

jihyo shrugged, feigning innocence. “what can i say? i like taking care of people who clearly won’t take care of themselves.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “right.”

but as you stood up, adjusting your shirt, you caught the way she was still looking at you—like she was waiting for something.

like she wanted you to say something.

but you didn’t. you weren’t sure you trusted your voice right now.

jihyo tilted her head slightly, as if deciding whether or not to push. then, after a moment, she sighed. “just… don’t make me worry like that again.”

her voice was softer this time, and when you turned to her, you saw something raw in her expression. something real.

you hesitated. then, slowly, you nodded. “i won’t.”

jihyo held your gaze for a moment longer before nodding. then, with a small, knowing smile, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling something you weren’t ready to name.

⸻

jihyo had been restless all night. she had tossed and turned in bed, replaying everything in her head—the fight, the way she found you struggling to stand, the tension between you when she changed your bandages. it was eating at her, gnawing at something deep inside her chest, something she couldn’t keep ignoring.

she needed to talk to you.

so before the sun had even fully risen, she was already at jyp, making her way toward the private training rooms where she knew you liked to be when you weren’t on duty.

when she found you, you were in the middle of shadowboxing, movements sharp despite the clear stiffness in your body.

jihyo leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, evidently unimpressed. “you should be resting.”

you barely paused, just cast a glance at her before throwing another punch into the air. “can’t afford to.”

jihyo let out a slow breath, stepping further into the room. “bullshit.”

you finally stopped, rolling your shoulders as you turned to face her fully. your expression was unreadable, guarded, but there was something in your eyes—something different.

jihyo took another step closer, feeling her pulse quicken. “why didn’t you tell me you got hurt?”

you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “jihyo, we already went over this.”

“no, we didn’t.” her voice was firm, unrelenting. “you just gave me an excuse and expected me to accept it.”

you exhaled through your nose, looking away. “because it’s easier that way.”

jihyo frowned. “for who?”

silence stretched between you.

then, finally, you let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humour in it. “for both of us.”

jihyo’s stomach twisted.

she took another step, closing the distance between you. “is that what you really think?”

you clenched your jaw, avoiding her gaze. “jihyo—”

“look at me.”

you hesitated, but eventually, you did.

and jihyo felt like she couldn’t breathe.

because there it was. everything she had been trying to figure out, everything she had been trying to understand—laid bare in your eyes.

“i don’t want easy,” she said, her voice quieter now. “i want you.”

your breath hitched.

jihyo took another step, close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from your skin. “i don’t care if it’s messy, or complicated, or if you think you need to keep me at a distance.” she reached up, fingers grazing your jaw, grounding herself. “i care about you, y/n. and i’m tired of pretending that i don’t.”

your eyes searched hers, as if trying to find some kind of hesitation. some kind of doubt. but there was none. jihyo had never been more certain of anything.

you swallowed, voice rough when you finally spoke. “you’re not supposed to care about me like that.”

jihyo tilted her head. “says who?”

you exhaled, shaking your head slightly, but you didn’t move away. “you could get hurt.”

“so could you,” she shot back. “and it doesn’t change how i feel.”

you let out a quiet laugh, but this time, it was real. softer. “you’re stubborn.”

jihyo smiled, fingers finally curling against your skin. “so are you.”

for a moment, neither of you moved. the tension was thick, the air charged, and jihyo could feel the way your pulse had quickened beneath her touch.

then, finally, you exhaled—letting go.

and you kissed her.

jihyo barely had time to process it before she was kissing you back, her hands sliding up to cup your face fully. it was slow at first, hesitant, as if you were still testing the boundaries of what this meant—but then you pulled her closer, deepening it, and jihyo melted into you, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, breathing uneven.

jihyo let out a breathless laugh. “so much for keeping your distance.”

you smirked slightly, thumb brushing against her cheek. “guess i lost that fight.”

jihyo grinned. “good.”

and then she kissed you again.

jihyo wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that, pressed together in the quiet training room, the air thick with something neither of you could deny anymore. your fingers rested lightly on her waist, hesitant but firm, as if you were still trying to convince yourself that this was real.

but it was real. and jihyo wasn’t about to let you run from it.

when you finally pulled away, your breathing was uneven, your forehead still resting against hers. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, though your hands didn’t move from her body.

jihyo let out a breathless laugh, her fingers brushing over your jaw. “you kissed me first.”

your lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “you didn’t stop me.”

jihyo tilted her head slightly, fingers tracing absent patterns on the fabric of your shirt. “do you want me to?”

silence.

then, barely above a whisper—“no.”

jihyo smiled. “then stop making excuses.”

you exhaled, finally leaning back, though your hands lingered on her hips. your expression was unreadable, but your eyes told her everything.

“this is dangerous,” you said, voice quieter now.

jihyo’s smile softened. “i think we passed that point a long time ago.”

your jaw tightened slightly, but you didn’t argue. and jihyo knew why—you felt this just as much as she did. maybe you always had.

82 notes · View notes

eclipse-msoul · 11 hours ago

Text

MISFORTUNATE LADY

✙ Yandere Mafia Dark! Bat family X Reader ✙

Synopsis : You had the misfortune of catching their eye. Oh, why did you have to make such a stupid mistake? Now you could only cry , hoping for them to leave you alone.

Warnings : Sexual assult, dark themes, mafia, no care for human life

chapter 2 :

Three weeks before everything fell apart

It was a dark and gloomy day - something that Gotham's residents had resided with as long as they could remember. You, who had just decided to move to this specific neighborhood, decided to go out and get some groceries from the store.

It wasn't too far, just a block away from your apartment.

As you walked, your shadow followed with tiny tumbles and shakes. It took about ten minutes to reach the store. You entered and started to look for items you needed. . . . “Phew..”, you sighed. You were almost done with the list. You looked at the trolley carrying your groceries.It was only the essentials.You looked closely, looks like one thing was left. You thoughtlessly moved and your head turned. Thug-

Your face was caught into something soft. You looked up and a pair of the most beautiful brown you've ever seen - stared down at you. They were sharp like a predators about to swallow you whole.

You gulped talking a stepped back and almost fell. “ Shi-” You fumbled back and his hands caught you.

He pulled you right up. “ Thank you..” You smiled in an apologetic tone. The man whose eyes examined you from up to down - you felt like a specimen being observed - finally chuckled and smiled. “ It's fine, “ His eyes narrowed in a friendly manner. “ You alright?”

You flushed, “ Ah…yes. I-” , just need to get some milk.” And you politely said goodbye before walking away. Milk took a second to get and you rushed back.

A big line had formed and you could already feel the impending doom of standing in that long line. Sigh, your life was one big sour lemon-

You felt a pricking sensation on your shoulder. . You looked back, the same man from a few minutes ago was smiling at you.“ Yes..?” You asked.

“ Your trolley is in the front,” he said under a smile. You started dazed before rushing to the front. It was indeed standing there. But why was it?

You decided to leave that thought.

You went to the counter and began to pay. The man stood right behind you, it seems like he was the customer after you.

While the cashier scanned your groceries, you couldn't help but notice it was unseemingly quiet for such a crowded store. The cashier was also doing his job very quickly.

Weird.

Was something wrong?

You looked back, the man looked up from his phone and nodded before looking right back. You faced back to the cashier.

Yeah

You were probably imagining it.

As soon as the scanning was done, you paid and picked up your packages before heading out. The house needed groceries and a makeover and you refused to waste anymore time. . . .

You really didn't think this through.

Or why in Gotham’s criminal frequency rate would you decide working and carrying so much stuff was a good idea. That too in Gotham.

You would be lucky if some criminal didn't try to mug you.

As you struggled with the shoppers, your ears failed to trace the steps of the stranger approaching. Two steps and something covered your mouth.

The groceries crashed to the ground.

You shrieked.

Your body began to shake uncontrollably whilst you struggled to get out of your predator’s hold. His hand reached under your shirt and pinched your skin.

No-

This couldn't be happening!

This wasn't mugging, it was something far worse.

His fingers dipped into your mouth and he bit your neck hard. Pain and fear was the only thing you felt.

Tears formed under your eyes, why-why why why why why..WHY? You didn't want this. You teeth tried to bite off his arms , the predator didn't even flinch - just moved his leg between yours. A disgusting laugh was heard from the man as his head came closer and whispered to your ears

“ It's..(hah)..your fault for wearing that slutty dress.” You muffled his words and your struggle stopped. Your eyes unconsciously looking at your dress.

Was

This

Really your fault?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when suddenly a jerking movement and you were pulled away and a punch came forward.

You didn't have any strength in your knees. You felt weak, your body gave in and fell down. You looked at your knees, your body was shaking like the last leaf in Autumn’s start.

Your ears picked up the sound of whispers and flesh hitting against flesh. Soon not even a whisper of that disgusting sound remained. You felt steps approach and a hand extend towards you.

You shake as your eyes flickered to see the threat.

Who?

“..Y-You..” Your hand moved towards him which he held and pulled up. “ What were you thinking, child! ” The man's voice was stern - having a cold and detached yet kind tone - pulling you and making you feel safe.

“ I-I…” Your fingers quivered while you put your lower lip. “ I'm sorry…” Words weren't the only thing that fell, tears bloomed under your eyes too. You were barely gasping for air. “ He had me by the throat-” your hand trembled as you shakedm

“...”

“ I thought he was going to-” you muffled.

“...”

“I-It was scary-" Your eyes quivered at the half dead man few steps away.

The man covered your eyes and pulled you in a hug.

“Don't look. ”

By the time you calmed down it was already getting late in the afternoon and Gotham never loved her residents but at this time she was particularly cruel.

Your eyes had swelled from all the crying. You sat at the bench with the Man who sat silent and comforted you. It was nice, really after everything you had just gone through. Your eyes landed on the clock - it was getting late.

“ I should get going.” you said while sitting next to him on the bench. The man who had introduced himself as Penny nodded. “ I'll walk you back.” he said, getting up, you stilled. Your hand tightened as you tried to give a smile. “ It's fine. I'll be okay Sir-”

He got up and picked up your groceries, “let's go.” He said and you finally agreed.

The walk to your home felt awkward, Penny remained quiet as he escorted you back home.Only when he saw you enter the building did he leave.

You entered your apartment and collapsed. Today was a very long day.

On the other hand, “Penny” Entered the old and haunted building. A figure standing on the door greeted him as he took off Penny's coat.

The figure examined the man with keen eyes before a glint of amusement followed through. “ It seems you found something interesting in your stroll.”

The figure hummed, a glint of something dark formed and those eyes of the beautiful shade of brown turned to the ocean blue.

“ Where are the children Alfred?”

“ All are waiting for you in the warehouse,Master Bruce. ” Alfred replied without skipping a beat. Bruce nodded.

“ Time to clean up some filth.” And the darkness moved.

TBC…

Taglist :

@lilyalone , @kore-of-the-underworld , @oliviaewl , @hopingtoclearmedschool , @vanilliona , @transparentsublimesuit , @choas-with-feathers , @melvin333 , @of-poetry-and-dreams , @sharkcravingcables

Note :

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE❤❤❤❤❤❤ ( ALSO 300 FOLLOWERS?! YOU GUYS BE MAKING ME GRIN MORE THAN ANYTHING)

Love you all ≧﹏≦ and thanks for reading.

( your comments are my biggest motivation, so keep em coming (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)👊)

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batboys #romantic yandere #platonic yandere #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #yandere barbara gordon #yandere stephanie brown #yandere cassandra cain #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere bruce wayne #Misfortunate Lady series

71 notes · View notes

f0rgetm3not · 3 days ago

Text

Squeaky Clean

Rival!Bakugo x reader

Summary: You suffer the unfortunate fate of being paired up with your rival, Katsuki Bakugo, for a cleaning task. Things take a slippery and flustering turn. (Y/LN stands for "your last name")

♤CRACK fic

---------------------------------------------------

The usual peaceful morning in the Heights Alliance dorms was shattered by Aizawa’s voice in the middle of the commonroom.

"Listen up, you all. There’s cleaning tasks today. Each team will be responsible for one area. The winning team gets a day off from chores next week. If you don’t want to spend another day scrubbing toilets and wiping down counters, you’ll need to give it your all."

The announcement earned groans and grumbles, but that wasn’t the part that made you sigh the loudest. It was the teams. You scanned the room as Aizawa listed off the pairs, dreading the inevitable.

"And for the final team, Y/LN and Bakugo."

Your eye twitched, and Bakugo shot you a glare that could even cut through steel. You had been hoping to avoid the guy for just a little bit longer after your most recent tension-filled moments. But of course, the universe had other plans.

"Great, just what I need. A cleaning competition with him."

You'd mutter, rolling your eyes.

"Shut up, Y/LN"

Bakugo snapped, arms crossed.

You open your mouth to say something, but Aizawa's voice stops you mid-word.

"Get to work. You’ve got two hours."

The first few minutes were relatively quiet as you started their cleaning. You were scrubbing windows, while Bakugo angrily wiped down tables and counters. The room buzzed with the sound of cloths rubbing against surfaces, but the silence between you was suffocating. After about ten minutes, you couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Bakugo, you missed a spot,"

you said nonchalantly, pointing to the corner of the counter.

"I didn’t miss anything, I’m doing it fine."

Bakugo muttered refusing to look up from the task at hand.

"Right.. and who forgot the trash bags?"

You shot back, pointing to the overflowing garbage bin in the corner, embarrassing.. That did it. Bakugo’s face turned a shade of red that had nothing to do with the cleaning supplies.

"I didn’t forget anything!" he yelled. "That bin’s fine!"

But before he could continue his tirade, you smirked and grabbed a nearby bottle of dish soap. With a quick motion, you squirted it directly onto his freshly wiped counter, the soap splashing and spilling over the sides.

"What the hell, Y/LN?!"

Bakugo shrieked like a girl, his face a mix of fury and confusion.

"Oh, you were saying somethin'? I thought I’d just add a little bit of extra shine to your perfect counter."

You had to hold back your giggles at his expression. Really, you should have a camera now.

Bakugo however would not agree, rage boiling in his eyes.

"YOU'RE DEAD!"

That was the moment the cleaning competition escalated from mildly annoying to completely chaotic. Bakugo grabbed the nearest spray bottle and squirted it directly at you, missing by an inch. But you weren't gonna give up. You grabbed the bottle of soap again, this time aiming for his shirt.

"Take that, tough guy!"

The next few minutes were a blur of slipping, dodging, and yelling. You laughed as Bakugo chased you, trying to grab you by the arm but only managing to throw soap in your direction. You quickly grabbed a mop bucket, swung it in his direction, and managed to splash him with soapy water. The sounds of bickering and splashing echoed throughout the floor.

"You're so dead when I catch you, Y/LN!"

Bakugo yelled, slipping on a puddle of water as he tried to lunge toward you.

"You’ll have to catch me first, Bakugo!"

But the chaotic scene quickly took a turn for the worse. As Bakugo tried to charge at you again, he misjudged his step, slipping on the soapy floor, and in an almost slow-motion moment, both of you lost your balance at the same time.

With a loud crash, both of you fell and by some stroke of pure, chaotic fate, you ended up landing right on top of Bakugo.

For a second, there was stunned silence between you. Bakugos red eyes staring at you, the colour matching his face. It was like both of you became hyper aware of everything. The wet dishsoap on your uniforms, the clean smell lingering in the air, the way you were so close to each other. Heck, was this a romance manga?

"GET OFF ME, Y/LN!"

Bakugo shouted, his voice a mix of embarrassment and frustration. But before you could scramble off of him, a voice came from the doorway.

"Uh, guys?"

Kirishima said from the door, his face red from holding in his laughter.

"What… exactly are you two doing?"

Your face turned beet-red. You immediately shot up, pushing yourself off Bakugo and standing up quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Bakugo was on his feet just as fast, avoiding your eyes.

"Shut up, shitty-hair! This is not what it looks like!"

Kirishima, though, was practically doubled over with laughter, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"I don’t know, it kinda looks like you two are really bonding over the.. cleaning?"

Kirishimas' face immediately turned from laughing to fear once Bakugo stomped up to him

"Shut the hell up!"

Bakugo growled, storming past him, still red in the face.

This was one of the most ridiculous things that had happened in ages, and you both had been so caught up in the chaos of cleaning that it almost didn’t feel real.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: HII! I'm kinda back, I think? This is short but lowkey super cutesy. I hope you guys like it and tell me if you'd like more of rival! Bakugo x reader. Also, this is my first time writing Bakugo, so I'm sorry if it was bad—I gotta admit this was a little rushed, and I just wanted to post something before people started thinking I died :-)

#katsuki bakugo mha #mha x reader #mha bakugou #mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #x reader #fluff

75 notes · View notes

snowfieldstories · 3 days ago

Text

In Life and Death [Chapter 6]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

In Life and Death Masterlist

Warnings: violence and language

AN: I finished this, posted it on ao3...then forgot to post here SORRY!

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

Episode V. Chapter 6 — Reapers and Revelations

Three messages taunted us soon after defeating the theater master.

[Main Scenario #3 — Emergency Defense has ended.]

[You have obtained 1,000 coins as compensation.]

[The fourth main scenario is about to begin!]

"It hasn't even been ten minutes," groaned Jihye. "Can't we get a break?"

Dokja stretched his arm that had taken the brunt of the fall when he was punched earlier. "Actually, Jihye, I need you to watch Yoo Joonghyuk. Stay here with him until he wakes. And please inform me when he wakes up...I want to give him a few more hits."

His eyes slid to me at his last words, then back to Jihye. She nodded and took up a position watching over Joonghyuk. I picked up Gilyoung, who had fallen into a deep sleep soon after wishing on the meteor shower. He curled against my chest, murmuring.

Dokja, Heewon, Namwoon, and I made our way down. The dungeon had become a regular theater once again.

No one felt like speaking. Heewon twisted her loose locks aimlessly around her finger as she was lost in thought; Dokja lugged the shield for Hyunsung, tapping along the rim; Namwoon, I watched the closest, seemed to be dragging his feet, a slight droop to his shoulders.

Dokja's steps faltered, then his face flipped between reactions, like he was having a conversation. Bihyung was talking to him. This, I knew, because I had reread that part only yesterday.

I nudged into Dokja to catch his attention. "You can say anything about that novel and it should filter, even for Bihyung," I said in a soft voice.

The dokkaebi in question immediately popped into existence, right in front of my face. I heard Heewon yell and unsheathe her new sword.

[I've had enough. What the hell are you?]

Though he was rather cute in his still-small size, the force of his voice overwhelmed my senses at such a close distance. I had to activate my rationality skill to quell my fighting instincts.

I looked to my three companions, equally alert and tense beside me. "It's fine. Go down to the platform, and I'll catch up."

Dokja's hard expression turned from Bihyung to me. "No way."

"You need to be there for the next scenario, Dokja." His face cracked with the hesitation, so I pushed. "Take Chungmuro. Gong Pildu is under contract, yes? Then the station is yours. You can follow the King's Road before Joonghyuk."

At Heewon's concerned glance at the sleeping boy in my arms, I set him gently by the wall. "Gilyoung will be safer up here for the time being."

Dokja made a noise somewhere between frustration and acceptance.

"...Fine. Come on, Heewon-ssi, Namwoon." Dokja's eyes flitted between me and Bihyung, and I knew what his meaningful glance was telling me:

Be careful.

We seemed to be making the phrase into a new habit.

I stopped Namwoon with a hand on his shoulder. The other two had gone on downstairs, but I still whispered.

"There will be a flag, and Dokja must take it. He should have things handled with Gong Pildu, but if anyone else gets dangerously close—I want you to kill them."

Namwoon nodded, his head hung low as he wouldn't meet my eyes. Then he left.

[You...what are you?]

I looked at Bihyung. We had not yet spoken directly like this in the current turn. "I am an incarnation."

[You're not normal.]

"What do you think I am?"

[Ha. I don't know what to think. That's why I asked.]

Bihyung shook. Whether it was in fury or fear was yet to be determined, but neither one was very good for me. His red eyes were twin pools of magma eager to burn me.

I tried a different track. "I could tell you. But the constellations will anger with you if this conversation is also filtered."

His teeth bared in a horrific grin.

[Luckily, there are more exciting things happening down below. I've closed off this part of the channel.]

My face was carefully neutral, but inside I was reeling. Could he do that in the novel? Not for the first time, I cursed not having the crazy ability to recall minute details of a novel like Kim Dokja. The only things I could remember were times when Bihyung used ads to block conversations with Dokja; but it made sense that he could control the channel video feed as well. I tucked away this important information to use in the future.

For now, I was alone.

"Let's speak freely then. This is my second turn at life." I crossed my arms.

[A returner?]

Bihyung's eyes popped. Whatever he had expected, it must not have been that.

[Shit. That's good, right? More excitement to stir up entertainment. No...she could ruin my growing channel with her knowledge, shit. What to do, what to do...]

I snapped my fingers at the mumbling dokkaebi. "Hey. Listen. Kill me and you will have the wrath of certain powerful constellations down your toga. I think you know who."

[...]

"And," I said, arching my brow. "In my last turn your channel was weak. Uninteresting. Already in this turn, you've exploded in growth more than in nearly twenty scenarios before. You need variables like me."

Bihyung watched me for a long time. Then he let out a screech like a rusty bike tire—his laugh.

[You and Kim Dokja are one and the same. Is he a returner, too?]

I shrugged.

[...I didn't expect you to tell me anyways. So, I suppose you want to make a deal with me?]

"No. Just leave me be."

At that, Bihyung crackled with energy. Definitely fury this time.

[How arrogant. A mere incarnation, giving ME a demand.]

"You said it yourself. I'm not a normal incarnation."

[The exclusive skill 'Sacred Light Lv. 6' has been activated!]

I had leveled up after the fight with the theater master.

In a flash, ribbons of light slithered towards Bihyung. He shouted as they suspended him in place, wrapping around his body in pretty gold stripes.

"I killed plenty of constellations in my last turn. If I could kill a constellation, then how easy would it be to kill a low-level dokkaebi?"

Level six wasn't the best, but it was sufficiently strong for a lower dokkaebi like Bihyung. My mana was the real hurdle.

"But I don't want to kill you. In fact, I quite like you, Bihyung. I think you'll be a great help to us in the future; perhaps even a friend."

My light twisted, tightening and shaping around the seething dokkaebi. I wanted to take advantage of this private conversation.

"This sacred light was given to me by Mother. Do you know who my Mother is? My sponsor?"

[...No.]

Interesting. So she was still a mystery to him in this world-turn, too. "I want to keep it that way. Please redirect any comments or questions about her from other constellations, and send them to me. Actually, scrub out her name, while you're at it."

[I thought you didn't want a deal.]

"I don't. Think of this as a friendly exchange."

Bihyung scoffed. It sounded ridiculous, but I was confident. Even more so as I used fifty accumulated luck from my skill, 'Bank of Lady Fortune.'

[Withdrawal successful. You now have: 47/500 luck.]

"In return, I'll do my best to avoid talking about my status as a returner. Then there will be no censoring, no outraged constellations down your throat."

Gilyoung snored loudly in the silence that followed.

[I...keuuk...okay. I'll do it. Can you release the bindings now?]

"They're not bindings."

Bihyung looked down to find a giant golden bow atop his stomach. Two more adorned each of his little horns. It was terribly cute.

I couldn't help a small chuckle as I released my skill. "You make a lovely present."

[You really—huh?! Oh, nothing to worry—apologies, dear constellations—ah, yes, I've fixed the issue now. It's back on. Ahaha. See?]

Bihyung gave me one last, inscrutable glance before he zapped away. I picked Gilyoung back up and continued down.

"Hm, maybe I was too harsh with him..."

I wanted Bihyung to think well of me. I wasn't lying when I said I liked him; I did, very much so. But it was a bit early in the story to befriend a dokkaebi.

Though I had used luck, it really only worked in this situation because Bihyung was waffling between decisions to begin with. Had he been hellbent on killing me, or refusing the favor, my luck would have been powerless.

Well, it worked out in the end. Hopefully my sponsor would be satisfied.

The Mother of Divine Desire.

The reality was...I didn't know much more about her than Bihyung. What little we had communicated in the last round was mainly about me and my development as an incarnation. She always brushed off any questions about herself.

In fact, I didn't know if Mother would approve of my actions just now. Perhaps she would be furious. But I had to trust in her—she had chosen me, so she must believe in my judgment and methods.

Blind faith was not something I excelled at. But she had proven a faith in me, so for that, I must try.

Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, a ping alerted me to the latest development.

['Kim Dokja' has claimed the 'white' flag!]

I smiled.

"Take the flag! There's only five minutes!"

Hyunsung grabbed his new shield and protected Dokja and the others from the Landlord Alliance. I kicked a rock in between the two sides.

"Gong Pildu-ssi, Kim Dokja will be our representative."

All eyes swiveled to me. Sangah called out my name, and I entrusted her with the still-sleeping Gilyoung.

"Yeona," Gong Pildu said. "Where have you been? Do you know what this sly bastard and his accomplices—?!"

As Gong Pildu struggled to get up, I caught the dirty imprint of a boot on his back. I turned to Dokja just as he ordered Gong Pildu to stay down. "Keep your head to the floor and your mouth shut until I tell you otherwise."

"Dokja! You didn't need to step on him."

His lips thinned, annoyed. "I didn't see him down there."

"Sure you didn't." I rolled my eyes.

"What, not happy I beat up your father?" he said with a touch too much snark.

Hyunsung lowered his shield as I approached. "Father?" I heard Heewon ask from the back. My finger poked the hard bulletproof vest on Dokja's chest.

"You have the command," I spoke quietly. "Now it's time to gather more people to your side...pretending to be cruel won't help your case."

Dokja seemed to really consider my words. He nodded once, then ordered Gong Pildu to get up and move freely—but still unable to take the flag.

I was satisfied and went over to help Gong Pildu to his feet.

"You're a lovesick fool, girl," he muttered, and my ears felt hot. What was with these people and their bloodhound abilities to sniff out my emotions? Or was I truly that transparent?

"You don't approve?" I tried teasing, but it came out a bit weak.

He scowled. "Certainly not. He's trouble; you can do far better."

"Don't worry, it's one-sided, anyways."

Gong Pildu gave me a scrutinizing look, almost like he was trying to figure out if I was joking, then he brushed his clothes free of dust and walked away. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "if only."

Before I could call him back to ask, my attention was drawn back to the current sub-scenario.

"Choose whether you'll stay here, under me, or leave Chungmuro," said Dokja, his voice ringing out.

The other people of Chungmuro station, Alliance members and random strangers alike, began shouting their doubts and questions at Dokja. He answered each one calmly and with ease. "...Oh, don't mind Gong Pildu. That guy belongs to me, now!"

At a sharp look from me, he amended the statement. "I just mean he's under strict control."

[The sub-scenario has ended.]

In the end, only three men left Chungmuro station. Twenty-eight remained.

Based on Dokja's click of the tongue as he read Star Stream messages, I summarised that he still didn't have enough credibility to earn the "king" title.

[Well then, let's begin the main game.]

Bihyung zeroed in on me as he snapped his fingers.

[The fourth main scenario has been activated!]

I read the clear conditions for capture the flag. It was the exact same as in the novel; I had been worried Bihyung might change up the details of this one, as revenge for my bold...threats. Yeah, I was kind of threatening towards him.

But Bihyung wished us luck and vanished from the room as fast as he came.

The group broke into discussion about the main scenario, and I saw Dokja go talk to Gong Pildu. I went over to sit by Namwoon, who was staring off at the grimy wall opposite him.

"Thank you for keeping watch earlier," I told Namwoon.

His expression only clouded over more. "I didn't do anything. I didn't help."

I sensed his turmoil and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Namwoon, was it too much of me to ask for you to possibly kill those people?"

"No," he said quickly. "I don't care about that."

"Then what...?"

"Noona." I was alarmed as his red eyes became wobbly with unshed tears.

I wrapped my arm around him as he clutched his knees. "No 'angel'?" I tried.

"I don't deserve to call you that," he choked out. "I attacked you—you got hurt because of me—"

So it was that. My hand moved to pet his hair; it was surprisingly soft for how spiky it appeared. "If you want forgiveness, then of course I forgive you. But you don't need it. The theater master was controlling your mind—you did nothing wrong."

"But I wanted to hurt you." His voice was rough. Troubled. "I felt it."

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' looks upon his incarnation with sorrow.]

I pushed his head back to look him directly in the eye. "Kim Namwoon. The theater master twists minds. Sure, you're a violent kid, sometimes to the extreme, and maybe you're a delusional demon...and you're most definitely a chuunibyou and otaku. But none of that makes you a villain who likes hurting his companions." I flicked his forehead lightly. "Plus, I like all those things about you."

"Y—you do?"

"Of course. Why do you think I took you in that day on the train?" I smiled. "I wanted that badass, nerdy kid on my team."

Namwoon nuzzled against my hand, eyes closed, almost purring with content. "I'm not a nerd, though," he mumbled.

There was a cough nearby.

Dokja looked rather unimpressed. I gestured from him to the younger boy, and mouthed, say something nice.

With a pained grimace, he said, reluctantly, "Kim Namwoon, you fight well."

...Are you serious? My thoughts flattened in disbelief, and it must have shown on my face because Dokja heaved a great sigh and said, "And it's good that you're with us."

Despite the questionable quality (and sincerity) of the compliments, they made Namwoon perk up. "I am insanely strong, aren't I? And I'll grow even stronger with a dragon as my sire." It was such a chuuni thing to say that I had to cough to hide my laugh. "Stronger than you, too, ahjussi, just you wait."

Then Namwoon tore away from my side and raced down the hall, cackling with a newfound determination.

"I—I am not that old!"

I hid my smile at the offense on Dokja's face. "He's been spending too much time around Lee Jihye, it seems."

"These damn kids," said Dokja without any real ire, but sounding very much like an old ahjussi.

This time I let my laughter ring out freely.

"I don't understand why you like him so much," said Dokja. There was a pinch between his brows, a contempt that seemed directed inwards, and perhaps he was thinking of how similar the two of them were. A sear went through my chest. I knew of his self-loathing, but it was heartbreaking to witness for real. I didn't know what to say without revealing my intimate knowledge of him.

"I think he's worthy of being our companion," I finally responded. "And he has a good heart. Uh...even with his craziness."

Dokja stared at me, a peculiar expression on his face.

VROOM! VROOM, VROOOM!

We leapt down onto the train tracks in time to see a group of men and women hop off their motorbikes. Dokja raised his sword.

"Stop there. Put down your weapons."

A gentle-looking man stepped into the light, hands raised. "We didn't come for a fight."

"Then why did you come?"

"Well, first I should introduce myself. I'm Kang Ilhun from the Dongdaemun Group."

Dokja was sharp, calculating, as he studied Kang Ilhun. "Kim Dokja."

"Kim Dokja-ssi..." Something flashed in Kang Ilhun's face. "We are here to offer an alliance."

After more back and forth with the Dongdaemun Group, Dokja, Heewon, Sangah, Hyunsung, and I broke away to form a quick plan. "...and Hyunsung-ssi will stay here with Gong Pildu to protect—"

"No," I interjected, remembering what was to come. "I'll stay, and Hyunsung will join you all."

They moved to leave, but I sought Dokja's attention one last time.

"Come back quickly." The gravity in my voice drew a furrow to his brows, but I urged him on ahead.

I then went to Gong Pildu after they had left. "Set up your private property on this floor. As wide as you can make it. We're going to need your turrets soon."

He did as I asked. In the meantime, I moved Gilyoung to a better-shielded corner to continue sleeping. Namwoon was still off somewhere, but I figured the sound of fighting would draw him back eventually.

That was when the Myeongdong Group attacked.

[Someone has invaded private property!]

"What are these bastards—!" Gong Pildu raged as his skills activated.

"Gain control later! I just need to put the flag in and it will be over," shouted a man with a red 'Myeongdong' flag tied around his head. He buffed his teammates with the power of the red flag.

I killed a few that attacked me, as bullets from Gong Pildu's turrets streamed past my head.

"Hahahaha look at these weaklings?!"

Namwoon had returned in full glory, and now hacked away at the nearest intruders. I sent an arrow to pierce the back of one that swung too close to Namwoon while he was turned.

He looked at the arrow with renewed interest. "Angel-noona, when I steal their flag...can I have my kiss on the cheek?"

As he spoke, Gong Pildu's turrets blasted at the Myeongdong Group. I wasn't given the chance to respond.

"RETREAT!" someone shouted.

Their leader jumped down to the train tracks, his men following, and before Namwoon could leap after them a great flame erupted. Screams were drowned out by the firing of Gong Pildu's turrets gunning them down.

The smoke cleared, and a red flag floated to the ground.

"It's mine!" Namwoon raced past Gong Pildu, arm outstretched, but before he could grab the flag it was snatched away.

Kim Dokja hopped onto the platform. "Oh, did you want this?"

Namwoon's mouth twisted sourly, and Gong Pildu mumbled, "Son of a bitch."

There was no one left of Myeongdong besides Kang Ilhun, who was now tied with Sangah's threads and carried back by Lee Hyunsung. Dokja gathered us around Kang Ilhun and demanded the source of his information. Kang Ilhun panicked at the first mention of torture; he broke entirely when threatened with death.

"The prophets! The prophets are in Dongmyo Station!" Then Kang Ilhun's eyes widened as his mouth foamed.

I sent a clamp of sacred light between his teeth before he could bite off his own tongue.

Eventually, Dokja left to check on Joonghyuk, and I helped clear away the bodies with the others. Gilyoung had woken up at some point and latched onto my side as we worked.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' warns you!!]

What? What was happening?!

[The constellation 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband' is confused.]

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' wants to blast 'Kim Dokja' to pieces!]

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' reaffirms that his incarnation is the better choice.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' thinks that 'Kim Dokja' is a bastard philanderer.]

[Many constellations are shocked by the truth of the filtered conversation and 'Kim Dokja's' affections.]

Excuse me? Before my feet could carry me back to the Theater Dungeon, Dokja reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, slightly out of breath.

"Lee Jihye spews nothing but bullshit. And everyone is an idiot," said Dokja loudly.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' looks at you mournfully, because 'Kim Dokja's' heart is pulled in many directions.]

...I think I understood. "It's fine, Uriel. Don't pay it any mind."

She sent me five hundred pity coins, anyways.

Dokja, after stalling for a few minutes in front of me and the stream of constellation messages in front of him, had his mind drawn back to the issue of prophets, and he tucked away to search for the answer on his phone.

I rejoined our companions.

"So that bastard and his group tried to attack us?" Sangah and I were catching Gilyoung up on what he had missed, and the new main scenario. I nodded, and Gilyoung gripped Thor's hammer. "We should kill him."

Sangah startled, but I placed a hand on his knee. "He can help us find the person that sent them to us, so, for now, let's wait."

[Oho, but you might find another use for him.]

Bihyung sneered down at us, a gleam in his darkened, red eyes. I had a bad feeling about this. Maaaybe I shouldn't have antagonized a dokkaebi so early in the scenarios.

[We're going to spice things up around here. Life's no fun when it's easy, eh?]

He called out to everyone gathered in Chungmuro Station.

[Enjoy the games.]

...Games?

[A hidden scenario has arrived.]

[Hidden Scenario — Angels vs. Reaper] Category: Hidden Difficulty: B+ Clear Conditions: 1. The Angel of Judgement must uncover the identity of the Reaper and input their name before the time limit runs out. 2. The Guardian Angel can input two names per day, including themselves if they so choose, to protect against death from the Reaper. These two people must change each day. 3. The Reaper must input one name per day to die. They must not be caught by the Angel of Judgement. 4. At the end of the time limit, if the Reaper has killed a sufficient number of people and escaped judgement, they win; if the Angels catch the Reaper and escape death, they win. There can only be one winning side. Time Limit: 4 days Compensation: 4,000 coins to each victor Failure: For the two Angels, the loss of one captured-station rank for your group. For the Reaper, death.

Damn it. God fucking damn it. How did Bihyung even have the plausibility for this sort of trick? He must have insane backing from a higher-dokkaebi or some bloodthirsty, conniving constellations. Perhaps both.

Even before it popped up in front of me, I knew.

[You are the Reaper.]

[You have 23:59:58 to kill someone.]

[Input name here: __________]

All the luck in the world wouldn't get me out of this one.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #orv x reader #kim dokja x reader #orv fanfic #kim dokja x original character #omniscient reader novel #omniscient reader webtoon #snowfieldstories #In Life and Death

24 notes · View notes

burningcheese-merchant · 2 days ago

Note

youll be fine merchant, after all i follow you because i like you saying things, you make things interesting in a way, im not sure how to describe it, but what i do want to say is that you dont need to feel that way, u doing fine and i hope you continue doing fine

I'm grateful for your kind words. I really am. I'm touched you took the time to say something to me. But... Idk.

I'm feeling very raw today. I want to be totally real just once. Just this one time. No sarcasm or joking around like I usually do. Be my therapist/blank wall to whom I address my words of woe for a minute. Then we can all go back to normal after that

I've been having a major crisis of self-confidence lately. Been feeling stupid. Useless. Good for nothing. Probably just the Big Sad talking but that guy hasn't shut up for an awfully long time and he's harder to tune out on some days

Writing was always an escape for me. A form of catharsis. I'm actually quite terrible at speaking to people irl. I'm very shy and awkward. Social anxiety on steroids. I always expressed myself better in writing as opposed to spoken words. Idk it just feels a lot less stifling to me. I feel more free. Less judged. More in control of my thoughts. If that makes any sense.

Bit the bullet and started posting fics on AO3 just to indulge myself. Never really expected to get any attention. There was a ship I liked and there weren't really any fics for it, so I became the change I wished to see in the world. That was all it was. You want something done right, do it your damn self.

Wrote more. Different things with different characters and different ideas. Gained a lot more traction. Caught another bullet in my teeth and made this blog. People seem to like my ideas for some reason. I start to think "hey. Maybe I really am a good writer."

Then I took a few story-shaped sledgehammers to the skull and remembered that no, I'm not. Lol.

Comparison is the thief of joy. I know that. Nobody needs to remind me. But it's easier said than practiced. Read biscuitlabyrinth's stuff and felt like a fraud. Read Jambound and felt like a skyscraper-sized fraud. It's hard not to compare yourself to others when the "others" are practically hailed as heroes by the fandom. When there are mountains upon mountains of fanart happily illustrating their work. When their story has the most hits and the most kudos and the most comments and the most bookmarks in the entire Cookie Run tag on AO3, and only receives more every passing day. When there are people who want to bind the fic and make it an actual, physical book, because they love it so much. No one has ever said or done any of that for me or my stuff. Never got even a fraction of that love or attention. Not even close. And I never, ever will.

Yeah yeah. Two cakes. Everyone has said that to me. But if you all had to choose. If you could only eat one cake while the other one went straight to the trash. You wouldn't pick mine, would you? You'd pick the other one. You'd pick Jambound. Everyone would. Even my friends on here would. Why bother wasting time and ingredients baking the thing if you know that's how it's going to be? What's the point?

I know I'm not owed success. Nobody is. It's earned. It just... hurts, I guess. It hurts to feel compelled to doubt yourself so strongly after finally allowing yourself to believe you've done a good job at something for once in your life. To feel like even when I try, even when I put my best foot forward, it's not good enough. Nobody actually cares. No one will ever think of you like they think of those other people and their work. No one will think of you at all. You're just a sad little wannabe loser, wallowing in their shadows.

I don't blame those people for these feelings. I don't blame anyone except myself. To think or do otherwise would be childish. No one is responsible for making me feel inferior/inadequate besides me. I accept that these thought and feelings are foolish. Whiny. Unfair. No one should pay them any mind. I'll sort through them on my own.

It's stupid, all of this. Oh no, some person's fanfiction is more popular than yours. Boo hoo. It's the end of the world. Stupid. It's all stupid. And yet, the feelings persist. It sucks. I don't want to feel this way. I'd rather just forget about it all and go back to being the loser who was content just writing for herself and nobody else, really. I don't look good in green, that's for sure lol. But it's hard. It's hard to let go of something that's got its jaws clenched around your neck so tight. Waiting for you to stop fighting and bleed out before it can finish its meal.

I always thought that writing was the only thing I was ever good at. That I was ever good for. Learned the hard way that that's not true. That my best was never anything but mediocre in reality. It's really no wonder Jambound is as beloved as it is. It's wonderful. Fantastic. It deserves all the praise it gets. I wish I could write half as well as that. But I don't. And now sometimes I wonder if anyone would even notice, even if I did.

I'm not happy writing anymore. Feels like it got snatched from me. The thing I love, that always brought me a measure of peace no matter how depressed I got. Gone. I can't draw worth a damn. I'm not funny. I'm not that smart. I never thought I had anything to give anyone except my writing. Now I understand that I don't have that, either. My cake sucks. No wonder everyone would rather eat theirs.

I'll get over it eventually. I'm stubborn if nothing else at all. I've got stories to tell and finish, even if they'll never mean anything to anyone except myself. Might as well. For my own sake.

There. Said my piece. Poured my miserable little heart out. Let's not talk about this anymore. Go back to enjoying the fancy, professional cake and celebrating the talented baker. Leave me to my cracked countertop covered in stale flour and rotten eggs and bland frosting. I never said anything worth listening to. I'm not sure I ever have.

No more self-pity after this, back to being a silly bozo as usual. Thanks for reading all this gunk if you bothered to for whatever reason. Y'all have a nice day. Better than mine, hopefully

22 notes · View notes

tickettride · 2 days ago

Text

Bad omen

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x wife!reader

in which you know something’s wrong when Johnny doesn’t come home one night. Instinct tells you the Kid has something to do with it—you just don’t know how deep it goes. Based on Johnny's last scene, except for some details.

word count: 5,7k

warnings: complete angst, blood, violence, mentions of death, hospital, hopefully no big mistakes

A/N: : I knew I wanted to write something about Johnny’s last scene ever since I rewatched the movie. Something angsty? Absolutely. And then I fell upon one of my favorite x-files scenes in which Scully is filled with both sorrow and rage, thinking that her man is going to die. It helped me so much. That’s how I’d have reacted in front of the kid. Or at least what I’d have thought. It took me weeks to write something I really liked, and even longer to finish it. Sorry if it feels rushed!

based on the same universe as one of my previous fics

“I thought he’d eat with us,” Joan repeated for the third time, her doe eyes dropping to her empty plate.

Instead of sighing into the silence like you’d done for the past hours, you kissed the top of her head and faked a smile against her soft hair. Your mother used to do the same. With a big smile on her lips, you could never tell how bad it really was.

"Daddy's been real busy lately. Probably caught up with some papers or somethin'."

“He said he’d take us to the movies,” Lynn added, chewing on the rest of her food.

What could you even tell them? Johnny had made lots of promises lately. None of them had seen the light of the day, drowned by his worries about the club, about Benny, about the young ones wanting to join. It was a miracle he’d kissed you goodbye that morning.

“I know, honey.”

Scraping your chair back, you took your plate to the sink and started running the hot water to wash it up. Joan came up behind you and handed hers, always first to finish.

“You’ll read to us?”

“I will,” you assured her, though you couldn’t see yourself tucking them in when you had no fucking idea where Johnny had gone. They’d ask for their daddy at least ten times before accepting to close their eyes. “Go get a book.”

Joan happily walked away while Lynn ate in comfortable silence, her feet dangling as she hummed something. The driveway was empty, just like it had been five minutes ago.

You’d promised him a fine meal and a nice night in to make up for the long shifts you’d taken at work these past few weeks, sweet words along with a swift kiss on his temple. The girls had let out a scream that had your heart stop beating for a second, only to realize they were just playing hide-and-seek and laughing hysterically. And Johnny had grunted in response, his eyes on the newspapers spread on the table. You’d thought he’d got the message then, but maybe that distant agreement had meant ‘whatever you say’.

Your face shrouded in disappointment as something resembling anger bubbled in your chest.

So much for trying. The girls had asked about him ever since they came back from school, and you were running low on answers.

Minutes later, the book was finished—you read the last chapter twice—the girls were changed into their pajamas, and you lectured them for being rude to each other. Sweet words were exchanged, the girls wished each other good night, and you closed their bedroom door with a rock lodged in your throat. He would never have left without telling you. Johnny was a man who liked his peace; he didn’t have Benny’s reckless spirit.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The thoughts were torturing and endless as you swept the last shirt from the pile of clean clothes on the bed, catching a whiff of his smell as you took it to the closet for a hanger. Another look was thrown out the window as you carried the empty basket, swallowing the negative images.

For the first time in months, you’d taken an entire day off and he wasn’t even there. Maybe he was at the club, getting his third round of drinks fetched by Cal or someone else while you were there, getting yourself sick over him. Maybe he was out there bleeding to death.

With a sigh, you halted in your steps.

Stop it. He’s just late.

Yet, the late afternoon bled into the night, the time passing to a soundtrack of light rain and enthusiastic actors on TV, and the distinctive sound of keys jingling never echoed. Rising to stretch out your stiff limbs, your gaze dropped on the framed photo on the cabinet. Your parents had taken the same photograph thirty years ago. The dress was the same. The looks were just as sincere. On your wedding day, Johnny had promised it would never end–his hand on your hip meant so.

Angry with yourself, with him, with the club, you pushed a strand of hair out of your face and grabbed the phone receiver, hesitating a second before dialing your sister. Faster than any other babysitter, she walked through your door with concern edged over her soft features, already knowing.

“He left?”

“No,” you said coolly, tired of repeating yourself. “He’s just out somewhere and that’s unusual.”

Your sister looked tired, maybe more tired than you. Still, she picked up on her babysitting habits and plopped down where you’d been sitting a few seconds before, turning the volume up.

“Is that Paul Newman?”

You barely glanced at the screen, too focused on checking that you got anything you needed. Your keys, some cash just in case. A quick trip to the bar to make sure he was okay, and you’d be back.

“Mmh, yeah. Might be.”

“He looks fine.”

“The girls are sleepin’,” you ignored her, not in the mood to gossip about men's looks when yours was missing. “Tell them I’ll be back soon if they ever wake up, and… put them back to bed.”

“Sure. No problem.”

Letting out another sigh, you kissed the top of her head and thanked her before gently slamming the door behind yourself.

The chilly hair nipped at your skin, begging you to turn around and slip on a jacket or a pair of pants to cover your legs. Instead, you slid into the passenger seat and hovered the key near the ignition for a second. Another fuck it slipped past your lips and the car roared to life. After all, he could be at the hospital for all you knew, and you wouldn’t know until the next day. Better safe than sorry.

The roads were empty and familiar, and it didn’t take long for you to find a parking spot in front of the Hi-Hat Club. Smoke lingered in the air, like halos above the men’s heads. The air inside was filled with smoke too and the flickering light of the neons greeted you like it did any other night. Yet, you could practically hear everyone’s breath halting as you crossed the room towards the bar, where one of the guys you didn’t quite recognize lingered, his eyes trained on you. Like everyone else. There was something odd in the air, a bad omen.

Your name didn’t seem to ring a bell with the man wiping glasses. A newbie, you guessed. It felt ridiculous to be offended by this, but you couldn't help feeling it nonetheless. Everyone knew you were Johnny’s wife. Wasn’t that obvious?

Though the club was close to making you scrap your hair, it was a family you’d come to accept years ago. You’d been there at the very beginning, back when it was nothing but a project in Johnny’s mind. Now his mind was plagued with fears and anger, and your face was one of a distant relative he once knew.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sighed exasperatedly, resting your sweaty palms on the bar. “D’you know where he is?”

“Johnny? Haven’t seen him today. He ain’t gonna show up here again anytime soon, if you wanna know.”

Through his casual British tone, you could tell it was some sort of secret he’d been dying to share. And you were human after all, so curiosity piqued and your narrowed eyes focused on him.

“Why’s that?”

Next to you, a loud manly roar of laughter erupted, close to shaking the walls. It pissed you off even more that you didn’t even know who those young guys were. Johnny would never have let them in. No, the club wasn’t a daycare, he’d said once. Those young ones had different views on the matters at hand, and they’d ruin the spirit with their ideas.

“Gonna shut his mouth myself,” the one in the middle snickered, nursing a drink while the others around laughed.

You couldn’t help but glare in pure disgust. Or maybe that thing you felt was pity. Surely the kid wasn’t older than twenty or twenty one. Already dreaming of violence like this was the one thing that would get him to the top. Or the gun showing out of his jeans.

“What happened with him?” you turned back to the man standing behind the bar, twisting your wedding ring around your finger.

He busied himself with pouring two glasses of some amber liquid, the thick grayish locks covering his forehead hiding his frown. “Doesn’t like the change. But it’s gonna happen, whether he wants it or not.”

Nodding solemnly, you looked over at the table where you’d first met. Now, two men and a girl who looked barely legal occupied it, unaware of the history beneath their feet.

You swallowed another rock in your throat, willing yourself to stay strong until you found your husband. Then, you could lash out at him and make him feel sorry.

Beside you, the group rose to their feet, downing the last of their beer in a single gulp, letting it drown their already drunken minds. As they passed, they shot daggers at your back. You didn’t bother to care.

“I need to find him,” your voice wavered, but your confidence remained. “It’s urgent.”

“We all do, love.”

Out of desperation and frustration, your palms hit the bar. The thud had everyone's head turned to your direction, judging you or recalling you from that time you’d smacked a man’s cheek for groping you. The rumors that you were mad and unstable had only hurt the first week.

The thud had also reached the group that lingered behind the door, their cigarettes in mouth. Only one of them wasn’t smoking. The leader, you’d guessed. His eyes fixed on you, cautiously watching.

“His two little girls are worried sick about him,” you said lowly, a cold edge to your tone. “I’m not goin’ home until I’ve found him. So, please, call someone who might know ‘cause I’m not movin'.”

Instead of telling you to fuck off, the man stared at you. “He didn’t lie ‘bout you.”

“What did he say?”

“That you’re a fierce one.”

A desperate sigh left your mouth, joined by a desperate expression you hoped would make him spill more secrets. It was time you’d stop thinking you could intimidate men. Pushing them away was easier than getting answers.

“I don’t give a damn about bein’ fierce. I wanna know where my husband is.”

The man looked over your shoulder for a second, thinking to himself before he put his attention back on you. “I think he was meetin’ with the lads over there. A fist or knives meeting, y’know.”

With a quick nod of his chin, he indicated the small group behind the door. You followed the direction, instantly meeting that young man’s eyes. His gaze didn’t waver at first; no, he looked at you as though he was considering something, and it seemed to leave his brain at the same time as he trailed behind his friends. That same boyish expression on his face had replaced the doubt.

“I’ve never seen ‘em before.”

“Me either. They’re just kids who want more than what they have.”

The nod you gave him was small, defeated. Now Johnny’s stories made sense, and you could put a face on the nickname he’d given. The Kid. The death of me. He’d had tears in his eyes telling you Benny was gone. It’s only exhaustion. The same kid with a gun. Dreaming of violence. Gonna shut his mouth myself. The death of me.

You had to find him.

“Where they meetin’?”

“Either the place in front of Brucie’s or behind that bar downtown. The one with the blue lights.”

The blue lights. You’d been there once with Kathie. You looked over your shoulder again before some sixth sense warned you.

You dashed to the door where you stopped short, your fists clenched. Every cell in your body filled with desperation as you watched the young ones ride away, and you ran toward Johnny's car, your breath coming in shallow pants as you reached for the car keys in your handbag. You nearly drove into a pole while turning around, but it didn’t matter. You made it to Brucie’s empty house in record time, where there should have been dozens of bikes lined up or a few cars waiting, engines idling, their drivers watching to see who’d hit first. Who’d shoot first. But no one was there.

“Fuck!” you yelled into the silence, hitting the wheel as you sped up.

It didn’t take long to reach the bar with the blue lights. You remembered Kathie telling you it was a meetup spot for junkies, but you’d always brushed it off with a laugh. Now, squinting through the windshield, you saw what she meant. You’d been too blinded by foolish love to notice just how dangerous it looked from the outside.

Fear choked you, but nowhere near as much as spotting what was on the other side of the building. Behind the familiar cars you often saw through your window, Johnny had his back to you. His leather jacket hugged his shoulders tightly. You couldn’t tell which shirt he’d put on. The red one, maybe. All you saw was the metal glinting in his hand–that damn knuckle duster.

Corky and Wahoo stood there, the smoke of their cigarette flying above their heads. Others talked among themselves, as the show hadn’t begun yet.

Your seatbelt was unclipped as Johnny started walking in that kid’s direction, fumbling with something in his hands. A cigarette, too. Then he slid his knife out of his back pocket with his usual confidence. Oblivious to the bullet awaiting him. Although the thought that the young man would only threaten him to get what he wanted had crossed your mind, you knew the outcome would be bloodier, if not deadlier. His look had faded into a deathly quiet upon you, because he’d realized you were Johnny’s wife. That wouldn’t stop him, though.

The cold in your veins froze to ice as your hand shot out to the handle, slamming the door open as you yelled our heart out. Not loud enough to be heard. Or maybe all of them were just too focused on the adrenaline to make out your familiar form in the shadows, crashing onto Corky’s back, whose arms held you back. Once again, you were the invisible mad woman, the unstable and now paranoid one.

“Johnny!”

He had no time to turn around. The kid shot, and a dull thunk sounded as his body hit the ground. Numb. For a second, you were completely numb.

The body you loved more than anything, the body who’d shielded you and loved you was reduced to nothing but a weight, a target. His daughters were sleeping, waiting for him to come home, and here he laid, unmoving. Dead.

The scream that left your throat then was inhumane.

Someone held your waist as you began thrashing wildly, yelling nonsense as your heart broke over and over again. Screaming so long and loud that your voice cracked, watching your husband’s sweet soul planning over his head.

When you finally broke free from Corky’s grasp, you pounded back toward Johnny’s lifeless form, ignoring the eyes burning into your back as you ran harder than ever before. Your knees screamed in protest as you dropped to the floor, reaching for him. The ground scraped the skin beneath the rim of your dress, but the red staining your knees was nothing compared to the crimson spreading across his chest.

“No!”

His head was heavy as you held it up, your trembling thumbs on his cheeks as the feeling of helplessness began to take hold.

So heavy. But not one breath was coming out of his nose, and his blood kept pooling on the ground.

“Oh, God–oh–what has he done?”

Another strangled cry escaped your throat as you yelled his name, hoping he would feel your presence and blink. When nothing happened and the world went on spinning, your heart seemed to crush in your chest. The eyes who only seemed to light up for you remained empty.

“No… pleasepleaseplease,” you sobbed, unable to remember where you were supposed to check for his pulse. Your sister would have known. Instead, you pressed a hand over the red spot on his shirt, where the blood spurted over. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us yet.”

Your name was called somewhere in the distance, but you ignored it. The others were standing just behind, frozen, terrified all of this was real. Only one of them dropped to their knees beside you, yelling to get some help as he closed Johnny’s eyes with a gentle move. Shouts broke out behind you but your heartbeat drummed in your ears, swallowing the sounds.

You watched in horror his closed eyes, his fatal and decisive end. Just like that, he was slipping away from the world, from you.

Cold fingers were placed on your shoulder. “We’ll take him t–”

A wave of pure panic swept over you as you realized that they’d take him away from you, forever.

“No!” your raw voice echoed through the stillness, the kind of stubbornness that would have Johnny smirk at himself. “Don’t–no!”

Inhaling shakily, you looked at his tired face. You’d spent an hour studying him just a week before. But now wasn’t the time to get some rest. Not today. You’d spend the rest of your life making him coffee if you had to, but he couldn’t give in to his exhaustion.

“He’s still there,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I know it.”

You tried to feel his pulse on his neck, but it was hard to feel a thing when your fingers trembled so much, buzzing over his chilled skin. Finally, you rightfully pressed your fingertips just below his jaw and leaned down to listen to his breathing, with your heart painfully clamoring in your chest. His had to beat the same. What would you even do without him? You stayed for a long moment, the sounds of your pain filling the silence as you stained his sweet face with his own blood. Cradling him, warming him. Panicking.

And eventually, a tiny, tiny huff of air brushed your cheek.

You stilled. And felt it again.

With that, a small cry of relief escaped you.

“He’s breathin’!” You looked up from one man to the other—then realizing the other group had vanished. “He’s breathin’.”

From then, everything seemed to speed up. Hope reached their eyes again. Tears squirted into your frightened eyes, and you pressed a hand to your lips, staring down at his closed eyes. He had to live. He had to think about all the beautiful years awaiting you, with all the plans you’d made together. And you, you had to hold that ray of hope.

“I’m not leavin’ you,” you promised in his ear, holding his face like you would hold a precious china. “I’m sorry I was so rude this morning. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

Though the tears continued streaming and drenching his cheek, you kept kissing his face, knowing he’d feel it somehow.

“The girls are waitin’ for you.”

Your own words had you bursting into loud sobs again. Any other time, you would have felt ashamed for such extravagance in front of the men. But the pain and the fear were too loud to leave any place to reason, and those same men felt the same, deep down.

“We gotta take him to the hospital.”

Shaking your head, you looked up in panic and met Wahoo’s distressed eyes.

“You can’t move him. You gotta–you gotta get a doctor here.”

“We’ve got no time to wait for a doctor. We have to take him there.”

His eyes were still shut tight. His chest barely moved. The blood kept spilling. If he stayed here, he’d lose too much blood.

More convinced, you gave them a small nod and watched them pick him up, four of them carrying his body. All wanting to show how much he meant to them, and how much he’d given them.

The gravel dug painfully into your thigh, but you couldn’t get up, not even with Wahoo’s words of encouragement. Even after blotting your eyes on your sleeve, the tears made their faces swim before you.

“C’mon, we’ll go with him,” he told you, though it did little to make you move.

“He can’t die.”

“He won’t if you’re there with him,” he promised, balancing you to your feet. “Trust me.”

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur. It seemed like you’d used all your tears until Corky pulled into the parking lot, carefully throwing you looks in the rearview mirror. Your crying resumed silently, watching as they took his body out of the car before you.

The walk to the reception was just as hazy. Johnny was rushed inside by the same men who’d held him earlier and laid on a stretcher by a couple of nurses who asked you for his name and basic information. Your lips pressed a long kiss to his forehead, and your bottom lip quivered as they took him straight to another room, with words you didn’t understand and a tone that did nothing to soften your worries.

They made you wait in a room much too small for the eight of you. At first, you were willing to wait hours until the doctor found you. The same one who’d saved Benny’s foot a lifetime ago. But the image of that kid’s face wouldn’t leave your mind. One man had almost destroyed your lives. He would have killed your daughters without an ounce of regret, but the rage inside him didn’t equal yours. The grief turned into a deep wrath, unmovable.

Your faraway gaze fixed on Corky, who frowned up at you. “Give me your keys.”

“I’m not givin’ you nothin’.”

Blinking slowly at him, you swallowed and sniffled hard, wiping your nose with the hem of your sleeve. “At least give me your jacket. I need some air.”

Hesitantly, under the gazes of the others, Corky slipped off his leather jacket and handed it out to you. You thanked him silently and refused when one of the men asked if you needed company. You just needed ten minutes.

The clicking of your heels echoed on the hospital walls as you strode to the front door, not slowing down your pace. As you’d hoped, the keys were in the left pocket.

You only realized how much the car smelled of smoke when you settled behind the wheel, with a slightly clearer mind and sharper feelings. Corky’s shouting barely reached you before you drove off back to the Hi-Hat Club.

As though knowing their leader was close to death, the bar was even more empty than before. The lights were dimmer, solemn, too. Still, you spotted the same figure wiping off the glasses—he’d waited for you.

“Where does he live?”

Your bluntness seemed to set him off, as he looked at your eyes and ran a hand around the back of his neck. Words weren’t necessary. Just the truth.

The man spilled the address with a careful tone, his eyes sweeping over the bar across your shoulder. After making sure the kid wasn’t sitting in a corner, you nodded in thanks and went back to the car. You thought about your daughters during the whole ride. And finally, you stopped in that dark, concealed alleyway the man had told you about. The small knife Corky had left in the glove compartment, rusty but sharp, felt heavy on your hand, but it was nothing compared to the way Johnny’s head had felt. Because his held all the memories he had, and the knife might have only threatened a few people here and there.

Occasionally a car dashed past, reminding you that the world hadn’t stopped behind. People were sleeping in the houses around, kissing their children goodnight.

Emotion threatened to choke you, but you didn’t let it. Not here anyway, in a car that wasn’t even yours. The air was foul with stale tobacco smoke and spilled beer. And he was there, somewhere behind that door.

You got out slowly.

“Jane?”

You spun around.

The boy you’d been looking for stared back at you, and as he came close he saw that you were not, indeed, Jane. He recognized you instantly, though he only nodded slightly as a sign. His eyes looked just as empty. It seemed like he’d lost all his boyish cockiness to that bullet, and had acquired a somber air ever since. More grown up since his first kill.

You didn’t scream, but tears ran down your face.

You took a step forward as he took one backward, and another, until his back pressed against the brick wall and he had nowhere to turn left. He glanced down at the knife and up at your face again, judging you.

“I’m a good person, so I ain’t gonna kill you.”

As a response, he only nodded. You nodded back in agreement. Through a mist of rage, you saw him shoot over and over again. And Johnny’s body never moved.

“You must think it’s gonna give you the right to do what you want with the club.” Your voice raised with each word, as cold as your husband’s face and as the blade in your tight grip. “But if Johnny dies because of what you’ve fuckin’ done, I’ll make sure you wish I’d stabbed you, you worthless piece of shit!”

He was silent, and at first you thought he was sulkily refusing to answer. But in fact he was just taking it in, perhaps even realizing what he’d done. None of that mattered anyway. The mad woman had screamed in the alleyway, and the young man had kept his mouth shut.

The knife dropped to the floor with a sickening thud.

“And if I ever, so help me God, see you lingerin’ around the club thinkin’ you have every right to just because your cock has grown last summer, I won’t hesitate. You hear me?”

He didn’t laugh, nor dismissed you like you’d half expected. The kid’s gaze fell on the street on his left, where the lights were on and the people oblivious.

“You’re a sick bastard,” you muttered as you sniffled harshly, letting out a shaky breath as you walked back to the car.

Somehow, you felt a part of the weight lifted off your shoulders. Now was time to pray like your mother had done for your father, with her hands joined together against the bed.

Corky was waiting when you were back, sitting with his elbows on his knees. You didn’t bother parking carefully either, and slightly blamed yourself for having left his knife on the ground there. Did he consider it a precious item, or would he just yell at your stupidity? Standing in front of him, you ran a hand through your hair and blew out a long breath that he mirrored. He did neither of these things. He just eyed you warily as you opened the door and staggered to your feet.

“Feelin’ better?”

With a quick nod, not wanting to let him know you’d threatened a young man like some psycho, you followed him in where the smell made your knees weaken.

“He’s still in surgery?” you dared to ask as you passed a crying mother, tearing your eyes off of her.

“They sent him to another room to rest.”

Another breath of relief left your lips. He was alive. Maybe not fine yet, but alive.

You couldn’t see him yet. You stood from the chair every time a nurse rushed past the waiting room, but none of them came to bear you the good news. So you lingered as long as you dared, till your spin grew numb and your stomach growled, along with Corky, who stood so suddenly you thought something had happened.

“Fuckin’ hungry waitin’ here.”

He left you with the others, two of them you sent home to their wives. It only left you here with Wahoo, whose eyes never left the wall ahead. He seemed to pray for a second.

“You can go home too, you know. I won’t blame you if you do.”

“I’m stayin’,” was all he said.

So you nodded tiredly. “Thank you.”

No one spoke until an hour later, when a tall and lanky man with a white blouse told you to follow him. Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest as your pace matched with his, upstairs, and to the first room on the right.

"He was damn lucky," the doctor finally spoke, peeking his head through the cracked open door. "The bullet missed his heart by inches, and he's lost a lot of blood.”

A quick nod told him you were listening, even though it hurt like hell to hear those words.

Noticing your glass-eyed look, his tone softened. "You can see him now. Just don’t expect him to wake up anytime soon."

You thanked him, standing there as he vanished in the next room. Threatening a guy had made you feel so confident though shaky, so why were you almost backing up now?

A young nurse walked past you, eyeing your dishevelled state and scrapped-up knees. After a minute or two, you finally walked in, where the dim hospital light spilled onto the bed. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, steady but weak. Johnny was staring hauntingly at the ceiling.

“Johnny?”

The room seemed to spin around as you stared at him lying there, his head tilting limply towards you. He looked so pale. They’d even removed his shirt to have his torso wrapped in bandages, replacing your arms. A thin tube ran under his nose–and that was what finally jolted you from your frozen state.

At last you finally grew closer and stammered again in a choked voice, “Johnny? It’s me.”

When his eyes finally locked on yours, a loud breath escaped your mouth. He was alive, breathing. He still had that look in his eyes.

“You know where you are?”

“Not at home. Can’t smell ya.”

You choked on a strangled noise, caught between grief and relief. “I’m here. I’m with you. You’re at the hospital, remember?”

He grunted his response, reaching for your hand, which you gave immediately as you perched on the edge of the mattress. Your eyes flooded again.

He knew he’d die, didn’t he? He knew the club was the death of him, and he went through this alone.

Softly, you couldn’t help but ask, “Did you know he was gonna shoot you?”

Johnny shook his head slightly. Unsure whether he was lying, you nodded anyway and rubbed his hand in absent motion, although they were slightly warmer than when he’d lay there, the blood pooling–

“Didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he said hoarsely, watching you as though he was afraid you didn’t believe him.

Aware that the next conversation was going to be painful, you tightened your grip around his palm. For a moment you both concentrated on your joined hands.

“You shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Not then. I mean… all the other times. I mean when it started, when you knew this was gonna happen.”

Johnny swallowed hard, the effort almost too much. “I didn’t want ya in it. Didn’t want ya carryin’ this.”

“I would’ve—”

Johnny’s fingers twitched, barely, like he wanted to hold on but didn’t have the strength. “Wouldn’t have changed nothin’.”

Your gaze fell on the bandages again. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I swear, I saw you fallin’ down…” You shook your head, beseeching him with your eyes. “Please don't jeopardize your life like that again.”

“That won’t happen again. Hear me?”

Lifting your head, your chin quaking, you asked him to promise. The kid’s face flashed through your mind. Deep down, you doubted if he’d ever try something again. He was just a lost soul who probably lacked support. But Johnny? He loved riding too much.

“Promise,” he breathed out.

A sigh fell from your lips. “I couldn't stop lovin’ you even if they cut the heart out of my chest."

His free hand came to circle your waist as much as he could, the gesture tugging his IV cords and shifting the metal stand. His grip was weak, but the intent was clear. He needed to feel you there, close to him. So you leaned down to kiss his brow and lay carefully by his side, making sure you weren’t hurting him.

“Where the girls?” he asked, head tilted in your direction.

“Home.”

The tips of his fingers grazed your forearm, feeling your skin. “And your jacket?”

“Home,” you said again. “I rushed out.”

“You’re cold.”

“You almost died.”

“Fair enough,” his raspy voice mumbled.

You made a small sound, your expression a mixture of regret and love, for you’d done nothing but worry for weeks and the relief still was nowhere in sight. The next days, if not weeks, would not ease your soul. Not until something was done about his involvement in the club.

"I'm sorry I said that.”

“Nah,” he managed to kiss you somehow, gently. “Don’t have to apologize for nothin’.”

With a ragged breath, your lips were back on his. Even with your wet nose and your blotchy cheeks, you pressed your weight delicately into that single kiss, like it was the last you had to offer. Johnny slid his hand over your neck and stroked the skin, just how sorry he was. You were sorry too. After all, his dreams had turned into a nightmare.

But you weren’t going anywhere. So you accepted that this was the best outcome and pushed aside the worst. You promised him you’d help him out of his dark spots, give him a new purpose. Maybe talk to Benny first. Take up riding freely. His life could be full of possibilities.

You fell asleep there—which was selfish, beside the man who had nearly given his life for his own cause—and didn’t even stir when a nurse came in to check on him. Drifting somewhere between sleep and reality, you barely registered his voice saying he was better now.

#tom hardy #johnny davis #thebikeriders #tom hardy fanfiction #johnny davis x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 1 day ago

Note

Adam didn't normally fuck his fans, you have to be careful because some people are fucking nuts. But there was something about Lucifer that drew him in and made him crave more.

And hearing that sweet pet name while the man's cock was down his throat made it even more addictive.

Adam hummed and Lucifer moaned, his hips twitching. The guy was so hot and it was like they fit together perfectly.

Lucifer moaned as he eventually came down Adams throat, the hockey player drinking him down made it even hotter.

He soon returned the favor.

When they were done, Lucifer didn't want to leave. Not Adam or the hotel room.

Lucifer had thanked him for the best fucking birthday ever and grabbed his phone.

Lucifer: I really should get going, I have work.

Adam: Okay, I need to get to practice anyway soon. Maybe I'll see you around.~

Oh Lucifer could only dream to have a repeat of last night and this morning.

Angel smirked when Lucifer clocked in a few minutes after he was supposed to be here.

Angel: Good morning slut! How was your birthday?~

Lucifer grinned: Call me what you want, but I had the best fucking birthday ever. And morning.~

Angel: Oooou.~ What did I tell you.~

He wouldn't call Adam a slut, he still thought very highly of him. Even with the memory of that gorgeous man bouncing on his cock.

Lucifer rolled his eyes: Stop. Get to work, that coffee isn't going to sling itself.

He clocked in, being a manger at Tim Hortons wasn't his dream job, Lucifer would love to open his own toy store some day...... If only the damn bank would give him a business loan.

But it paid the bills so it was fine for now.

Angel: Pfft, you're one to talk you're late!

Lucifer rolled his eyes and checked the time on his phone: I am not I'm only...... Uh oh.

Angel: See.

Lucifer: Not that! I grabbed the wrong fucking phone when I left.

Apparently him and Adam have the same phone. He took Adam's by mistake.

Ice hockey palyer!Adam meeting fan!Lucifer for the first time when he's smashing someone I to the glass in front of him.

Adam winks at him, btw.

AHHHH YES PLEASE!!!

Lucifer would bring swooning and on cloud nine, his favourite hockey player winked at him!

Angel: Awwww cute! He likes you.

Luicfer: It was just for a second…… but these front row seats were worth it oh my god.~

54 notes · View notes

chewyhanniebug · 4 days ago

Text

can i come over and stare at you like this

#okay i lied i made another gif #I HAD TO #I SAW HIS SILLY LITTLE FACE AND I COULDN'T JUST LEAVE IT #and this one only took a few minutes so it's fine #he's so CUTE #xdinary heroes #gaon #kwak jiseok #xdinarynet #chewygifs

29 notes · View notes

andyridgeley · 1 year ago

Text

#personal thingys #maybe i'd calm down a little if i'd just stare at andrew ridgeley's hands for a good 7 hours <3 #gOD THEY'RE JUST SO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway unhinged hand post enjoy<3 #the middle bottom one where hes in drag and did that with his hand like ok i see u #this only took me a few minutes to find these exact photos that live in my head iM FINE.

4 notes · View notes

orcelito · 1 year ago

Text

Do y'all ever feel like ur a puppet just goin thru the motions? I've been cleaning bc of impending apartment visit but I'm so tired and trying not to worry about something (several things) and I'm just going through the fucking motions

I got the cat messes cleaned and litter changed out. Took that and the trash out. And that was already so many of my spoons.

I still need to do the dishes and put away the groceries. And I was thinking about making pies... I got the things to make pies... and I know I would enjoy having pies tomorrow... which means making them tonight.

Paying it forward, ykno? I'm trying to take care of everything tonight so that tomorrow's me can take it easy. But I think I'm going into negative spoons by this point. Dipping into spoons-credit. I don't have these spoons but I'm taking out a loan and I'm gonna be paying them back With Interest.

At least I have tomorrow off. I gotta count my blessings where I got em.

#speculation nation #i dont really want to talk about the things that are worrying me. im really hoping one of them goes away w/o me doing anything #but im going to have to just... stay vigilant i guess. haha.#im sitting for a few minutes rn b4 i start on the next stuff. giving myself a rest.#then i will start on the pie... and work on the groceries... and then try to get the dishes done.#and then ill have to shower. hair washing day. ugh.#i did Nothing earlier today. just lounged and took a nap that only really gave me bad dreams.#and im making up for my inactivity Now. because i have to.#i just feel so... small and scared and tired.#i dont want any more repeats. please for the love of fucking god give me a break for at least a goddamn year.#negative/#ill be fine after i sleep i think. things just suck right now.

2 notes · View notes

derinthescarletpescatarian · 7 months ago

Note

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

18K notes · View notes

solxamber · 2 months ago

Text

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Other Parts: Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

4K notes · View notes