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bruhstories · 3 days ago

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Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting."

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?"

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice.

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate.

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest.

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh.

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship.

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day.

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her.

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet.

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers.

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it.

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage.

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey.

Yeah, I'll stay.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho x you #hwang in ho x y/n #hwang inho #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho x you #hwang inho x y/n #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #afab reader

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ang3ltine · 3 days ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝟐 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐌𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢 (333) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐞 𝐡𝐨 (388) 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!

۶ৎ 𝖥𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀- 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 (380), 𝖭𝗈 𝖾𝗎𝗅 (𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽 11), 𝖩𝗎𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖾 (222) , Hyun ju (120) , 𝖬𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗂 (333) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖺𝖾 𝗁𝗈 (388)

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: none except for some suggestive comments/themes by Se mi and No eul

𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: this freaking app crashed while I was editing ughh!! I really hope this doesn't flop u-u

𝐍𝐨 𝐞𝐮𝐥:

- She's kind of stand off-ish at first if she doesn't know you, it'll take her a while to fully trust you.

- If you're in the games and she knows you? She's going to try every way possible to make contact with you during interactions throughout the games with secret notes.

- Sometimes she'll stuff it an a bread that's being served to you or just straight out give it in your hand when nobody is looking.

- She honestly prayed to herself that you wouldn't try to get yourself eliminated and doesn't want to be the one to kill you.

- Not really into nicknames but if you were super close to her then maybe she'd call you 'babe' or 'love.'

- Very protective and will get somewhat pissed if other participants in the games are flirting with you. Would definitely shoot them when she has the opportunity and will have no regrets.

- Lokey, she would try quickies with you in the women's washroom (if she had the chance) and would walk out like nothing ever happened. Leaving you shocked but satisfied <3

- No eul is a quiet yet assertive girlfriend who cares about you deep down but won't outwardly say it. You don't have to worry with a partner like her because you know she'll always have your back!

𝐒𝐞 𝐦𝐢:

- Oh Lord, be prepared because you're in for a bumpy ride.

- Se mi is the ideal girlfriend. She treats you like a freaking princess and would give you cute pet names like 'darling' or 'angel.'

- She looks intimidating at first but was the first to approach you with a smile and would be very attentive. If she knew you before joining the games, she'll be cross at first but will try everything to keep you safe. Will hold your hand and keep you close during mingle or when the massacre night happens.

- Would try to keep people like Thanos from interacting with you without having to resort to violence. However, if they persisted then they'd get a string of snarky remarks from her, shutting them down completely.

- This girl is major tease just to get a reaction out of you. Will whisper the most obscene things into your ear and would walk away , leaving you high and dry. Super into pda but if you're not comfortable with it then she's cool with it.

- Heated makeout sessions/quickies in the washroom stalls. Se mi doesn't really give a fuck if they get caught, she just wants to have you writhing under her grasp and would glady give whatever you wanted.

- Se mi is an amazing partner and you'd have alot of patience with this girl because of her constant teasing. But she's also very loving and caring. So expect nothing less from your raven haired girlfriend and show the same love in return ♡♡

𝐉𝐮𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐞:

- Jun hee would keep to herself at first and will seem shy and reserved. Main reason is because she doesn't want to draw too much attention to herself, since she's pregnant with a child.

- If she knew you before the games , she wouldn't want you to help her as she feels like it would be a burden to you. But you reassure her that it's ok and that you wanted to help.

- You're the first one to approach her and she couldn't be more grateful. She'd treat you so nicely and would compliment you alot. Super appreciative of your help and will try her best to make you happy despite her condition.

- You'd make sure she got all the provisions necessary for her and gave her extra food or you would offer her your pillow to her for more comfort. During the fight at night, you put Jun hee's safety before yours, not letting a single scratch land on her.

- You two are the sweetest couple in existence and the old lady that takes care of you both will treat you like her own children. Would be super proud to see that Jun hee is getting the love that she deserves.

- Jun hee has a hard time expressing her feelings but is a super kind and attentive girlfriend.

𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐣𝐮:

- Hyun ju treats you like a trophy, someone who deserves to be treasured and well looked after.

- Tries making it up to you if she knew you outside the games and will apologise profusely for leaving you without a word.

- That's exactly what she did when you first asked her to be her partner during the 6 legged race game. She was almost brought to tears as nobody else wanted to join her.

- Will protect you with her life and also encourages you to be brave so you wouldn't have to rely on others so much. Is super proud when you overcome your fears.

- Is grateful that you're so willing to stand up for her if anybody badmouths her. Saying that you think she's really pretty and you don't want her to compare herself to other girls.

- As she's skilled with a gun, she'll have you hide behind her as you guys make your escape. Not wanting you to get hurt or injured in any way possible.

- She's the tall quiet girlfriend who likes being observant but will stand up for you no matter the circumstances. Plus she's the best cuddle buddy!!

𝐌𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢:

- Realistically, you would avoid him but he's Lee Myung gi. He's going to give you many reasons to convince you that he's not just a fraud. That he's willing to change for you.

- He would also give you the princess treatment. Treats you like glass, making sure you're safe and well protected. Will also keep you away from Thanos, especially if he tried hitting on you. (Que the brawl in the washroom)

- Is an absolute diva but you're here for it. You hype him up when he tries standing up for you or someone else , like Min su (player 125). Will roll his eyes at you if you scold him after a fight, but agrees not to do it again.

- Has a soft spot only reserved for you and wouldn't care about anyone else unless he really wanted to. Always has an eye on you, but during the mingle game. You wouldn't dare leave his side.

- During the fight at night , he would keep you close and fight off those who would try and harm you. You both would survive with only a few bumps and grazes/bruises.

- Nonetheless he's most definitely a black cat boyfriend, fiesty but overall loving.

𝐃𝐚𝐞 𝐡𝐨:

- Treats you like his equal and showers you with love!! Is very friendly and outgoing when it comes to you.

- His group would adopt you like their child lol. They accepted you straight away and lokey shipped you with Dae ho. Seeing how sweet and caring he was when it came to you.

- You help him through his panick attacks and he's super grateful for it. Would fly to the moon and back for you if he could.

- Would love it when you brush your fingers through his hair and give him cute hairstyles. Will wear them proudly with a bright smile on his face, even if he got comments for how weird he looked xd.

- If anyone tried hitting on you, he'd try his best to defend you and keep on reminding them that he's a marine so they shouldn't mess with him!

- He's a golden retriever boyfriend that is loyal and humble. Is a very giving person and if you guys survived the games, you'd both live happily together in your shared apartment.

- Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, also when you style his hair! Will wear it proudly with a bright smile on his face, despite getting weird look from others.

- Is super grateful if you talk him through his panic attack during the shoot out when they try escaping.

- Dae ho is a golden retriever boyfriend for sure, sweet, playful and super loving!! Please treasure him and not break his heart, he deserves the world ♡

#squid game #no eul x reader #se mi x reader #player 222 x reader #player 388 x reader #player 333 x reader #squid game season 2 #kang dae ho #lee myung gi #player 120 x reader #squid game x reader #squid game smut #ang3ltine #cho hyunju

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ember-des-meeres · 1 day ago

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Doing this not only for myself, but for any future relationships with actual kind and healthy people who somehow, miraculously, really want to be with me, too :(

To whoever that unicorn is, if I ever actually even find him:

I'm sorry I'm like this, I know you didn't ask for this and I'm sure you definitely don't deserve all of my trauma responses to seemingly unrelated as hell shit, or any trauma-dumping that I may vomit out only to over-apologize to you for later and then try to over-compliment you for handling in some unconscious sad attempt to make up for it because I know it's an unhealthy rollercoaster, I know that my fawning response only weakens your perception of me and hurts the relationship, I know that my fear of abandonment can create a self-fulfilling prophecy, I know that you cannot fix me for me and that only I can do that (with proper help). I never, ever want to feel like another worry or a burden. Re-parenting is really hard work, but I really do want to be a stronger person - not just for myself, but for us. I want to be your partner. I want you to be able to rely on me to ease the burden, not add to it. I really am doing my very best to work on myself, both inside and out, and become someone who is worthy of that for you. I promise that I don't need someone who's perfect, just someone who tries, and I only ask to be bestowed that same exact courtesy. I am loyal to a fault. I will fight for you and for our family. I will show up and support you. I want to be someone that you can't wait to talk about your day to. I want to be someone who you are excited to share things with. I want to be someone who can get you to laugh, especially when I know you really need it - and I also want you to feel understood and respected on the days that you just need to be alone or do your own thing, because I know I have those days, too, and some respectful distance is healthy. I want you to feel free to have your own friends just as I have mine. I want you to feel safe trusting me and being yourself around me. I want to play silly video games with you and I want to travel the world with you. I want our home to be filled with laughter and creativity and comfort and fun, wherever it is. I don't want us to just tolerate each other and survive, I want us to actually feel safe and happy and loved in our home. I really hope that you can forgive me for the times that I slip up :( because I really do want us to thrive and have a wonderful life together - and I believe that if we both are sincerely working at it, then we really can.

With love, Someone who is already working on it

Honestly it boils down to reparenting yourself & rewiring your own neuronal pathways & telling yourself a firm “stop” when you notice your mind slipping down negative loopholes & being present in the moment & enjoying being mid task rather than waiting for it to end & not thinking of inertia as your baseline and natural way of living

#toddler protocol #recovery #self compassion #ptsd #cptsd #actually cptsd #living with cptsd #cptsd recovery #just cptsd things #cptsd vent #trauma #relationships #personal #mental health #mental illness #psychology

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luulapants · 16 hours ago

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25 ways to be a little more punk in 2025

Cut fast fashion - buy used, learn to mend and/or make your own clothes, buy fewer clothes less often so you can save up for ethically made quality

Cancel subscriptions - relearn how to pirate media, spend $10/month buying a digital album from a small artist instead of on Spotify, stream on free services since the paid ones make you watch ads anyway

Green your community - there's lots of ways to do this, like seedbombing or joining a community garden or organizing neighborhood trash pickups

Be kind - stop to give directions, check on stopped cars, smile at kids, let people cut you in line, offer to get stuff off the high shelf, hold the door, ask people if they're okay

Intervene - learn bystander intervention techniques and be prepared to use them, even if it feels awkward

Get closer to your food - grow it yourself, can and preserve it, buy from a farmstand, learn where it's from, go fishing, make it from scratch, learn a new ingredient

Use opensource software - try LibreOffice, try Reaper, learn Linux, use a free Photoshop clone. The next time an app tries to force you to pay, look to see if there's an opensource alternative

Make less trash - start a compost, be mindful of packaging, find another use for that plastic, make it a challenge for yourself!

Get involved in local politics - show up at meetings for city council, the zoning commission, the park district, school boards; fight the NIMBYs that always show up and force them to focus on the things impacting the most vulnerable folks in your community

DIY > fashion - shake off the obsession with pristine presentation that you've been taught! Cut your own hair, use homemade cosmetics, exchange mani/pedis with friends, make your own jewelry, duct tape those broken headphones!

Ditch Google - Chromium browsers (which is almost all of them) are now bloated spyware, and Google search sucks now, so why not finally make the jump to Firefox and another search like DuckDuckGo? Or put the Wikipedia app on your phone and look things up there?

Forage - learn about local edible plants and how to safely and sustainably harvest them or go find fruit trees and such accessible to the public.

Volunteer - every week tutoring at the library or once a month at the humane society or twice a year serving food at the soup kitchen, you can find something that matches your availability

Help your neighbors - which means you have to meet them first and find out how you can help (including your unhoused neighbors), like elderly or disabled folks that might need help with yardwork or who that escape artist dog belongs to or whether the police have been hassling people sleeping rough

Fix stuff - the next time something breaks (a small appliance, an electronic, a piece of furniture, etc.), see if you can figure out what's wrong with it, if there are tutorials on fixing it, or if you can order a replacement part from the manufacturer instead of trashing the whole thing

Mix up your transit - find out what's walkable, try biking instead of driving, try public transit and complain to the city if it sucks, take a train instead of a plane, start a carpool at work

Engage in the arts - go see a local play, check out an art gallery or a small museum, buy art from the farmer's market

Go to the library - to check out a book or a movie or a CD, to use the computers or the printer, to find out if they have other weird rentals like a seed library or luggage, to use meeting space, to file your taxes, to take a class, to ask question

Listen local - see what's happening at local music venues or other events where local musicians will be performing, stop for buskers, find a favorite artist, and support them

Buy local - it's less convenient than online shopping or going to a big box store that sells everything, but try buying what you can from small local shops in your area

Become unmarketable - there are a lot of ways you can disrupt your online marketing surveillance, including buying less, using decoy emails, deleting or removing permissions from apps that spy on you, checking your privacy settings, not clicking advertising links, and...

Use cash - go to the bank and take out cash instead of using your credit card or e-payment for everything! It's better on small businesses and it's untraceable

Give what you can - as capitalism churns on, normal shmucks have less and less, so think about what you can give (time, money, skills, space, stuff) and how it will make the most impact

Talk about wages - with your coworkers, with your friends, while unionizing! Stop thinking about wages as a measure of your worth and talk about whether or not the bosses are paying fairly for the labor they receive

Think about wealthflow - there are a thousand little mechanisms that corporations and billionaires use to capture wealth from the lower class: fees for transactions, interest, vendor platforms, subscriptions, and more. Start thinking about where your money goes, how and where it's getting captured and removed from our class, and where you have the ability to cut off the flow and pass cash directly to your fellow working class people

#punk #diy #action is activism #think global act local

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writella · 2 days ago

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Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

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creatur3featur3 · 3 days ago

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ੈ✩ Street Rat p4✩ੈ

word count: 8.5K (someone please kill me, my fingers are cramping)

A/N: can yall tell I love making SR and Sevika interact like an old married couple that should've gotten divorced years ago? haha, no? just me? okay-

warnings: descriptions of blood, trauma, implied self harm

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You weren’t sure why you were so desperate to find Sevika, you didn’t like her like that, you didn’t like her period, but something was tugging at you to look for her.

She had fed you, patched you up many more times than you’d like to admit, helped you at your absolute worst, you felt like you at least owed her the decency to look for her, to worry about her.

You wandered the streets of the Undercity, looking down the quieter alleyways, looking into what you thought were abandoned buildings before getting chased out by random punks.

“And stay out you little Rat!” A woman hissed as you sprinted down the street, panting heavily, not daring to look back before you ran into something, or someone.

You fall to the ground with a soft thud, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ before looking up to see Sevika watching you with keen, amused eyes.

“You just don’t know how to stay out of trouble do you?” She hummed thoughtfully, helping you up with her flesh hand.

She looked different, hair cut shorter, a piercing, and-

Tired.

“You look…” you trailed off, Sevika rolling her eyes slightly before crossing her arms, “different?” She questioned.

“…yeah,” you replied, not the words you were planning to say, but pretty much.

Pretty, that’s what you wanted to say, what sat at the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed the word, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of her mouth twitching with mild amusement. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her voice low and gravelly. “Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere safe, minding your own business?”

You dusted yourself off, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I could say the same to you,” you muttered, refusing to admit how relieved you were to see her. “You’ve been gone for… what, weeks? No word, no nothing. People started saying you were dead.”

Sevika snorted, the sound rough and dismissive. “Dead? Do I look dead to you?” She gestured to herself with her metal arm, her new piercing catching the dim light of the Undercity streets.

“No,” you said quietly, glancing her over again. Her sharp features looked harder somehow, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to long nights and rough days. “But you do look… different.”

Sevika’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You already said that,” she pointed out dryly. She stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her broad chest. “What do you want, kid?”

You faltered, your carefully rehearsed words slipping through your fingers like sand. “I… just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were gone so long, and you’ve… helped me. A lot. I figured I owed you.”

Her expression softened for a brief moment, though she quickly masked it with a grunt. “Didn’t think anyone would notice, let alone care,” she admitted, her tone more subdued.

“Well, I did,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “So? Where the hell have you been?”

“Busy,” she replied vaguely, her gaze flickering away. “Work. Stuff like that.”

“Work?” you pressed, sensing she wasn’t giving you the full truth. “What kind of work?”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her patience visibly fraying as you kept pushing. “Drop it,” she muttered, her voice sharp enough to cut. But you didn’t—couldn’t.

“You always brush people off like this? Or just me?” you snapped, anger bubbling in your chest. “You disappear for weeks, come back looking like you’ve been through hell, and I’m supposed to just let it go?”

Her glare darkened, the veins in her temple throbbing. “I said drop it!” she barked, the deep growl of her voice reverberating through the alley.

“Why? So you can keep everything bottled up until it kills you?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, your frustration overriding your common sense. “Maybe I care, Sevika! Ever think of that?”

Her flesh hand clenched into a fist, her whole body coiled like a spring about to snap. “Shut up,” she hissed, stepping closer.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t stop. “You act like you don’t need anyone, like you can just handle everything alone—”

The swing came faster than you could register. Her metal fist didn’t hit you, but her flesh hand did, hard enough to knock you off your feet.

Your back hit the ground with a jarring thud, the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth as you felt your nose start to bleed. For a moment, the world blurred, the pounding in your head drowning out everything else.

When your vision cleared, you looked up at her, hand pressed against your nose. Her expression wasn’t triumphant, or even angry anymore.

It was horrified.

She froze, her lips slightly parted as her gaze locked on yours. And there it was: fear. In your eyes, wide and scared, as if she’d morphed into a monster right in front of you.

It was like she was seeing it for the first time, and it shattered something deep inside her.

“I didn’t mean to…” she muttered, her voice trembling, barely audible.

You scrambled to your feet, keeping a cautious distance, your heart hammering in your chest. “You… you fucking hit me,” you stammered, wiping at the blood trickling from your nose.

Sevika didn’t say anything. She just stared at her hand, the one that struck you, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“Is this what you are now?” you asked, your voice wavering. “I come out here, looking your to make sure you're okay and not dead in a ditch- and you… ”

Her head snapped up, the guilt etched deep into her features. “No,” she said hoarsely, taking a step back. “I… I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t thinking?” you finished for her, your anger and hurt clashing violently in your chest. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words sounding foreign and unnatural coming from her lips.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the tension thick and suffocating. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the look on her face silenced you.

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you,” you muttered, stepping back further. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

She didn’t stop you as you turned to leave, but her voice followed you, quiet and broken. “Wait.”

You didn’t.

–

Stupid.

Your balled fist hit against your head again, you knew better, knew better than to trust anyone, to rely on anyone, it was your own damn fault you were in this mess.

stupid.

Sevika had even warned you, told you to leave her alone, that you weren't going to be safe, that you were just going to get yourself hurt again.

stupid.

You staggered down the empty street, your own ragged breaths and muffled sniffles the only sounds echoing in the night. The sting of your bleeding nose was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

Stupid.

Your balled fist hit the side of your head again, harder this time.

You should’ve listened. You should’ve known better. Sevika wasn’t a safe place—she never was. She was a storm, violent and unpredictable, and you were the fool who thought you could stand in the middle of it without getting torn apart.

Stupid.

Another hit to your head, frustration bubbling over into self-directed rage. This was your fault. All of it. You shouldn’t have gone looking for her. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t have—

You stopped dead in your tracks, leaning against the brick wall of an abandoned building, sliding down until you were crouched on the ground. The weight of it all crashed over you, a suffocating tidal wave of anger and shame.

Sevika warned you. She told you to stay away, told you what would happen. And you, in your desperate, naive need to feel… what? Important? Connected? You ignored her.

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as tears pricked at your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. You didn’t deserve to cry.

You tilted your head back, staring up at the polluted sky of the Undercity, the faint glow of lights barely breaking through the haze.

“Stupid,” you muttered again, voice cracking. You wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing tight, as if trying to hold all your broken pieces together.

This was your mess. Your pain. And you’d deal with it, like you always did. Alone.

That’s what you always did.

Life slipped back into the routine of survival, the kind of existence that didn’t leave room for anything soft or sentimental. The bruises on your face faded, but the ache beneath them stayed, buried deep where no one could see.

You spent your nights fighting in the back alleys for scraps of money, fists flying as blood and sweat mixed with the grime of the Undercity streets. The thrill of it was a distraction, a way to quiet the noise in your head. And when that wasn’t enough, you stole—food, trinkets, anything you could get your hands on.

The people you stole from didn’t matter. Maybe they deserved it; maybe they didn’t. It didn’t make a difference to you. That’s how it was down here—everyone clawing to take what little they could, stepping on anyone who got in their way.

You were no different.

A street rat. That’s all you were, all you ever would be. Not someone’s child, not someone’s friend, not someone’s anything. Rats didn’t belong to anyone—they scurried, they scavenged, and they survived.

And that was enough, wasn’t it?

The thought lingered as you huddled in the corner of a dimly lit alley, clutching a half-eaten loaf of bread you’d swiped earlier. The warmth of it had long since faded, just like everything else.

It was enough. It had to be. Because hope was a luxury for people who didn’t live with dirt under their nails and blood on their hands.

And you didn’t have the luxury of being anything but a rat.

You watched as a group of younger kids giggled and laughed, their voices echoing faintly down the alley as they ran past you. They clutched makeshift toys in their small hands—scraps of wood tied together, a dented tin can, things they’d probably cobbled together themselves.

You frowned, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sat against the cold, damp wall. They were so loud, so carefree, their laughter grating against the silence you’d grown used to. You should’ve hated them for it, envied the spark of innocence they still had in this pit of a place. But all you felt was an ache.

This wasn’t the world kids like them should be growing up in. They deserved warm homes, full bellies, and safety—not these streets that swallowed people whole. Not this cold, dangerous place where every smile felt borrowed, fleeting.

But that wasn’t the world they got.

Just like it hadn’t been the world you’d gotten.

You shifted, looking down at your battered boots. They weren’t much better off than those kids, you realized. Maybe younger, but not safer. Not really. They didn’t know yet what these streets could do to them, how they could chew them up and spit them out.

And a bitter part of you thought maybe it was better they didn’t.

You sighed, rubbing at your arms to keep the cold from seeping in too much. Those kids weren’t your problem. You didn’t have the energy to care about anyone else. Not anymore.

But as one of the kids tripped and fell, scraping their knee, you found yourself moving before you could think.

You stood, walking toward them slowly. The little boy sat there sniffling, trying to hold back tears as the others circled him, unsure of what to do.

“You good, kid?” you asked, your voice low and gruff, startling them.

The boy looked up at you, wide-eyed, his lip trembling. “I-I’m fine,” he mumbled, clearly lying.

You crouched down in front of him, your gaze softening despite yourself. “Lemme see.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly showed you his scraped knee, blood trickling down his skinny leg. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was enough to sting.

“Hang tight,” you said, pulling a strip of cloth from your pocket. You wrapped it around his knee with surprising gentleness, tying it off. “There. Good as new.”

The boy blinked up at you, his tears slowing as he gave a small, hesitant smile. “Thanks…”

You stood up, brushing your hands off on your pants. “Don’t mention it.”

As you walked away, you could hear them whispering behind you, their voices filled with wonder.

“Who was that?”

“Dunno, but they’re cool!”

You shook your head, shoving your hands deep into your pockets as you disappeared down another alley.

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath again, the word sticking to your tongue like tar. You weren’t supposed to care.

But you did.

You found yourself helping out the smaller people, not necessarily kids or older people but people who were like you, desperate, barely scraping by..

It started small—handing off scraps of food you didn’t need, pointing someone toward a safer place to sleep, helping a desperate soul avoid a fight they couldn’t win. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you weren’t trying to be anything to anyone. But somewhere along the way, people started noticing.

Not the big players in the Undercity, of course. They didn’t care about people like you, scraping by on crumbs. But the smaller people—the desperate ones, the ones who lived and died in the shadows—they noticed.

And then came the kids.

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, there was always a small cluster of them following you around. Wide-eyed and full of questions, they trailed behind like ducklings, giggling and whispering to each other.

“Is it true you beat up three guys at once last week?” one of them asked, his eyes shining with admiration.

“No, it was five,” another kid chimed in, puffing up his chest like he’d seen you do once. “I heard they were twice as big as you, too!”

You snorted, shaking your head as you walked. “It was one guy, and he was drunk off his ass. Hardly a fair fight.”

But they didn’t care about the truth. To them, you were a legend—someone who fought back against the unfairness of the Undercity and lived to tell the tale.

“What’s it like being the coolest person in the Undercity?” one of the youngest kids asked, skipping alongside you with a toothy grin.

“Dunno,” you replied with a smirk, ruffling his messy hair. “You tell me when you meet them.”

That earned a chorus of laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold and the hunger and the weight that constantly pressed on your shoulders. For a moment, it felt… good.

But then the reality of it all crept back in. You weren’t a hero. You weren’t even a good person. You were just a rat, doing what rats did best: surviving.

Still, when one of the kids tugged on your sleeve and asked if you’d show them how to throw a proper punch, you sighed and crouched down, holding out your hands to demonstrate.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, your tone gruff but not unkind. “If you’re gonna do it, do it right. Thumb outside the fist, or you’ll break it on the first swing.”

The kids watched you with rapt attention, mimicking your movements, their laughter filling the air.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you were just killing time.

But deep down, you knew better.

“Do you know Sevika?” one little girl asked, her eyes shining bright with curiosity.

The question hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you froze. The little girl stared up at you with wide, curious eyes, her excitement barely contained.

“Sevika?” you repeated, forcing your voice to stay steady as your stomach twisted itself into knots. “What makes you ask that?”

The girl shrugged, clutching a worn doll tightly to her chest. “Some people said you’re like her. Tough and strong. That you help people like she used to.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know about that,” you muttered, looking away.

You wanted to lie, to say you didn’t know who Sevika was, to brush it off like it meant nothing. But you couldn’t. Her name alone brought everything rushing back—the nights you spent following her, trying to understand why you cared so much, why she mattered to you.

And how it all came crashing down the moment she showed you exactly who she was.

“Did she help you too?” the girl asked innocently, her voice tugging at something raw and vulnerable inside you.

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching at your sides. “Not in the way you think,” you said quietly.

The kids around you fell silent, sensing the shift in your mood. Even the little girl seemed to understand she’d touched on something she shouldn’t have.

“Forget about Sevika,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “She’s not someone you want to be like.”

The girl frowned, her grip on her doll tightening. “But I thought she was a hero.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “She’s no hero. And neither am I.”

The words tasted sour on your tongue, and you hated how much truth they held. You turned away, pretending to adjust the wrappings on your hands, anything to avoid their questioning eyes.

“Let’s get moving,” you said gruffly, motioning for them to follow. “It’s not safe to stand around here.”

As the kids fell into step behind you, their chatter picking up again, you tried to push the thoughts of Sevika out of your head. But her name lingered like a ghost, haunting you with every step you took.

—

You hated it. The way your chest only loosened when you saw those kids step inside their makeshift homes, doors closing behind them, locking out the dangers of the Undercity—for now.

You hated the way your ears strained for any sign of trouble, ready to step in, ready to fight, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You weren’t a hero. You weren’t a savior. Hell, if that little girl had asked about Sevika again, you might’ve snapped at her, might’ve said something cruel enough to shut her up for good.

Not that you actually would’ve hurt her. You weren’t that far gone—yet.

But it made you sick, the thought of anyone seeing you as something good. Someone to look up to. You were no one’s safety, no one’s home, no one’s hero. You were just—you.

A street rat. A survivor.

And survivors didn’t make promises. They didn’t stick around.

Still, as you stood alone in the dim light of the alley, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Just to be sure.

“I never thought I’d see you go soft,” a voice piped up, making you turn around, body tensing almost immediately as you looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

That’s when you saw her again-

Sevika.

The woman who had taken you in more or less, taken care of you, made sure you knew when and where not to go.

Just for her to rip it all away in one night.

Your breath caught in your throat, muscles coiling tight as your eyes locked onto her.

Sevika.

She leaned casually against the brick wall, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. Her short hair framed her sharp features, and that same unreadable expression lingered on her face—the one that always made it impossible to tell if she was amused or annoyed.

She looked exactly like you remembered. And yet, somehow, worse. Tired. Hardened. But no less dangerous.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse hammered in your ears. “What the hell do you want?”

Her lips twitched, just barely hinting at a smirk. “Relax. I’m not here to pick a fight.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest as if that would somehow shield you from the weight of her presence. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Sevika pushed off the wall, taking a slow step closer. It wasn’t a threat, not exactly—but it didn’t feel safe either. “I was just passing through,” she said, her voice low, gravelly. “Didn’t expect to find you playing babysitter.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m not playing anything.”

“No?” Her gaze flicked toward the alley where the kids had disappeared, then back to you. “Sure looks like it.”

Your fingers twitched, itching for a weapon—something to hold between you and her. Not because you thought she’d attack. But because you didn’t trust yourself not to let her get under your skin. Not again.

“Why are you here, Sevika?” you asked, cutting through the tension with as much venom as you could muster. “Last I checked, you were done with me.”

Her expression shifted, something almost like regret flashing in her eyes before it was gone, buried under that cold exterior. “You wouldn’t let it go,” she said quietly. “I told you to stay away. Told you it’d get you hurt.”

You took a step forward, the anger that had been simmering for months finally bubbling over. “And you think this is better?” you snapped, gesturing at the empty alley, at the scraps of a life you’d been barely holding together. “You think walking away without a word—without even explaining—was better?”

Sevika didn’t flinch, but her jaw set tightly. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”

“Bullshit.”

Your voice echoed off the walls, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring each other down like opponents waiting for the first punch to land.

But it never did.

Instead, Sevika let out a breath, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “You never did.”

And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you never would.

But as much as you hated her—hated what she’d done, how she’d left—you hated the way her words still made your heart ache even more.

“No,” you snapped, making Sevika's eyes narrow slightly.

“You don’t get it, do you know how much I’ve been risking nowadays? Giving away my hard earned food, taking care of kids that aren’t mine, teaching them how to protect themselves, using my supplies to cover up scrapes and cuts. I have these horrible fucking dreams Sevika, horrible horrible dreams, every time a lay down my head to rest or even just to let it relax all I can fucking hear is screaming. My sisters crying while they burned alive, my mother calling out to me like she knew what was happening. Do you ever hear that? Do you have to deal with that day in and day out?”

Sevika was tense, not meeting your eyes as you continued on.

“Do you ever hear them?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words poured out, raw and unfiltered, the dam you’d built up for so long finally breaking. “Do you have to deal with that day in and day out, Sevika? Because I do. Every fucking day.”

Sevika stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. Her jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch, but she didn’t interrupt. She just stood there, her shoulders stiff, her hands twitching at her sides.

“I try to forget,” you continued, your voice rising with every word. “I try to drown it out with fights, with work, with anything. But it never goes away. And then you come along, acting like you’re doing me a favor by walking away? Like leaving me behind was some kind of mercy?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing hollowly in the empty alley. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to act like you know what’s best for me.”

Sevika’s head snapped up at that, her eyes sharp and stormy as they locked onto yours. “And you think you’re better off with me?” she growled, the edge in her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “You think sticking around me would’ve made your life easier? Safer?”

“I don’t know, Sevika!” you shot back, your fists clenching. “But you don’t get to rip everything away without even giving me a choice! You don’t get to decide I’m not worth the risk!”

The words hung heavy in the air, both of you breathing hard, the weight of the conversation pressing down like a storm ready to break.

Sevika looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something crack in her cold, impenetrable armor. Something vulnerable, something almost human.

“You don’t understand,” she said finally, her voice quieter, almost hoarse. “It’s not about you not being worth it. It’s about me… not being enough.”

Her words stunned you, the anger in your chest wavering for just a moment.

“You think I don’t care?” she continued, her gaze hard but her voice trembling just slightly. “You think I don’t hear the screams, too? That I don’t see the faces of the people I couldn’t save, the ones I left behind? I walk through hell every day, just like you. The difference is, I made my peace with it a long time ago. I don’t deserve peace. I don’t deserve…”

Her voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t know whether to scream at her or cry. Instead, you took a step closer, your voice softer but no less determined.

“And you think I don’t feel the same?” you asked, your tone low and raw. “You think I don’t carry that same weight? That same guilt? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Sevika. You don’t get to decide for me.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika didn’t have a response. She just stood there, staring at you with something unreadable in her eyes, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Sevika let out a long, shaky breath.

“You’re a stubborn little shit,” she muttered, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steadier now. “And you’re a coward.”

Her smirk faltered, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she took a step back, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned away.

“Get some rest,” she said over her shoulder, her voice gruff but softer than before. “You’re no good to anyone running on empty.”

But the weight of her presence lingered, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in your armor weren’t just breaking you apart—they were letting something in.

You hated that you wanted to call out to hear, to tell her to wait, to ask her to stay with you- you shouldn't.

“Sevika?” Your voice was soft, unsure, but Sevika looked back at you, raising an eyebrow in response.

You should've said never mind, or Don't get hurt without me, but against your better judgement–

“Do you–” god this was pathetic, “have anything to do tonight..?”

Sevika stopped mid-step, her broad frame outlined by the dim glow of the streetlamp. She turned her head slightly, her eyebrow still raised, but her expression unreadable.

You wanted to shrink back, to swallow the words, to act like you hadn’t said anything. But it was too late. They hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, impossible to take back.

“Do I have anything to do tonight?” she repeated, her voice low and measured, as if trying to make sense of your question.

You shifted on your feet, suddenly regretting every choice that had led you to this moment. “Forget it,” you muttered, looking down at the cracked pavement. “It’s stupid.”

Sevika didn’t move for a moment, her silence stretching out uncomfortably. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned fully to face you, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t have time for games, kid,” she said, her tone sharper now. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. You could shut up, let her walk away, and go back to your miserable little routine. Or you could take the risk—the one that had been gnawing at you since the moment you saw her again.

“Do you… want to get a drink?” you finally blurted out, your voice cracking slightly at the end. “Or—something. I don’t know. Just… talk?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and for a second, you thought she might laugh in your face. But instead, she studied you, her gaze sharp and calculating, as though she were trying to decide if this was some kind of trap.

“You want to talk,” she said slowly, her voice laced with disbelief.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I mean… we never did, right? Not really.”

Sevika tilted her head, her metal fingers drumming against her arm as she considered you. Finally, she let out a low chuckle—more of a breath than a laugh—and shook her head.

“You’re full of surprises,” she muttered.

“So… is that a yes?” you pressed, trying not to sound too hopeful.

She hesitated, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, she nodded toward a dimly lit bar at the end of the street.

“Fine,” she said gruffly. “One drink. Don’t make me regret it.”

You felt your chest loosen, the tension easing just slightly as you nodded and fell into step beside her.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

—

You weren’t sure why you found yourself sitting down at a bar with Sevika, trying to avoid talking to her by slowly drinking your vodka, the liquid burning your throat as you swallowed.

You let out a soft groan, nose scrunching at the burning sensation that you couldn’t get rid of as quickly as you’d hope.

“So,” Sevika hummed, setting down her cup as she cleared her throat, the rough sound catching your attention mid-swallow. “You never really talk about yourself, well you do, a lot actually—“ she corrects herself, making you chuckle softly as you set your own cup down.

“I mean more so where you came from,” Sevika muttered, resting her flesh forearm on the counter, “you don’t scream ‘Hey I was born in the Undercity’ like most of us.”

You paused, staring into the bottom of your glass before swirling what little liquid was left inside. Sevika’s words echoed in your head, her observation cutting deeper than you cared to admit.

“Does it matter?” you finally muttered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Sevika leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the bar as her eyes stayed locked on you. “If it didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked,” she replied.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or suspicious.”

She smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Maybe both.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get out of this without saying something real—something you hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time.

“I wasn’t born here,” you admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool. “Not in the Undercity, at least.”

Sevika didn’t say anything, but the flicker of curiosity in her eyes told you she was listening.

“My family… we lived closer to the surface. Not Piltover exactly, but better off than here.” You paused, fingers tightening around the glass. “It didn’t last.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t interrupt.

“My father—he gambled. Drank. Made enemies.” You swallowed, the memories stirring like dust in your chest. “And when the debts piled too high, when they finally came to collect, we lost everything.”

You shook your head, forcing down the lump rising in your throat.

“Did you hear about the fire around 19 years ago? Whole neighborhood burnt down, barely any survivors,” you hummed gently, not daring to meet her eyes, Sevika humming softly in response.

Sevika’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly. She knew the story, or at least pieces of it. Everyone in the Undercity had heard rumors about the fire. But hearing you say it—connecting yourself to that tragedy—shifted something in the air between you.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice gruffer than usual. “I heard.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pushed past the lump in your throat. “That was my neighborhood. My family.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you, unblinking and sharp, but she didn’t press. She let the weight of your words settle.

“There was nothing left,” you continued, your voice hollow. “The ones who survived… we scattered. Some made it out of the Undercity entirely. Some didn’t.”

Sevika didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her thoughts. She understood loss. Maybe too well.

“I came here because it was the only place left,” you said, swirling the last drops of your drink. “I thought maybe I could disappear. Start over. But you don’t really get to do that, do you?”

Sevika finally broke her silence, her voice low and steady. “No. You don’t.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar around you fading into the background.

“So that’s it?” Sevika asked after a beat. “You’ve been running ever since?”

You shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “What else is there to do?”

Sevika leaned back, her metal arm resting against the counter with a faint clink. “You fight,” she said simply.

You snorted. “Fight for what? This place?”

“For yourself,” Sevika replied, her gaze steady. “For the people who can’t.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the conviction in her voice. It was different from the Sevika you thought you knew—the woman who pushed people away, who acted like she didn’t care.

“Don’t act like you’re not already doing it,” she added, nodding toward the alley you’d been watching earlier. “Those kids? They’re looking at you like you’re their savior, whether you like it or not.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away. “I’m not anyone’s savior,” you grumbled, swirling your glass again.

“That’s what I thought too, for a long time,” Sevika replied, her eyes softening, her words seeming to bring back memories or talks she had. “I was raised to be tough, never be soft, don’t let anyone take advantage of you,” she muttered, “I guess it worked per say, I’m feared, respected, all things you want to be in a place like this.”

You watch as her shoulders sag slightly, exhaling heavily as her eyes closed for a moment, “but I lose people, people who didn’t deserve to be in a place like this, people who made mistakes but I was lucky enough to see what was behind the masks they wore.”

Sevika’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like a wound laid bare. You’d never heard her talk like this—never seen her drop the armor she always carried. And yet, here she was, letting you glimpse something deeper. Something real.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing harder to ignore. “And did it help?” you asked quietly. “Being tough? Pushing people away?”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp but not unkind. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But mostly? It just made it easier to pretend I didn’t care when I did.”

The confession struck a nerve, and you felt your walls starting to crack. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that caring was weakness—that survival meant keeping your distance. But was it really any better than being alone?

“So what changed?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I lost too much,” she said simply. “Kept telling myself it wasn’t my fault, that this place—this life—wasn’t meant for happy endings.”

She paused, her gaze flickering toward you. “But then you showed up.”

Your breath caught. “Me?”

“You’re stubborn. Reckless. You don’t know when to back down, even when you should,” Sevika said, her lips curving into something that almost resembled a smile. “And you remind me of someone I used to be.”

You blinked, unsure whether to take her words as a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.

“Is that a good thing..?” You ask, your head tilting with the question.

Sevika smiled, not a big one or for long, but it was a genuine smile, with the way that the corners of her eyes crinkled and how her slightly chapped lips seemed to stretch with the act— your heart buzzing slightly at the sight.

“Depends on who you ask I guess, if you ask me, it’s the worst possible thing to happen to me, I’ve got a street Rat stuck on me like it’s caught in a trap, and yet you keep trying to get that cheese that you think is there.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, soft but real, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Well, maybe the cheese is worth it,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smile fading but her amusement lingering in her eyes. “You think so? Even knowing the trap could snap any second?”

You shrugged, leaning back on your stool. “Life’s full of traps. If you’re too scared to take a chance, you’ll never get anywhere.”

Her expression shifted, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than felt comfortable. It wasn’t judgmental or cold—it was something closer to respect, though Sevika would probably never admit it outright.

“Brave or stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Probably both,” you admitted with a grin, raising your glass to finish the last drop of vodka.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar wrapping around you like a threadbare blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel… not alone.

“As much as a pain in the ass you tend to be,” Sevika sighed, “I have to admit you seem to at least have a brain in your skull,” smirking softly as you roll your eyes.

You lift your glass to your lips, swallowing down the rest of the vodka, trying your best not to let it show that you hated the sting of it falling down your throat. As you exhale, setting your empty glass down on the counter you glance at Sevika, taking in how much more relaxed she looks. Her shoulders don’t sit as squared as they used to, her sharp and cold eyes seem to have melted a bit.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger, studying the woman beside you. This was Sevika, the same woman who had pushed you away without a second thought, who had built walls so high even you couldn’t see over them. And yet here she was—softened, even if just slightly, by the fragile truce between you.

“You know,” you started, your voice light but tinged with sincerity, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Like what?”

“Relaxed. Human,” you said, leaning your elbow on the bar as you turned to face her more fully.

She let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it, kid. This place has a way of reminding you why you can’t stay soft for long.”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone thoughtful. “But isn’t it exhausting? Always keeping people at arm’s length?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away, her gaze shifting to her metal arm as she flexed the fingers absently. “It is,” she admitted quietly. “But it’s safer that way.”

“For who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and guarded, but you held her gaze. For a moment, you thought she might shut you down, might throw up the same walls she always did. But instead, she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“For everyone,” she said.

“That's a load of bull,” you scoff, Sevika sighed begrudgingly as she shook her head. “Look, Sevika, I get it, you're a big and tough woman, you've gotta keep that exterior appearance sharp and clean–” you sigh, “but at least try and relax and be genuine with me? Come on, I was nice to you before you even had a chance. I'm ruining my reputation here,” you whine half heartedly.

Sevika let out a dry laugh, her lips quirking up at the corners. “Ruining your reputation? You think anyone’s impressed by you drinking cheap vodka and pouting at me?”

“Hey, I’m plenty impressive,” you shot back, leaning back on your stool with an exaggerated smirk. “I’ve got street kids worshiping me, remember? They think I’m a legend.”

Sevika arched an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Yeah, a legend at whining, apparently.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “You’re deflecting,” you accused, pointing at her.

“And you’re annoying,” she countered, but there was no real heat in her words.

“Annoying enough to get under your skin, though,” you teased, taking another sip of your drink. “Which means I’m doing something right.”

Sevika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, but you caught the way her shoulders relaxed just a little more. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I think there’s something worth fighting for,” you said, your tone softening just slightly.

Her eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But instead, she sighed again, shaking her head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, raising your glass in a mock toast. “But I grow on people.”

Sevika snorted, shaking her head but not denying it. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, though the playful glint in your eyes said otherwise.

The conversation lulled for a moment, the two of you settling into a companionable silence. The hum of the bar faded into the background, and you found yourself watching Sevika as she absentmindedly traced the edge of her glass with her metal fingers.

“Look,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now, “I’m not asking for a miracle or anything. I just… I think we’ve both had enough pretending for one night.”

Sevika’s fingers stilled, her gaze lifting to meet yours. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, maybe. Or vulnerability.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “Sure.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth twitching upward in a way that felt almost foreign. “See? I knew I’d get you to admit I was right eventually.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika muttered, but there was a softness to her tone that took the edge off her words.

“I would never,” you said again, but this time, your voice was sincere.

As you giggled at Sevika’s hesitance to let up on you, a hand naturally lifting to cover your smile as you tried to stop your little giggle fit.

Sevika’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than she intended. The sound of your laughter—so genuine, so unguarded—echoed in her chest, stirring something she didn’t want to name.

She told herself it was just the vodka, the dim light of the bar, the way you always seemed to pull her into these situations without her realizing. But as her gaze traced the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, and the faint flush creeping up your cheeks, Sevika felt her resolve waver.

No.

She wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

But gods, did she want to.

She wanted to memorize the way your laughter filled the air, to see that smile again and again, to be the reason for it. It was ridiculous—dangerous, even—but for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine it. Imagine what it would feel like to have you by her side, not as an annoyance or a distraction, but as something more.

The thought alone made her tense, her metal fingers curling into a fist on the counter.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Sevika muttered, her voice gruff as she leaned back in her seat, trying to mask the swirl of emotions tightening in her chest.

You paused mid-giggle, your hand dropping as you glanced at her. “Is that a compliment?” you teased, tilting your head with a playful grin.

“Don’t push it,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Still, you couldn’t miss the way her gaze softened, just for a second, before she looked away.

“Sevika…” you started, leaning slightly closer.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

You froze, confusion flickering across your face. “Don’t what?”

Sevika sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “Don’t make me care more than I already do.”

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What if I want you to?” you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her eyes darting to yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine, have it your way.” you hum unapologetically, reaching over and stealing her glass and swallowing down what was left of her own vodka.

—

Sevika had made sure to get you back to your little hideout in one piece, given you weren't the greatest with alcohol given how your pace stuttered or you came to a complete stop to balance yourself.

She helped you climb up the fire escape to your little cave,steading you with a firm hand on your back as you stumbled up the fire escape, her metal arm clinking softly against the rungs. You muttered something incoherent about being "perfectly fine" and "used to this," but she ignored you, her lips quirking in quiet amusement.

When you finally reached the top, you gestured grandly to your “hideout,” as if it was a palace. The reality was far less impressive.

The small space was wedged between two buildings, half-covered by a rusted piece of metal acting as a makeshift roof. A few blankets and pillows were scattered on the floor, a small stash of food tucked into a corner along with a battered lantern. It was functional, but it wasn’t much.

Sevika’s eyes scanned the area, her expression unreadable. “This is where you’ve been living?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You huffed, brushing past her as you tried to reclaim some dignity. “It’s one of my spots,” you said defensively, waving a hand. “You know, in case things go south.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Doesn’t look too secure.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, your cheeks flushing. “It’s fine. I’ve been here for years, and I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms, mirroring her stance. “What? You gonna start critiquing my home decor now?”

A smirk tugged at her lips, but she held her tongue, sensing that any more teasing would push you into a full-blown tantrum. “No,” she said simply. “It’s… cozy.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the lack of sarcasm. “Cozy?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It works. That’s what matters, right?”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure if she was mocking you or being genuine. But the softness in her eyes—subtle as it was—told you she wasn’t making fun of you.

“Well, uh… thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you avoided her gaze.

Sevika pushed off the wall, her smirk returning. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t expect me to climb that fire escape again anytime soon.”

You snorted, feeling some of your embarrassment ebb away. “Noted.”

She started to turn toward the exit, but then hesitated, glancing back at you. “You good here?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, nodding. “I’m good.”

Sevika nodded, her expression softening for just a moment before she made her way back down the fire escape.

You watched her go, your heart still racing from the night’s events. As you turned back to your little hideout, you let out a breath, trying to shake off the lingering warmth her presence had left behind.

“Cozy,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. But despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips.

Okay maybe it was immature for you to have a crush on a woman twice your age, who had no interest in you whatsoever, and who would've probably ripped you limb to limb by now ...if she hadn’t inexplicably decided to tolerate your existence. Maybe even like it, though you weren’t going to push your luck assuming that. Still, it was hard to ignore the way Sevika seemed to linger around you lately, as if she was trying to figure out what made you tick—or why you hadn’t annoyed her enough to leave yet.

It wasn’t like you had any grand delusions about her feelings. Sevika wasn’t exactly the soft, romantic type. She was gruff, distant, and intimidating as hell—everything you definitely shouldn’t be drawn to.

But there was something about the way she looked at you sometimes. Like you were more than just another street rat scraping by. Like maybe, just maybe, you mattered.

Of course, that was probably just your overactive imagination. She was twice your age, far more experienced in life—and in surviving this hellhole. You were nothing more than an amusing distraction at best.

Still, it didn’t stop your heart from doing that stupid fluttery thing whenever she leaned in just a little too close. Or the way your stomach flipped when she smirked at you, that rare and fleeting expression that made you feel like you’d done something right for once.

You groaned, flopping down onto your makeshift bed with a dramatic sigh. “Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “She’s way out of your league. Not to mention, probably plotting how to make you useful—or at least tolerable.”

But even as you said it, your thoughts drifted back to the way her voice softened when she talked about losing people. The way her gaze lingered on you a second too long when she thought you weren’t looking.

It was stupid. Childish. Dangerous.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the thought.

Because no matter how many times you told yourself to let it go, there was still a small, stubborn part of you that wondered what it would be like if she did care. Even just a little.

#sevika #queer #sevika x reader #street rat sevika fic #sevika arcane #fanfic #i love them #im pathetic #hooray i'm wasting my life away!#Spotify

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cherienymphe · 7 hours ago

Text

Kingdom Come

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON (bordering Non-Con), mentions of toxic relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies |

summary: You left Erik once, and he goes above and beyond to ensure that doesn't happen again.

𓇼

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The sound of the ocean waves—something that took a lot of getting used to at first—were now the driving force behind your calm moods these days. Another nightmare had forced you to wake up drenched in sweat, and the only reason you’d been able to slow your breathing was because of the familiar whoosh of ocean water outside of your window.

You didn’t grow up by the water—wasn’t raised anywhere near it—and that sound quickly reminded you that you were far away from home, far away from anywhere familiar, and it filled you with relief. You now spent your days somewhere you would’ve once never considered living, and that was good because it meant no one from your former life would consider it a place for you to live either.

…and they wouldn’t come looking.

You watched the tea kettle heat up with your back pressed to the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Your satin robe stuck to your skin from the thin layer of sweat that still clung to it. Your heart had long stopped racing, but despite that, goosebumps still littered your arms, and you rubbed your hands up and down them. Despite how safe your mind assured you that you were, your body just refused to agree.

The low lighting in the kitchen was the only warm glow that filled the modest house, and you rubbed your head as you turned to get a mug. When you briefly closed your eyes, dark ones appeared in your mind, and you wondered when—after two years—you’d finally stop conjuring him up.

The face belonging to Erik Stevens was one you hadn’t seen in years, but that name was one you never not thought about. Not only had he been a part of your life for too long to just forget him, but the lasting impact he left made him impossible to ignore. You were literally hiding out in a foreign country under a different name surrounded by people you didn’t know because of that man.

There were days where you cursed yourself for ever getting involved with him—recalling your initial thoughts of him and how he looked like trouble—but Erik had a charm that was hard to resist. With a pretty face framed by locs and gold that winked at you whenever he smiled, he wasn’t the kind of man you’d ever be brave enough to bring home, and you had long reluctantly admitted the part that played in his appeal.

He was kind of dangerous…and you’d liked that.

Until it wasn’t random men on the street he was threatening…but you.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from your thoughts, and you jumped at the sound. You ignored how your hands shook as you poured yourself a cup of tea, exhaling an uneven breath with thoughts of your ex boyfriend on the brain. You never thought that sleeping with the guy who was just way out of your league would change the trajectory of your life. You thought it’d make for a good story to tell to your friends and maybe even a niece or two one day.

You didn’t think that he’d keep coming back, knocking on your apartment door throughout all hours of the night, that plump bottom lip jutted out as you attempted to put your foot down—something something boundaries and respect and all that jazz. The brown-skinned man would slowly blink at you, silently telling you that he wasn’t hearing a word you were saying. The corner of his lips would quirk up into that haughty smirk—something only worn by a man who knew he was going to get what he wanted—and he’d push himself off of the wall, straightening to his full height.

“So you want me to leave?”

The question never sounded sincere, because it wasn’t, and Erik would look down his nose at you while you shuffled your feet, one hand still on the door as you fought with yourself over whether or not to close it in his face. It was useless though because you never not let him in.

You never not took a step back and watched him stride through your door like he owned the place and you with it. You never not watched him peel his jacket off, your own arms crossed over your chest as you committed to being angry for far longer than you actually were. It made you feel like less of a weak willed woman. That too was useless though because its not like you ever stopped him when he turned to you and pulled you closer.

It did no good pretending to be mad when the night always ended the same way.

Erik with his arms around your waist and you with your legs around his.

He was always gone in the morning, until the day he wasn’t, and you couldn’t find it in you to be upset about him sticking around. You actually kind of liked it, and that had scared you. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the mornings, and you weren’t supposed to be asking him if he wanted anything as you stood by the stove. Erik Stevens was not boyfriend material, and yet…

That’s what he became.

Even now, years later, you still weren’t quite sure how that even happened. You didn’t know how you ended up sharing an apartment and picking things up at the store for him and sinking into the warm scented bath water he’d draw for you. You didn’t know how you ended up obeying whenever he’d look at you with those dark eyes before softly demanding a kiss. You didn’t know how you’d started letting him circle his hand around your neck while he was fucking you, pulling words and promises out of you that you’d never say in any other circumstance.

It was something you still couldn’t make sense of, and you desperately needed to if you ever wanted to prevent it from happening again.

“Erik Stevens isn’t your average man off the street…”

That was what they told you when they sat you down in some room that was too bright only hours after showing up at your doorstep. All of it had been too much information to fully retain, but you’d processed the important parts. Erik was military—a SEAL to be more exact—and not just a SEAL but also the kind of man who occasionally dropped off the face of the earth to take out important people. It was a nice way of calling him an assassin, and you remembered how sick you’d felt sitting in that chair, recalling the feel of running your fingers over every raised abrasion along his skin whenever he had his hands on you.

“Is this some frat thing I just haven’t heard of?” you’d jokingly wondered one day.

Erik had simply turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on his lips and a hidden joke in his gaze.

“Nah,” he’d drawled. “They just represent something important to me. Milestones I guess you could say.”

Your determination to be open minded had you relaxing in the arms of a killer—a proud one who wore the name KIllmonger with no shame.

Even still, you hadn’t understood what any of that had to do with you. At that point, you and Erik had been broken up for months, something that hadn’t been easy for you to do. Not just because some part of you still wanted him at the end, but also because a huge part of you was terrified of him. You hadn’t realized that his anger and possessiveness were low on the list of reasons why you should be afraid of him.

“This man is dangerous…and the way you parted ways was…less than amicable to say the least…”

You still hadn’t put the pieces together.

“...and the U.S Government is unable to locate him.”

Winding up in something akin to witness protection because the U.S Government had lost one of their own best ‘assets’ had not been something you ever saw for yourself. To this day, you wondered why the one questionable guy you took a chance on turned out to be far more than just the average jealous asshole.

As you sipped your tea, you thought about the last time you were with him, the way your voice trembled as you stood up to him, telling him it was over. You rubbed your arm, recalling the tight grip he had on it, his voice cold and clipped as he asked you if you realized what you were saying.

“You wanna leave me?” he’d asked, head dipped and brows raised like he wanted to make sure you knew that was what you wanted to do.

You could see then that he’d wanted to fight you on it—probably wanted to do a whole lot more than that—but no one had been more shocked than you when he simply let you go with a soft “a’ight” before gesturing to the door. Everything you wanted to take had been removed while he was out, and you’d been surprised at how sad you weren’t to glance around at the apartment now empty of your stuff.

That was the last time you’d been face to face with Erik Stevens.

Until now.

When the cup that was once in your hands shattered against the floor, you paid no mind to the slight sting of hot tea and ceramic shards hitting your bare feet. Your attempt to turn and leave the kitchen had been thwarted, a tall and broad figure standing just before you in the entrance. The sight of the shadowy figure made your heart drop and your blood run cold. The only light from the kitchen wasn’t enough to reveal him completely, but you’d always been able to recognize him in the dark.

He enjoyed scaring you.

For the first time in your life, your mind went blank, finally understanding that phrase as your lips parted. No sound came out—from neither you or him—and you were sure that the sight of you two just standing in the dark and staring at each other would’ve been comical if you weren’t terrified out of your mind. The figure finally moved to tilt his head, his only movement as it leaned to the left just a tad, and the angle made the light glint off of his eyes in a way that made your stomach churn.

You were quick to search for the big light.

You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, confirming what you already knew. He looked the same and different all at once. He was still handsome and tall and wore that expression like you were just so silly to him. However, his hair was longer and the bands of muscle that were his arms were thicker, and he stood with an assuredness that you didn’t like, at all. The flashy gold tooth necklace resting on his collarbone caught the light, and your eyes were briefly drawn to it.

You traced it, a frown taking residence on your face as your gaze kept going. The casual clothes you were used to seeing him in were nowhere in sight, and you took note of the dark attire he was wearing and its patterns. He looked nice—regal one might say—and you swallowed, a very bad feeling festering deep in your stomach.

“What? You got nothing to say to me?”

Hearing his voice for the first time in years brought up a whole lot of emotions you’d tried and failed to bury. You were reminded of his voice in your ear as he woke you up in the mornings or even when he was whispering the filthiest of things against your skin as he kissed his way down it. But you also remembered the angry tone of it when he was interrogating you about some guy who’d waved at you or was questioning your feelings for him.

You remembered loving him and craving him…but you also remembered how terrified he made you feel.

At that, you took a step back—almost dazed—and the man before you kissed his teeth.

“You still on that bullshit, huh.”

Those words—filled with so much dismissal and arrogance—finally made you find your voice.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, your question coming out choked. “How did…?”

When Erik finally moved, half of him was bathed in the shadows from the rest of the house, and the kitchen light hit his eye again in the way it did before. It glinted dangerously, almost like a feline if you didn’t know any better, and you took another step back. Erik followed your movements intensely, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“How…” he tested the word in his mouth, humming. “How is never as important as why.”

You weren’t amused by whatever he was playing at, and that crooked smile only grew.

“So serious,” he mocked, moving to fold his hands behind his back as he looked you up and down, and you hated the way he swiped his tongue between his lips as he did so. “You’re not glad to see me? Not even a little?”

When you said nothing, you watched him roll his eyes, shaking his head and his locs moved with the action. When his gaze met yours again, all humor had been wiped from his face. His dark eyes were intense as he stared at you, lips pressed together and chest heaving with the deep breath he took. You felt like an insolent child beneath his gaze.

“You know what I’m doing here.”

He was entirely serious, and you didn’t doubt him for a second.

“No…”

“You had to know I was never gone let you just walk away from me like that,” he continued, slowly pacing the kitchen and backing you further into a corner with every step he took.

His words brought tears to your eyes, and in this moment, you hated him. What was the point then? Why did he give you false hope that you were free from him? Was it just to fuck with you? Was it his idea of a sick joke? As if he could read your mind, he elaborated.

“I had some things to do,” he told you. “Some…business to take care of before I came back for you and …”

He shrugged like that explained everything you’d been put through because of him.

“...and now that I got my shit together…got everything I deserved, it’s only right that I come back and get you too.”

A noise of disgust left your throat before you could stop yourself, and Erik didn’t try to stop you as you hurried past him. You didn’t hear him behind you as you made your way to the door, too nervous and fearful to look over your shoulder. However, once you made it to the front door, you realized that you didn’t hear Erik after you because he wasn’t after you.

He felt no need to be…and with good reason.

The statuesque women on the other side of your door made you come up short, mouth falling open as you took them in. They were beautiful and straight-faced, heads smooth and wearing colorful attire that didn’t deviate all that much from what Erik was wearing. The long spears in their hands had you stumbling back, and so in shock, you didn’t even register that you’d stumbled right into Erik.

One of his arms snaked around you while the other gently closed the door, effectively trapping you once again.

The silence was loud, and finally, a few tears escaped.

“Earlier you started to ask how I found you…”

You felt Erik’s lips grazing your ear before moving down to brush along your neck. One hand was on your waist while the other had found a home on your arm, kneading the skin through the thin robe. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and you swore that you felt him shudder against you.

The breath you let out was shaky, more tears collecting in your eyes.

“You’d be amazed at what you can do when you’re the king of Wakanda.”

Those damning words had your knees buckling, and when you attempted to throw yourself away from him, Erik’s hold tightened. One hand had a vice grip on your wrist while the other hand snaked around your neck.

“I like to tell myself that I did this because I deserve it, because I was wronged…but that ain’t all…”

When Erik leaned in to press his lips to yours, your mind was finally at war with your heart once again. You’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, forgotten what he tasted like, and you couldn’t stop the sharp breath you took as he moved his mouth against yours. The hand on your neck tightened just a tad, like a chain keeping you to him, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

“I like being somebody that you can’t ever leave.”

Those words whispered into your mouth made your heart sink, and your protest was lost as he kissed you again.

You shook in his hold for varying reasons, fear above all else. Erik had his hands on you again, and he had no intention of taking them off. They pulled you and pushed you where he wanted you to be, and it seemed that he decided the couch would suffice. He wasn’t bothered by your lack of consent, and somehow that didn’t surprise you.

There’d been moments in the past when you expressed discomfort or you protested or you rejected him and for the briefest of moments, something had passed through his eyes that made you think he didn’t care. A glint in his gaze that made you think he was going to do what he wanted—take what he wanted—anyway. You’d always had a nagging feeling deep in your chest that Erik was just holding back, keeping himself in check with you because it was socially acceptable and not because he actually wanted to.

…but he was a king, now—something you believed without a doubt—and that title corrupted even the best of men…let alone a man who already wasn’t shit to begin with.

When his bare chest grazed against yours, a shudder traveled down your spine, and Erik reached under you to trace that path with his fingers. One hand was still carefully at home on your neck, and the gold fangs in his mouth winked at you in the nearly invisible lighting. When you felt those abrasions underneath your fingers—every one for a kill—it suddenly hit you that you were underneath him again and for good this time.

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy,” he murmured into your skin, a hand tightening almost painfully on your waist just as he sank into you.

The feel of his cock stretching you out had your back arching, chest pushing up against his. It hadn’t been just years without sex with Erik but years without sex altogether. Part of it was because you still had some lingering loyalty to the man between your legs, telling yourself he’d somehow know and find you—despite the fact that you weren’t his anymore—and part of it was because he’d simply ruined you for any other man. Either way, it all came back to Erik.

You couldn’t stop the strained gasps that left your lips, the slight sting and dull ache from the stretch making you dig your nails into his skin. This was not what you wanted, but you swore that Erik was stronger now than he ever had been before. The feel of him thrusting himself into you reminded you of all the hours you’d spent wrapped up in each other when things were still good between you. Hell, even when they weren’t, it wasn’t uncommon for an argument to end in you bent over the kitchen counter with Erik’s pelvis pressing against you.

He had a way of controlling a situation, steering it in whatever direction he wanted it to go.

Like now.

How was it that you go into hiding to remain safe from this man only to wind up at his mercy yet again? It was unfair, and you couldn’t stop trembling as you pushed against his chest.

“Erik…”

Your words died on your lips when he shushed you, his locs brushing against your skin as he nipped at your neck and then your shoulder and finally your chest. The light moan you let out was involuntary, and you hated that smug chuckle that escaped his lips.

“You always try to act so tough and shit…but we both know once I get my hands on you…”

Anger bubbled up within you at his words, and you couldn’t resist slapping him. Before where that might’ve pissed him off, Erik only smiled in your face. Taking your hand, he held it tight before pinning it against your stomach, and he looked down, briefly distracted by the sight of his cock disappearing into you. He slowed his thrusts down, and the change in pace almost made you roll your eyes.

“You gone love Wakanda, baby,” he said to you, lips meeting your skin again. “The most beautiful sunsets…”

He nipped at your shoulder.

“...anything you could ever want…”

Another kiss to your lips.

“...and guards to watch your every move.”

His nose touched yours as he said that, and you felt him reach down to hook his arm under your leg. You hissed, feeling him even deeper into your gut as he bent your leg back. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, hips meeting yours and the wet sound of his cock dipping into you reaching your ears.

“I came back just for you,” he darkly told you, completely ignoring your hand pushing at his stomach. “...because what kind of king would I be with no queen at my side?”

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#erik killmonger #Erik killmonger x reader #n'jadaka x reader #erik stevens #erik stevens x reader #n'jadaka fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfiction #Erik killmonger imagine #n'jadaka imagine #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #marvel fanfiction

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ruewrote · 2 days ago

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𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑜.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: jealously, arguments, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: is there someone else? by the weeknd WORD COUNT: 4.1k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: can you tell that me breaking no contact didn't go well?

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you were tired. not the kind of tired you could fix with a good night’s sleep or an extra cup of coffee.

no, this was deeper. heavier. it had been weighing on you for months, maybe longer, and no matter how much you told yourself you were done.

that this time would be the last, you always found yourself right back where you started, with jj.

it wasn’t the kissing that made you feel this way, not exactly. you liked kissing him. god, you loved kissing him. the way his lips tasted faintly of weed and beer, the way he held you like you were the only thing grounding him.

the way his stupid grin would soften just for you, his cocky bravado melting into something almost vulnerable. for a few fleeting hours, it felt like everything you wanted, everything you’d dreamed of since the first time you realised how deep your feelings for him ran.

but it was never real. not when the alcohol was buzzing in his veins, not when he whispered things he’d never say in the harsh light of day. “you know it’s always been you, right?” his voice would crack sometimes, and you’d feel your heart breaking and healing all at once.

or there’d be the quiet, desperate promises. “one day, i’m gonna do right by you. i swear.” and for a moment, you’d believe him.

you always believed him.

but then the sun would rise, and jj would be gone. not gone in the literal sense. no, he’d still be around, cracking jokes, causing trouble, being him. but it was like the version of him you got in the middle of the night didn’t exist in the daylight.

instead, you’d see him with someone else, his arm slung around some girl, his attention completely absorbed by her like you’d never even crossed his mind.

it wasn’t just one time. it wasn’t even a few times. it was a pattern, and it was breaking you. because as much as you wanted to hate him for it, you couldn’t. you couldn’t hate him for being who he was, for not giving you the thing you so desperately wanted but he so clearly wasn’t ready to give.

you hated the way you let him in, over and over again. the way you believed the things he said, even when he never followed through on them. you hated the way your heart sped up when he looked at you, even though you knew that look wouldn’t last.

you hated the way your chest ached every time you saw him with someone else, the way you had to swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile like it didn’t matter.

but it did matter. it mattered too much.

so, you told yourself you were done. this time, for real. no more stolen kisses, no more whispered promises. no more jj.

moving on wasn’t easy, though. it wasn’t like you could just flip a switch and stop caring. but you tried. you told yourself it was okay to look at other guys, to flirt a little, to remind yourself that there were people out there who might actually be able to give you what jj couldn’t.

at first, it felt hollow. empty. none of the guys you talked to really clicked, and you started to wonder if you were just wasting your time. but then there was jackson.

jackson wasn’t like jj. he didn’t have that wild spark, that untamed energy that drew people in. but maybe that was a good thing. because jackson was steady. reliable. the kind of guy who made you feel safe instead of uncertain.

he wasn’t one for grand gestures or flashy moves. but he was thoughtful in ways that caught you off guard. like when he texted you first thing in the morning, asking how you slept. or when he remembered little things about you. your favorite coffee order, the song you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was listening.

and maybe the chemistry wasn’t instant. maybe there weren’t fireworks or that pull you’d always felt with jj. but there was something else. something quieter. something warmer.

still, there were moments when doubt crept in.

late at night, when your phone buzzed and you half hoped it was him. even though you knew it wouldn’t be. or when you caught yourself comparing the two of them, wondering if you’d ever feel the same fire you felt for jj with someone else.

the doubt lingered. refusing to leave no matter how much you tried to shake it.

the room had quieted down, the hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of the evening. the others had scattered. pope was buried in his notes on the porch, sarah and john b had disappeared into the twinkie for some ‘alone time,’ and kie had made herself scarce, muttering something about a late-night walk.

that left just you and jj, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch. you had tucked yourself into the corner, scrolling through your phone, a quiet giggle escaping your lips now and then. it wasn’t intentional, but each laugh seemed to draw jj’s attention, his eyes flickering toward you.

“what’s so funny over there?” he finally asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

you glanced up at him briefly, your lips still tugged into a soft smile. "nothing," you said casually, shrugging as you turned your attention back to your phone.

he shifted, sitting up slightly, leaning toward you, his eyebrows raised. "nah, come on. don’t give me that. who’s got you giggling like that? share with the class."

you hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone as you debated whether or not to answer. you weren’t doing anything wrong, not really, but something about admitting you were texting jackson felt... complicated.

"it’s just jackson," you said finally, keeping your tone light. "he sent me something funny."

jj froze for a split second, so brief you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention. but then he leaned back, his smirk slipping into place. "oh, jackson, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with something that wasn’t quite teasing but wasn’t far from it either.

"what’s he got you laughing about? some dad joke or something?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his sudden shift made your stomach twist. "it’s not a big deal, jayj," you said, shrugging again. "just a funny meme. relax."

"relax? i’m totally relaxed," he shot back, but there was an edge to his voice now, subtle but obvious to you. he stretched out on the couch, his arm draping over the back, his eyes fixed on you. "i mean, good for you, right? jackson seems like... a solid guy."

you could feel the tension creeping into the air between you, and you hated it. you hated how jj could make something so small feel so heavy, how his words, his tone, could tangle you up inside even when you tried so hard not to let them.

"yeah, he is," you said quietly, your eyes still on your phone. "he’s nice."

"nice," jj repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "that’s great. real exciting."

you looked up at him then, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the cocky mask he wore slipped. there was something raw in his eyes, something he couldn’t quite hide no matter how hard he tried.

"why do you care?" you asked softly, the question hanging between you.

he opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, his jaw tightening. for a moment, it looked like he might actually say something real, something honest. but then he shook his head, his smile sliding back into place.

"i don’t," he said with a shrug, his voice light and breezy. "just curious, that’s all. you know me, always gotta know what’s going on."

but you weren’t convinced, and from the way he avoided your eyes, you knew he wasn’t either.

you turned back to your phone, trying to focus on jackson’s message, but jj’s presence was impossible to ignore. the warmth of his presence, the way his leg brushed against yours when he shifted. everything about him pulled at you, even when you didn’t want it to.

the tension had been building for days, his snide comments had started small. barely noticeable jabs that you brushed off with a roll of your eyes. but they didn’t stop. every interaction seemed to carry a sharper edge, a hidden layer of something he wouldn’t address. and while he never said anything outright about what had been between you, it was there, unspoken, colouring every word that left his mouth.

by the end of the week, it had become unbearable.

you were sitting at home, sprawled on your bed with the tv on for background noise, trying to find some semblance of peace. but jj had shown up unannounced, like he always did, at first, he just hovered, pacing around your room, muttering something about john b, then pope, then kie. and when that didn’t hold his attention, he turned his focus to you.

"really?" he scoffed, nodding toward your phone. "let me guess, you’re texting jackson. again."

you froze, your grip on the phone tightening as your pulse spiked. he was baiting you. again, but this time, you weren’t in the mood to play along. "what’s your problem, jj?" you said, not looking up.

"my problem?" he said, his voice cutting as his eyes flicked over you. "i don’t have a problem. just didn’t realise you were into guys who need a manual to figure you out. guess you finally found someone slow enough to keep up."

that was it. that was the breaking point.

you stood up so fast your phone fell onto the floor, your chest heaving as you rounded on him. "what the hell is wrong with you?" you snapped, your voice louder than you’d intended.

"you’ve been like this all week, taking cheap shots, acting like a total asshole. why? because i’m trying to move on? because i’m finally doing something for myself instead of waiting around for you to get your shit together?"

jj blinked, startled by the sudden outburst, but his defenses went up just as quickly. his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly. "i don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, his voice colder now. "i’m just calling it like i see it."

"calling it like you see it?" you repeated, your voice shaking with anger. "no, jj. you’re being a coward. you can’t handle the fact that i’m not waiting around for you anymore, so you’re lashing out like some jealous boyfriend. grow up!"

"jealous?" he scoffed, his laugh bitter. "of jackson? please. the guy you’re settling for?”

"stop it," you snapped, your voice breaking slightly. "just stop. you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to act like this when you’re the one who’s been stringing me along for months. you don’t get to pick and choose when to care about me. you either want me, jj, or you don’t. but i can’t keep doing this with you."

for a moment, the room was silent, your words hanging heavy in the air between you. jj’s expression flickered, his mask slipping for just a second, and you saw something raw in his eyes. guilt. pain. maybe even regret. but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

"that’s what i thought," you said, your voice quieter now but still stern. "you can’t even say it, can you? you can’t admit that you don’t want me, but you can’t stand the thought of someone else making me happy either. that’s not love, jj. that’s just being selfish."

he opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. you shook your head, turning away from him as tears stung the corners of your eyes. "just go," you said, your voice trembling. "i can’t do this anymore."

but he didn’t move. he stayed frozen in the same spot, staring at you, like he was waiting for something.

you whipped around to face him, your hands shaking. "why the hell are you still here?" you snapped, fury rising in your chest. "are you really just gonna stand there? if you won’t leave, then i will."

without another word, you turned and stormed down the stairs, the adrenaline making your steps faster, sharper. you grabbed the door, slamming it behind you so hard the house seemed to tremble.

you didn’t stop. your feet pounded the pavement, the cool night air biting at your skin, but you didn’t care. in all your anger, you hadn’t even grabbed a jacket, and now the chill of the night was cutting through you.

you found yourself heading to the beach without even thinking. the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was distant, muffled by the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

you reached the sand, and collapsed down, too exhausted to care about the discomfort. the wind howled around you, you pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as if you could hold yourself together that way.

the tears that had been threatening for so long finally broke free, flooding down your cheeks as the full weight of it hit you.

you couldn’t stop the sobs, each one shaking through your body. it felt like every bit of the anger, the hurt, the confusion, and the love you had poured into jj over the months came crashing down all at once. it wasn’t fair.

none of it was. you had given him everything, trusted him, believed his empty promises, and now... you were sitting alone on the beach in the dark, freezing cold, with nothing left but the ache in your chest.

you buried your face into your knees, the salt of your tears mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze, as you let the emptiness swallow you whole.

the tears had stopped, but they clung to your skin, leaving long streaks down your cheeks. your eyes were swollen, your lips tender and raw from the sobbing, and you just sat there, numb, staring out at the dark expanse of the ocean.

the waves crashed relentlessly, matching the rhythm of the ache inside you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

you had no idea how much time had passed. minutes? hours? the world felt like it had gone quiet around you, just you and the ocean. and then, the sound of footsteps. at first, you didn’t acknowledge it.

you figured it was just the wind or some passing stranger, but the steps grew closer. you held your breath, the space around you suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like everything in you knew who was coming, even before you saw him.

the sound of a thud broke the silence as someone sat down beside you. you turned slowly, the muscles in your neck aching, but there he was. of course, it was him.

for a moment, all you could do was stare, the disbelief hitting you. your chest tightened again, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. you wiped it away angrily, but it didn't matter. the damage was already done.

a bitter, humourless laugh escaped you, the sound raw and broken. "why can’t you just leave me alone?" you muttered, the words barely audible. you tried to look away, but your eyes wouldn’t shift from him.

you hated the way your heart twisted at the sight of him, even now, even after everything.

jj didn’t say anything at first, just sitting there beside you, his presence heavy. you could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things.

you glanced back over to him to find his own eyes were swollen, lips and nose tinged pink from what you could only guess were from his own breakdown, his hands still trembling as they rested at his sides.

you hated how, despite all the pain he’d caused, you still found him pretty in this moment. the vulnerability in him, the way he wore his brokenness so openly, it made your chest ache. it was the last thing you wanted to feel.

he didn’t speak. neither did you. it felt like you were both waiting for the other to break first. but it wasn’t until the sound of the waves crashing against the shore felt too deafening that he finally spoke, his voice cracked, raw.

“i… i’m sorry," he began, voice thick with something like regret. "i’ve been a fucking idiot, okay? i know i have. and i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know what i’m doing, or what i’ve done to you… but i need you to know that it’s not because i don’t care.”

his words were stuttering, full of shame, but the way he said it, the way his hands fidgeted, his desperation was impossible to ignore.

“i–god, i fucked this up, didn’t i? i… i always do this. i push, i pull, i make you feel like shit, and then… then i can’t stand the thought of losing you. but every time you walk away, i don’t know how to make you stay. i never know what the right thing to say is, and i just... i just hurt you again and again. i’m so fucking sorry."

you were still staring out at the ocean, fighting the hurt that sat heavy in your chest, fighting the urge to listen to the softness in his voice, to hear him out. but you couldn’t. not yet.

“i’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said, his voice breaking. “i don’t deserve it. but i need you to know how much i fucking care about you. more than i know how to say. more than i can ever show. it’s like i don’t know what to do with it, so i make everything worse. but you–you matter to me more than anything else in my stupid fucking life. and if you can find it in you to forgive me... if you can just look at me the way you used to, i’ll do anything. i swear, i’ll do whatever it takes.”

his voice was softer now, quieter, almost pleading as he inched closer to you on the sand, his face full of regret. his eyes searched yours, desperate to find any trace of warmth, any sign that you still cared.

“i’m begging you,” he said, his voice trembling. “please. i can’t lose you. i can’t. i know i fucked up, but please. give me the chance to make it right. please don’t walk away from me. not like this.”

the words hung in the air between you, his desperate plea reverberating in the cold night as you sat there, trembling from the weight of it all. your chest felt tight, the pain of everything that had happened pressing on you, threatening to suffocate you.

his words reached you, pierced through the numbness you had been trying to build around yourself. but you weren’t ready yet, not ready to let go of the anger, the hurt. you wanted to stay mad at him, wanted to keep your distance, to protect yourself.

but you couldn’t.

you felt the floodgates open, and the dam you’d so carefully built up around your heart cracked, letting the years of suppressed feelings break free in one overwhelming rush.

the tears came first, unbidden, streaking down your cheeks as your breath caught in your throat. you wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but the weight of everything, the heartache that had built up for so long, was impossible to ignore. you turned toward him, your voice shook as you spoke, barely a whisper at first.

“you don’t get it,” you said, the rawness in your voice making it hard to speak. “you don’t get how much i wanted this… how much i wanted you.”

your hands were trembling now, your heart hammering as the words poured out, no longer able to keep them locked inside. “i’ve been holding on to this... this stupid hope, waiting for you to realise how i feel. but i couldn’t do it anymore, jj. i couldn’t keep waiting for you to come around. for you to see me. to see us. every time i tried to let you in, you pushed me away. every time you said you cared, i believed you, and you made me feel like an idiot for it."

you paused, trying to steady your breath as your chest tightened again.

“i kept telling myself i was done. that i was over it. that i could move on. but every time i saw you with someone else, every time you pulled away, it tore me apart. it felt like i was drowning in it, jj. and i kept asking myself why i kept putting myself through that, why i kept letting you hurt me. but the truth is, i can’t stop wanting you. i can’t stop needing you.”

you took a shaky breath, your eyes brimming with tears again, but this time, they felt different. this time, they were from the depths of everything you’d been holding back. the fear. the hurt. the longing.

“i can’t do it anymore,” you whispered. “i need you. i’ve needed you for so long, but you never, never, let me be close enough. and it’s breaking me. it has been for so long.”

"i don’t want to be this broken, desperate person anymore," you continued, the tears coming faster now. "i can’t keep waiting for you to make up your mind. but god… god, i need you to choose me. i need you to finally see me. not as some game, not as someone you can just toss aside when it's not convenient for you anymore. i need to know you’re here for me. that you want me too.”

you looked up at him then, your heart in your throat, his eyes were wide, filled with a mix of guilt, pain. “i need you, jj,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper now. "i don’t care if it’s messy. i don’t care if it’s hard. i just need to know you’re here… that you’re really here."

the weight of it all hung in the air between you, and you felt exposed. but for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t care about hiding anymore. you were done pretending you didn’t need him. done pretending you could walk away from what had been growing between you for so long.

he reached out, tentatively at first, like he was scared you’d pull away. his fingers brushed against yours, a gentle touch that seemed to break the tension in the air.

“hey… hey, look at me.” his voice was softer than you had ever heard it, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck this up. he moved closer to you, his other hand resting carefully on your cheek, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“i’m here,” he said, his voice low, but full of conviction now. “i’m right here, and i’ve always been here, in my messed up way. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been a fucking idiot. i don’t deserve you, but damn it, i’m not going anywhere. i don’t want anyone else. it’s always been you, even when i was too stupid to admit it to myself. but i’m not afraid anymore.”

he let out a shaky breath, and you could see how real he was being. it wasn’t just the guilt on his face anymore; it was something else, something pure. it was like he was finally letting himself be vulnerable with you, really showing you what he’d been hiding all this time.

“i’m so sorry for making you feel like you had to fight for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “i should’ve chosen you from the start. i should’ve seen you. really seen you, for who you are. not just the person who’s always there when i need them. you’re more than that. you always have been.”

his forehead pressed gently against yours, and you could feel his breath mingling with yours. his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid that if he let you go, you’d slip away forever.

“i need you too,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “i’m not perfect. i’m never gonna be perfect. but i’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me. because you are my choice. always. you’re all i want.”

the warmth of his words, the tenderness in his touch, broke something open in you, you allowed yourself to lean into him fully.

all the walls you had built around your heart started to crumble, piece by piece.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

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beef-brisket · 1 day ago

Note

Michael chuckled and sat in a nearby chair. He was obviously too tall for it, and the size difference was almost comical.

Michael: Now now, brother. Where's the fun in that? Besides, I doubt you'd hear me all the way up here.

Adam tensed as Michael's gaze shifted from Lucifer to him.

Michael: Adam. I like the new look. I had a feeling you'd be more bird like, it suits you.

Qdam: I- really? You think so?

Michael: Oh, definitely. And I see I have more nieces and nephews. I would have appreciated a card to inform me of their birth, but I don't expect such things of you anymore, Lucifer. Too used to your own company to remember anyone else.

Lucifer glared: I like to keep these things private, Michael.

Michael: Oh yes. I know. I trust the pregnancy wasn't to rough on you, Adam.

Adam: Uh- this litter was a bit bigger, so that was a struggle. But Lucifer was a big help.

Michael: As he should be. Well, now. Looking at your size, you should more than be able to carry a full litter. I'm assuming you two are far from finished populating the earth.

Lucifer: Brother, please-.

Adam: Far from it!

Michael smiled: Very good. I'm pleased to hear it. Your children are always so darling, aren't they? Now, brother. I've heard a few rumours through the grapevine I'm sure you would like to hear about.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow: Oh? What rumours?

Michael: ...Father is up to something.

Lucifer sighed: When isn't he. Is that really it, Michael?

Michael smirked: Aren't you impatient. And here I thought you'd want to know every detail and whereabouts of the man who wants to turn your children and mate into fertiliser. But no, I guess not.

Lucifer growled and crawled over to Michael, getting into his face. He rose himself to his full height, trying to intimidate his older brother.

Lucifer: Watch what you say, brother. Now, tell me what he's up to.

Michael smiled up at his brother, clearly not intimidated. Adam remembered that the first time he met Michael. As he left, his form changed into something more monstrous. It sent chills down Adam's spine just recalling it.

But he thinks there's more to Michael than he shows. He tries to appear more human, but Adam knows better. He always has an uncomfortable feeling looking at him. He's kind enough, but Adam can't help but feel there's something else just beneath the surface.

Michael: Oh, calm down before you make a fool of yourself. I believe father is planning on putting an end to your union with Adam. I've noticed a few things in the forest. The animals had disappeared a few weeks ago, like they knew something was here. Then, a few days ago, they returned.

Lucifer: How interesting, anything else?

Adam: Lu. Let him speak.

Michael: Thank you, Adam. As I was saying. A few days ago, the animals returned. Mainly deer and boars. Some rabbits. But their different. Their like a cheap mimic, and that mimic doesn't know how these animals moved or walked. I hunted a deer a day or so ago, and it attacked. It even started to change, but I killed it before that happened. It's not safe here, Lucifer. I believe father is making this location as deadly as possible, so when the time comes for him to strike, you and Adam will be outnumbered.

Adam: I'm one of you now- I can protect them, your dad shouldn't hate me now, right?

Michael sighed: I'm sorry, Adam. But father... he knows you were human. He'll see this as a mockery of our species. He's even gathering out siblings, Lucifer. Telling them lies about Adam, deadly lies. Turning them against him... Azael and Uriel are already geared up for a fight. A big one. They wouldn't tell me what was happening. It seems I've been shunned for the most part.

Lucifer: Shit... what do you suggest?

Michael: Well, that's the smartest question you've asked all year! You run, brother. Take your children, and run... but, at this stage, you'll be a danger to them.

Lucifer: I'm not leaving him.

Michael: I know. I wasn't directing that to you.

Lucifer slowly turned to Adam who was staring at Michael.

Adam: ...I'm the danger. I'm putting them in danger.

Michael: ...Unfortunately.

Monster under the bed au where Lucifer is a monster and "terrorizing" Adam?

And by terrorizing, I mean fucking. Grossly. Disgustingly.

Complete monster porn.

Oh no, are my kinks coming out again? Oh well 😉

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Don't tease me with a hot au lol

Oh, what if Adam bought a new house and that's when it starts?

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bamgyuuuri · 2 days ago

Text

⤷ love. ┈ kth.

sypnosis. taehyun was perfect. he was attentive, caring, kind... who were you kidding—he was everything you wanted and more. but when a fight seems to have shattered whatever it was between you, it felt like all that warmth vanished. even after everything, can love survive when it feels like it’s already been lost?

pairings and tags. suitor!taehyun x reader ft. friend!beomgyu . fluff . angst . mentions of alcohol/being inebriated . taehyun is a huge sweetheart . slight misunderstandings . drunken confession . emotional hurt/comfort . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 6.9k

short note … just a little something before i lock in for finals heh ,, it was supposed to be situationsip!taehyun, but i feel like this suits him way more <3 do let me know ur thoughts! ^_^

for the past few months, taehyun had been nothing short of perfect as your suitor.

it all started on a warm spring afternoon, the kind where the air felt soft and the sun kissed everything golden. you were at the bleachers, minding your own business, when taehyun—a boy you’d seen around but never really spoken to—walked up to you with a nervous smile.

“hi,” he started, his voice soft but steady. his round face was a little pink, and his boba-like eyes darted around as if he were trying to gather courage from the trees and the sky. “do you, uh, wanna be friends?”

you blinked, surprised. there wasn’t a single person who wouldn’t find him attractive—he practically radiated charm without even trying. but there was something endearingly awkward about him in that moment, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

“sure,” you said, smiling back. his grin stretched wide.

and just like that, taehyun slowly but surely became a part of your life.

taehyun wasn’t like anyone you’d met before. he talked a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but it never felt overbearing. his stories were funny, his observations sharp, and his quick wit always left you laughing. it didn’t matter if he was teasing you about your choice of coffee or launching into an impromptu debate about why gukbap was an underrated masterpiece of korean cuisine—taehyun always found a way to make everything more entertaining.

but it wasn’t just the humor that pulled you in. there was a warmth to taehyun that people often overlooked. he had this way of making you feel safe, like no matter what you said or did, he’d still look at you with those soft, doe eyes, full of understanding and adoration.

people often called him cold, saying he was hard to read. “taehyun?” you’d heard someone say once, scoffing. “he’s like ice—untouchable and impossible to melt.”

but they didn’t know him like you did.

they hadn’t seen the way his smile lit up when he saw you across the room or how he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk to keep you safe. they didn’t know how often he sent you random memes with captions that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or how he’d hold out his hand wordlessly when you seemed upset, giving you the option to take it if you wanted comfort.

“you’re so warm, you know,” you’d said to him one day, unable to stop yourself.

he had blinked at you, surprised. “me? warm? no, i’m as cold as antarctica, you know.”

“far from it! you’re wrong, you know,” you retorted simply, watching his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink as he tried to hide his pleased smile.

as the weeks passed, taehyun’s presence became something you craved. his texts were the first thing you looked forward to in the morning, and his voice notes were your favorite way to end the day. his humor, his thoughtfulness, the way he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company… taehyun was now someone you absolutely could not function without.

one time, on a quiet, dreary afternoon, you found yourself on the bus, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally drained from everything that had been going on. the bus was crowded, with people standing along the aisles, and the gentle rocking of the vehicle made it almost impossible to stay awake.

your head bobbed forward, then snapped back upright. you blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of sleep that threatened to overtake you. it was hopeless.

in the midst of the hum of the engine and the low murmur of conversations, you felt a sudden warmth near your shoulder.

taehyun, who had been sitting beside you, noticed your struggle before you even realized it. his eyes softened as he saw your head sway again, and without a second thought, he gently shifted closer.

you barely had time to react before his shoulder was against yours, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"hey," he whispered, his tone soothing, "come here."

confused, you looked up at him just as his hand, warm and steady, reached out and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder. you froze for a moment, the soft pressure of his body against yours both comforting and unexpected.

"you've had a long day," he murmured, his voice low and quiet, meant only for you. "just rest. i’ve got you."

his words, paired with the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, made it impossible to resist. you found yourself closing your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. taehyun's shoulder was a perfect cushion, and for the first time in hours, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

the bus ride felt different now—less harsh, more like a safe cocoon. taehyun was there, and though he didn’t say anything else, he just let you rest against him. his shoulder was warm, and his presence was like a balm to your tired soul.

when you glanced up at him a few moments later, you saw him looking down at you with a soft, almost shy smile, as if he was unsure whether he’d done the right thing.

but the way your head naturally settled back against him told him everything he needed to know.

"thank you," you whispered, barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

taehyun's smile widened slightly, a hint of something sweeter in his gaze. "always."

taehyun was always there—waiting for you after class, sharing random stories, tying your shoelaces for you—but it was subtle. little moments that let you know he cared without even saying it out loud.

you couldn’t help but notice how much effort he put into the smallest things, how he’d remember details you’d mentioned in passing, how he was always looking for ways to make you smile. his affection was like a soft current, pulling you in gently but steadily.

but even with all that, taehyun had been cautious. he didn’t rush, never pressured you to do anything you disliked. he was patient, always giving you space when you needed it, but his actions spoke louder than words—whether it was the way he’d stay beside you no matter how late it was or how he’d make sure you had everything you needed, no questions asked.

deep down, you could tell that he was waiting for the right moment to be honest with you, but it didn’t make the anticipation any less nerve-wracking for him.

then came the night he confessed.

it was under a canopy of stars, the two of you sitting on swings after a spontaneous late-night walk. the cool breeze of the evening gently brushed past, the soft creaking of the swings blending with the distant hum of the city. the moment was peaceful, but there was a quiet tension in the air. taehyun had been unusually quiet, his fingers clasped tightly together as he stared down at the ground, his brows furrowed just slightly.

you glanced at him, sensing the change in his demeanor. “is something wrong?” you asked softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder, trying to draw him back into the comfort of the moment.

he let out a slow exhale, his breath shaky, and finally looked up at you. the nervousness in his eyes was almost tangible, but beneath it was something real—something deep. he shifted slightly, his gaze steady on yours, and then, almost shyly, he spoke.

“i like you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “more than a friend.” his words were simple, but they held so much weight, like a fragile thing that had been built up over time.

you froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat. the world around you seemed to slow, everything fading into the background except for the way taehyun’s gaze lingered on you, full of hope and sincerity.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” he added quickly, his voice almost a little rushed, as if the weight of his confession was making him unsure. his cheeks were dusted with the slightest pink, a sweet vulnerability in his expression. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. but i just... i needed to tell you. because if there’s even a chance that you might like me back, i want to take it. i want to prove it to you. i’ll show you how serious i am about this—about you.”

his words hung in the air, soft and heartfelt, and you could feel every ounce of his sincerity in the way he spoke. there was no rush, no expectation. just a quiet plea for you to see him—not as someone to entertain, but as someone who truly wanted to be with you, if you'd let him.

the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. taehyun wasn’t just saying words, he meant every single one of them.

for a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart swelling with warmth and affection for the boy who stood before you, so open and vulnerable. emotions swirled inside you—surprise, admiration, tenderness—and for a second, everything felt so right. you took a breath, your lips curving into a soft smile, your voice barely above a whisper.

“okay,” you said, the words carrying a gentle promise, “show me.”

the moment those words left your lips, taehyun’s face lit up, his smile breaking through his nervousness like the sun finally breaking through the clouds after a storm. it was bright, sincere, and so full of warmth that it made your heart flutter. his boba eyes sparkled with determination and something sweeter.

“i will,” he promised, his voice more confident now, as if he knew, without a doubt, that he would do everything he could to make you feel the same way. he stepped closer, his smile never fading, the kind of smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him.

and show you he did.

taehyun wasn’t the type to make grand, sweeping gestures—but it was the little things he did that made your heart melt. he noticed everything, from the smallest details to the things you might have overlooked yourself. like how you always took your coffee with just a hint of vanilla syrup, or how you hummed quietly to yourself when you were deep in thought, a soft melody that stuck with him long after you’d stopped.

on days when you seemed stressed, taehyun would appear with your favorite sweets, always knowing just what would cheer you up. whether it was the salty chips you loved or the rich chocolate that made everything feel a little better, he’d show up with a bag of comfort and a smile that said he was there to make everything okay.

“got you your usual,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up as he handed you the sweets like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“taehyun,” you’d laugh, shaking your head, “you’re doing a bit too much..”

“but i want to,” he’d reply with that boyish grin of his. “you deserve it.”

then there was the music. taehyun had an uncanny ability to pick the perfect song for every moment. it wasn’t always the most obvious choice, but it always seemed to hit the mark. he’d send you playlists that felt like warm hugs, the kind that wrapped around you during the long, lonely afternoons, or on days when everything seemed just a little too heavy.

sometimes, he’d even show up with his earphones, insisting that you listen to a song right then and there together with him. "i swear, this one is perfect for today," he’d say, as if he could sense exactly what you needed to hear.

with each small gesture, each laugh, each moment shared, you found yourself falling for him in ways you hadn’t expected. it was slow, gentle—like the songs he’d recommend you that you didn't realize you were already singing along to until it had become a part of you.

taehyun had a way of making everything feel like it was meant to be. and before you knew it, you were already hopelessly, completely, and irrevocably falling for him.

and then came the fight.

it started so small, like a spark that quickly grew into a raging fire. you couldn’t even remember the details clearly—it was one of those moments where everything felt like it was unraveling too fast to catch your breath. all you knew was that something had been said, something that hit harder than either of you expected. maybe it was a misunderstanding, or maybe the weight of unspoken feelings finally broke through, even you could no longer fully remember.

the words spilled out before you could stop them. "don’t talk to me anymore," you’d said, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. "i don’t want to see you ever again."

taehyun’s face had dropped, the hurt in his eyes flashing before he turned away, his lips pressing into a tight line. you couldn’t take the words back, and in that moment, you didn’t know how to fix it. the anger, the misunderstanding—it had all escalated too quickly, and now everything felt wrong.

and he did as you said. like he always does. he didn’t text you, didn’t call, didn’t reach out. it was like he had vanished. the silence stretched on for two weeks, and with every day that passed, the guilt gnawed at you.

you told yourself it was fine, that it was his decision, that you’d made your point. but deep down, the quiet was suffocating, and you couldn’t escape the feeling that you had hurt him more than you could bear.

the weight of it all pressed on you, thick and suffocating. every moment of silence felt heavier than the last, and the guilt tightened its grip with every passing day. you had told him to leave you alone—to never talk to you again. and now, two weeks later, you were left alone in the quiet, unable to fix the mess you had made.

you didn’t even realize where you were at first. your hands rested on a cold glass, your eyes staring at nothing. your mind had been lost, spiraling through all the things you’d said and the things you wished you hadn’t. everything felt distant, as if you were observing from far away, numb to everything but the regret that swirled inside you.

"hey!"

the sound of your name sliced through your thoughts like a sudden snap. you blinked, snapping out of your reverie, and looked up to see beomgyu. you hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to you until his hand was resting lightly on your shoulder, the soft pressure grounding you.

"you okay?" his voice broke through the haze, sharper than usual, laced with concern. you stared at him, your throat tight, but the words didn’t come.

you could only nod, too choked up to say anything. but beomgyu wasn’t fooled. he was watching you too closely.

"no, really. what’s going on?"

and in that moment, everything crashed over you all over again—the pain of that argument, the hurt in taehyun’s eyes, the silence you had forced between you. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

"is it taehyun?" beomgyu asked softly, as if he already knew.

you didn’t even respond, only looked down at your hands, the shame too much to face him. beomgyu let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer, his voice quieter now. "you can’t just keep pretending this doesn’t hurt, you know."

beomgyu’s words lingered in the air, the quiet weight of them sinking into your chest. you felt the guilt twist in your stomach, tightening like a vice. he wasn’t wrong, and you knew it. but how could you fix it? how could you undo the mess you’ve made?

the tears you’d been holding back welled up, but you blinked them away, frustrated. you didn’t want to break down in front of beomgyu. he was your friend, and you couldn’t let him see how much you were falling apart over someone you didn’t even date.

beomgyu didn’t push you further, though. he just sat there, his presence calm and steady, his hand still on your shoulder, offering comfort in the quietest way. after a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer now.

"look, i get it. you messed up. but you don’t have to carry all this alone." his voice was low, serious in a way that made you feel like he could see straight through you. "you can’t keep punishing yourself for it, either. if you care about him, you should fix it. because i’m telling you, sitting here and stewing in it won’t do anything. he’s hurting too, right?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut. yes, you knew that. you had to face it. he’s hurting too.

you swallowed thickly, your throat dry. "i… i don’t know if i can fix it," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "i said things... that i can’t take back. what if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?"

beomgyu shook his head, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly. "don’t make decisions for him. you can’t move forward if you don’t try." he paused for a moment, looking at you with that serious, knowing expression of his. "but if you want to fix this, you need to be honest. with him... and with yourself."

you stared at him, processing his words, the weight of them sinking in. could you really face taehyun after everything? would he even want to talk to you?

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the room felt suddenly smaller, the pressure building up in your chest. you swallowed, fighting the urge to say something, but instead you just nodded, your voice quiet. "i'll think about it."

beomgyu studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face before he sighed, resigned but understanding. "okay," he said softly. "just don’t wait too long."

with that, he gave you a final, searching look, as if trying to gauge whether you'd actually listen to him or not, before he turned and walked away. his footsteps gradually faded into the background noise of the bar, leaving you in the dim light, alone with your thoughts.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before, suffocating. all the noise of the bar, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the laughter—all of it felt distant now. the weight of your emotions felt like it was closing in, and before you knew it, you were swirling the glass in front of you, the amber liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar. you didn’t want to think about taehyun, about what you had done... but there it was, practically eating you alive.

you reached for your drink, the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat, and the numbness it brought was almost a relief. you didn't have to feel the ache in your chest for a little while. the weight of everything—of the fight, the hurt, the silence—began to feel a little lighter. just a little. you took another sip, and another, and then another.

your mind was swirling, everything a blur of feelings and thoughts that you couldn't quite put together. the alcohol dulled everything, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back in; did he hate you now? did he regret everything he’d done for you? would you ever get to tell him how sorry you were? but the more you thought, the more you drowned in it, and you just… couldn’t deal with it right now.

you glanced around the bar again, the world around you becoming fuzzier and more distant with each drink. beomgyu's words seemed so far away now, but they still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. “you can't keep punishing yourself for it…” you tried to push them away, but they stayed there, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

you took another sip, feeling the warm flush spread through your body. the drink gave you the illusion of peace, but you knew it was temporary. still, it was all you could do to block out the ache.

you weren't sure how long you stayed at the bar, but it felt like hours. eventually, the glass was empty, and the warmth from the alcohol was replaced by an emptiness that wasn’t so easy to fill.

and in that emptiness, your mind drifted back to taehyun.

in your drunken haze, your fingers fumbled around your bag, your vision blurry as your hands seemed to have a mind of their own. the phone felt heavy in your hand, the screen lighting up under your unsteady grip. your heart was racing, the ache in your chest unbearable, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

without fully realizing what you were doing, you found yourself scrolling through your messages with taehyun, the familiar words blurring together through your tears. your mind was a mess, your emotions crashing down around you. but still, you kept reading. you read every message, every sweet word he’d ever sent, each one a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

why had you pushed him away? why did you say those things?

you couldn’t even breathe through the pain, the weight of regret, the heavy, sickening guilt settling over you. the memories flooded your mind, his jokes, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make you smile. and now? now there was nothing. only this cold, crushing silence.

your sobs came suddenly, the tears streaming down your face continuously. you barely even noticed the wetness, the desperation growing in your chest. you missed him. god, how you missed him.

it was like an uncontrollable force now, your hands moving almost involuntarily. through the haze of alcohol and the swirl of emotions clouding your mind, you found yourself tapping on his contact, your fingers shaking violently as the phone buzzed in your hand. no, stop, a part of you screamed. you can't do this.

but it was too late.

your thumb pressed the call button, and the ringing filled your ears, each tone swallowing you further. there was no hope left, only the suffocating weight of your mistake. why would he pick up? you thought, but still, you couldn’t stop. you just needed to hear his voice, even if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

the seconds dragged on, the ringing unrelenting, but it didn’t matter. all you wanted was the chance to fix it, to make things right… even if you knew it was too late.

then suddenly, there was a soft, "hello?"

your heart dropped straight to your stomach, but then came the harsh reality—it was voicemail.

the bitter sting of rejection hit you, but hearing his voice, even distorted by the distance, felt like a jolt of electricity rushing through you. you didn’t care. you couldn’t. all that mattered in that moment was that it was him.

but the floodgates opened.

with a choked sob, you could barely get the words out, your voice breaking, shaking with emotion as the tears flowed freely. why is it so hard to breathe? you thought. why does it feel like my heart is being torn in half?

"taehyun," you gasped, your words slurring and choked with tears. "tyun, please... please, i miss you so much. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it... i was so... so stupid. i-i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i can’t even think straight. i’m sorry... god, i’m so sorry... please forgive me..."

you didn't even care how pathetic you might sound. all you knew was that you needed taehyun—needed him to hear you, to understand, even if it meant spilling every raw feeling in your drunken state. “taehyun, please..” the words slurred out, but they were the only things in your head, the only thing that mattered.

but knowing it was simply voicemail, you simply sat there, defeated. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. each second felt like an eternity, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every passing ring of the phone. your mind was fuzzy, each thought seeming to slip from your grasp before you could hold onto it—

"is that so?"

taehyun's voice suddenly came through, teasing, soft, and a little uncertain. you felt your heart skip, the familiar sound of him sending a rush of warmth through your veins. but something in his tone made you freeze. he was still here. after everything.

his words lingered in the air, and it was as if nothing could escape your mouth, like the weight of your own emotions was too much for your lungs to carry. you didn’t even know if you were dreaming anymore.

“taehyun?” you managed to croak, your voice thick with emotion and alcohol. it was barely more than a whisper, like you were afraid if you spoke too loudly, he'd fade away again. “is it... is it really you?”

taehyun chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, though you could hear a slight edge to it—was he worried? did he know notice how drunk you were?

“you sound… really out of it,” he said, voice tinged with amusement, but there was something gentler behind it. “are you drunk right now, sweetheart?”

you blinked, disoriented, and tried to focus. no, you wanted to say. i’m not drunk, but you knew it was pointless. the words slurred together as they escaped your mouth. “i… no...”

but your words didn’t have the strength you wanted them to. your head swam in a fog of regret and emotions you couldn’t sort through. you couldn't even hold the phone properly anymore—your fingers kept slipping, the edges of your vision swimming.

"taehyun," you muttered, your voice shaking, as if that single name could somehow fix everything. "i'm... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean to hurt you... i—"

"hey..." taehyun interrupted softly, and there was a tenderness in his voice that made your chest ache. “slow down, alright? just breathe. where are you right now?”

the question made your heart race, not because it was unexpected, but because it grounded you, snapping you out of the fog just enough for a moment of clarity. you paused, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept spiraling. where am i? you thought, blinking slowly.

“uh...” you muttered, barely able to focus on anything but the sound of his voice. “i’m... i’m at a bar.”

taehyun was quiet for a moment, his voice softening with concern. “where exactly? where are you? i’ll come to get you.”

you couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you. the idea of seeing him, hearing him in person, made everything else seem so much more bearable. but your tongue felt heavy, and so did your heart, and you couldn’t form the words you needed.

“i don’t... i don’t know, taehyun,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “i just... i just want you back. please... don’t leave me like this.”

taehyun’s voice was gentle, calm despite the worry in it. "i'm not going anywhere. just tell me where you are, and i'll come, okay?"

“the... the bar...” you gasped, your chest tightening. “i... i’m at the bar... it’s... it’s near... ugh... you know... that one cafe across the bus stop—”

“i know where that is. i’m on my way,” taehyun interrupted, his voice firm and reassuring. but there was an undercurrent of something—worry, maybe?—that made you feel even more fragile than before. “wait for me, okay? i’ll be there soon.”

the call ended abruptly, and the instant the silence fell, the gravity of everything hit you. you sat there, your body trembling, your heart aching like it was being torn from your chest. he was coming. taehyun was coming, and it felt like everything; every ounce of pain, every moment of regret… it was starting to slip away, only to be replaced by something even heavier—longing.

you couldn’t stop the tears. the dam you’d tried to hold back broke wide open, your sobs coming in guttural, unrestrained waves. you leaned forward, burying your face in your arms, feeling the world around you spin out of control. the alcohol did nothing but make it all worse, amplifying every raw emotion.

you were glad he was coming, but the relief was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by a dark, suffocating doubt. what if he was only coming out of obligation? what if he was simply doing the right thing—helping a drunken mess of a person get home safely—nothing more, nothing less? the thought lodged itself in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

he was coming, but the emptiness still felt too big, too consuming, as if the distance between you two might be too great for him to bridge.

what if you had ruined everything? what if your careless words, your thoughtless actions, had pushed him too far away, further than you could ever hope to reach again?

the memories of the fight replayed in your mind like a broken record—the sharpness of your voice, the way his expression had crumbled, the silence that followed. you’d told him to leave you alone, and he had. he’d respected your wish, no matter how much it must have hurt him.

and now? now, you were just a drunken mess calling him out of desperation, dragging him back into the chaos you had created.

the thought was unbearable.

your chest tightened, and you hiccupped through another sob, the ache in your heart growing heavier. what if he wasn’t coming because he still cared? what if he was only showing up because he was kind, because that’s who taehyun was—a person who couldn’t leave someone in need, no matter how badly they had hurt him?

you squeezed your eyes shut, the anguish washing over you in waves. you could still hear his voice from the call, soft and warm, but it felt so far away now. you missed him so much it physically hurt, the ache deep in your chest twisting and pulling until you couldn’t think straight.

a sob clawed its way out of your throat as your hands fisted the fabric of your blouse, desperate to hold yourself together, desperate to stop the pain from consuming you whole. your voice broke as you whispered his name into the void with a sniffle, barely audible—just a breath, a plea, a prayer.

“i’m here.”

the words were soft but steady, cutting through the chaos in your mind like a knife. something warm and comfy settled over your shoulders—a jacket. his jacket, that has his scent. familiar. comforting. your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare believe it.

but then you dared to turn your head towards him.

and there he was.

taehyun stood beside you, his boba eyes filled with worry, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you carefully. his presence hit you like a tidal wave, a flood of emotions surging all at once—relief, longing, guilt, overwhelming love. your heart ached at the sight of him, so real, so close, after so many nights of missing him.

“let’s go home, hm?” taehyun says, his voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter you.

and that was your final straw.

you stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest as the tears came harder, pouring out of you like a flood that refused to be held back any longer. his scent surrounded you, comforting and achingly familiar, and his arms—those same arms you had missed more than you could ever say—wrapped around you tightly.

for a moment, his hold was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him there. but as your fingers clung to his shirt with a desperation you couldn’t hide, his embrace grew firmer, enveloping you completely.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in broken fragments. “i’m so sorry, taehyun. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it. i was stupid. i-i hurt you, and i’m so sorry.”

his chin rested against the top of your head as his hand gently cradled the back of it, his other arm steady around your waist. “shh,” he murmured, his voice a steady balm against the chaos inside you. “it’s okay. you’re okay. we’ll talk about it later, yeah? right now, let’s just get you home.”

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, raw and desperate. “please don’t leave me,” you whispered, your voice breaking with every syllable.

his grip on you tightened, and the steady beat of his heart against your ear was the only thing grounding you in that moment. “i’m not leaving,” he said firmly, the quiet conviction in his voice slicing through the storm in your chest. “i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

his words pulled a fresh wave of sobs from you, but this time, they were different—softer, like the beginning of a release from all the pain you’d been holding in. you buried your face deeper into his chest, his shirt dampening with your tears, as his hand traced soothing patterns against your back.

taehyun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. his gaze softened, as he gently wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks,

"hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like everything. "no more crying, hm? you don’t have to worry anymore.”

his words, simple yet so full of meaning, made something inside you shift. the storm in your chest began to quiet, and in that moment, you could feel the weight of the world lifting, if only a little.

he didn't rush, didn't push you to say anything, just held you, grounding you with the steady presence of his hands on your face. the warmth of his touch seeped through you, and you felt like you could breathe again, even if it was shaky and uncertain.

with a gentle smile, taehyun guided you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you into a tender embrace that felt like home—safe, warm, and unhurried.

"come on," taehyun said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "let's go home now. one step at a time, okay?"

you nodded, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter, a little more manageable now that he was here with you. taehyun helped you stand, his hand in yours, steady and sure as he guided you forward. with every soft step, you felt less adrift, the familiar warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

but as you walked outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin, your steps wavered. the alcohol still clouded your head, and your balance faltered. you tried to steady yourself, but your legs felt like jelly, and your head spun.

taehyun noticed instantly. his gaze softened with concern, and without missing a beat, he bent down, effortlessly lifting you onto his back in a piggyback. you barely had time to protest before you were safely cradled against him, your body fitting perfectly into his like it was meant to be.

"hey, hey, easy," he murmured, his voice gentle and full of reassurance as he adjusted his grip on you. you could feel the steady strength of his muscles beneath you, the warmth of his back against your chest, supporting you in every way, like he was carrying the weight of your whole world on his shoulders. it was natural, comforting.

he chuckled lightly, the sound of it like music to your ears, warm and comforting, easing some of the tension in your chest. "hold on tight, alright? i’ve got you," he said softly, a promise in those words, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

you couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering tears, feeling his steady warmth against you. you rested your head against his back, the comfort of his presence washing over you. every step he took felt like an anchor, unyielding and stable, guiding you forward.

there was a long, still silence between you two, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words. taehyun's movements were steady, and the warmth of his body against yours was grounding, even though your mind was in a whirlwind. but still, you couldn't help the gnawing anxiety that kept bubbling up, the fear that it might all be slipping through your fingers.

and then, like a whisper breaking through the quiet, you muttered, "i'm sorry." the words tasted like regret on your tongue, and you could feel your chest tightening again. "i'm so sorry... for everything. for pushing you away when i didn't mean it. for saying all those things."

taehyun let out a soft, amused sigh, his tone warm and tender. "you don’t need to apologize so much, you know.” he reassured you gently. "i understand. i understand more than you know."

the comfort of his words helped, but the weight of your vulnerability lingered. the tears you’d tried to hide earlier began to build up again, and before you knew it, the words spilled out, trembling, “i was just so scared that... that i’d lost you.. that you didn’t like me anymore.. that i messed everything up...”

taehyun’s steps faltered for a moment, and you could feel the subtle shift in his energy, as if everything in him had softened in response to your confession. you didn’t mess anything up, alright?" he replies again, his voice warm, "and there’s no way i could ever stop liking you. that’s impossible, and you should know that by now."

but even with his reassurance, the fear still gnawed at you, the uncertainty that had been hanging over you for weeks. you couldn’t help it—your heart was aching, your soul yearning for something deeper, something more than what you’d had before.

"taehyun," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, "does that… does that mean you’ll still accept me? even after everything? i... i want to be yours. i want to be with you, really with you."

taehyun froze.

the words hit him harder than you expected. for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much, too fast. his body tensed, and the silence between you stretched thick, heavy with the weight of your confession. you felt a sudden wave of panic rush over you, the fear that you’d pushed him too far this time, the fear that maybe he wasn’t ready for this. maybe it was too much, too soon. maybe—

but then, taehyun spoke.

his voice was soft, but there was a clear surprise in it, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. "wait, really…?" he asked, his words laced with disbelief, as if your confession had taken him off guard in the sweetest way possible.

he didn’t let go of you, though. instead, he sighed softly, his breath shaky but filled with affection. "we’ll talk about it when you're sober, okay?" he said, though there was an undeniable tenderness in his tone.

you felt your heart skip a beat, but there was still an edge of insecurity in you that wouldn’t go away. you leaned closer, your voice a little more insistent, even though you knew you were being a little reckless, “but taehyun, i’m serious. i really mean it.”

there was a pause, the world seemingly holding its breath as he stopped walking entirely. for a long moment, the only sound was your breathing, and his fingers tightening slightly on yours, like he was trying to hold you in place without letting go. and then, to your surprise, taehyun chuckled softly, like a wave of warmth filling the space between you two.

"you really are, huh?" he said, his voice fond, teasing, and so full of affection. "alright, alright. but we’ll talk about this when you’re not so drunk, okay?"

you huffed playfully, leaning your forehead against his back as you clung to him a little tighter. "i really mean it, taehyun. i’m not just saying this because i’m drunk. i want you. like, really. i want to be with you."

taehyun’s laughter echoed again, gentle and affectionate. "i know you do," he said softly, his voice laced with something deeper now, something more certain. "and i want you, too. but for now, let’s get you home. we’ll figure it all out, okay? together."

the tenderness in his words, the way he held you so carefully, so patiently, made everything feel like it was finally falling into place. everything, all the uncertainty and fear, seemed to melt away with the simple truth that he was here, with you, and no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

the weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long finally lifted, and you let out a shaky, relieved breath. taehyun’s voice was a steady anchor, his touch a reassurance that no matter the storm, no matter the doubts or mistakes, he would always be there. for you. always.

taglist! @pagelets @jettithink @killa-1009 @j-ji-jia <3 (lmk if you wanna be added !)

#taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun angst #taehyun x you #txt taehyun #txt #txt x reader #txt x you #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt angst #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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revelboo · 18 hours ago

Note

Revel your stories are absolutely addictive omg, you’ve brought back a love for spinister i haven’t had in like 2 years… i am loving the scavenger story oml… but nah if i was her i would so wanna throw myself off the fucking medical table right then and there 😭✋

Same 🤣

They will each get a fleshed out arc, but Spin gets dibs

Because I live in the southern part of the U.S. and we don’t do snow, I’m working from home today.

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 15

Scavengers x Reader

• It’s easier to think, focus, when it’s just the two of you. Because something about you calms that muddle of paranoia and confusion in his head. Letting him focus on the feel of you against him, something he needs now. Can’t recharge without your warmth and feeling the steady beat of your heart, your soft breaths against him. Knows something is broken in him, but can’t get a grip on what it is or remember why, but you feel like warmth and home in a way he’s desperate to hold onto. “Want,” he mutters, battle mask rubbing against your jaw.

• “What do you want, Spin?” You ask, voice soft and soothing as the flat of the chevron on his helm gently bumps against your forehead, those troubled optics more focused than you’re used to. But you already know what he wants, don’t you? Startled when his mask retracts and his lips brush against your cheek as he raggedly vents. You’ve seen him retract it before to fuel, but never from this close and you reach to cup his face in your palms, feathering a thumb against his bottom lip. He’s handsome. Alien and strange, struggling to be understood and to understand in turn and your heart aches for him. “You saved me, you know. If you hadn’t found and caught me-” Can’t make yourself say the rest and know you can never really explain how much you owe him. Because that first time you’d seen him, you’d only seen a giant monster running toward you with his hands outstretched.

• “Always find you,” he manages, spark twisting with that remembered fear in your voice. Because he knows that feeling of helplessness. Wants to be your shelter, your protector. Shield you so you never are afraid again. Even if you don’t want him the way he needs you, he’ll still keep you safe. Those soft hands and kind eyes his shelter. “Want you.” Wishes he was better at this. That he could coax you with sweet words, but loses them as soon as he tries to say them.

• Hands still framing his face as your heart begins to race, your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip and his optics track the movement before he leans in. And it occurs to you that you could push him away, lean back, instead you arch into him, your mouth brushing his. Realizing you do want this, him even if you’re uncertain about how it’s going to work or if it even can. Want those gentle hands that had rescued you, stubbornly reaching as you’d tried to hide, not giving up when he could have and just left you to starve.

• Shuddering as your soft mouth finds his own, his hips rock against the cradle of your thighs. And your little tongue swipes against the seam of his lips and he lets you in without hesitation. Seizing control as the slide of your mouth under his becomes a demand, his glossa sliding against your tongue, exploring. Wants to unwrap you, servos fisting in your top covering, the thin material tearing as you gasp into his mouth. Growling as he tries to figure out how to strip you, spike aching with the need to be inside you. To claim what’s his.

• “Slow down,” you manage, lips sliding to the corner of his mouth. Feel his hips grind against you as he growls hungrily. Servos sliding against your skin, pulling at your clothes as you laugh and splay a hand against his chassis, watching the rotor blades on his back flare out slightly. “Let me help, okay?” Pressing a kiss against his jaw, he finally eases back some, optics hungry as you struggle to strip still caged under him. His big, warm hands sliding possessively over skin as it’s exposed.

• “You think he’s fragging Tiny, yet?” Misfire asks, lingering near the closed door to Medbay and tempted to lean his helm against the door to try and hear. Can’t deny he’s jealous, that as much as he loves teasing you and watching you get flustered with him, he wants more. It’s not like you’re only Spinister’s. You’re all of theirs. A Scavenger. He just needs to convince you and his fellow Scavengers that sharing is not only possible, it’s for the best.

• “This isn’t funny,” Krok mutters, worried about Spinister being too rough with you. But really? The big medic is surprisingly gentle with you, fussing over you and clinging to you like he’s afraid to let you out of his sight. You’re one of his crew, though and Krok can’t help but be protective of you. After all, you’re so much smaller than the rest of them. Helpless and fragile. That situation with the tape had driven that home, his spark still constricting every time he thinks about it. Knowing you could have died because of their negligence. That he can’t fail you again.

#transformers x reader #idw scavengers x reader #misfire #crankcase #spinister #krok #fulcrum

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lilacxquartz · 23 hours ago

Text

sickly sweet;

kenjaku x f!reader

plot: just as you got ill, your once distant husband started to be caring again — themes: one shot, domestic dread, character study, problematic mindset/themes, manipulation — w.c: 2k • masterlist

a/n: this is a story about kenjaku but the reader is unaware of such a fact… so the name we refer to him as is via suguru/geto and why it’s tagged as such.

For the longest time, you thought that there was something a little… off-putting about your husband.

It wasn’t always this way, but ever since he came back home following an accident, he changed for the worse. Before then, he was vibrant and abuzz with energy and then… something simply just changed. You caught wind of something happening within the cult, but you couldn’t investigate too much—what with you being pregnant with your first child. When he came back seemingly and alive unscathed—save for the stitches that ran across his forehead—you didn’t care to ask too many questions for as long as he was safe and sound.

(A short-lived feeling though; for what lingered just beneath the surface, left dread in its wake.)

The decline of what once made Suguru himself was a slow one, like a thick seeping venom that took its good, sweet time to enter your system. Before you tell something was amiss, he was already deep within your bloodstream—you were hooked—poisoned, yet unaware of just how devastating the damage truly was.

If you had to go back to when you first noticed that something was off, then perhaps when he tried to reintegrate back into your life. It was an ordinary event. He was simply just getting back home late one night and greeted you in the hallway as he stepped inside. At a glance, this would have been normal, but something didn’t feel quite right.

You remembered that sinking feeling of realisation perfectly well.

That moment when you were looking back into the eyes of a stranger, wearing the skin of the man you once knew—of the man that you once loved.

He’d announce his arrival too, singing out your name in a melody that felt forced, “I’m home,” he’d say, his smooth voice feeling somehow rehearsed.

Suguru’s characteristic warmth started to fade the more that you noticed such quirks, the delicately crafted facade beginning to crack. The kindness was retained, but there was a certain underlying edge to it as if he was playing a fabricated role rather than being the man you wanted him to be.

Still, you chose to ignore it. At least at first. You told yourself that if there was an accident, then maybe it was just his personality that was off and if given enough time, it would all smooth over.

(Although, it never did.)

As the months passed you both by, and the man claiming to be Suguru grew colder and more distant, too. Sure, he lived with you and practiced small talk with you, but it all felt fake, somehow. It was as if you were a temporary obstacle in the grand scheme of things and he was simply humouring you whenever he cared to, often disappearing into the night without warning.

Initially, you suspected adultery. It wouldn’t have been too far of a reach, knowing that some people, no matter how well you think you’d know them, would still succumb to temptation… but that didn’t seem to be the case. Whenever he returned, he would be the same just as he was before. Cold and distant. Should you have tried to initiate something intimate too, then he wouldn’t deny you such pleasures, but it always left you feeling unclean, somehow used instead. The moves he pulled were certainly familiar and something that Suguru would do, but it was devoid of the same tenderness that Suguru had.

So for the most part, you stopped initiating and also, you didn’t pay too much attention to him again. For the time being, you cared more to focus on your pregnancy and then hopefully leave somewhere far away from this whole mess.

(But then you got sick.)

It was deep into your pregnancy when you fell ill, bordering just below the final term. A low-grade fever that crept into your system, throwing you off balance. While you initially thought it to be fine, it was hard to ignore by the end of the week. You didn’t think that whoever was occupying your husband’s body would notice such a thing, but something awoke in him from the moment he did.

This deeply caring side of him was hard to dismiss, too, given that it felt close to how Suguru used to be with you.

Just like before, it didn’t take too long for you to notice the changes in his demeanour, the differences being almost jarring by that point. You woke up to the rush of cold air spilling into the room, watching on through partially blurred vision as the sheer curtains wafted in the breeze.

Suguru’s voice played in the background as he addressed you, his voice smooth like molten honey, “You’re awake.”

You initially didn’t respond as you were still waking up. Your eyes flicked over to where he sat on the edge of the bed, watching somewhat warily as he smoothed his palms across your blanketed form, his touch almost reverent.

“Some fresh air will do you good,” he softly murmured before stepping away to the dresser, bringing over a cup of tea to your nightstand table, “I brewed you some tea too. Ginger and honey, just how you like it.”

You warily eyed the cup but didn’t refuse it. The pleasant aroma filled your senses and soothed you as the steam rose and after about a minute, you sat up to take a sip, finding that the warmth from the tea actually did help a bit.

Just as you set the cup down though, Suguru moved closer, extending his hand to press against your forehead, his touch feeling cold against your heated flesh.

“You’re so warm…” he whispered, his thumb brushing along your temple and down your cheekbones. “I should have been more… attentive. Forgive me for being so busy.”

You blinked up at him as the tea settled in your body. Something about this whole interaction filled you with unease as if the applied sweetness wasn’t genuine.

“I’m fine,” you croaked, “really,” you emphasised after a hot second.

Suguru however just hummed, his voice taking on a condescending tone, “Oh, but you’re not, are you?” he asked, curling his lips into a calm, measured smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his gaze appearing devoid of any warmth, “worry not though, my love, I’ll take care of everything.”

Relief wasn’t quite what you felt however as he hovered around you for the remainder of your sickness, locking himself into your shadow day and night, seemingly abandoning his work to tend to you. He urged you to eat, and hydrate and even helped you bathe, prattling on about the importance of vapours when one felt congested.

“You’re not usually this caring,” you let slip as you settled into bed, regretting your word choice right away. The atmosphere of the room changed within a beat at such an admission and though you tried to backtrack, the dread had already settled.

Suguru’s smile faltered, seeming almost offended(?)

“I may have been busy, yes…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting away from you before giving you back his attention tenfold, “but you’re still… my wife, correct? I have to apply my priorities carefully. You’re… important to me.”

The way that he referred to you as his wife didn’t feel as comforting as his intention might have been; the term felt almost possessive as if laced with warning. The way he said it and how he said it, was a little bit too deliberate—as if he was trying to convince himself of a role he had to maintain.

Still, the hours dragged on throughout the rest of the evening without an issue, or so he thought. He encouraged you to sip on hot broth whenever you were lucid enough and sat at your side vigilantly, watching you with a sharp eye to ensure that nothing would go wrong.

Such intensely applied care, however, soon started to feel suffocating by the end of the day and all you wanted to do was to have a break and sleep the flu away. You didn’t mean to snap the way that you did, fully expecting him to nip or protest at your attitude from the moment you let your composure slip away, but he didn’t.

“—please,” you spat out, unable to hold back any longer as you pushed him away, “just—I… I need to sleep.”

For a moment, a brief hint of anger flashed across his features, but then he simply schooled his expression into that same cold smile from before.

“Of course,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your eyes, “I should have known. Please, rest for as long as you need to.”

You gulped down all of your unease beyond that point, too exhausted to care, but later in the night—you woke up and something felt wrong. Your eyes fluttered open with a jarring start as your breath caught in the back of your throat. You tried to swallow, but it felt like sharp glass resided in your lungs, the sensation like fire when you tried to breathe in or out. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, but a familiar figure sat unnervingly close to where you lay.

“Suguru…?” you called out.

He must have remained close to you the entire night, even after you had fallen asleep. His deep gaze fixed on you with such a grave intensity that it stole the rest of the air away from the room, leaving you barely able to breathe at that point, feeling suffocated from being so close.

Before you could call out to him again though, Suguru hushed you with the application of his fingers pressed right against your lips. He then leaned closer, allowing the smell of something vaguely metallic to fill your senses, but also medicinal or even herbal.

You listened to his silent request to keep in bed, feeling as his fingertips swept across the side of your neck using soft, featherlight strokes, to trace along your pulse point. His touch lingered for a little too long as he settled around the area, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the blood flowing.

(A warning, perhaps?)

“Go back to sleep,” he softly parted a bit clearer that time, following up with a gentle hum to the tune of a lullaby you didn’t know. Despite how soothing it felt, your innate instincts were screaming at you to distance yourself—to not let this person get too close—that this wasn’t Suguru.

(But your exhaustion simply took you over.)

“That’s right,” he whispered, his breath rolling hot against your forehead as he parted a delicate kiss against your skin, “continue to live in bliss and I'll give you the life you so desperately crave.”

You woke up slightly again as he strode over to the bedroom door, lingering in the frame as he looked back at you with that same unsettling, unreadable stare.

“Just, don’t misunderstand,” he couldn’t resist, his true self seeping through the cracks of the facade he wore so well, “I’ll only keep that up if you don’t snoop around too far,” he then paused, lowering his voice on purpose so that you couldn’t hear him, speaking more to himself than to you, “as long as you learn to keep curious—as long as you don’t figure out who I really am—then I can keep you safe.”

You didn’t reply, trying to pretend that you were already asleep. He knew that you weren’t though, choosing not to bother you.

“Sleep tight, my wife.”

The door then clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in that thick, oppressive silence that you had gotten to know so well. You didn’t dare break through it, though, not even as you felt the squeeze of his phantom fingers remaining wrapped around your neck, constricting around your throat like an invisible collar, binding you to a whole new nightmare; a silent reminder of just how much your life had changed ever since that day.

Of just how much… he had changed.

A part of you knew that it would never get better, but if being sick was what it took to get even a glimpse of your old husband back, then that’s something you wouldn’t hesitate to do.

Because even if he did come to annoy you in the end—it was better than accepting that he might truly be gone.

(So why not live a little in your delusions, just this once? Or twice? Or… however long it took to feel normal again.)

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