#but also I feel like I’ve been dropped into the middle of something

[jacks-and-graves]

Started reading Hex by Thomas Olde Heuvelt. One chapter in and all I can say is W.T.F.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad - Lilia Vanrouge x reader

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

Series Masterlist

You love your best friend. You really, really do. But sometimes—sometimes—the things they drag you into make you question your life choices. This time? It’s a novel. A bad one.

The plot is borderline unreadable, but somehow, it’s now your problem. Because of course it is.

“So, listen,” your friend had said, waving the book around like it was some kind of literary masterpiece. “Malleus Draconia, the fae prince, is cursed—chained up in this forest. The curse can only be broken by someone who isn’t attracted to him. But here’s the kicker: he’s so hot that no one can break the curse. For ten years.”

“Uh-huh.” You’d nodded along, already feeling your brain cells start to wave white flags of surrender. But your friend continued.

“The main character stumbles upon him after years of drama and frees him because they’re the only one not drooling over him. Then they fall in love, blah, blah, blah.”

At this point, you were barely listening. But then they dropped the bomb. Your eyes were shutting and you felt the sweet embrace of sleep call to you.

“Also, there’s this subplot where a magical plague of squirrels overruns the kingdom, the Saint betrays everyone by secretly being a double agent for some shadowy organization, and—get this—there’s a surprise paternity reveal where the devil is the father of the Saint who turns out to be the evil villain controlling everything.”

Your face had hit the pillow as your soul left your body.

And somehow, the next thing you remember is waking up dead. Or, more specifically, reincarnated. In the body of the heroine. In that story.

You can't believe the story was so terrible that it killed you.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that the room is way too fancy for your tastes. The bed is massive, the sheets feel like they cost more than your entire existence, and the walls are adorned with tacky portraits of people who are probably supposed to be important.

“Oh, no,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. “This can’t be happening.”

But it is. You’re in the novel. The very one your friend had been yammering about. And not only are you in it, but you’ve woken up a full year before the plot is supposed to kick off. A year of waiting for terrible drama, an ex-fiancé who can’t take a hint, and a poor fae prince you’re supposed to rescue.

But you? Yeah, you’re not that patient.

“No way am I waiting a whole year for some garbage plot to unfold,” you mutter, throwing the covers off. “I’m just going to free Malleus now, take my reward, and live a quiet, drama-free life by the beach.”

With that plan firmly in mind, you march out the door.

It takes a bit of wandering through some overly cursed forest, but you eventually find Malleus’s “prison.” And honestly? It’s not nearly as dramatic as you expected.

There he is, sitting in the middle of a clearing, chained up in some kind of spooky-but-also-weirdly-ornate setup. He looks just as the novel described: tall, dark-haired, horns giving him an air of mystery and power. But what you weren’t prepared for? The way his eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees you.

“I wasn’t expecting… company,” Malleus says, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You pause for a second. He looks intimidating, sure, but there’s something oddly… sweet about him. Like a guy who’d get excited over a party invite and then be too shy to actually show up.

“Yeah, I’m just here to get this whole ‘curse-breaking’ thing out of the way,” you say casually, walking up to the chains. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Malleus blinks, looking a bit confused. “You… are not attracted to me?”

You snort. “Nah, not really. You’re nice to look at, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got my own problems. Let’s just get you free so I can collect my reward and move on.”

He still looks mildly surprised but nods. “Very well.”

With a shrug, you reach out and touch the chains. There’s a brief flicker of light, and they dissolve. Just like that.

Malleus looks down at his freed wrists, clearly shocked. “It… it worked.”

“Yeah, wild, right?” you say, brushing off your hands. “So, about that reward…”

Before you can finish, Malleus stands and, in a tone so polite it makes you feel guilty, says, “You have freed me. Please, allow me to invite you to stay at my castle. As a guest.”

You blink at him. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

Malleus’s expression falters for a moment, and you swear he looks a little sad. “But… I would like to repay you for your kindness.”

He’s giving you this look, all wide-eyed and hopeful, and you realize—he just wants to hang out.

Oh no.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan. “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

The way his face lights up is honestly too pure for someone who was supposed to be all intimidating and all-powerful.

When you arrive at Malleus’s castle, things get interesting real fast. You’re greeted by his entourage—Sebek, who looks like he’s one insult away from going Super Saiyan; Silver, who’s napping on his feet; and Lilia, who seems like the embodiment of chaos.

Sebek is the first to speak, scowling at you with righteous fury. “How DARE you approach Lord Malleus with such insolence!”

You roll your eyes. “I just freed him. You’re welcome.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but Lilia steps forward, his sharp grin making you instantly suspicious. “Oh? You broke the curse? Without being… swayed by our dear Malleus’s charms?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Fascinating. You must have quite the willpower. Or perhaps…” He looks you up and down, clearly intrigued. “You simply have different tastes?”

You blink. Then, without thinking, you point at him. “Actually, yeah. You’re hot.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, during which Sebek looks like he’s been hit with a brick, and Lilia lets out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, you are a delight,” Lilia says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps you should stay longer.”

“You think I’m joking, but I’m not,” you deadpan, earning a grin from Lilia.

Silver, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and completely unfazed by your chaos. “Good job on freeing Malleus,” he mutters, yawning.

Malleus, who has been silent this whole time, finally speaks up. “You… do not find me attractive?”

You turn to him and sigh. “Look, it’s not that you’re not attractive. You’re, like… objectively pretty. But I don’t really go for the whole cursed prince thing.”

Malleus seems to process this slowly, his brows furrowing slightly. “I see…”

“But don’t worry,” you add quickly, feeling a bit bad for the guy. “You’re sweet. It’s a compliment, really.”

Malleus looks a little less confused and a bit more happy. “Sweet? No one has ever called me that before.”

You snort. “Well, I’m calling it now. And hey, you’ve got your freedom, right? Now you can get invited to all those parties you wanted.”

At this, Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, and you realize—oh no, he’s the type who really just wants to be invited to stuff.

“Oh,” you mutter under your breath, “you’re like a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused, but before he can ask, Lilia leans in with a knowing grin. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is gonna be a long stay, isn’t it?”

Lilia’s smile widens. “Oh, most definitely.”

Later, you’re sitting around the dining hall with the group when Lilia casually brings up the dreaded plot points.

“So, when do you think the magical plague of squirrels will hit?” he asks, almost too casually.

You nearly choke on your drink. “The what now?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Lilia smirks. “There’s a prophecy. The squirrels will overrun the kingdom unless someone stops them.”

You blink. “This is real? I thought that part was a fever dream.”

Malleus nods seriously. “The squirrels are quite the threat.”

You slam your head on the table. “I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

Silver, half-asleep as always, just yawns. “I’ll take care of them. Probably.”

And that’s when you realize: maybe you should have let the curse be.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you and Malleus… well, you’ve become friends. It started small, mostly casual conversations where he’d hover around, awkward but eager, just happy to be included. There was this one time you invited him to tea, and the poor guy looked like he was about to cry from happiness. Now? You’re taking your frienship to the next level.

“Hey,” you say, strolling into the throne room where Malleus is doing the farthest thing from brooding. He’s just kind of standing there, staring out the window like he’s daydreaming about a really nice picnic. “Want to go to the market with me?”

The look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen like you’ve just handed him a golden ticket to the best party of the year. “You… want me to accompany you?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, as if this isn’t the biggest deal of his life. “I need to pick up some stuff, and I figured it’d be more fun with a friend. Plus, y’know, maybe someone will actually give me a discount if you’re there.”

Malleus looks like you just offered him the world “I would be honored.”

And that’s how you, Malleus, and the rest of his chaotic entourage—because of course they followed—ended up at the bustling market.

Sebek? Less than thrilled. In fact, you think he might actually be foaming at the mouth. “I cannot believe you are fraternizing with Lord Malleus so casually! Do you not understand the honor you’ve been given?!”

“Sebek,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively, “we’ve been over this. I’m his friend. Friends do normal stuff together. You know, like going to the market.”

Sebek glares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire bloodline. “Lord Malleus does not engage in such trivialities!”

“Uh,” you glance over at Malleus, who is currently inspecting a row of intricately carved fruit. “He’s literally doing it right now, Sebek.”

Malleus turns to you, holding up a fruit shaped like a tiny dragon. “Would you like to try one? It is said to bring good fortune.”

You grin at him. “If you’re offering, I’m down.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode from sheer indignation.

“You dare—!”

“Sebek,” Malleus cuts in, his voice as gentle as ever. “I am quite enjoying myself. There’s no need to worry.”

You grin at the sight. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Malleus glances at you, a little bashful but still smiling. “I have never been invited to something like this before. It is… a new experience.”

Oh god, he’s so sweet. You feel like you’re corrupting a baby deer by dragging him into the real world, but it’s so worth it.

Lilia, however, is having the time of his life. He leans over, grinning like the mischievous little gremlin he is, and whispers in your ear, “I must say, you’ve got quite the charm. Lord Malleus rarely accepts invitations. You might be more important to him than you think.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, maybe he just really likes fruit.”

Lilia laughs, a sound that’s equal parts endearing and dangerous. “Or maybe he enjoys your company, hm?”

“Careful,” you say, flashing a grin. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I might start flirting back.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Oh? I think I’d enjoy that.”

Oh god, he’s not backing down. Now you’re in the deep end. “Listen, if you keep going, I’m gonna have to ask if you’ve got plans for dinner.”

“I’m free this evening,” Lilia replies smoothly. “Shall I prepare a feast? Or perhaps we could have something more… intimate?”

You blink at him, unable to tell if he’s messing with you or if this is just how he operates. Either way, you’re so down to find out.

Before you can respond, Sebek cuts in, voice raised to what can only be described as ‘angry airhorn.’ “You will not speak so casually to Master Lilia!”

“Oh, Sebek, relax,” you say, patting him on the shoulder, which is a mistake because it feels like patting a brick wall. “He likes it.”

Lilia winks at you, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “Indeed, I do.”

You smirk, shooting Lilia a playful look. “See? The man’s practically begging for attention.”

Malleus, meanwhile, has been watching this entire exchange with mild confusion. “Is this what humans call… flirting?”

You give him an exaggerated nod. “Yup. It’s a sacred tradition. Very serious stuff.”

“I see,” Malleus muses, looking between you and Lilia. “Perhaps I should try it as well?”

“Oh, please don’t,” Sebek groans, looking absolutely horrified at the idea of Malleus flirting. “Lord Malleus, you are above such trivial pursuits!”

Lilia is practically cackling at this point. “Now, now, Sebek. It wouldn’t hurt to let Malleus explore new experiences.”

You grin and elbow Malleus lightly. “Don’t listen to Sebek. You can totally flirt if you want.”

Malleus, sweet as he is, looks completely serious when he asks, “What would I say? I do not wish to offend.”

You pause, trying very hard not to laugh. “Okay, how about this? Try complimenting someone. Like…” You glance around and point at a vendor selling flowers. “Tell them they have lovely flowers.”

Malleus nods, taking this very seriously, and walks over to the vendor. You, Lilia, Sebek, and Silver (who’s been napping the whole time) watch as Malleus, ever the gentleman, says to the vendor, “Your flowers… are as radiant as the moonlight.”

The vendor looks flustered, blushing furiously. “Oh! Thank you, My Lord!”

You can’t help but laugh. “See? You’re a natural.”

Malleus returns to your side, looking pleased with himself. “I believe that went well.”

“Yeah, now you just have to work on *accepting* compliments,” you say with a wink, and Malleus tilts his head slightly in confusion.

“Accepting?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “like, if I were to tell you you’re the sweetest giant fae-dragon puppy I’ve ever met, you’d say…?”

Malleus looks genuinely flustered, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink. “I… would say… thank you?”

“Good enough,” you laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll work on it.”

Sebek is muttering to himself about ‘disrespect’ and ‘sacrilege,’ but Malleus looks… happy. Like, really happy. He’s still a little awkward, sure, but you can tell he’s having a good time. Probably more fun than he’s had in years.

Lilia, meanwhile, is back at your side, leaning in close with that smirk of his. “You’re quite the influence, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” you grin, “someone’s gotta drag him into the real world.”

“Perhaps you’ll drag me into something as well?” Lilia purrs, his voice low and teasing.

You blink at him. “Keep talking, and I might actually propose to you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lilia says, eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps later tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

Sebek practically has steam coming out of his ears. “Master Lilia!”

But Lilia just laughs, utterly unfazed. “Oh, Sebek. You really must learn to loosen up.”

Silver yawns loudly, cutting through Sebek’s rant like a chainsaw through butter. “Can we get food now?”

You snort. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Malleus, ever the polite host, nods eagerly. “Yes, let us dine together. A family outing is not complete without a meal.”

You pause, blinking. Family? Did he just call this a family outing?

Lilia catches your expression and chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems Malleus has grown quite fond of you.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Lilia says, smiling knowingly. “In fact, I believe it’s quite the opposite.”

Before you can respond, Malleus steps up, still radiating pure joy. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? I would very much enjoy your company.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to self-destruct from sheer disbelief, but you? You can’t help but grin. “Sure, why not? But if I catch you stealing my dessert, it’s game over.”

Malleus chuckles, his awkwardness fading just a bit. “I shall do my best to restrain myself.”

Lilia leans over, voice low and teasing again. “Perhaps you’ll save dessert for me, hm?”

You snort. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Ah, but I’m a fae. Luck is my specialty.”

You shake your head, grinning as you walk alongside Malleus, who’s positively glowing with happiness. Yeah, this is one weird, dysfunctional family, but maybe you like it that way.

It’s quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, making you feel both peaceful and unbearably restless. You find yourself standing on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard bathed in moonlight. The cool breeze whispers through the trees, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting lazily through the air.

Lilia stands beside you, leaning against the stone railing, his usual playful demeanor absent. In its place is a rare solemnity, something you’ve only seen glimpses of before. You glance at him, noting the way the moonlight catches in his hair, casting soft shadows across his face. It feels... strange, seeing him like this. So serious, so quiet.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice soft but weighted with emotion. “I was terrified, you know. Of losing him.”

You don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Malleus. The curse that had wrapped around him for so long, a dark cloud that threatened to take him away. You had been the unexpected catalyst for breaking it, and while you hadn’t fully understood the gravity of it at the time, you’re beginning to now.

Lilia continues, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen many things, lost many people... but the thought of losing him...” He trails off, his voice catching in a way that makes your heart ache. “It would have broken me.”

You swallow, unsure of what to say. What can you say to something like that? You’re just... you. You never asked to be involved in any of this, never imagined that you’d become such an important part of these people’s lives. But here you are.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you finally manage, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just... there.”

Lilia turns to look at you, and there’s something deep in his eyes—something raw and real that takes your breath away. “Sometimes just being there is enough,” he says quietly. “You saved him. And in doing so, you saved me too.”

You shift uncomfortably, not because of his words, but because of the way they tug at something deep inside of you. A part of you that you’ve been trying to keep buried for as long as you’ve been in this strange, unfamiliar world.

You’re silent for a long time, your gaze fixed on the moonlit sky. The memories of your old life swirl in your mind—your family, your best friend, all the people you’ve left behind. You haven’t spoken about it to anyone here, not in detail. It feels too dangerous, too vulnerable. But standing here, under the moonlight with Lilia, you feel like maybe... just maybe... you can share a piece of it.

“I miss them,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “My family. My best friend. I miss... home.”

Lilia doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. He doesn’t press for details, doesn’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer. He just listens, and somehow, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. “It’s hard,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “Being here. Being away from them. Sometimes it feels like... like I’m losing pieces of myself. Like I’m forgetting what it felt like to be... whole.”

Lilia’s hand gently rests on your shoulder, a comforting weight that grounds you. “You haven’t lost yourself,” he says quietly. “Not even a little.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. You don’t know if he’s right, but in this moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that despite everything, despite the distance and the pain and the uncertainty, you’re still... you.

For a long time, the two of you stand in silence, the only sounds the soft rustling of the trees and the distant chirping of crickets. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting everything in a silvery glow. There’s a quiet understanding between you and Lilia, a shared pain that neither of you needs to fully explain.

Eventually, Lilia speaks again, his voice so soft it almost blends with the wind. “The world can be a cruel place,” he murmurs. “But it can also be kind. And in moments like this... it feels just a little more bearable, doesn’t it?”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”

The night stretches on, and though neither of you say anything more, there’s a comfort in the silence. A bond formed in the quiet acknowledgment of each other’s pain. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re not quite so alone.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, but somehow, you’re on a date with Lilia. Yes, that Lilia—lord of chaos, culinary adventurer, and general source of havoc.

The setting is picturesque enough: a meadow at sunset, complete with wildflowers and a gentle breeze. At least, it would be picturesque if not for the feast Lilia has prepared, which has a worrying amount of color, movement, and mystery.

“Surprise is the key to a romantic evening,” Lilia declares as he gestures proudly over the assortment of dishes.

You take a moment to assess the display. There’s a vibrantly colored stew that seems to be emitting steam with a life of its own. A platter of vegetables is twitching as if they’re reconsidering their life choices. And there’s a pie—definitely a pie—with something that looks suspiciously like an eyeball poking out from under the crust.

Lilia smiles at you, eyes glinting. “Would you like to try the stew first, my dear? It’s my own special concoction.”

You stare at it, then at him. “How many people have survived eating this?”

Lilia leans in, eyes full of mischief. “Define survived.”

You grin. “Only one way to find out, right?” Before he can respond, you reach for the bowl and take a large spoonful of the stew. Lilia’s eyebrows rise, clearly impressed by your boldness.

It tastes... unusual. Like someone mixed spicy peppers, sweet berries, and some kind of very sharp herb. You take another bite, considering.

Lilia watches you, waiting for a reaction. “Well?” he asks, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You swallow, then nod thoughtfully. “It’s... actually good. Really good, in fact.”

Lilia blinks, his expression shifting from mischief to genuine surprise. “Really?”

You nod again, going in for a third bite, savoring the strange combination of flavors. “Yeah! I mean, it’s different, but in a good way. The spice, the sweetness... it kind of works.”

Lilia’s face lights up, his delight palpable. “You truly mean it? My culinary prowess is usually met with... trepidation.”

“Trepidation might be an understatement,” you say with a laugh. “But honestly? I think people don’t give you enough credit.”

From somewhere nearby, a strangled gasp echoes across the meadow.

“Master Lilia!” Sebek’s voice rings out, sounding more horrified than ever. You glance in the direction of the bushes where, sure enough, they’re rustling. Apparently, Sebek has taken it upon himself to supervise this date from afar.

Lilia chuckles, clearly enjoying Sebek's reaction as much as yours. “Oh, my dear Sebek. One day, you shall learn that adventure begins in the kitchen.”

You take a sip of the iridescent liquid before you—a drink that looks more like a potion than anything else. It’s sparkling, and it has the distinct taste of... glittery fruit juice? You’re not sure, but it’s oddly refreshing.

Lilia eyes you, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “I must say, you are full of surprises. Most would have fainted by now.”

“Hey, I can handle a little excitement,” you say, reaching for one of the twitching vegetables.

Lilia watches in awe as you pop it into your mouth and chew. “And?” he asks, almost breathless.

You blink. “Crunchy. Kind of earthy. I like it.”

Lilia’s smile widens, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, how wonderful! My dear, you truly are one of a kind.”

Sebek’s dismayed groan echoes once again, and you laugh, glancing toward the bushes. “I think we’re breaking poor Sebek.”

“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Lilia replies, leaning closer to you. “And speaking of fun, I have something special for you.” He produces a bright blue flower, presenting it to you with a flourish.

You take it, giving it a cautious sniff. It smells like fresh-baked cookies, and you look at Lilia, raising an eyebrow. “A flower that smells like dessert? Now you’re really spoiling me.”

Lilia’s eyes soften, his voice lowering. “Only the best for someone who appreciates my unique touch.”

Before you can reply, there’s another voice—this one distinctly sleepy. “Father, what... what’s going on here?” Silver approaches, looking like he just woke up from a nap. He takes one look at the scene—the half-eaten dishes, the flower in your hand, and Lilia’s delighted expression—and sighs. “Are you actually eating this... willingly?”

You nod, grinning. “Turns out Lilia’s cooking isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of great.”

Silver looks at you, then at Lilia, then back at you. He blinks, his brain clearly trying to process this information. “Father, are you using magic to manipulate their taste buds?”

Lilia puts a hand over his heart, looking offended. “Silver, how could you suggest such a thing? I assure you, our dear friend here is enjoying my cooking purely of their own volition.”

Silver sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I think I need another nap.”

Lilia laughs, turning his attention back to you, his eyes filled with affection. “You truly are something special, my dear. Few have ever dared, let alone enjoyed, my creations.”

You smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Lilia leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Would it be too much to say I find you... irresistible?”

You chuckle, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

Lilia smirks, his gaze full of warmth. “Ah, but pushing my luck is what I do best. Perhaps next time, I’ll cook an even more adventurous meal for us.”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “Define adventurous.”

Lilia’s eyes glint mischievously. “How about roasted phoenix feathers?”

“Phoenix feathers?” you echo, shaking your head with a laugh. “You know what? I think I like you just the way you are—absurd cooking experiments and all.”

Lilia’s expression softens, his smile turning tender. “I’m glad to hear it.”

With that, the two of you rise, arm in arm, leaving behind the bizarre remains of the meal. Somewhere in the bushes, Sebek is probably fuming, and Silver has most likely already fallen asleep again.

But as you glance at Lilia, whose eyes are still filled with excitement and warmth, you think that maybe absurd is just what you need.

You love this little family, but you had to gain equal footing with Sebek before you got attached any further. So you did what you thought would work the best— Challenge him in something he enjoys.

You and Sebek had been circling the field for a while now, your horses galloping side by side as you both tried to outpace each other. The competitive tension was thick in the air, though not hostile—it was more of an unspoken game to see who would crack first.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been riding horses for *years*?” Sebek shouts over the wind, his eyes sharp with determination.

“Yup,” you reply, grinning as your horse picks up speed. “Equestrian club, since I was a kid. Surprised?”

Sebek huffs, his posture straight and rigid as always, but you can tell he’s impressed. “It’s… commendable. For a human, you’ve got some skill.”

“Some skill?” you tease, glancing over at him with a mischievous smile. “Is that all I get? Come on, Sebek, I thought you were competitive.”

He narrows his eyes at you, spurring his horse faster to pull ahead. “I am competitive! You’ll find I do not lose so easily.”

You laugh, nudging your horse to keep up. There’s a thrill in it—pushing each other, but not in a mean way. Sebek’s passion for horse riding matches your own, and it’s fun to finally find common ground with him. Plus, you’re enjoying the challenge.

The field blurs by as you both race toward the far fence, neither of you backing down. As you approach the finish line (or rather, the arbitrary spot you both decided was the end), you both cross it at nearly the same time, pulling your horses to a halt, panting slightly.

Sebek is the first to speak, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Hmph. You’re not bad.”

“Not bad? I’d say I’m pretty good,” you shoot back, grinning ear to ear.

Sebek scoffs, but there’s a lightness in his tone that wasn’t there before. “You’re still a human, but… I’ll admit, you ride with some honor.”

“Wow, high praise,” you tease, but you soften your smile. “Thanks, Sebek. You’re not half-bad yourself.”

For a split second, you think you catch the ghost of a smile on his face, but it quickly disappears as he straightens in his saddle. “Of course. Riding is in my blood.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, obviously. I bet you were born in the saddle.”

“Perhaps I was,” Sebek says, completely serious. You stifle a laugh, realizing he probably believes that.

But before you can retort, Lilia rides up, his usual mischievous grin firmly in place. “Ah, what’s this? A friendly competition between two of my favorite people?”

“Master Lilia,” Sebek says, immediately shifting into soldier mode. “We were just—”

“Competing, yes, I can see that.” Lilia’s grin widens as he glances between the two of you. “I must say, the sight of you both racing like that was… quite exhilarating.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “What, did we impress you?”

Lilia leans closer, voice dropping into a playful tone. “Oh, darling, I’ve been impressed by you for quite some time now.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to faint from sheer mortification. “MASTER LILIA! HUMAN!”

You laugh, waving Lilia off. “Careful, Sebek, you’re gonna scare your horse.”

But surprisingly, Sebek doesn’t snap back. Instead, he looks at you, something softer in his expression. “I admit… you’ve shown me something today. Perhaps you’re not just a reckless human after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow, Sebek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re starting to like me.”

Sebek grumbles, looking away. “Do not mistake my words. I merely acknowledge your competence. Nothing more.”

“Sure, sure,” you reply, still grinning. “But hey, anytime you wanna ride again, I’m game.”

Sebek glances back at you, his usual harshness softened just a bit. “Perhaps… I will take you up on that.”

Lilia chuckles, clearly pleased with the budding camaraderie. “Ah, it warms my heart to see you two bonding. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become the best of friends.”

You wink at Lilia. “Well, if Sebek keeps up, maybe I’ll make him my official riding partner.”

Sebek, for once, doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives a small, determined nod. “We shall see, human. We shall see.”

As you ride back toward the stables, you can’t help but smile. You’ve earned a bit of respect from Sebek, and who knows? Maybe you’ll turn this into a full-fledged rivalry—one with a bit more fun and a lot less shouting.

Lilia, of course, flirts all the way back, making sure to keep the mood light and teasing, much to Sebek’s increasing exasperation. But even he can't deny that today was fun

The day should've been as normal as you could have these days—your stomach had other plans. There’s this nagging craving in the back of your mind for ramen, but of course, you’re stuck in a medieval isekai world where even the concept of instant noodles would make heads explode.

You groan, pacing back and forth in your room. "Ramen, ramen, ramen..." You’re practically chanting it like a spell. Finally, you snap your fingers. "Alright! Let’s get some ramen going!"

With all the determination of a contestant in a cooking show, you head to the market, a list of makeshift ingredients mentally prepared. You have no clue how you’re going to explain seaweed or soy sauce to the vendors, but hey, you’ve gotten this far in life on sheer audacity.

Except, ten minutes later, you find yourself hopelessly lost. You had been walking with confidence, chest out, head high, until you somehow managed to wander into a part of town that definitely wasn’t on your mental map. Instead of bustling vendors and cheerful shoppers, you’re now looking at a spooky, abandoned-looking area, complete with dense fog and suspiciously creaky trees.

“This... This isn’t the market,” you mutter, pausing in front of a seriously ominous cottage. If there were ever a sign that said "DO NOT ENTER" in flashing neon, this would be it. And yet, for reasons unknown even to yourself, you approach.

Before you can bolt in the opposite direction, the door swings open with the most dramatic creak you’ve ever heard. A woman, dressed in black robes, stands in the doorway with a gaze that could curdle milk. Her aura practically screams witch, and not the cool kind either—the villainous, melodramatic kind.

“Well, well, well,” she sneers, stepping out with all the grace of a Broadway villain, “look who wandered into my lair.”

“Uh, yeah...” You trail off, scratching the back of your head. “So… this isn’t the market?”

The witch gives you a look so condescending it could melt iron. “No,” she hisses, “it most certainly is not. You’ve trespassed on my domain, little fool!”

“Right, so sorry about that,” you say, trying to backpedal. “I’m just trying to make some ramen, and I—wait, hold on, who are you exactly?”

Her eyes flash with annoyance. “You don’t know who I am?”

You blink at her. “Is this the part where you tell me, like in those cartoons? ‘Cause I’m getting major ‘I’m about to monologue’ vibes right now.”

The witch’s face twitches, clearly not used to people interrupting her villain speech. “I,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “am the witch who cursed Malleus Draconia!”

Oh, that witch. You’ve heard some stories about her, mostly from half-paying attention when your friend geeked out over the original plot. But now that you’re face-to-face with her... this is not how you pictured it. You tilt your head.

“So, wait,” you begin, trying to suppress a snicker, “you’re the one who came up with that whole 15-year curse plan? And your big finale was… what? Swooping in at the last second to save him and then expecting him to marry you?”

Her eyes narrow. “That was the plan.”

You stare at her for a moment, the absurdity sinking in. “...That’s ridiculous.”

“How dare you mock me?!” she shrieks, her voice reaching a pitch that probably scared some birds out of nearby trees. She raises her hand, dark magic swirling between her fingers, and you swear you can hear thunder crack in the distance.

“Okay, hang on,” you say, taking a cautious step back. “Let’s not get all zappy here. I’m just saying that’s a lot of effort for a plan that has, like, a one percent success rate.”

“Silence!” She’s fuming now, throwing her hand forward to launch the magic at you—and you brace yourself for the worst. You’ve seen this in movies before. This is the part where you get turned into a frog or something equally terrible.

Except… nothing happens.

The magic fizzles out midair like a dud firecracker, leaving a puff of smoke and an awkward silence in its wake. You blink. She blinks. You both stare at the spot where the magic should have been.

“Uh…” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck. “Was that supposed to do something?”

The witch looks at her hand, then at you, then back at her hand again like she’s having a serious identity crisis. “What...?”

“I mean, points for the drama, but I’m still standing here,” you say, waving your hand in front of your face as if checking for damage. “And I don’t think I’m a toad.”

She tries again, gathering more magic in her hands and launching it at you with renewed fury. But once again, nothing. The magic stops short, fizzling out like it’s hitting an invisible barrier around you. Now she’s just staring at you, dumbfounded.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely flabbergasted. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

That’s when Lilia appears—literally, out of nowhere. He casually steps out from behind a tree like this is all a normal Monday for him. “Ah, I thought I sensed some familiar mischief afoot,” he says, his voice cheerful, though his eyes glint with something far more dangerous as they lock onto the witch.

The witch recoils, visibly shaken. “Lilia Vanrouge,” she hisses, sounding more like a disgruntled cat than a fearsome sorceress.

“In the flesh,” he says with a light bow, his grin all sharp teeth and mischief. “What brings you out of your little hidey-hole?”

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s outmatched, and she knows it. With one last seething look at you, she vanishes into thin air with a dramatic whoosh of smoke, leaving you and Lilia alone in the now eerily quiet forest.

You turn to him, utterly confused. “What the heck was that about? Why didn’t her magic work on me?”

Lilia’s grin softens, his gaze turning fond. “Ah, I see I’ve forgotten to tell you. I placed a fae’s blessing on you some time ago.”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “When did you do that?!”

He chuckles, as if you asking when he bestowed a magical shield on you is the most amusing thing he’s heard all week. “You tend to attract trouble, my dear. I thought it best to give you a little extra protection.”

You blink at him, still processing. “So… you’ve been secretly protecting me this whole time?”

His gaze turns a bit more serious, the usual playful air dropping away. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he says softly, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

For a moment, you’re left speechless, flustered even. The teasing and jokes you’re so used to from Lilia are gone, replaced by something… deeper. It throws you off your game.

“Well, uh…” You clear your throat, desperately trying to recover. “I appreciate not getting turned into a frog or whatever she was planning.”

His grin returns, and the moment passes. “You’re welcome. Now, shall we head back to the market? I believe you were on a quest for... ramen, was it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as the absurdity of it all catches up with you. “Yeah, let’s do that. And maybe next time I’ll avoid wandering into spooky villain lairs.”

“An excellent plan,” he says, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

And just like that, you’re back on track—albeit a bit more shaken than before, but at least you’ve got a magical blessing you didn’t know about and one very charming fae escorting you through the mess.

You’re sitting under a large tree in the courtyard, soaking up the rare bit of peace and quiet that’s fallen over your life. It’s a nice day, the kind that makes you feel all warm and content, the sun shining gently through the leaves. Beside you, Silver is leaning against the trunk, dozing off as usual. You’ve become used to his tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

He stirs a little, blinking his sleepy eyes open and looking at you with a soft smile. “It’s nice to have moments like this,” he says, voice a bit groggy. “Especially after everything.”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning back on your hands. “It’s been... a lot.”

Silver glances at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You really helped us. My family,” he says, his tone a bit more serious than usual. “Freeing Lord Malleus from that curse... it was no small feat.”

Your stomach twists a little at the mention of Malleus. It still feels surreal that you had a hand in such a monumental event. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Eh, you know... just another day of accidentally stumbling into chaos.”

He chuckles lightly, his smile softening even more. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly for what you’ve done. You really saved us all.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush. I was just trying to make some money, and suddenly I’m in the middle of an epic quest. You know how it is.”

Silver hums, half-amused, and then casually drops the bomb on you like it’s the most normal thing in the world: “You’d be perfect with Father.”

Your brain short-circuits. “...Sorry, what?”

Silver, utterly oblivious to the internal crisis he’s just unleashed within you, looks at you with that serene, peaceful expression of his. “Father. You’d be perfect with him.”

The world screeches to a halt. *Perfect? With Lilia?* You stare at him, wide-eyed, your mouth hanging open in a most undignified manner. “I’m sorry, did you just—did you just suggest that I—me—should be with your father?!”

Silver nods, looking completely at peace with his assessment, like he’s just commented on the weather. “Yes. You two get along well. You make each other laugh, and he seems fond of you. And Father... well, he deserves someone who can make him smile like that.”

Your mind is racing at 100 miles per hour. “Silver. SILVER.” You clutch your head as if physically holding your brain together will stop it from spiraling into madness. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

Silver, ever the calm and composed knight, merely tilts his head. “Was it something strange?”

“STRANGE?!” You’re flailing now, completely losing your cool. “You just casually suggested I should date your father! Who, may I remind you, is an ancient fae with enough power to casually toss me into another dimension if he wanted!”

Silver blinks, seeming to consider this for a moment. “I don’t think he’d toss you into another dimension. He’d probably just... laugh and then take you out to dinner.”

You’re having a full-blown existential crisis. Your face is bright red, your heart is doing somersaults, and you’re not sure if you want to scream, faint, or throw yourself into the nearest fountain.

Silver, meanwhile, is just sitting there, serene and utterly oblivious to the emotional chaos he’s just unleashed upon you. “Father’s a good person,” He says softly. “I think you two would be happy together.”

“I... I...” You sputter, trying to form words but utterly failing as images of Lilia’s teasing smile and playful banter run through your mind. And then you imagine the alternative: Lilia’s serious side, the one that is somehow even more terrifyingly attractive, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Oh no,” you whisper, clutching your chest. “Oh no, no, no... Silver, what have you done?”

Silver looks at you with concern now, finally noticing that you’re having what can only be described as a breakdown. “Are you alright?"

“NO!” you cry, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve broken me! You’ve ruined me! I’m—Silver, your father is... He’s... and I... Oh, gods, this is too much. TOO MUCH!”

Silver watches you pace for a moment before quietly saying, “You’re thinking about it, though.”

You freeze mid-step. “I—NO! Maybe? Yes? I—Why would you say that, Silver?!”

He just smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Because it’s true.”

You slump back down beside him, groaning loudly as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Silver chuckles softly, resting his head back against the tree again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And as you sit there, your mind spinning with thoughts of Lilia and all the ridiculous, impossible implications Silver’s comment has brought to life, you can’t help but think that maybe—just *maybe*—he has a point.

But you’re not ready to admit that yet. Not even to yourself.

“I need a drink,” you mumble under your breath, and Silver hums in agreement.

“Father would probably help you make it,” he says, and you let out a loud groan, flopping onto the grass in dramatic defeat.

“Silver, you’re killing me.”

He just smiles that peaceful smile of his.

It’s a quiet afternoon, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. You’re standing with Malleus and Sebek in one of the palace’s gardens, the tranquil hum of life around you contrasting with the more serious conversation that’s about to unfold. You can feel the weight of what Malleus is about to say, and your mind spins as you prepare yourself for another emotionally charged moment.

Malleus takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “For the longest time,” he begins, his voice soft and filled with an unspoken vulnerability, “I thought I would be stuck. Trapped in that cursed state forever. I had resigned myself to it, believing that it was my fate to be alone.”

You shift slightly, unsure how to respond to such raw honesty. Sebek, standing next to Malleus, is silent for once, his usual loud and defensive nature tempered by the gravity of his lord’s words.

“But then you came along,” Malleus continues, turning his glowing eyes toward you. “You broke the curse, something no one had been able to do. You gave me back my freedom, something I had lost hope of ever regaining.”

Sebek clears his throat loudly, his usual dramatic flair coming to the surface despite the tenderness of the moment. “Yes, well,” he says, voice gruff but tinged with the awkwardness of someone who isn’t quite used to expressing gratitude. “I... suppose we should be... grateful. After all, if it weren’t for you, Lord Malleus would still be... cursed, and we wouldn’t be here together as we are now.”

You blink at Sebek’s begrudging admission, feeling a small smile tug at your lips. The fact that he of all people is thanking you, even in such a roundabout way, is oddly touching.

“Wow, Sebek,” you say, voice teasing but soft. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Sebek bristles at your words, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “D-Don’t misunderstand!” he exclaims, face turning a shade redder than usual. “I’m merely stating the facts! Nothing more!”

Malleus chuckles softly at Sebek’s outburst, his usual gentle smile returning to his face. “Sebek’s gratitude, no matter how begrudging, is indeed a rarity,” he teases lightly before turning his attention back to you. “But truly, I am grateful. You’ve given me back more than just my freedom. You’ve given me back... this.”

He gestures around him, indicating the garden, the palace, the sky above. “This life, this chance to be with those I care about. And for that, I owe you a debt that I may never be able to repay.”

You shift awkwardly, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “I mean, I didn’t really set out to save anyone,” you admit, your voice light but with an edge of honesty. “I just... wanted the reward. And then maybe to go home.”

Sebek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Malleus holds up a hand, stopping him before he can launch into one of his dramatic tirades

You hesitate, glancing between Malleus and Sebek. “I didn’t think I’d get attached,” you admit quietly, your voice softening. “But I have. Somehow, I’ve found myself... caring about all of you. This weird little makeshift family.”

Sebek looks as though he’s about to protest the “weird” part, but a stern glance from Malleus keeps him quiet. You can see the begrudging acknowledgment in his eyes, though—he knows it’s true, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Malleus hums thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks again. “Well,” he says casually, as if discussing something as simple as the weather, “if you’re so attached, perhaps we should make it official. Perhaps you should marry into the family."

You freeze. Did he just—?

You whip your head towards Malleus, completely flustered. “M-Marry?! What?!”

Sebek, on the other hand, looks as if someone just punched him in the face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, his eyes wide with outrage. “L-Lord Malleus, what are you suggesting?!” he sputters.

Malleus blinks, as calm as ever. “I’m suggesting marriage,” he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “If they are so attached to us, it seems a reasonable next step. Perhaps they should marry Lilia?”

Your face turns a bright shade of red as your heart pounds in your chest. “Wh-What?!” you stammer. “Lilia?!”

Sebek turns even redder, his face contorting in disbelief. “Master Lilia?!”

Malleus nods sagely, completely unfazed by both of your reactions. “Yes, Lilia. He has shown great affection for them, and they would fit well within our family. Would you not agree, Sebek?”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s an uncomfortable silence as he realizes… he can’t argue. He knows Malleus and Lilia both care about you. He knows that you’ve proven yourself to be a good person, despite his initial distrust. His mouth twitches, the words clearly struggling to escape his throat.

“I—well—Lord Malleus,” Sebek starts, looking every bit as if he’s been defeated by sheer logic. “I… I must admit… They are a suitable companion for Master Lilia… even if the idea of them marrying… well, it is quite… outrageous.”

You feel your soul leave your body as the conversation continues. Sebek can’t quite bring himself to fully agree, yet he doesn’t outright refuse the idea either. His loyalty to his lords binds him, and his begrudging acceptance of your presence has left him caught between duty and outrage.

“I—This—” you stammer, completely overwhelmed. “I—This is insane!”

Malleus looks at you with a calm smile. “Think it over,” he says, voice gentle. “You’ve already become part of our lives. Why not make it official?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat as you see the sincerity in his eyes. This isn’t just a flippant suggestion—it’s Malleus genuinely offering you a place in his family. But the idea of marrying Lilia? That’s… that’s a whole new level of madness.

“I—I think I need to lie down,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your temples. “This is too much.”

Malleus chuckles softly, and even Sebek seems to relax—if only a little. But as you glance between the two of them, you can’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Even with all the absurdity, you know one thing for sure: you’ve found a place with them, whether you intended to or not.

The cat was just sitting there. Innocently perched on the branch, fluffy and regal like a tiny, judgmental king. You don’t even know what possessed you, really. Maybe it was those huge, adorable eyes or the way its tail flicked back and forth. But somehow, someway, you ended up halfway up a tree. Climbing a tree. For a cat.

“I just wanted to pet you,” you mutter, feeling slightly ridiculous as you hug the branch for dear life. “And now I’m stuck. Great.”

The cat stares at you, completely indifferent to your plight. You sigh, glancing down at the ground, which now seems alarmingly far away. Heights were never your thing, but in the moment, with that cute little furball teasing you, logic flew right out the window. Now, you’re clinging to the tree like a cowardly kitten yourself.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” you groan. The cat blinks at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This is all your fault!”

And then, because fate has a terrible sense of humor, you hear a voice from below. A familiar, unmistakable voice—playful, with a hint of amusement laced through it.

“Well, well, what do we have here? It appears my dear little beastie has gotten themselves stuck.”

You nearly slip off the branch as you glance down to see Lilia standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and an infuriatingly amused grin on his face. He looks every bit the mischievous fae, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

“I—uh—this is—” You stammer, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but nothing comes. You’re halfway up a tree. Because of a cat. No explanation is going to save your dignity now.

Lilia tilts his head, chuckling. “Were you planning on living up there from now on? Or should I assist you in returning to the ground?”

“Hey, don’t judge me!” you huff, cheeks burning. “The cat—look at the cat! It was really cute, okay?”

Lilia glances up at the feline, which is now licking its paw in complete disinterest. He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, the cat. I see now. How could anyone resist such a noble creature?”

You groan, feeling your face get even hotter. “I—um—I might need help getting down.”

Lilia’s grin widens. “Of course, my dear. I was planning on catching you anyway.”

You freeze. “C-Catching me?”

“Mmhm. Just jump down, and I’ll catch you,” Lilia says, his tone so casual, as if catching people out of trees is just something he does every day. He spreads his arms out, waiting expectantly.

Your heart races as you eye the distance between the branch and the ground again. It’s not terribly high, but… still high enough to make you nervous. But Lilia’s standing there with that easy confidence, and the thought of staying stuck in this tree forever doesn’t exactly appeal to you either.

Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to the edge of the branch. “O-Okay. I’m going to jump.”

“Go ahead,” Lilia says, his voice soft. “I’ll catch you.”

With one last look at the disinterested cat, you finally push yourself off the branch. For a split second, there’s nothing but the rush of air—and then you feel yourself land securely in Lilia’s arms. You’re caught. Easily, gently. Like it was nothing at all.

He looks down at you, his face much closer than you anticipated. “See? I told you I would catch you.”

You’re breathless for a moment, your heart doing flips as you realize just how close you are to him. His arms are around you, holding you steady, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. He’s staring at you with that soft, amused smile, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of just how handsome he is.

“Oh no,” you whisper to yourself, “I’m swooning.”

Lilia raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Y-You’re really smooth,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Like, catching me so easily and looking at me like that. It’s—it’s really unfair.”

He chuckles softly, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Unfair, you say?”

“Yeah, like—like, you’re so effortlessly cool and charming, and I—” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you’re saying. You clamp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and your brain has completely short-circuited.

And then, before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out of you in a panicked rush. “Okay, I like you! No, wait—I think I’m in love with you! I mean, how could I not be? You’re so amazing, and I just—Oh god, I’m confessing! I’m confessing right now, aren’t I? This is a confession. Oh no, this is terrible. I didn’t mean to—”

You feel your entire body heat up as you bury your face in your hands, completely mortified. Of all the ways you could’ve confessed your feelings to Lilia, this had to be the worst possible way. You weren’t ready! You were supposed to be calm and collected, not blurting it out after getting caught in a tree!

For a moment, there’s silence. And then, you hear the softest chuckle from Lilia. His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you just a little closer.

“You’re adorable,” he says, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You peek through your fingers, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ve known for a while that your feelings for me were more than friendly,” Lilia continues, his smile gentle. “But hearing you confess like this… it’s endearing.”

You blink, trying to process his words. “Wait—you’ve known?”

Lilia nods. “You’re not as subtle as you think, my dear.”

You groan again, hiding your face in your hands once more. “This is so embarrassing…”

Lilia laughs softly, and before you know it, he leans in and presses a light, gentle kiss to your forehead. Your heart skips a beat, and you lower your hands, looking up at him in surprise.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Lilia says, his eyes soft. “I’m honored to be the one you’ve chosen.”

Your heart flutters as his words sink in, and you realize that, despite your mortification, he’s… accepting your feelings. He’s not teasing you or brushing it off—he’s genuinely acknowledging your confession. And more than that… he’s reciprocating.

“Lilia…” you whisper, your face still burning with embarrassment, but also with a warmth that you can’t quite describe.

He leans in a little closer, his nose brushing against yours. “You don’t need to say anything more, my dear. Just know that I feel the same.”

And with that, Lilia closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your heart race even faster. All thoughts of your earlier panic melt away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the feeling of being completely safe in his arms.

As he pulls back, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. Lilia smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing, “was that worth climbing a tree for?”

You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “I… I think so.”

Lilia laughs softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the ground. “Next time, though, perhaps we’ll find a more dignified setting for your confessions, hmm?”

You groan, covering your face again as you mutter, “Please don’t remind me…”

But despite your embarrassment, you can’t help the small, giddy smile that creeps onto your face as you realize that, somehow, things turned out perfectly anyway.

You sit with Lilia on a bench beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, the same one he caught you from, nerves simmering beneath your calm exterior. He’s as composed as ever, leaning back against the tree with a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

Across from you sit Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, all three watching you with varying degrees of curiosity—Malleus with calm interest, Silver with that sleepy, gentle acceptance, and Sebek with what you’re sure is the beginning of a tirade bubbling just beneath the surface.

“We have some news,” Lilia says, breaking the silence with his usual playful tone. His hand slips into yours, squeezing lightly. “About us.”

Malleus’s eyes light up with interest, his draconic gaze honing in on the subtle intertwining of your hands with Lilia’s. “News?” he repeats, leaning forward slightly. “What sort of news?”

You exchange a glance with Lilia, and he gives you a nod, as if to say go on, it’s safe. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and blurt out, “We’re together. Like, romantically.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Malleus’s eyes widen, his entire face brightening with delight. “Truly?” he asks, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. “That is wonderful news! You will be joining the family then?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by how happy he is. “Uh, well—eventually, I guess. We haven’t exactly planned a wedding yet…”

“But when we do,” Lilia interjects smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement, “you will be the first to receive an invitation, Malleus.”

Malleus beams, the delight practically radiating off him like sunlight. “I would expect no less. To witness your union—ah, it will be a grand day.”

Meanwhile, Silver gives you both a small, approving nod. His expression is calm, though there’s a softness in his eyes that shows he’s happy for you. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice as gentle as ever. “Father deserves someone who makes him happy. And you… you seem to do that.”

Your heart warms at the approval from Silver. “Thanks, Silver,” you say, offering him a smile in return.

And then there’s Sebek.

For a moment, he just stares at you and Lilia, his mouth working as if he’s trying to form words. You brace yourself for the inevitable protest, expecting him to shout something about how inappropriate it is, or how you could never be good enough for Lilia, or—

“You…” Sebek finally speaks, though his tone is less outraged than you anticipated. He scowls, but there’s an undeniable hint of reluctant acceptance in his eyes. “You’re together, then?”

Lilia nods, his smile never wavering. “Indeed, Sebek.”

Sebek inhales deeply, closing his eyes as if preparing for some kind of inner battle. You can almost hear him wrestling with his instincts, wanting to object but also unable to deny the truth of the situation. After a long pause, he finally exhales and mutters, “Well… I suppose… if it makes Master Lilia happy, then…”

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when Sebek opens his eyes again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “But that does not mean you should grow complacent! Just because Master Lilia has chosen you does not mean you are exempt from proving yourself worthy!”

Lilia laughs softly at Sebek’s stubbornness, and you can’t help but grin. “Of course, Sebek,” you say, teasing him lightly. “I’ll do my best to live up to your high standards.”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “See that you do.”

Despite his bluster, you can tell he’s not truly upset. There’s a begrudging acceptance in his stance, the same way someone might finally accept that their favorite hero isn’t perfect, but still worthy of respect. Sebek might not be able to fully wrap his head around the idea of you and Lilia being together, but deep down, you can tell he doesn’t disapprove. Not really.

Malleus, meanwhile, is still beaming. “I look forward to your wedding,” he says, sounding genuinely excited. “It will be a grand celebration. And I will be the first to celebrate your union.”

You laugh, finally feeling the tension melt away. “You’ll be the first to get an invitation, don’t worry.”

Lilia squeezes your hand again, his eyes warm as he looks at you. “Indeed,” he says softly, “and I think it will be a lovely celebration.”

As you sit there, surrounded by Lilia’s peculiar little family, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. For all their eccentricities—Malleus’s dragon-like mannerisms, Silver’s sleepy but sincere approval, and Sebek’s stubborn loyalty—you’ve somehow found yourself among people who care. Who, in their own ways, are happy to see you and Lilia together.

And as you glance at Lilia, who’s still watching you with that fond, amused expression, you realize something important: this makeshift family of fae and knights… they’ve accepted you.

Flaws and all.

The living room felt a little too tense for your taste today. You were sprawled out on a chair, arms crossed, listening to the absurd conversation that seemed to have spiraled out of control.

Malleus, sitting at the head of the table, had the "serious prince" expression that made you roll your eyes every time you saw it. Lilia was perched on the back of his chair, his legs dangling, thoroughly amused by the current predicament. Sebek stood in his usual soldier-like stance, ready to protect everyone from... squirrels, apparently. And Silver was doing his best to stay upright while leaning on a wall. He was losing that battle.

“It’s time to discuss the prophecy” Malleus said, his voice carrying an ominous weight you found ridiculous. “The Squirrel Plague will bring misfortune. Entire kingdoms will fall to their tiny paws.”

You blinked. “We’re seriously talking about squirrels?”

Lilia nodded with an overly grave face. “Indeed, my dear. Squirrels are resourceful creatures. Vicious even, if the stories are true.”

Sebek puffed up his chest, eyes blazing with his trademark fervor. “MY LORD, IF THOSE RODENTS BELIEVE THEY CAN THREATEN YOU—"

You leaned forward, waving your hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, let's not hype up the squirrels too much, okay? This whole situation is ridiculous.”

Silver, who had just about managed to pry his eyes open, muttered, “It’s not just the squirrels. I heard some people talking about... uh, the Saint being accused of spying or something.”

The room fell into silence for a second, everyone digesting that little bombshell.

Lilia’s grin widened as if the idea of spies delighted him. “Spies, you say? This is getting quite intriguing.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Squirrels are bad enough, but spies? I’m not dealing with this.”

Malleus turned towards you, a slight frown on his lips. “I assumed you wished to stay here. You haven’t mentioned wanting to leave before.”

You sighed, shrugging. “I mean, I don't have any attachments to this place. I stayed because you guys were here. But right now, let's bounce. Immediately. The squirrels can have this place.”

Silver, rubbing his eyes, nodded. “They're right. It’s a lot of hassle, and honestly, the squirrels are starting to weird me out. I saw one trying to chew through the wall this morning.”

Sebek turned to Silver with his mouth agape. “A SQUIRREL DARED TO ATTACK OUR DOMAIN?!”

Lilia chuckled, nodding. “They’re getting bolder, indeed. I even had one throw an acorn at me this morning. It was a declaration of war, I tell you.”

You waved your hands at them. “Guys, seriously. I don’t care if we’re at war with the squirrels. I just don’t want to be here. Briar Valley sounds much nicer, doesn’t it? No plagues, no spy accusations, no rabid rodents.”

Malleus blinked at you, then slowly smiled. “If you wish to leave, then there’s no reason for us to stay. I thought perhaps you'd not want to leave the place you grew up in, that you would be attached.”

“Attached?” You gestured dramatically at the window, where you swore you could see a squirrel watching with beady little eyes. “Nope. I’m only attached to you four, and I’m not risking my life for some acorn-flinging rodents.”

Silver yawned, already giving in. “I say we go. Less hassle, more sleep.”

Lilia gave a theatrical sigh leaning on Malleus. “Well, I suppose the adventure ends here. Back to Briar Valley it is! And I’ll be sure to bring along some acorns... perhaps we can keep the spirit of battle alive.”

Sebek, his voice still full of misplaced enthusiasm, nodded fiercely. “IF MY LORD DECIDES TO RETURN, THEN I SHALL ENSURE OUR JOURNEY IS WITHOUT PERIL! THE SQUIRRELS SHALL NOT—”

You interrupted with a grin. “Yes, yes, Sebek. You’ll protect us from the squirrels. Good job.”

Lilia hopped off Malleus’s chair, already halfway to the door. “I’ll go prepare the portal. Who knows, maybe we can get there in time for the fireflies.”

You got up too, stretching and giving one last look at the living room. “I think I’ve had enough of prophecies, plagues, and espionage.”

Lilia grins "Maybe we could have our wedding in Briar Valley". Malleus, now entirely on board, nodded with regal finality. “Then we shall return to Briar Valley. I trust the squirrels will not miss us.”

Lilia snickered, and you felt him squeeze your shoulder. “Perhaps we should bring a souvenir,” he mused. “A squirrel, perhaps, as a reminder of this peculiar little chapter of our lives.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I think I’d rather forget it altogether.”

With that, you and your four favorite Briar Valley residents left—leaving behind the squirrels, the spies, and every bit of drama that had nothing to do with you. Peace, it turned out, was just a portal away.

With that, the group made their decision—no heroic stand against the prophecy, no attempts to sort out spy dramas. Just a swift, sensible retreat to where things were far less complicated. And honestly? That suited you just fine.

Alright! I liked writing this a lot, It's not as chaotic as my other isekai ones but I like how it turned out!

Also if the formatting is off, I'm so sorry but I fell spectacularly on my ass while ice-skating and can't sit long enough to edit on my laptop.

Also quick poll for the next trash novel one, I'll definitely finish all of them, this is just for which one should I post first. They're all almost done.

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[meleeyz]

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘!𝗘𝗞𝗞𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ These are headcanons of the other Ekko, before the canon Ekko from the show "takes" his place… I hope you understand...

୨୧ I'm still writing for the fic, but the last chapters is taking longer than I thought, I hope you understand, in the meantime I have some things in drafts that I will publish so you don't run out of content.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

another universe!ekko who was really nervous about proposing to you knowing how big of a step that is...

Ekko had always been a confident guy. He was innovator, someone who could fix almost anything. But when it came to you, he found himself feeling like a bumbling preteenager all over again. He wanted everything to be perfect—down to the handmade ring he was crafting for the proposal. Using scraps of precious metals and stones he collected over the years, he poured hours of focus into shaping it into something that represented your story together. Benzo would catch him hunched over his workstation at odd hours, muttering about the alignment or polish. "You know, kid, it’s not like she’s gonna turn you down if it’s a millimeter off," Benzo teased, ruffling Ekko’s hair. Ekko would just grin sheepishly but double his efforts anyway.

another universe!ekko who practiced his proposal speech a dozen times, only to get caught mid-rehearsal...

He was standing in the middle of The Last Drop, the roof their unofficial safe haven for years. “So, um, I’ve been thinking…” he started, pacing back and forth. “No, no, that sounds dumb. Okay—‘you’re the light of my life, and I can’t imagine—’ ugh, that’s so cheesy.” Behind him, Powder crept up the stairs, barely containing her giggles. “Keep going,” she whispered, trying not to laugh. Ekko whipped around, his face flaming red. “How long have you been there?!” “Long enough to know you’re terrible at this,” she teased, doubling over with laughter. “You’re lucky she already loves you.”

another universe!ekko who had no idea you were planning your own big announcement...

While Ekko was caught up in his grand proposal plans, you were busy with plans of your own. The test results sat folded in your pocket for days, and your hands hovered over them more times than you could count. You were going to be a mother. It was Powder who figured it out first, being too observant for her own good. “You’ve been glowing,” she said one afternoon while helping you sort supplies at the community center. “Also, you cried over Mylo spilling coffee, so I kinda put two and two together.” You blinked at her, stunned. “Powder, you cannot tell anyone yet!” She held up her hands. “Cross my heart! But seriously, I’m gonna be the best godmother ever!” You couldn’t help but laugh, though your nerves stayed. You wondered how Ekko would react, if he’d be overwhelmed or excited—or both.

another universe!ekko who proposed on the roof of the last drop, the place where your story began...

Ekko had chosen the roof where he had first kissed you as the spot to ask you to be his forever. He had strung up soft, glowing lights and set up a little table with flowers and your favorite dessert. When you stepped onto the roof and saw him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously as he smiled at you, your heart swelled with affection. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "So, uh… I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time." You stepped closer, your smile encouraging him to continue. "Being with you has been the greatest adventure of my life," he said, his voice gaining confidence. "And I can’t imagine spending another day without knowing that you’ll always be by my side. So..." He dropped to one knee and pulled out the handmade ring, holding it up with a hopeful look. "Will you marry me?" Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, unable to find your voice at first. "Yes, Ekko. Of course, I’ll marry you." The joy on his face was priceless as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you into a tight embrace.

another universe!ekko who fainted when you told him you were pregnant moments later...

But before he could say another word, you decided it was time to share your own surprise. “I have something to tell you too,” you said, your hand trembling as you guided his to your stomach. “You’re going to be a dad.” His grin froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait, what—?” And then he hit the floor. Powder’s shriek of laughter carried from the rooftop stairs. "I knew he’d do that!"

another universe!ekko who woke up to find you fanning him, looking both amused and concerned...

"You okay?" you asked, trying not to laugh. He blinked up at you, groaning. "Wait… did you just say…?" "Yes, Ekko," you said softly. "You’re going to be a dad." For a moment, he was silent, then a wide grin broke across his face. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeated, awe in his voice.

another universe!everyone who was overjoyed by the double news…

Vander insisted on hosting an engagement party at The Last Drop, which quickly turned into a celebration for the baby too. Silco was the first to congratulate you both, "You’ll be a wonderful mother," he said quietly. Claggor and Mylo, meanwhile, started a heated argument over who would be the better uncle. "I’m obviously the fun uncle," Mylo declared, crossing his arms. Claggor rolled his eyes. "The kid needs someone responsible. That’s me." Powder, sitting nearby, added fuel to the fire. "Don’t worry, guys. The baby’s gonna love me more anyway. I’m the godmother!" Benzo couldn’t resist teasing Ekko. "Didn’t want to wait, huh?" he joked, clapping him on the back. Ekko just laughed, unashamed. "When you know, you know."

another universe!ekko who became the most attentive fiancé and father-to-be anyone had ever seen…

Ekko went into full-on protective mode. He insisted on carrying anything remotely heavy for you, making sure you got enough rest, and preparing meals that he claimed were "good for the baby." "Ekko, it’s just a broom," you said one afternoon, trying to sweep the living room. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, gently taking it from your hands. "You’re not lifting a finger while I’m around."

another universe!ekko who is absolutely excited about his baby

Ekko transformed into the ultimate caretaker. He made sure you were comfortable at all times, fussing over pillows, blankets, and cravings. He’d often disappear for errands and come back with baby clothes, stuffed animals, or tiny shoes. "You know it’s too early to shop, right?" you teased one evening. "Yeah, but look at these little boots!" he said, holding them up proudly.

another universe!ekko who spent hours talking to your belly...

He would lean close, resting his head against you as he spoke softly. “Hey, little one. It’s your dad. I just wanted to say I love you already—whether you’re a boy or a girl, doesn’t matter.” Your laughter filled the room. “You’re gonna spoil them before they’re even born.” “Damn right,” he said, grinning.

another universe!silco who became unexpectedly protective of you during your pregnancy…

"Must I remind you," Silco said one day, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, "that you’re carrying a very important member of this family?" "I was just reaching for a book," you replied, amused. "It starts with books, and ends with unnecessary strain."

another universe!powder who was the maid of honor and made sure your dress was perfect...

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement as she helped you into your gown. “You look like a queen,” she declared, fluffing the skirt. “No, a goddess. Ekko’s gonna cry when he sees you.” “Let’s hope he doesn’t faint again,” you teased, earning a snort of laughter.

another universe!benzo who secretly cried at ekko’s wedding...

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Vander, Benzo dabbed at his eyes. When Ekko teased him later, he grumbled, “Shut it, kid. It’s allergies.”

another universe!ekko whose wedding was the event of the year...

The Last Drop was transformed into a breathtaking venue, with twinkling lights and decorations. Vander had insisted on non-alcoholic cocktails, much to the delight of you and the other guests. Ekko couldn’t take his eyes off you as you exchanged vows, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions. “You’re my everything,” he said, slipping the ring onto your finger. "I promise to love you, protect you, and be the best partner and dad I can be—for you and for our family."

another universe!ekko who ended the night on the roof where it all began...

After the reception, Ekko led you back to the roof where it all began. The city lights shimmered below, the quiet hum of Zaun wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Ekko knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your rounded belly. "I’ll be the best dad," he murmured, his hands cradling your bump. "You already are," you assured him, running your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with love. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it."

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.6

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny slumped over the table at the library. He’d feel embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the rest of the floor’s occupants. Around him, students were speed running through the five stages of grief like it was going out of style.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Same.” Danny replied, rolling his head to look at Tim. “I’m feeling like an academic victim instead of an academic weapon right now.”

“I should have stayed dropped out of school,” Tim grumbled.

Danny gasped theatrically. “And deprive the world of your awe-inspiring genius on…” Danny peered at Tim’s books and grinned. “On… the Krebs cycle? Seriously? They’re teaching that again?”

“I know! This is like, the third time.” Tim whined.

“At least you’ll be good at it, right?”

Tim scoffed. “I’m gonna drop out of college and become a stripper.”

“They do make bank,” Danny nodded. “But aren’t you like a millionaire or something?”

Tim brightened. “Oh, you’re right. I don’t need education! I’m filthy rich!”

Danny whacked Tim on the back of the head, laughing quietly.

“Whatever. Let’s go take a break. Snacks?”

“I literally don’t know how you eat so much.”

“Snacks have a separate stomach pouch. Normal food goes one place, junk food and desserts in another.” Danny retorted, quickly packing up his stuff. In reality, he didn’t need that much food. He’s half dead, after all. But food also converts to ectoplasm in his body, and ancients knows Danny needs all the energy he could get.

They made their way out of the campus library, passing stressed out looking students on their way to a taco truck.

“Does this even count as a snack?” Tim asked, amused. He tugged on his book bag, readjusting the vigilante pins on them.

“Is the sky even blue?” Danny snarked back, forking over the cash needed for the best fucking tacos on this side of Gotham. They sat on the benches, asking for an obscene amount of extra lime and cilantro before going to town.

“Holy shit, how many of those can you eat?”

“Dunno,” Danny mumbled though a mouthful or carne asada and pico de gallo. “Hungry.”

Tim snorted, pulling out his phone to scroll as he ate. A moment later, Tim showed Danny his screen.

“Hey, you live near here, right?”

Danny, cheeks bulging with food, peered at Tim’s phone and nodded.

“Oh, cool! Have you seen the green guy around?”

Danny squinted at Tim, tilting his head as he chewed.

“You know, the glowing green guy that’s been blowing up the Gotham Bay tag.”

Oh. Tim was talking about him, Danny!

Danny nodded. He quickly ate his food and wiped his mouth before replying. “Yeah, why?”

“Does he seriously just clean up the bay? Nothing else?”

Mildly offended for some reason, Danny shrugged. “I mean yeah? He doesn’t seem to pop up near any of the shady spots- oh, I saw him save someone from a mugging in front of my apartment once! But like, I think all he does is clean the bay. Which is good, because holy heck, that place is nastyyy.”

“Seriously?” Tim leaned in, looking super interested. “So he’s friendly?”

Danny raised a brow. “Yeah, he seemed pretty nice, I guess. Though, that’s not saying much considering your Rogues tend to be pretty chill when they’re not in the middle of a scheme.”

Tim snorted. “True that. You talked to him? When? Outside of his bay cleanings, right? I’ve noticed that he only talks to the Bats during those.”

Danny stared at Tim. “Tim… are you… stalking the guy?”

What Danny really wanted to say was: “Tim, are you stalking me?”

“I’m not stalking him!” At Danny’s suspicious glare, belied by his sauce stained mouth, Tim sighed. “Okay, maybe I am. But only some minor stalking!”

“Uh-huh.”

“But if you have, you think you could introduce us? Maybe he’d want to be friends?”

Was Tim asking Danny to introduce him to… Danny himself?

“Uh. Why do you even want to meet him?”

“Danny, he’s a glowing green guy that does community service for funsies. And he knows the Bats. That’s cool.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know cool if it smacked you in the face.” Danny teased. Well, whatever. He might as well do something nice for Tim. “Sure. I’ll text you when he pops up and see if he’s okay with meeting you.”

Tim grinned at him, a piece of cilantro stuck in his teeth. “Thanks!”

——

Danny made a duplicate of himself and went ghost. Danny and his duplicate looked at each other and sighed.

“We’ve done stupider things.”

“But we’re still not telling Jazz.”

“Agreed.”

Danny paused. Did he just make a deal with himself? No, he’s busy.

Doppelgänger Danny went invisible and left the apartment by going through a wall. Danny followed in a sedate pace, the normal way.

Outside, he pretended to catch sight of a suddenly visible Phantom. He’d heard the heartbeats outside his apartment ever since he got home all those days ago, and he’s pretty sure the vigilantes were watching his place ever since. Luckily, he made sure there weren’t any bugs or hidden cameras- Sam beat cautiousness into his head a while ago- before starting the plan.

One of those heartbeats sounded like Tim’s which left some… interesting connotations.

Danny sighed. Who was he kidding? Of course he’d be friends with a vigilante.

“Hey, Phantom!” Danny shouted, waving. Phantom floated over.

“Danny. Hi. Did you need something?”

“Oh, not really. My friend wanted to meet you, he’s a huuuuge fan. Think you’ve got time today?” Danny held up his phone.

Phantom hummed. “I can stay for a bit. Thirty minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll call him. His name is Tim, by the way. Thanks for taking the time to meet him!”

“No problem.”

Danny texted Tim, and minutely frowned as he picked up the sound of Tim’s ringtone. Shit, that pretty much confirmed his suspicions. He got a text back from Tim.

Timsy

[5 nin]

Nin

Nin

Nin

Min

Danny huffed an amused breath. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Alright.”

Danny texted back an okay.

Five minutes later, a flushed and disheveled Tim peeled onto the street and right to the curb.

“Here!” He said as he tumbled out of the car.

“Damn, bro. You good?”

“Fine- oh my god, you’re the green guy!” Danny had to hand it to Tim. If he didn’t already figure out he was Red Robin, Danny would’ve believed the act. Holy shit, wait, he called his friend broke. Hah!

“It’s Phantom. Nice to meet you, Tom.”

A quick sliver of sullenness flashed over Tim’s face. “It- it’s Tim.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, human names sound so similar.” Danny leaned back and hid a grin as his doppelgänger messed with his friend.

“Oh, wow, you’re not human? What are you then?”

“Oh my god, Tim, you can’t just ask him what he is!” Danny scolded. These vigilantes were really similar.

“Sorry…” Tim apologized.

“It’s fine. To answer your question, I’m dead. Ghost.”

“Do you really pay taxes?”

Phantom tilted his head. “Yes, of course.” By the, Danny meant that he paid both human taxes and oversaw the Zone’s taxes. “You know that saying, something about never escaping from two things and that’s taxes and death? You can escape death- might come back a little wrong- but taxes are in the afterlife too.”

“Come back a little wrong?” Tim asked, eyes suddenly sharp.

“Come back a little,” Phantom gestured to himself. “Green. More emotive and prone to irritation.”

Tim stared.

——

“Jason, are you a ghost?” Dick, crouched on the top of Danny’s apartment building whispered.

Red Hood, crouched in the same area, stayed silent.

——

“How did you die?”

Phantom snarled and disappeared.

Tim whirled around, looking bewildered. Behind him, Danny struggled to stay calm.

“Where’d he go?”

“He probably didn’t want to hurt you.” Danny sighed.

“What? What did I do?”

“You asked him how he died. That’s like, the ultimate social taboo.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“It’s common sense, dude. Trauma like that has to be shared instead of asked about. Generally.” Danny sighed. “Come on, let’s get off the street and I’ll give you a crash course in manners.”

——

Bruce, upon hearing about the conversation, dove headfirst into researching the after life.

“No, go suck a goat’s genitals, Batsy, I am not helping you adopt a being of the infinite realms!” Constantine hung up on him.

“Hn.” Bruce will adopt the child and give him a home. It’s only a matter of when… and what inter-dimensional loopholes he could find and use in the relevant laws.

Jason was right behind him, because he was going to get answers, dammit.

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LIGHTS, CAMERA AND LOVE 𖤐. — nishimura riki

↺ CONTENT: idol au, both reader and riki are idols, reader is female, brief tooth-rotting fluff.

↺ FROM HYE: this was inspired after watching his artist of the month video heh…

“Hello everyone. I’m (Name) and today, I’m on the set of Studio Choom to film the video for the Artist of the Month,” you introduced yourself, clapping and bowing a little as you sat on the chair provided by the staff. 

“(Name), how does it feel to be chosen as the Artist of the Month?” 

Laughing, you shyly tucked your hair behind your left ear. “Ah, to be honest, I’m not that confident in my dancing abilities. So I was quite shocked when I heard I got selected. But thank you so much for the opportunity provided to me. I will show my best self for everyone and my fans.” 

“Can you tell us what you have prepared for us?”

Humming, you slung your left leg over your right as you rested your hands on your left knee. “I’ve chosen to perform two songs: Rude Boy by Rihanna and Work it by Missy Elliot. I have gone with hip hop and pop, as I always wanted to try dancing to these kinds of songs. And I like challenging myself to new things too.” 

“How would you rate the choreography?” 

You purse your lips, pondering over it before answering. “If you know Pass the Mic by ENHYPEN, take their choreography and multiply it by… three times? It’s quite hard and it took me a while to master it.” 

“Speaking of ENHYPEN, how long have you been dating Nishimura Riki?” 

You gasped, taken aback by the sudden question about your love life. Your face flushed red when you heard the staff laugh at your embarrassment. “We’ve been together for about six months now, and our monthly anniversary is coming tomorrow. Which is also the day the video will drop too. I hope everyone looks forward to it-?” 

You paused when you saw a familiar figure entering the place. You ignored how you were in the middle of an interview, face brightening at the sight of your beloved boyfriend entering. You excitedly waved as Riki got closer. He chuckled, leaning down to press a loving kiss on your forehead as he stood beside you. Due to him being too tall, the camera was not able to capture his face. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re still busy with your schedule,” you asked, having to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“We ended early and I decided to surprise you. Although, it looks like you’re in the middle of something,” he sounds sheepish, but the staff merely shrugged his apology off. 

You giggled, leaning against him and faced the camera. “Now that my boyfriend’s here, maybe we should hear some encouraging words from him. Right, Riki?”

“Huh? Why are you suddenly interviewing me?” His eyes widened, not expecting you to change the direction of the interview just like that. You laughed at his reaction, pulling at his hand. 

“Come on, just say a few words!” You begged. 

Sighing, he bent slightly to reveal his face to the camera. “Hello, I’m Nishimura Riki from ENHYPEN. Uh, I don’t have much to say but please show lots of love and support to (Name)’s performance video. It drops tomorrow and I can tell she has put in a lot of effort into making the video. Thanks.” 

“Before we end, could we have the both of you do a dance together?” 

“Aish, I knew there was something else after this,” Riki mischievously wagged his finger at the staff, eliciting a round of amused laughter from them. 

You chuckled, rising to your feet. “Sure, how about we cover Riki’s dance on Studio Choom? The Artist of the Month video and we can do the moment of the video where it's most replayed.” 

“Don’t tell me…” Riki’s voice trailed off, recognition flickering across his face when he saw one of the staff handing both of you sunglasses. 

“Yup.” 

Both of you got into position. Once the music started, the staff were amazed with how in sync you were with one another. Your facial expressions were on point, easily matching the vibes of the song. Thankfully, you did not have to perform the whole choreography and instead, only showcase five minutes of it. When it ended, you were panting and catching your breath. 

“Since when did you learn it?” Riki asked, amazed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“It was meant to be a surprise, but I guess it’s out of the bag now,” you sheepishly scratched your head, squeaking when he embraced you in a hug, his taller frame hiding you from the camera. The staff took it as a cue to end the recording, wanting to give the couple their much-needed alone time. 

Seeing this, Riki took it as his cue to squish your cheeks with his hands. You made a noise of protest but he ignores it, sniggering at your offended expression. He could no longer hold back, leaning down to give you a searing kiss on your lips. Before you could react, he had pulled away. A satisfied smirk appeared on his face at the sight of your dazed look. 

“You’re so cute,” he teased. 

“Riki!”

Needless to say, the video did well and most of the comment sections were filled with people squealing over your relationship. 

‘(Name) and Riki are so cute together! And the way they are in sync with one another is so cool! Truly the power duo we need.’

‘Forget Riki, I want (Name) instead.’

‘The part where they threw their sunglasses at the same time… chefs kiss.’ 

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 1

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 1 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

y/n_fanpage

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 10,293,833 others

y/n_fanpage: y/n_nation has been busy this past week with hints of what’s to come. Obviously midnight has something to do with her announcement! Thoughts?

view all comments

user1: NO. SHUT UP!!!

↳user2: NEW STUFF??? NEW MATERIAL??

↳user1: MOTHER IS BACKKK!!!

↳user2: I forgot that it’s y/n_nation that posts the announcements now 😭😭 I feel like I’ve missed so much stuff

↳user1: girl you better go back and check it out

charles_leclerc: cannot wait! Will definitely be on repeat in the garage

↳carlossainz55: yes!!

↳scuderiaferrari: already making room for it in the playlist!

↳user3: ok but this just makes sense to me!!

↳user4: right? Of course Carlos and Charles are y/n fans!

user5: another banger album on the way!

↳user6: album of the year!!

user7: 🤞🤞 fingers crossed it’s a love album

↳user8: oh my god same?

↳user7: like I love her other stuff so much but her love albums??? Next. Level.

↳user8: right?? Oh imagine being loved by someone who writes literal love songs for you

↳user7: not just love songs tho…Thee love songs!

alex_albon: new race day anthem loading!

↳logansargeant: 😂

↳alex_albon: I can’t be teammates with you if you’re not a y/n fan

↳logansargeant: biggest fan there is

↳alex_albon: well that’s not possible

↳lilymhe: no one is taking that title from us!

↳logansargeant: if you say so…

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

user9: tour tour tour tour!

↳user10: she’s hasn’t even released the album yet? Like Jesus…

y/n

liked by user, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alex_albom, logansargeant, and 11,283,012 others

y/n: this is a no judgement zone, right? Right? Meet the newest members of the family — Snowball and Snowflake, Marshmallow, and Croissant!

view all comments

user11: I’m in love?

↳user12: you’re in love? I’m in love!!!

↳user13: they’re so cute!

maxverstappen1: You’re a cat mom too?

↳user14: still not over the thought that vroom vroom guys are in mothers comment section

logansargeant: good looking pups there!

charles_leclerc: it must be the season for new pets!

↳user15: ok but this seems desperate?

↳user16: oh I’m glad I’m not the only one to sense this

↳charles_leclerc: non! It is called shooting your shot!

↳user15: reads like desperation tbh

↳maxverstappen1: ha

↳charles_leclerc: I don’t think I like you anymore

↳user15: I’m not sure who you’re talking too or who should be more offended

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, estebanocon and 13,297,934 others

y/n: We lie awake in love and in fear, in turmoil and in tears. We stare at walls and drink until they speak back. We twist in our self-made cages and pray that we aren’t — right this minute — about to make some fateful life-altering mistake.

This is a collection of music written in the middle of the night, a journey through terrors and sweet dreams. The floors we pace and the demons we face. For all of us who have tossed and turned and decided to keep the lanterns lit and go searching — hoping that just maybe, when the clocks strike twelve…we’ll meet ourselves.

Midnights, the story of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout my life, is yours now. Meet me at midnight

view all comments

user16: what??? Like what??

user17: did she seriously just drop a surprise album on us?????

↳user18: miss ma’am mother i know that the album is called midnight but that does NOt mean you have to drop it at midnight! I have classes tomorrow!

maxverstappen1: vigilante shit is on repeat!

↳redbullracing: we can confirm this ✅

↳charles_leclerc: bejeweled is where it’s at actually

↳scuderiaferrari: excuse us while we grab our rhinestones

↳maxverstappen1: it’s ok to admit you’re wrong.

↳charles_leclerc: I’m glad you’re being truthful!

↳maxverstappen1: 😑😑😑

user19: ok but mastermind??? What kind of groundwork are you laying girl??

↳user20: right??? She’s been writing love songs for years and there’s still nothing about who they’re for

↳user21: for real!!! She’s come out about a lot of her songs — illicit affair about yourbff and back to December being about yoursister — but she’s Never! Said anything about who the love songs are about!

↳user19: I’m convinced she’s in a long term relationship and they’re all about her partner!

↳user20: user53 your help is needed rn!

↳user53: oh god not again

↳user19: when im right im gonna laugh in your face

↳user53: uh huh sure you will

alex_albon: do we have to pick a favorite?? Can’t we just play it on repeat in it’s entirety?

↳lilymhe: we absolutely will be doing that

↳logansargeant: really? The entirety??

↳alex_albon: for someone who tried to say you were her biggest fan, this is disappointing behavior

↳lilymhe: it really is

↳logansargeant: 🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♂️

↳logansargeant: 🤣

oscarpiastri: my sisters have been screaming at me since it dropped

↳logansargeant: oops. Sorry about that man — know how that feels

↳hattiepiastri: we! need! a! signed! copy!

↳oscarpiastri: I thought you were just into kpop?

↳hattiepiastri: mom! nicolepiastri Oscar is being mean!

↳oscarpiastri: low blow.

↳hattiepiastri: 🤨🥺

↳oscarpiastri: …I’ll see what I can do

↳user19: 🧐🧐🧐

landonorris: I don’t know which one to choose as a favorite…

↳oscarpiastri: oh no

↳landonorris: which means all of them are!

↳oscarpiastri: does this mean…

↳carlossainz55: he will be singing the entire album at the top of his lungs, yes

↳danielricciardo: it won’t be good singing but it will be consistent

↳oscarpiastri: no

↳carlossainz55: yes

↳danielricciardo: yup

↳landonorris: go away muppets! Leave me and y/n and her album alone

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,294,278 others

logansargeant: always a great feeling being back home — even better with new friends

view all comments

user22: new puppy??? Winter break did Logan good this year!

alex_albon: you didn’t tell me you got a new dog!

↳logansargeant: haha it’s technically not mine but sorry!

↳alex_albon: you got a new dog and didn’t tell me!! Me!!

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

↳lilymhe: he’s pacing right now, he’s in distress

↳logansargeant: sorry not sorry

↳logansargeant: would a visit with him help?

↳alex_albon: it is literally the least you could do

↳logansargeant: 😂 he’ll be at Miami

↳alex_albon: good!

user23: ummm?? Could I take the place of the puppy???

user24: I’m?? Jealous? Of a dog…

↳user25: big mood

↳used24: this is not where I predicted my life would be 10 years ago…

↳user25: no one ever does.

user19: am I gonna be attacked if I say something?

↳user53: potentially

↳user19: do you just have me on notifications??

↳user26: we alert them every time we see you post

↳user26: you scare us

↳user19: just because I’m always right doesn’t mean I’m scary

↳user53: ok let’s take it to dms.

↳user19: buckle up then buddy cause I’ve got it all printed out

↳user26: user53 is a real one 🫡 taking it for team

↳user19: 😡😡😡

↳user53: user19 come on. Explain your newest conspiracy

not_y/n: what a cutie! And he looks so well behaved

↳not_logan: why thank you!

↳not_oscar: gross guys. Keep it to yourselves please and thank you

↳not_y/n: why?? Want me to call you a good boy too??

↳not_logan: absolutely not!

↳not_oscar: eww 🤢 you’re solidly in the sister category and this is not game of thrones

↳not_y/n: 😜

↳not_y/n: speaking of — hotd season 1 binge before Miami?

↳not_logan: yes!

↳not_oscar: yes! — L

↳not_oscar: i guess that it’s a yes from us

y/n

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 16,294,923 others

y/n:

What keeps you up at night?

It’s a momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.

3am is different from midnight — the sky is ever darker and the thoughts even more haunting. Things that would keep you up at one don’t at the other.

Midnights: the 3am edition is yours now

view all comments

user27: why? Would? You? Do? This? To? Me?? I just barely got over midnights?? And now I have to listen to 3am??

oscarpiastri: again? Didn’t we just go through this 2 weeks ago?

↳landonorris: WOOOO!

↳oscarpiastri: oh no 😥

↳logansargeant: you could show some enthusiasm? You’ve definitely said she’s one of your favorite artists before

↳oscarpiastri: she is. Lando’s version of her? Not so much

↳landonorris: so rude!

↳carlossainz55: I think it might be a self defense mechanism

↳danielricciardo: gotta save those eardrums somehow

↳landonorris: 😡😡

danielricciardo: Paris baby!

↳user28: I knew you were a man of taste!

↳yukitsunoda0511: he’s really not. The Great War is superior

↳danielricciardo: you wish

user29: ok but would’ve, could’ve, should’ve??

↳lilymhe: karma is still the superior song

↳alex_albon: bigger than the whole sky? Did you miss that song?

↳lilymhe: we’re breaking up. I can’t be with someone who’s top song isn’t karma

↳user29: sorry but you’re both wrong 🤷🏼‍♂️

user19: Paris???? Are you kidding me!??!? And The Great War?!??

↳user53: I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath

↳user19: I told you!

↳user53: yes you did. And, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m starting to believe you

↳user30: who are you and what happened to user53?

↳user53: I don’t know man. I don’t know

↳user53: however user19 might be on to something here…

↳user19: MIGHT?!?

↳user19: just you wait!

y/n_nation

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 19,294,923 others

y/n_nation: pack your backs and get your tickets! Coming to a city near you, the Eras Tour is a journey through y/n’s decade long music career!

Starting in Miami, Opening Night is Monday, May 6…more

view all comments

user30: YES!!!

↳user31: omg omg omg omg!!!!

danielricciardo: already planning on it!

↳maxverstappen1: so lucky that opening day is immediately after the Miami GP!

↳danielricciardo: exactly! It’ll be nice to spend a few extra days in Florida!

↳user19: yes so lucky…

oscarpiastri: on the one hand I think my sisters would kill me if we didn’t go for opening night…on the other hand I don’t know if I can do a live show with Lando…

↳logansargeant: maybe you’ll get lucky and have separate seating?

↳oscarpiastri: one could only hope…

↳landonorris: you frickin muppets

↳hattiepiastri: seriously???

↳oscarpiastri: will work on it

↳hattiepiastri: yes!!

alex_albon: suddenly i feel like the garages will have a lot of extra guests…

↳lilymhe: what do you mean? I always planned on going to Miami!

↳alex_albon: does always mean 20 minutes?

↳carmenmmundt: it does actually!

↳georgerussell63: since when?

↳francisca.cgomes: for about the last 20 minutes!

↳pierregasly: hint received

↳francisca.cgomes: 🤭

user32: ok i need to be at opening night now…

↳user33: right? The chance to see all these drivers in person?

↳user32: AND to see y/n perform live?!? Dream come true

charles_leclerc: I am ready to fight the Ticketmaster

↳alexandrasaintmleux: yay!

↳user34: oh to have Charles leclerc fight Ticketmaster for you…

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,214,223 others

logansargeant: last minute dates before the season starts

view all comments

user35: who? What? Where? When?

↳user36: A GIRLFRIEND?!??!!? SINCE WHEN????

alex_albon: first you get a dog and don’t tell me and now you have a whole ass GIRLFRIEND AND DIDNT TELL ME???? Where is the team loyalty?

↳logansargeant: …we’ve been together longer then I’ve been your teammate?

↳user37: what?? HOW LONG?

↳alex_albon: exactly! HOW LONG???

↳logansargeant: just over 10 years now

↳alex_albon: you were a baby?

↳logansargeant: I was nearly 14?

↳alex_albon: a baby!!

oscarpiastri: tell her to answer her texts

↳logansargeant: she said she’s on a strict no phone policy

↳oscarpiastri: I can see her on her phone right now

↳logansargeant: “oh it’s exclusively against Australians who mocked my cooking attempts”

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑😑

↳oscarpiastri: whatever she made IT WAS NOT BANANA BREAD

↳logansargeant: “but you didn’t have to laugh at me!”

↳alex_albon: the Australian knows???

↳oscarpiastri: there are levels here albon. Gotta get on my level — childhood best friends

jensonbutton: you’ve never mentioned you had a girl, kid

↳logansargeant: ok but to be fair you’ve never asked?

↳jensonbutton: and you’ve never introduced us?

↳logansargeant: she supports from a distance — she also travels a lot for work

↳jensonbutton: kid…

↳alex_albon: DOES ANYONE BUT THE AUSTRALIAN KNOW??

↳oscarpiastri: my family knows

↳alex_albon: Logan…

↳logansargeant:😂

user38: that Florida sun does something amazing for Logan!

↳user39: is it the sun or is it the girl??

↳logansargeant: it’s not the girl

↳logansargeant: it’s my girl

↳user39: I am literally swooning right now good lord

user19: user53! I told you

↳user53: …yeah ok

↳user40: user19 I need the timeline I need the proof I need the receipts

↳user19: I’ve got you!

Bluesky

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 8,923,924 others

tagged: y/n, y/n_nation

f1: it’s time to be fearless! Miss Americana will be performing the National Anthem at the Miami GP the day before the start of her Eras tour!

view all comments

user41: oh my god!!! I get to see her twice???

↳user42: seriously??? I’m so jealous

↳user41: I don’t know which gods blessed me but I managed to get tickets to both!!

↳user42: you know I heard it’s good to sleep with your windows open…

maxverstappen1: y/n the Redbull Garage would gladly welcome you!

↳redbullracing: absolutely! You Belong With Us!

↳user43: …is the redbull admin playing wingman for max?

↳redbullracing: the grind never stops

↳maxverstappen1: thanks admin

↳user43: gotta respect that I guess

landonorris: I think papaya is more your color y/n!

↳user44: I think she might prefer a winner actually

↳user44: you know to match her 3 album of the year’s

↳landonorris: ok i let stand the bullying from my friends and teammates

↳landonorris: but im not gonna stand for it from you

williamsracing: i think we could have The Best Day with you and your fellow American y/n!

↳logansargeant: hey what?

↳alex_albon: that’s it? Gonna need more enthusiasm from the guy who “claims” he’s the biggest fan

↳lilymhe: yeah! Show off your American spirit

↳logansargeant: caw caw 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅

↳y/n: stunning show

↳lilymhe: 🤯🤯

user49: did…did she just…

↳user50: respond to Logan Sargeant? Yeah

↳user49: ohmygod

scuderiaferrari: I do believe Red is your color y/n

↳charles_leclerc: we look best in Red here!

↳carlossainz55: and we have ice cream!

↳charles_leclerc: yes! Custom ice cream just for you

↳alexandrasaintmleux: and we’ll even have a puppy if you’d like a puppy play date!

↳charles_leclerc: yes leo is very well behaved

↳user51: the desperation stinks all up in here

user52: i am living for all the garages trying to get y/n to join them for the weekend

↳user54: my favorite part is the desperation coming from the drivers

↳user54: silly vroom vroom guys and gals thinking they could shoot their shot with y/n… liked by not_y/n

Private Messages

y/n_gossip

Be the first to like

y/n_gossip: breaking! Coming from unknown sources are apparently leaked photos from y/n’s private phone.

My questions are how was she hacked and who is the guy!

Be the first to comment

Private Messages

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، kiss me , you idiot ،، ⌇ 민규

─────────────────────────────────────────

" are we dating now , or do i still need to bribe you with food to hang out with me ? " .ᐟ 🫙

pairing .ᐟ bestfriend-now-boyfriend!mingyu × fem!reader genre .ᐟ childhood best friends to lovers au , same mess yet lil sweeter word count .ᐟ 1.3k song rec. .ᐟ ─

note .ᐟ witness this , not experiences it . 😞🖐🏻

─────────────────────────────────────────

Mingyu stood in front of Y/N’s door, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. He'd been here a thousand times before, so why was his heart racing like a middle schooler about to confess for the first time?

Maybe because, in a way, he was.

Y/N had been his best friend since childhood—the one who used to push him off swings, steal his food, and tease him relentlessly for being taller than everyone else. Their friendship was pure chaos from the start, and that never changed as they grew up. If anything, it only got worse. But somewhere along the line, Mingyu started noticing little things. Like the way his heart beat faster when Y/N laughed at his jokes or the pang of jealousy he felt when she talked about other guys. And the kicker? He realized that he didn’t just love Y/N as a best friend—he was in love with her.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. Before he could second-guess his entire life, the door flung open, and there she was, grinning mischievously. "Late as usual, Kim Mingyu."

"I’m literally three minutes early!" he protested, stepping inside her apartment. He couldn’t help but smile, though. This was their thing—bantering, teasing, and laughing their way through life. He loved it. And he was about to ruin it all by admitting he liked her.

"You ready for movie night?" Y/N asked, bouncing onto the couch and kicking her feet up. She tossed him the remote like it was a reflex.

"Actually..." Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about something first."

Y/N paused, the grin fading just a little. "Uh-oh, serious face. Should I be worried?"

"No, no. Well, maybe? I don't know." Mingyu was making this worse, wasn’t he? He took a deep breath, sitting down beside her. "You know how we've always... had this, uh, thing?"

"What thing?" she teased, clearly not sensing the gravity of the situation.

"This... chaotic, fun thing between us." He waved his hands in the air, trying to find the right words. "But also, I’ve realized it’s not just chaotic and fun for me anymore. It’s more."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful confusion. "More like what? Are you saying you want to rob a bank together? Or maybe start a prank war?"

Mingyu huffed, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle. Leave it to Y/N to make even his serious moments feel like a joke. "No, I’m saying..." He inhaled sharply. "I like you, Y/N. Like, really like you. More than just friends."

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Y/N blinked at him, her usual quick-wittedness seemingly gone for the first time in their long friendship.

"Oh," she finally said, breaking the stillness.

Mingyu’s heart sank. "Oh?"

"No, I mean—" Y/N suddenly burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "You... you were so nervous! You looked like you were about to explode!" She reached over, ruffling his hair like she always did when teasing him.

Mingyu’s mouth dropped open. "Wait. You're... laughing? I just confessed to you!"

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress her laughter, but she was failing miserably. "Mingyu, you dork. I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle," she said, grinning. "I've noticed for a while now. You think I wouldn’t catch on to the way you blush whenever I tease you? Or how you always seem extra flustered when I call you cute?"

Mingyu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I was waiting for you to figure it out and tell me, obviously," Y/N replied matter-of-factly, still smirking. "Besides, it’s way more fun watching you squirm."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe this."

"Hey, at least now it's out in the open," Y/N said, pulling his hands away from his face. Her tone softened, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that made Mingyu’s heart flip. "And, for the record, I like you too."

Mingyu’s brain short-circuited. "Wait, what?"

She smiled softly, this time without the teasing edge. "Yeah. I like you, you big idiot. I’ve liked you for a while."

"You could've told me," he said, still trying to process what was happening. His heart was hammering in his chest, a mix of disbelief and joy.

Y/N shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

He stared at her for a beat before his lips curled into a grin. "So... what now?"

"Now," Y/N said, sitting back against the couch, "we continue our usual chaos. Except now we get to kiss and be all gross and couple-y too."

Mingyu laughed, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"And you're stuck with me," Y/N replied, poking his side. "Now, come here and let me give you your first official couple smooch."

Before Mingyu could react, Y/N had pulled him in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his lips. It was so casual, like something they'd done a million times before, but it sent his heart soaring all the same.

"So," he said, pulling back slightly, "does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want now?"

"Within reason," she teased, poking his chest. "Don’t go overboard, Kim Mingyu. We still have a movie to watch."

But Mingyu had other plans. With a mischievous grin, he leaned in again, this time capturing her lips in a deeper kiss. It wasn’t just playful now; it was soft, sweet, and filled with all the feelings he’d been bottling up for months.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N's cheeks were pink, and she looked slightly flustered—a rare sight. "Okay," she breathed, "maybe you can kiss me a little more than I thought."

Mingyu laughed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "See? Told you it’s better when we’re a couple."

"Debatable," Y/N shot back, but the smile on her face told him she didn’t really mean it.

Over the next few weeks, their relationship didn’t change much. They still bickered, teased each other relentlessly, and pulled pranks like they always had. The only difference now was the added sweetness—the way Mingyu would wrap his arm around her waist as they walked, or how Y/N would absentmindedly reach for his hand while they were talking. It was chaotic, but it worked. It was them.

One evening, they were at a friend’s housewarming party, and as usual, chaos ensued. Mingyu and Y/N were being their usual loud selves, debating over something trivial—this time, it was about who could make a better spaghetti carbonara.

"I'm telling you, you put way too much garlic in it!" Y/N said, waving her hands around dramatically.

"It’s called flavor, Y/N. Ever heard of it?" Mingyu shot back, rolling his eyes.

Their friends were used to their antics by now, but someone asked, "Do you guys ever fight about anything real? Or is it all just spaghetti and who can prank better?"

Mingyu and Y/N exchanged a glance before bursting out laughing. "We don’t really fight," Y/N said between giggles. "But if we ever did, I’d win. Obviously."

"You wish," Mingyu said, pulling her into a side hug, his voice dripping with playful affection.

"You guys are disgustingly cute," their friend groaned, shaking their head.

"Well, it’s either this or complete chaos," Mingyu replied, grinning down at Y/N. "And trust me, you don’t want the chaos."

Y/N elbowed him in the ribs, laughing as he feigned injury. "Ow, see? She’s violent!"

"Only when necessary," Y/N said with a wink, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Mingyu beamed, pulling her closer. He never thought falling for his best friend could feel this... right. It was the same chaos, the same playfulness, but now it came with a sweetness that made his heart feel full.

And as long as he had Y/N by his side—whether they were fighting over spaghetti or teasing each other about literally anything—he was more than happy to be caught in the mess.

[munsster]

road trip (trope bingo)

A/N: thought i might try this format out. also introducing a new face to my tumblr repertoire. i’ve written marvel before, just never on this site. enjoy!! (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You think Bucky is shallow for rejecting a pretty stranger in North Dakota. Little do you know. 1.6k words

Warnings: fluff, dummies not talking about their feelings, pet names (doll), slight angst but resolved, perhaps mutual pinging, a really good hug, playful bullying, cursing

"Ooh, she's cute."

You've been doing this for over an hour. He's downed at least four coffees by now. And the worst part is you call it finding a suitable mate. But he's just not interested in the women you're scouting for him at a rest stop a few miles out from Fargo, North Dakota. He would've just left, gone and sat in the truck, but he'd feel bad leaving you rambling to yourself when you're the one paying for this meal.

"Come on, Buck, you're no fun," you huff, dropping your spoon into the thick mug now emptied of hot cocoa.

"You're right. Can we go now?" He starts to slide out of his seat when you scoff. He goes still like a deer in headlights. This should be fun.

"James Buchanan, you're telling me none of the lovely ladies in this diner tickle your fancy? Not even third barstool? She's tall, Buck, like... model tall," you suggest with your brows raised.

"I'm not... we're in North Dakota, you think that's what I'm lookin' for?"

"Just one date! You wouldn't take her on one, single date? The little bar across the street seems sensible, why not?"

"Um—"

"Tell meee," you whine, leaning over the sticky, vinyl tablecloth with a pout.

He shrugs. "Not my type."

"Bullshit. She's everybody's type. She's my type, Bucky. Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

"I'm not interested."

You pull a face like you're offended on her behalf. Bucky rolls his eyes and wishes you'd drop it.

"Oh, I get it," you say. Leaned back, arms stretched across the length of the seat, you huff and glare at him. "You think you're too good for her, huh? Just 'cause she's a North Dakota ten, and you're a Brooklyn eight, you think that makes you better, don't you?"

"What? An eight?" he mumbles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, you men gross me out sometimes. Massive egos, teensy little brains," you say, slapping a twenty on the table and standing with a vicious squint. "Well, let me learn you something, James"—you loom over him and poke your pointer finger at his chest—"you're shallow, and you're no better than her. You prob'ly couldn't take her out if you wanted to. Goodnight."

You huff and walk away, but he chuckles and calls after you: "It's noon, doll." Flipping him off, you march out into the parking lot. He considers the woman for a moment. You called him a Brooklyn eight. She's pretty, he'll admit, but he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't interested. Bucky's seen the far stretches of the Earth, which means he's seen women of all forms. Accountants and soldiers from all over, all professions, all languages. All beautiful. But nothing intrigues him quite as much as you do.

...

"Did you ask her out, or are you choosing to remain a coward?" You've got your boots propped on the dashboard, the truck bumbling eighty down the highway. An emery board swipes back and forth at your middle fingernail as you snap your bubblegum.

"Come on, doll, play nice. We're leavin' anyway, didn't want to hurt her feelings," he grumbles.

"Tough. Doesn't make you any less of a pussy, Barnes."

You flick the nail file at his cheek and drop your feet heavily on the hot car mat. You called him a Brooklyn eight. You cringe at the remembrance while Bucky revels in it. He even grinned stupid all the way back to the parking lot. To himself, but still. He hates how deep under his skin you are. He hates how he likes the itch.

His tongue twists with all the things he could have said. He should have said. But he grips the steering wheel tight and drives till you cross the border into Minnesota.

"Wanna go anywhere before Wisconsin? They've got... lakes here," he shyly suggests, voice soft, hoping you'll just ignore him and turn up the radio. He doesn't think you'll ever ignore him, even if he did prefer it.

"Only if I could push you into one of them."

"Listen, kid—"

"Kid? That's great, Bucky. It's getting dark, why don't we just find a motel." You cross your arms. The cold is getting to you. Even in a down jacket and two pairs of pants. It gets like that up north.

He does what you tell him because the last thing he needs is for you to hold another grudge against him. This one's quaint, so he gets the last double available, chuckling nervously when the older woman at the front desk mistakes you for a married couple.

"Sure you don't want a single, honey? Not gettin' any kids outta separate beds—"

"Nope—thanks, miss—that's—double is fine, double's perfect, thanks," he huffs. You chuckle.

She gives a rolling, belly laugh, head tossed back as she croaks, "Won't file any noise complaints against youse! Have a fun night."

"Geez, she was great," you sigh, still smiling from the ridiculous interaction. You flop face down onto the bed closest to the window, rattling the ice from the crevices in your boots. It crunches to the floor and you wriggle out of your coat as Bucky locks himself into the pale yellow bathroom.

He starts mumbling from the other side of the door, so you sit up and toe your boots onto the floor with a thud. Digging your fingertips into the edge of the hastily tucked sheets, you stare at a wine stain in the middle of the beige carpet. At least it smells nice in here. Even if half the lights are out, and cable doesn't come through clear enough to watch.

You find yourself, cheek pressed to the door, eyes wide as you listen through the flimsy wood.

"I don't think so, Steve. No, listen, it's like... beyond repair. She wouldn't take an apology even if I knew what i was sorry for—no—she's way too good for me, I can't do that to her."

Still moping over women found in North Dakota's lowest rated diners? That's highly unlike him. But even Bucky's a wildcard six-thousand miles into a roadtrip. You press closer, chewing your lip and closing your eyes.

"No, no, everything—this stuff's easier for you, pal, you don't get it, 'kay? I'm just saying... I mean, even a stranger thought we were married"—What—"has to mean something, right? Even strangers are realizing... there's something... there. I just don't want to accidentally—no, I know, not like that, I mean...well, I like her a lot and I don't want it to scare her—"

You back up slightly, hands held in front of you like surrender. Not out of fear, but realization. That's why he didn't ask her out. Or even fish for her number. Because—

You hit the floor with a thump.

"Steve. I gotta go."

The door whips open and floods the room with warm light. You scramble to your feet.

"Were you... I was just talking to... Did you hear any of that?"

You shake your head. He shoves his hands into the shallow pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," he says with a nod, "good." He blows hot air out of his mouth and runs a swift hand through his hair. But he doesn't meet your eyes. Like a little kid so terrified of fibbing that he'd rather swim deeper into the abyss than float to the surface. Can't catch his damn breath around here.

"So..."

"Goodnight, Bucky!" you chirp, turning on your heel with a whoosh of air. And he stops you in your tracks, hand on your bicep. You don't turn back around, stuck staring at the foot of your bed.

"Doll," he whispers, roped up by fear and a pinch of self-pity. Attending his own funeral with a sick smile on his face. "Just how much did you hear."

You spin on the balls of your feet, going hot in the face, fueled by the electricity at his fingertips. "A lot."

"Oh."

You nod and try your best non-psychotic smile. "Sorry."

"No, no... don't be," he says, trying his own. So you're just a couple of smirking idiots at a stalemate in a stale motel room. A couple of idiots with feelings for each other. Unresolved feelings. Unspoken, too.

"I actually—could I?" You point behind him into the cramped bathroom, and he lets go of you like it's his last move before you put him in check. Before he has to hand you the game. Though, he'd do that in a heartbeat. Every game of his is yours. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shuts his eyes when you close the door with a calculated tenderness. Like you don't want to frazzle his poor heart.

But then why would you open the door again? Why would you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back? Why would you make it all so much worse and spread your fingers over his abdomen, taking a deep breath when he runs his hand down your forearm and turns to face you. Then you melt with his strong arms holding you thisclose.

"Like you a lot, too, Barnes. You're just a big dunce a lot of the time. But that's like... half the draw or whatever," you mumble into his shoulder. And you've never been this close, and he thinks he could pass out. Become a chalk outline in a dusty motel in Minnesota. But if it happened like this, he'd be okay with that statistic.

marvel masterlist

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

-

-

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the��”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

-

tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[moonyswoony]

Heart of the cleanse

Pairing: five hargreeves x reader

Summary: with the Keepers hot on your tail and the Cleanse raging, you and Five realise some things can’t say hidden forever.

Warning(s): making out, you and five being stupid.

You and Five had always made one hell of a team, your powers complimenting his abilities. While he blinked in and out of space, taking out enemies with surgical precision, you used your telekinesis to clear paths, shield him from objects, and hurl the occasional chunk of concrete at anyone who got too close. It was dangerous, chaotic, and more than a little terrifying, but it was also familiar. This was how it had always been, ever since you’d first met at the Commission all those years ago.

“Could you maybe try not to drop a building on me?” Five called over his shoulder, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he narrowly avoided a collapsing wall.

“Maybe if you didn’t keep blinking in front of the buildings I’m trying to drop on the Keepers,we wouldn’t have this problem!” you shot back, grinning despite the tension.

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the glimmer of amusement in his expression before he teleported away again. The banter was comforting, a slice of normalcy in the middle of the chaos. But even as you fought, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded and the way your breath hitched whenever he was in danger.

The truth was, you’d been holding onto these feelings for years, since your days at the Commission, when you’d been nothing more than coworkers thrown together by circumstance. Back then, you told yourself it was nothing, just the bond forged between two people who had each other’s backs in the worst situations. But now, as the world threatened to end, those feelings were becoming impossible to ignore.

As you blasted another chunk of concrete away with a wave of your hand, you realized that this might be your last chance to say something, If you even survived this. But there was no time for confessions, not yet. The Cleanse was intensifying, and you could feel the energy crackling in the air, making your skin prickle with unease. Five appeared beside you again, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“We need to get to the source of the cleanse,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Whatever’s causing the Cleanse, it’s at the center of the city. We have to stop it.”

You nodded, the seriousness of the situation pulling you back to the present. “Right. Let’s go.”

The two of you fought your way through the chaos, moving in perfect sync, just as you always had. But as you got closer to the center, you could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken weight that neither of you could ignore for much longer.

Finally, you reached the heart of the city, where the energy was strongest, and the ground was shaking beneath your feet. The air was thick with power, and you could feel the strain in every fiber of your being. Five stood beside you, his eyes scanning the destruction, searching for a way to stop it. But there was something else in his expression too, something that made your heart skip a beat.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no noise, no destruction, just the two of you standing together in the midst of it all, just like you always did. “I can’t lose you,” he said suddenly, his voice rough with emotion. “Not now. Not after everything.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d always known that there was something between you, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You won’t,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Five. Not without you.”

His jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’ve spent my whole life running—through time, from the Commission, from everything. But not from you. Never from you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “Five…”

Before you could say anything else, he was kissing you.

You kissed him back with everything you had, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed your body against his. The world was falling apart around you, but all you could think about was him. His lips, his touch, the way he made you feel like nothing else mattered. The heat between you was overwhelming, like an all consuming fire.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping under your shirt to trace patterns across your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you arched into his touch, needing more, wanting everything.

His mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver with desire. Your hands reached the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him completely.

The kiss grew more intense, more heated, as the world around you faded into oblivion. The only thing that existed was the two of you, tangled together in a desperate, passionate embrace that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere all at once, touching, caressing, exploring every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough.

You moaned his name, your voice shaky with desire as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together so tightly that you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest. He groaned in response, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was so deep, so intense, that it felt like you were drowning in him.

But even in the midst of the heat and the passion, there was a tenderness to his touch, a carefulness that told you everything you needed to know. This wasn’t just about lust, desperation or fear, this was about love, pure and simple. A love that had been building for years, silent but also loud, unspoken but always there , waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

And now, as the world threatened to end, that love was the only thing that mattered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, both of you panting. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too, something deeper.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. “I love you, Five. I think I always have.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as if he was trying to hold back his own emotions. When he opened them again, they were filled with a fierce determination that took your breath away. “I love you too,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And I’m not going to lose you. Not now, not ever.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart bursting with love for the man standing in front of you. “Then let’s put a stop to this,” you said, your voice steady, filled with a determination. “Together.”

He nodded, his hand squeezing yours one last time before you both turned back to the chaos that awaited you. The world was still falling apart, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything.

With one last kiss, a promise of everything that was to come, you and Five launched into action, fighting side by side, just as you always had.

[jinxed-newyork]

SMOKE & FOG

0.2 The Last Drop

pairing: jinx x reader (romantic), reader x Isha (siblings), reader x Sevika (platonic) 

synopsis: Your injury has led you to the one person you swore you could never trust again. A traitor who has never brought you any good and only harm decides to patch you up but with any good deed comes a price. The only question is will this lead to your sister or just more terror? 

word count: 4.8k

warnings: unreliable narrator (reader), morally gray actions from narrator (reader), villainous activity, murder, oppression, mistreatment, blood & gore, hurt/comfort, drugs & drug use, PTSD, canon violence, suggestive themes, angst, (arcane season 2) spoilers, cursing, fighting, mental illnesses, degrading language towards characters and about characters, indirect Maddie Nolan slander, Caitlyn Kiramman slander 

A/N ; most underlined things have a song that go with them that I highly reccommend you listen to , to get the feel/vibe of what's happening ! the same thing applies for the first chapter but I forgot to tell you . also you guys should send me requests for other things you wanna see me write about while you're waiting on a new chapter.

My legs could only carry me so far, my stomach felt like my insides were seconds away from spilling out. The blood dribbling down my arm made a path no matter where I went, it was sickening, like a retelling of my crimes even though I couldn't remember them. I could hear their cries and screams in the back of my head, but not what led up to them. Grown men’s cries of pain and sorrow wasn’t something that I was used to, I was always the one in pain, the one being kicked into the ground and abused until that got their sick fill of my defeat. I couldn’t cough up any blood, the injury wasn’t deep enough to ruin me but it still felt like it was. I was so worried about Isha but I could feel my body starting to slow, I could feel myself losing it ever so slowly, I went to the only place that I could find. The Last Drop.

This used to be a place of solace and safety, one ran by Vander, the symbol of peace in this lowly town, no matter what he would always be able to cheer you up and now it was overrun by Silco’s old men however one of them was my saving grace. “Sevika!” A tortured cry escaped my throat along with her name. She had to be here, I couldn't hold myself up any longer so she said had to be here. “SEVIKA!” My voice cracked, every octave I never thought possible, my body fell from the wall, the only strength I had was to hold my injury from bleeding anymore.

A gold and brown boot fell into my vision but I couldn’t even lift my head up for a simple greeting, instead I fell flat on my face, I felt warm– is this what dying truly is? It’s so lifeless, my life didn’t flash before my eyes, I didn’t regret every decision I’ve ever made or see some bright light, I was wondering who was gonna take care of Isha while I was gone. Who was gonna make sure you ate every night and made sure she got home in one piece, who was gonna keep her away from Smeech while I couldn't, who was going to replace me because I was too weak to stay alive and help. 

My eyes opened drearily, the first thing gracing my vision was an unpeeled orange. Oranges are actually my favorite fruit, one of the only good things that people stole from topsiders besides equipment was fresh fruit. Everything in the underground was just a remake of something from topsiders, food that was already on someone else’s plate, clothes that were already on someone else’s back but fresh fruit was the one thing we had and it was delicious. Sure it wasn’t as great as sugary treats or drinks that I was sure all the topsider brats got to have on a daily basis but it meant something.

My hands immediately reached for it, splitting it open down the middle and taking a piece off of the side before letting it into my mouth. This could have been poisoned but I would have died a happy person, because who gives a shit? Within a moment of tasting the sweetness of the fruit, reality hit me like a train– I was bleeding out in the middle of the Last Drop and now I’m.. where the hell am I? This wasn’t the Last Drop, or the back rooms where Vi, Powder and little man used to be, I envied them, every kid in Zaun did. Those little shits got away with murder and Vander always protected them, he was a savior, everyone loved him. All I could do was sigh at the memory of Vander and the others whenever we were younger, Powder reminded me so much of my little Isha, even though she was just a baby, an infant, they were so similar. Not anymore. 

Powder was long gone, so was Vi and Mylo and Claggor and Little Man, every single one of them was gone. Even though “powder” was still in Zaun, she wasn’t truly the same. This wasn’t my concern, I needed to figure out where the hell I was. The air felt thin, a weird greenish color and it was near toxic. Inhaling it felt like I was swallowing sandpaper, my throat was closing up and every cough I hacked out was painful, my eyes were barely able to see through the clearing and I was met with the sight of enforcers, through the clearing all I could see were enforcers. A whole group of them, however one I could recognize without even thinking about it. Caitlyn Kiramman.

A gun raised as she explored the foreign territory and her lackeys followed in suit, they were actually terrifying, all of them, gas masks covering their guilty faces, the swoosh of hair just barely escaping their helmets. A shield plate covering their chest from any harm and yet everyone else down here was stuck with no armor, no masks, no weapons but they were raiding a place that looked similar to an arcade– a child’s place. How worse could they get?  How worse would they be if they catch me? I caught a glimpse, a small glimmer of blue hair, a braid running from the shadow but it escaped my vision long before I could actually see it. I couldn’t worry about this, whether or not that's who I assumed it was, I needed to get out of there immediately. My stomach was still in knots of pain but I still ran, I couldn’t be in there. The last thing I heard was a singular shot let off but my body went in the opposite direction. 

Half an hour later I was stuck with half an orange, two full vials of shimmer and no sister in sight. I was too close to our house to keep the shimmer on me, it wasn’t like my job was a secret to Isha but I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t even know if the shimmer was still in my system, two whole vials of it had gone down the drain or rather injected itself into my skin and I couldn’t even feel it or remember what happened but I knew it was there, I could feel the buzzing under my fingertips. It was a dormant sensation waiting to be reawakened with every step I took but I couldn’t allow it to over take me. “Isha! Isha, I’m home!” I shouldered off my jacket, a hand rubbing over the bandage around my mid area in the cracked mirror. Weak Freak. Blighter. Bitch.

I held my head in my hands, the headache brewing over the cynical thoughts running through my mind, I saw him, the debt collector I killed. I saw him in my mind and behind me in the mirror but whipping around only led to air and the agitation of my headache even more. It was starting to turn more into a migraine, even the lights would irritate me, I couldn’t open my eyes without the lights burning them and my head screamed at me. “Your fault! It’s your fault that I’m dead! You know that right, blighter?” “Shut up!” As the silence finally fell, I remembered my reality, no one was in the house but me, not Isha, or the debt collector or enforcers. Just me. “God fucking damn it, I’m losing my shit.” 

I didn’t remember passing out, I didn’t even remember making it to the scratched up couch that we owned and yet that’s what I woke up on and to my surprise my sister was in the very same room as me, crouched on the floor with scuffs on her face and hands. Rushing over, I stooped down to her level, brushing the caked up dirt out of her hair and dust off of her face. She looked like she had taken a tumble beyond comparison but she was smiling and giggling like an idiot. Her hat was covered in small drawings all over it, pink, blue, yellow and purple streaks of colors splayed all over it, what the hell? “What happened to you? Where have you been?” She completely ignored my question, glazed over eyes as she asked about my whereabouts– signing it, I had to see her dusty and fragile hands ask about where I had been and why I was injured, I couldn’t admit to my sister that I was selling again and I definitely couldn’t say that I had probably killed six people. “Smeech, I pissed him off and we both know that doesn’t end well but I’m fine. It’s a small injury, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” She frowned, not believing any of my bullshit by a long shot but I tried. I took the hat off of her head, examining it closer, wiping off the small bits of dust that remained.

She shook her head at me, complained that it was purely nothing, it was hilarious how much sass a little girl could have with her hands and facial expressions alone, honestly impressive. I didn’t want to leave her side anymore, I couldn’t after the scare today. I was afraid to even go back and sell, Smeech would want revenge for the debt collectors I may or may not have killed, I still couldn’t recall correctly if that was me. Fuck. I let out a hiss at the memory of me ditching the vials right outside the house, some random mainliner was gonna grab them, that wasn’t the concern to me but if they overdosed on my shimmer then Smeech would know and all hell would rain down like hail as he slowly started fitting the pieces together. An image of Isha being dragged away from me, kicking and screaming, fighting like all hell because she was my sister but still losing, I couldn’t take the sight, my head was hurting, basically killing me, there was no way I could let that happen.

I returned the hat to her head, squishing it down enough to cover her eyes as a joke waiting as she pushed it back up with an unagitated glare. “We don’t have any food for tonight, so I’m gonna go get some, alright? I just need to make a little bit more money and there will be enough for both of us..” I sucked in a breath as I looked at her. “If I can’t make enough for two then you can get whatever you want, alright? I’ll be right back, shouldn’t be wrong.” Her small frame ran towards my leg, launching herself onto me and not letting go even whenever I tried to shake her off like a bug. “Isha! Isha! Come on, you gotta let me go! I gotta go!” I would never yell at her, more groans of annoyance at a normal tone, one of her hands released its grasp to sign to me once again. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise.” Gods, this little girl, she was gonna be the death of me.

“I’ll do you one better, I swear. I swear to every deity in this realm that I will make it back home to you, Isha. I don’t care what happens as soon as I leave this house, I will make it back to you.” I wiped the small tear from her face and planted a kiss on her forehead (a little hard with that helmet of hers but I wasn’t gonna tell her to remove it) , rubbing her cheeks and she finally released her grip and with that I made my way back out into the city– and I will keep my goddamn promise. 

Never in my life did I ever think that I would be going toe to toe with a mainliner for some shimmer that I didn’t even want and yet here I was, getting the shit beat out of me by some random hash-head with a bone to pick because I saw the shimmer the same time that he did. Goddamn it! Why did I even leave the house? The shimmer was a lot further than I remembered and now I was reeling the consequences of my actions, with a kick towards the man’s torso, I felt stronger than I usually do but the feeling was shortly replaced as he flew away from my body and his sudden missing force sent me backwards directly onto the ground. Man, I am just having a shit day today. Dusting myself off, I made it back to my feet, scoffing as I took a look around at the scene before me, I did all this for one vial. What's gonna happen when I find the second one? If I even find it. 

“Hey! Are you ok over there?” God fucking damnit. Hiding the shimmer behind my back I turned towards the voice, another group of enforcers however one of them was injured, I had only been outside for an hour and a half maybe two, I lost track of time but still that wasn’t enough time for a group of enforcers to get jumped unless there was something else going on in town that I wasn’t aware of. A ginger haired girl poked her head out from the light in the alleyway towards me, my eyes looked bloodshot because I couldn’t recall the last time I had slept or had water or a full meal. Hiding my face with a glare towards the ground, I tried to sneak glances at them, a weird blue looking guy was holding up a bulkier man, there was no way I was gonna win a fight if he was gonna be my opponent, it didn’t matter how much shimmer I had in my body, he could body slam me no problem– it also didn’t help me that I didn’t really know how to fight, I just swung my hands and eventually they would hit something or someone. “Hey, sweetheart, are you ok?” Why did she have to call my sweetheart? It was so much more..demeaning, degrading me in such a way, like she was taunting me. The lick of her accent only dealing more pain to the wound, Piltover, every single one of them assumed the worst of anyone down here and the fact that she was an enforcer? God I would never live it down if she found me with shimmer, hell she might even kill me on the spot, so my only option? “Fine. That.. crackhead tried to steal my money. He succeeded, I’m pretty much out.” I lifted my face, so that she could see me, injuries from my other fight still visible, her face reacted but not her words however the two behind her seemed impatient, whispering about her needing to hurry up. She rummaged through her jacket pocket and dropped some coins in my hand, plenty for me and Isha, god they were so easy. With a wave she ran back to her little group, a scowl on the man’s face as he looked at me, at that point hiding the shimmer didn’t do me any good and they were leaving and injured as well, were they really gonna stop for me? 

That ginger haired enforcer gave me plenty enough for me and Isha, maybe even a little bit more however I still needed to get rid of this shimmer– I needed to at least prove to Smeech that I did sell my products and didn’t just lose it (which is exactly what I did). I owed him nothing, absolutely nothing and yet here I was still trying to pay off my dwindling debt..a debt that was definitely going to have some “added fees” as soon as he figured out that it was me. My eyes glazed over the sky, a blanket of dimming sky had fallen over, then again I could barely see anything due to the glaze of the smoke, it felt like the smoke from earlier however it wasn't as thick so it was just barely breathable. My hand flew over my mouth, a small attempt to filter the trashed air, as soon as I made it through the smoke I could see Piltover in my wake, one day Isha would be up there, she wouldn’t be stuck down here with anyone else, she would be trusted and respected and no one would where she came from because I’d erase any existence of her being in Zaun, for her own safety, for her future. 

My thoughts were shattered, not because of the shimmer this time, but because the ground began to shake, the gas in the alleyway being dragged outwards towards god knows what. I thought it was a monster or a vacuum until Piltover was painted pink, blue, purple and green, the colored smoke staining buildings which I could see even from where I was. Children started giggling, running around and celebrating the defaming of Piltover’s “perfect” picture. I couldn’t stop the smile that was shown on my lips– gaze trapped on the smoke until it dissipated. “Jinx! Mommy she’s back, it’s Jinx!”  Jinx? Two run ins in one day would be crazy, right? I ran into the enforcers that she murdered earlier today and now I’m watching her plans play out in front of me. I've only seen her a few times in my entire life but she was enrapturing every single time, her mind was near genius, something that no one ever appreciated or acknowledged but I saw it, I noticed it, granted that meant nothing to her since we had never met but still. She’s actually the one who got me into creating my own trinkets. Isha took a liking to it as well, perhaps I should start to tweak them a bit more. Focus. If Jinx was up to no good then I was pretty much screwed– Isha. I left her at home and promised that I would be back, no I didn’t promise, I swore that was more important than any promises I could ever make. I sprinted back home but I’m not sure why I even got my hopes up. She was gone, she didn’t leave anything behind, damnit maybe I should have made her swear that she was gonna stay here, not that I was gonna come back. 

My unfortunate first thought was to check wherever Jinx was, thanks to that colorful display she couldn’t have been that far. I didn’t really know where her “hideout” was, I just knew where Silco used to do business since it was pretty hard to hide such a renovated building and it’s been abandoned ever since his death a few months ago.. To be honest Silco gave me more hope than Vander ever did but once he fell down the wrong rabbit-hole and created shimmer, I lost confidence in every new “symbol of peace” that popped up every few months, except Jinx.

Something about her was.. interesting, it was like she never wanted to be a symbol but everyone kept treating her like one, some may say it was just her being humble but I know better. It was being stuck with a responsibility you never asked for and every single person who was supposed to lead you and show you how it works is gone and now you’re forced to figure things out on your own and everyone is depending on you. It’s how I felt when our parents died, the responsibility to take care of Isha was killing me inside. I never even wanted another sibling, I just wanted to be an only child, we were struggling enough as it is and dad was always sneaking out. When he returned he reeked of Piltover, of their lavish perfumes, exotic smells and fancy food, we both knew that what he was doing wasn’t good but he was all that we had so we couldn’t just let him go because of some.. Piltover woman who stole his heart from my mother.

I couldn’t find it in my heart to call him the traitor that he was, not even mom did it, if anything she looked worried for him every time he got back from Piltover, stealing him away with hushed whispers. I could never really hear what they were talking about, I just assumed that they didn’t want to fight in front of me but I was a big girl, I could handle it, I didn’t need them to treat me like a scared child. 

Now here that scared child was again, clutching my shirt away from my skin like it would save me from whatever horrors were inside of this building, I expected dead bodies in the corners, people’s heads on the gate as a warning or a beware, instead it looked like a normal building but with a lot of lights on the outside. I shoved the front door open, it seemed locked but this place was clearly abandoned so it's not like there were any guests hiding inside– besides the ghosts that is.

It was freezing in there and the temperature only felt like it was dropping the further I moved, the slow movement led me to an office room, an uncomfortably dusty chair was hidden away by the even worse looking desk. It was very uncanny, I could play out Silco turning around in his chair in front of me despite the fact that I have never met the man face to face. “Well, don't you clean up nicely?” The rasp from her voice made me jump, my head swinging in every direction to find out where it came from, she sounded like she was behind me, and beside me all at once– turns out she was just beside me. 

“Sevika– mara, you could at least announce yourself?” There was a brand new arm that adorned her, gold in color but drawings all over it in those same, now traumatizing colors, and a slot machine to go with it, wasn’t she an addict? “What are you doing down here, blighter?” I hated that term and she knew it, it was definitely just to get under my skin but it worked every single time. “Looking for my sister.” She shouldered a laugh. “I was wondering where your other half was. My personal favorite out of the two, she doesn’t complain as much.” I rolled my eyes, she was mute, she didn’t verbally complain about anything but I guess just shutting up is what gets you favored by Sevika. “We found her aright, Jinx caught her trying to get away from some of that rat’s ol’ debt collectors. That your doing?” I mentally cursed however my body showed my disdain from the way I deflated. “I… I didn’t mean to. Damn it, it wasn’t my fault. A group of enforcers came out of nowhere and jumped the shit out of me and some other sellers. It’s how I got this–” I lifted my loose shirt to show her the wrapped up injury,  she grimaced and looked away from it as if she wasn’t interested in it but hadn’t she already seen it before? Why was she acting like this? “Wait, weren’t you the one who bandaged me up? You’ve already seen it, why are you asking me what happened?” Her head turned back to me and her eyebrow raised as she stood up and walked towards me. I’m not a pussy but I know a fight that I can and cannot win and she is someone I can’t fight and win. “No. I haven’t seen you since last year.” “Then.. I went to the Last Drop, looking for you. Who helped me if it wasn’t you? I saw your shoes..” Sevika groaned loudly and took off, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow behind her but I did. 

It looked like an abandoned air ventilation system, however it was decorated with the same drawings that I saw on Isha’s hat when she came home and the one’s on Sevika’s arm– Jinx? Isha noticed me before I noticed her, running immediately over to me and hugging onto my leg, tears filled my eyes as I looked at her. I didn’t think she was dead but my hopes of her being alive and well weren’t very high at the moment. I clutched onto Isha’s side, tears filling my eyes, I had almost her twice in one day and it was enough to give me a heart attack– it didn’t help that both times I thought I lost her ended with Zaun’s symbol of “peace” and psychopath who was also the most alluring woman I have ever met in my entire life.

God damn it Jinx.  She scowled at me, an eyebrow raised at my presence, that seemed to be happening more often than I would have liked it to. “Enforcers, they jumped the shit out of me and almost killed me. I would have never left her alone if it wasn’t for those bastards.” Isha’s inaudible giggle was below me as she signed the word for “shit” and I lightly slapped her hand away, kids are so bad. Jinx’s eyes didn’t seem to waver, forever staring into my soul as if she was gonna rip my throat out with her teeth for even touching Isha– like she wasn’t my sister. “Looks like you didn’t do a very good job.”

 Her gaze went towards my stomach and I wanted a hole in the floor to open and swallow me up, her surveying my body was so intimidating and intimate that it began to breach the lines of uncomfortable. “I killed those enforcers ok? I killed them and the stupid debt collectors in that goddamn alleyway. There are six people dead and it’s all my fault so can I get a little grace here?” I almost yelled at her, who was she to tell  me that I was a bad sibling? A bad protector? “You left her!” She seemed to stalk closer to me with her every word. “At home! She was never supposed to be on the streets in the first place but if she didn’t leave the house like I told her not to then we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” My words were directed towards Isha but my anger was shot directly at Jinx, so much she almost choked on her words. “But you still left me!” “I didn’t mean to! I went to hell and back to get back home to her!” I was so entranced by my own fit of rage that I didn’t even notice her change of words. She wasn’t talking about Isha, she was talking about herself, but I had never left or even met Jinx personally besides this one point. She had just been a whisper in the crowd, a terrifying sight that Silco had created that he guarded as if she was actually his own daughter. It was sickening to hear but it was none of my business. We both just sat there, heaving chests and ignoring the tears that were threatening to slide down our cheeks, the only reason I looked away from her was because Isha tapped my thigh. “We were fighting the enforcers, the one with the blue hair almost shot us!”  Us? Us Us?! My eyes flicked up towards Jinx, invading her personal space without a care in the world, pushing her back up against some makeshift desk, she could have stopped me if she wanted to but didn’t. 

“You let Isha get close to Caitlyn Kiramman? You almost let her get shot by Caitlyn Kiramman?! She’s a fucking child! Do you have any restraint at all or are you just that evil that you can’t even help yourself but enjoy chaos? And why the fuck did Caitlyn Kiramman almost shoot you?” At my last question I spun towards Isha, I didn’t actually know anything about what was going on, I just knew that she almost shot my sister and that was enough to go off on anyone around. “The kid was protecting Jinx. Jumped on top of her and wouldn’t let go of all hell, Caitlyn and Vi were trying to kill her– your sister didn’t want to let that happen.” Oh. Well now I felt like a fucking idiot, Jinx was going through hell and I just blamed her for everything without even asking, however she could have clarified or at least said something while I was standing in front of her– why hadn’t she moved? I turned my head back to her to apologize but she bombarded me with a hug so fast I almost fell over, those tears from earlier finally over took her, wetting the top of my already ruined shirt. I didn’t know how to respond, I just awkwardly wrapped my arms around her as she snuggled into my neck. “You came back to me.” 

taglist: @livinginabasement @llycrow @katethejinxwife @hank-girl @ayedomino0 @jiunxo @vivispace @maksysti @jinxslapdog

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.4

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy part 4, if you have missed part 3 here it is :)

After Lando drives you to your hotel, you make your way to Carlos's room, focusing on the work at hand. You knock, waiting for the familiar sight of Carlos to greet you.

But when the door swings open, it’s not Carlos who stands in front of you—it’s his latest girlfriend, her expression unreadable, though her stance seems less than welcoming.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," you begin politely, forcing a smile, "but I need to talk to Carlos about his schedule and interviews for tomorrow."

Her eyes narrow slightly, and she doesn’t open the door any wider. "Couldn't you do this later? Or, I don’t know, just send him a message or something. We were… in the middle of something."

You try not to let her cold response get to you, but before you can reply, Carlos’s voice drifts from behind her. "Who's at the door?"

She rolls her eyes but steps aside just enough for Carlos to come into view. He spots you and waves you inside with a casual, "Come on in."

You walk into the room, feeling a bit awkward under his girlfriend's lingering stare. Carlos notices your unease but seems oblivious to the tension. "What's up?" he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Why didn’t you tell me about this on the plane?"

You blink, momentarily taken aback. "Carlos," you say slowly, "I didn’t fly with you. I was on a different plane."

He looks confused for a second, clearly trying to piece things together. "Wait… you didn’t? I didn’t even realize."

A flicker of disappointment tugs at your chest, but you brush it off. "Yeah, I flew with someone else," you say, your tone neutral as you shift focus to work. "Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up for tomorrow. You’ve got the usual interviews in the morning, and you need to film a video with Charles after that. Also, you and Charles are filming a collaboration with McLaren tomorrow afternoon."

Carlos nods, processing the information, though he still looks a little distracted. "Right, got it. Thanks."

But as you finish, the awkward tension in the room only intensifies. His girlfriend is sitting on the bed now, watching you with a thinly veiled irritation, like your presence is an unwelcome intrusion. You feel the weight of her stare, and suddenly, the air in the room feels thick, stifling.

"I should go," you say quickly, stepping back toward the door. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Carlos looks up, but he doesn’t argue. "Yeah, see you."

As you slip out of the room and back into the hallway, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You head straight to your own room, shutting the door behind you. Between Lando, the unexpected airport headline, and now the icy reception from Carlos's girlfriend, it’s been a long day. All you want now is some peace and quiet.

But just as you’re starting to unwind, your phone buzzes from across the room. You sigh, standing up to grab it, half-expecting it to be another work-related message. Instead, it’s Lando.

Lando: Hey, how’s it going? Lando: Surviving over there with the Ferrari crew?

A small smile tugs at your lips as you read his message. You quickly type back.

You: Barely. Had a lovely chat with Carlos’s girlfriend. You: How about you?

It only takes a few seconds for Lando to reply.

Lando: Oof, sounds intense. I’m sure you handled it well. Lando: So, listen—I’ve been thinking. Tomorrow, during the interview McLaren’s doing with Ferrari… maybe we should just, you know, drop the news then?

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the message. He’s talking about going public with your "relationship" during one of the most high-profile interviews of the weekend. It makes sense, but the thought of it being so… public, especially with both teams involved, makes your stomach twist in nervousness.

You: Tomorrow? You: In front of everyone? Isn’t that kind of… a big deal?

Lando sends back a laughing emoji.

Lando: Isn’t that the point? Gotta make it look convincing, right?

You bite your lip, anxiety fluttering in your chest. You knew this was part of the plan, but now that it’s so close, the reality is setting in. You type back hesitantly.

You: Yeah, I get it. I’m just… nervous. It’s a lot.

A moment passes before Lando responds, and when he does, it’s with his usual playful tone.

Lando: Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. We’ll drop it casually, like it’s no big deal. Lando: I’ll just say something like, “Yeah, we’re dating. No biggie. Now let’s talk about the race!” 😎

You can’t help but laugh out loud at that, the image of Lando casually announcing something so major with that level of nonchalance easing some of your nerves.

You: You’re impossible, Norris. You: But seriously, what if I mess it up?

His response is quick, and this time it’s more reassuring.

Lando: You won’t. Besides, I’m nervous too. This whole thing is crazy, but we’ll make it work.

It helps to know that even Lando, who seems so effortlessly confident, is feeling the pressure too.

You: Fine, let’s do it. But if it goes terribly, I’m holding you responsible.

Lando: Deal. But trust me, it’ll be great. See you tomorrow!

You set your phone down, a small smile lingering on your face despite the lingering nervousness. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, and the thought of stepping into that interview with Lando, letting the world believe in this staged relationship, makes your heart race. But somehow, knowing that he’s just as anxious as you—and still managing to joke about it—makes it feel a little less overwhelming.

Here's part 5

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl

[ravenslvt]

why does your best friend’s brother have to be so hot??

☆ suna rintarou x f!reader (pt.4) ☆

links to pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

cw: porn with feelings, major confessions, lots of fluff, oral sex both m and f receiving, face sitting, suna has feelings.

the silence of the kitchen felt deafening. you and rintarou sat on the stools of the kitchen island counter while his sister stood at the other side, staring at you two. your legs swing, dangling off the tall stool with anxiousness filling your stomach.

“so… you two… have been-“ the younger suna starts.

“ami i-“ her brother speaks first, cutting her off

“shut your ugly mouth rintarou.” she scolds him. you stay silent.

“we literally look the same??” he puts his arms up in defense.

“rin, please stop talking…” you mumble to the middle blocker next to you. he just sighs and slumps in his seat.

ami takes a few breaths before speaking.

“i’m not mad okay…” she fidgets with her manicured nails while she talks.

“i just wish you didn’t feel the need to like, hide it from me, y’know?” she sighs. you two just nod. you felt awful, you two were the people she trusted most in this world.

“you’re right-“ you finally gain the courage to speak, but immediately getting cut off.

“not done talking” she scolds, saying your name in a warning tone. you pipe down.

your best friend’s eyes go to you. for such a cute girl, she sure knew how to make you tense up just from a look. her face softens suddenly.

“so, why did you feel the need to hide it from me? we both know you’re probably the only person i’d be comfortable with even dating my brother.” ami has a sort of frown on your face. it makes you sad the fact you hurt her.

“well we aren’t really even dating…”

“we’re not?” the brown haired man looks at you.

your eyes snap to rintarou.

“no, rin, we only hooked up like four times-“

“FOUR TIMES? it’s only been two weeks?- sorry my bad.” ami puts a hand over her mouth to quiet herself.

“well, yeah, but i was hoping-“

“is this really the time to talk about this right now?” you whisper to the man. he shuts up real quick. you look back to your best friend, giving her a genuine look.

“i’m sorry i hid it from you, ami. i guess we- well i at least was just scared you’d hate me or something. i never intended to lie or hurt you, we just got kinda caught up in it.” you honestly admit. she just nods, then glares at her older brother. “and you” she seethes. his eyes widen at her sudden switch up.

he may be her brother, but he's also a guy, and you are her best friend.

“my best friend? really, rintarou?” her arms are crossed over her chest, eyes boring into her brother’s head. rin sits up straight.

“look, i apologize for not telling you, truly, but i’m not sorry that i did it.” he says, looking back over to you. you drop your face into your hands. the man you loved was such an idiot.

ami sighs and speaks again after a few moments, making your head perk back up.

“i’m not upset. plus, it would be kinda hypocritical of me to be mad at you two.” she finishes, looking at you.

oh right. the miya twin…

rin looks between the two of you.

“um, what do you mean?” he has a curious but anxious look on his face, brows furrowed.

“you wanna tell him or should i?” his sister looks to you in consolance. you point at her. “this is your business, girl. all you”

she lets out an annoyed sigh before speaking, shifting uncomftorably between her feet.

“i’ve kinda been… talking to osamu since i graduated, but you can’t be mad becuase you’re also literally fucking my best friend soo…” ami says all in one breath. rintarou has an unreadable expression on his face.

“well, obviously.” he scoffs. both of your eyes widen.

“you knew?!” she yells in a suprised tone. he just nods.

“well no shit, he’s the one who told me to invite you to the party in the first place. plus i saw your name pop up in his phone when we went to lunch last week.” her brother explains. you just sit back and watch this uncomfortable situation unfold.

he looks at you. “you knew too?” he casually asks. you nod.

“well obviously, she’s my best friend.”

“hear that rin, my best friend” ami sticks her tongue out at her brother. you smile at the shift of the room, going from all serious to a sudden playfulness, the way ami always knew how to do.

“now go to your room or something, i wanna talk to her alone.” she points at the stairs for her brother to leave. he rolls his eyes, patting your head before leaving the room.

a few seconds pass, and she takes his seat, sitting next to you. she swirls the stool around to face you, voice dropping to a hushed tone.

“so… do you love him?” she curiously asks, with genuine curiosity.

“do you love osamu?”

“shut up, i asked first.”

“i do” you say without a second of thought. she just smiles. all anger from before subsiding into genuine happiness.

“you’re still gonna hangout with me though, right?” she asks, back to fidgeting with her fingers. you roll your eyes.

“of course i am. i’m still sleeping in your room everynight till i leave-“ you start.

“oh c’mon, she doesn’t get to hog you!” rintarou yells from the stairs, eavesdropping on your conversation. you both glare at him.

“no one asked you, rin!” she yells. you both laugh at the way he storms back up the stairs.

she'd be having a talk with him later too.

you talk about everything. osamu, the party, your plans in the next week before you leave.

you were relieved, your guilty conscience completely lifted from having to keep this secret from your best friend. you never expected her to approve, but she was happy both her best friend and her brother are able to find comfort.

plus she knew he had a fat crush on you the way he was staring at you the entire party the night before. she was drunk, but not stupid. her brother was so obvious. maybe it was just a suna thing.

but the thought that you gave him all those marks weeks ago made her shiver. gross.

there was only three days left until you go back. you’ve spent your last days going on mall trips, to the movies, taking walks in the park with your best friend. (and rintarou when he refused to stay at home, saying it was for your guys’ ‘protection’)

he just wanted to spend as much time near you before you left.

“stop moving” you warn rintarou, placing the sheet face mask onto his constantly jerking head.

“it’s cold…” he complains. you just roll your eyes.

“you’re the one who wanted to do this.”

“well yeah, because you were doing it.” he pouts. you giggle at him, your own skincare face mask soaking on your face.

ami left for osamu’s about an hour before, but not before giving you guys a ‘do NOT fuck’ warning. you both just smiled and nodded your heads.

“you’re cute.” you give him a small peck on his lips, one of the only parts that the skin care mask wasn’t covering. his hand reaches for your own, lacing his fingers with yours.

“be my girlfriend.” he softly says, his eyes meeting yours. you were glad this sheet mask was covering your face, or he’d see how flustered you were.

“what?”

“do you not want to?” he asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

“well of course i do, but i-“

“be my girlfriend then. please?” he squeezes your hand. if your face wasn’t covered he’d be holding it.

it was kind of silly the seriousness of this conversation compared to the way you guys had literal sheets on your face.

“i live three hours away, rin.”

“so what? i have a car. i’ll drive down every weekend to see you, baby.” he assures you. his eyes read nothing but honesty and love.

“i couldn’t ask you to do that… you're so busy with volleyball”

“you wouldn’t. i want to. if it was up to me i’d keep you here. or even go with you." he chuckles, "i'll pay for your train rides to come to my games, i’m graduating in two years, we’ll figure it out.” you could see his small smile. his fingers gently brushing over your knuckles.

“okay” you nod.

“okay?” his eyes light up.

“yes” you laugh, he stands up from his chair, leaning down to kiss you, but you two couldn’t do much with these stupid sheet masks.

“take this shit off i wanna kiss you” he rips his own off his face making you pout.

“you’re supposed to leave them on for ten minutes”

“i don’t care, they were like a dollar each” he scoffs, gently peeling your own soft wet mask from your face. he was the one who went into the makeup store with you earlier to purchase them in the first place.

“what a money waster.” you smile up at him. the skincare residue making your and his skin shiny. he couldn’t lie, your guys’ skin looks fantastic.

he grabs your face, finally giving you a real kiss. your lips meet sweetly. you’ve kissed several times by now, but this time was different. it was full of tenderness and love instead of the usual rushed tension.

it was like you have all the time in the world.

his hand reaches in your hair, deepening the kiss. you sigh when his tongue rolls together with your own. your hands plant at his chest, you could feel his muscles through his shirt.

he snakes his free hand around your waist, bringing you to press against him.

you felt your panties dampen when his hand slides down from your waist, to your hips, to your ass.

“so…touchy” you mumble between kisses. he just smiles.

“you make me like this” he replies, gently biting your lip.

your hands go up to tangle in his own hair, tugging slightly to tease him. he just groans.

“c’mere, baby.” he sits on his bed, reaching his arms out to you. you join him, hopping onto his lap and kissing his face.

“wow, your skin is really smooth…” your hand goes to gently caress his face. he leans into your palm like a cat, making you giggle.

his eyes never leave yours, so full of sincerity and love.

“want you to touch me, rin.” you bring his hand to your lower stomach. he just chuckles.

“now who’s the needy one?” he mumbles, kissing you again before his hand slips into the waistband of your pants into your panties, his middle and index fingers finding your clit.

“this wet just from kissing?” he chuckles at you, making you pout.

“m’sorry” you whisper, stuttering when his fingers rub gently at your sensitive bud.

“don’t be sorry, pretty. it’s hot.” he smiles, pulling you back to shimmy your cute pants down your hips. you help him, throwing them on the floor of his room.

you’re left in your his oversized t shirt and your panties, moving to sit on him on the bed, but he stops you. you give him a questioning look.

“wanna try something.” he lays himself on his bed, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“want you to sit on my face.” he cheekily smiles, your eyes widen, but your insides tingle at the thought of it.

“i don’t wanna hurt you…” you nervously gulp. he scoffs.

“i could lift three of you if i needed to. i’ll be fine, sweetheart.” he assures. you reluctantly climb on the bed, still a little scared you were going to suffocate him. like he reads your mind, he speaks.

“if dying by your pussy is where i’m meant to die, it’ll be an honorable death.” this makes you roll your eyes, peeling off your underwear. before you could throw them to the side, rin snatches them, tucking them in the drawer next to his bed.

“hey!” you scold him. he rolls his eyes.

“need something to remind me of you.” his smug smirk made you want to slap him, but also want to kiss him. you opted for the second option. your tongue’s swirling together in a needy messy kiss.

he pulls back, laying himself back on his bed. you let out a breath, crawling up to him and nervously straddling his face with your thighs, facing his legs.

you gasp when he pulls your hips down to seat yourself on his face, his hot tongue swiping over your slick cunt. your face screws into tight pleasure as his tongue prods into your tight hole, making you grind down into his face.

his strong hands hold your hips down as if you were hoping to escape. your eyes flutter open while his tounge switches between playing with your clit and proding into your weeping hole.

your mouth waters at the sight of his erection begging to be released through his sweatpants. poor guy was grinding up into nothing. you lean down, reaching to rub him through his pants, making him groan into your pussy.

you hurriedly push his pants down his hips, along with his boxers. he was so tall you couldn’t reach your mouth to his cock in this position, making you pout. so instead you take your hand and stroke his veiny cock, his moans being muffled by him sucking on your clit.

you pump his cock, using the slick of the precum beading at his tip to lubricate him. his hips stutter into your hands as your finger runs over his tip, the slit of his dick leaking precum over your fingers. fuck how badly you wanted to lick it up.

you moan when his tongue explores your soaking pussy, your hands continuing to tease his raging cock. the tip bright pink from all your teasing.

“feels so good, baby, fuck!” you whine, your hips instinctively rutting into his face. he moans in acknowledgment, urging you to keep touching him while he eats you out like you were his last meal. his grip on your hips never faltering.

your wrist starts to ache from the constant pumping, but the pure pleasure of him licking and sucking at you was all you could think about.

this position was so fucking good. the way he had nothing to do but eat you out until you were trying to lift yourself off of his face, the pleasure becoming too much.

he pulls you back down in an instant, your constant squirming earning you a harsh suck on your clit, making you whine.

“rinn-“ you mewl, your thighs starting to quiver around his head. you’re panting, the strokes on his cock getting quicker and messier.

“f-fuck… keep doing that and m’gonna cum, baby.” he groans into your wetness. you let go, hands gripping at his abs as you feel yourself become undone.

your hips grind uncontrollably into rintarou’s mouth, heat pooling into your lower belly as you feel yourself clench around nothing, the feeling of him suckling at your clit making you cum all over his mouth.

you let out moans of his name, panting before finally moving off of him to let him breathe.

you move yourself between his legs, looking up at him. his lower face was covered in your cum and he was breathing heavily. you licked your lips at the sight, bringing your attention back to his raging cock.

you smile up at him, giving his member small pecks, making his breath stutter.

“want you to cum in my mouth, rin.” you look up at him through your lashes, tongue delving into the slit of his head, making his hips sputter and hands grip in your hair.

you giggle, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. he lets out dirty groans and grunts, his grip in your hair only getting tighter and tighter.

he knew he was gonna cum soon, already being so worked up from you jerking him off before. that along with you cumming all over his face just a few moments before.

his hips jerk off the bed with a loud groan when you take him as deep as your throat allows you, hands gripping into his strong thighs. you moan when his salty cum shoots down your throat, practically filling your mouth. you swallow it all, only a dribble falling past your lips, swollen and wet.

once he settled, you pulled off of him with a small pop, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips and his cock. you could feel his piercing gaze on you, his grip on your hair turned into soothing strokes.

you hold back a giggle at the way he looked at you with full admiration in his eyes. like you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. he pulls you up, immediately connecting his lips with yours. the way you both tasted each others releases made you sigh into his mouth.

you laid on his chest, kissing eachother gently. you pull back, smoothing down his hair.

he speaks first, your name coming off the tip of his tounge like a beautiful hum.

“i love you” he breathes out, his eyes searching your own. your heart quickens in your chest.

“you don’t have to say it back-“ he starts.

“no. i love you, rintarou.” you confess, leaning to kiss his cheek. he gives you an uncharacteristically loving smile. you’d never seen him in this sort of light before.

your mind completely avoiding the fact that in three days time, you’d be hours away, long gone from here.

“you guys didn’t fuck, right?” ami scolds, eyeing you two as you three ate the dinner she so graciously brought home for you.

“nope. on our best behavior.” rin responds, giving your thigh a squeeze under the table.

well, technically he wasn’t lying.

masterlist

a/n: ‘i have plans that i cannot share w you right now, because the haters will sabotage me’ wink wink. only planning one or two (maybe even three) more parts of this *cries*

☆ taglist: @jennasquishy8 @nekee-lilac02 @riiceandsoup ☆

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hi I’d like to request a trope I’ve seen in different media. I think it’s called the Fake Out Make Out trope. It’s usually where 2 people are hiding, but there is no where to really hide so they lock lips to throw off the seeker or to avoid suspicion 😆 If you have seen The Winter Soldier movie, it’s like that scene where Captain America and Black Widow kiss, or you can just look up that scene 👀

Anyway I’d like to request that trope with Kenshi, Kung Lao, Raiden, Liu Kang, Bi Han and Kuai Liang pls? Can you make it where they are not in a relationship, but maybe afterwards they felt a spark lol 😆I hope this is acceptable!

Kenshi Takahashi: -He is tense. Even if Sento is strapped on his back, making him see more or less, Kenshi never lowers his guard. -You are his eyes, sunglasses hiding your eyes, light steps pushing you both forward. -Till you reach a bench, your target in sight while he talks to a mercenary. -You both sit there, the breeze caressing your faces, Sento perfectly hidden behind your bodies rolled in newspapers and behind a wonderful bouquet. -But then something catches your eyes and Kenshi notices it, he feels your body tensing next to him. "What is happening-" His tattoed hand already reached his katana when your lips locked with his. -He is shocked, his first reaction is to pull away, but your hands on his cheeks keep him in place. -You murmur something in between kisses "Act-" "Like a couple." -He doesn't need to be told twice, also because it has been a while since he had this kind of contact and it is so good. -Kenshi forgot how nice is a lips to lips contact. His hands don't roam much, but you feel them teasing the end of your sleeves, rising it up to feel your skin. -You are the one breaking the kiss, his lips follow yours and the sight makes you smirk. -"They walked away. While you weren't looking- I mean" He pinches your cheek as to punish you for your slip "While we kissed I dropped a hidden microphone towards them. And they didn't notice anything!! We are such a good couple Kenshi-" -You keep blabbering while you go back to the base, but Kenshi's mind is somewhere else. Just the cheer in your voice being registered making him happy by reflex. -Honestly, he wouldn't mind always working with you if all missions go like that.

Kung Lao: -For Lao spy missions are like a walk in an amusement park. He grew up in the middle of nowhere so everything is new to him. His eyes shine with joy and he has a smile plastered on his face. -So his partner always has to remind him that they are there to work, not to have fun. -But you don't say anything, his happy face doesn't make your enemies suspicious. -They enter the subway and you two follow, sitting in an empty wagon with your target and the suitcase filled with top-secret information. -But something catches their attention, maybe you are looking at them with a too serious face and you feel your cover dropping. -Therefore you go all-in, tapping on Lao's shoulder while he looks at the advertisements running on the screens. -"What-" You take his hat from his hands to cover your faces, lips locking leaving him breathless and, for once, speechless. -He doesn't question your action and reciprocates immediately, the joy of being kissed by his secret crush and the one of traveling around summed together. -His hands travel more, one gripping your waist the other running to the back of your thigh to lift it and lay on his legs, making you almost sit on his lap. -The privacy you tried to keep with his hat is totally useless. The wet smacks of your lips a clear sound of what was going on. -Then the subway stopped, your target walking away, a bit disgusted by the show. You wait a bit before breaking the kiss, prompting Lao to wake up from the daze to continue with your mission. -"Wait!? Did you kiss me just to hide us?" "Lao-" "Like good move, we should totally do it again-" "Kung Lao!" -Now you have a mission, but he will stay on the ball, so you better clear things up later.

Raiden: -He is really serious about the mission, eyes never staying still, muscles ready to react at any sudden movement of your enemies. -His steps increase and it's getting hard for you to keep up. -And all of sudden, while you are still inhaling hard you feel your body being pulled by your arm. The world spins around you till' your back hits the wall. -It was Raiden, pulling you into an alley, his index finger to his lips, telling you to stay silent. -And you do, until you feel steps, probably of your pursuers, coming closer to you. -You take Raiden's shirt neck in your hands and push your lips together, catching him by surprise. -His hands stay still on your shoulders, gripping them tight, your hands do not. -One ran down his back, the other grabbed the back of his neck, scratching the skin before a groan blossom in his chest. -The sound is delightful and makes you wonder how many other sounds you can pull from him. Like a perfectly crafted instrument under your hands. -Raiden is the first to pull away. He looks into your eyes for a second before lightly slapping your shoulder, like he wants to tell you "good job" "Nice decoy, now let's go." He walks now on the main street, you just nod still in a trance. Raiden's hand holding yours to keep you close. -For a moment you hope he'll never let you go.

Liu Kang: -You are in Shang Tsung's laboratory, trying to steal some documents that may help you heal people from Tarkatan. -You are no spy, no warrior, but Liu Kang made sure you understood that it was an order; you had to go with him. -You walk around, the place is a mess and documents are dirty and all the floor. "I hope we'll be able to find what we need-" "Don't distress yourself, dear. I'm sure we'll find something." -You search around the bookcase before you both hear footsteps. You turn back, eyes wide. -You don't have time to react as Liu already took the matter into his own hands, pulling into a small and dark storeroom, your chests pressing against each other. -"Lord-Lord Liu Kang, this is awful-" Your breath is erratic, anxiety having the best of you. "Don't worry dear. Nothing will happen we'll just have to keep sile-" He whispers before being interrupted by you again. "But I'm no good with that! I told you I wasn't a good-" -And then Liu Kang has a genius idea. His lips lock with yours. Not a simple peck, but a deep kiss like a movie's one. -You don't reject him. You totally go for it, hands on his hair and then in his back, caressing everything you can. Liu Kang for sure doesn't step back, if anything he turns up the heat. -Literally and figuratively. -You don't stop when outside is quiet, you stop when you need oxygen. Your lips connected by a thin trail of saliva, foreheads knocking against each other, and noses brushing. -He pecks your lips again and again. You try to regain breath but it is hard when your heart screams at you to kiss him again. -"Maybe…we should do more missions together." Liu Kang smiles, eyes closed before pecking your lips again. -He knew this moment was going to happen, but much later therefore he decided to quicken the times just a little…

Bi-Han: -You really didn't want to do this. Working as a spy is a pain and the pain increases tenfold if you have to do that with Bi-Han. -Thankfully he doesn't nag a lot, always covering for your misstep. Probably he had to talk to himself in the mirror before dealing with this mission not to snap at you every 5 minutes. -Obviously, Bi-Han will often correct you, but at least his voice won't drip superiority. Or better, it's still dense of superiority, but he simply talks less so you won't hear it as much as other times. -You are inside the enemy base when you hear footsteps coming your way. You are dressed in the enemy uniforms, kindly given by Bi-Han after punching an enemy soldier till he passed out. -He pulls you toward a corner of the hallway, a locked door on your side. "Kiss me." He orders. Voice low and barely a whisper. "What?" You see him lowering, trying to hide as best as he can behind your body. "I'm wearing Lin Kuei's uniform, they'll recognize me immediately." He grits his teeth. "Your head is so fucking hard, I told you to wear the uniform too-" -His rough hand grabs the back of your neck, pulling your head closer and locking your lips together. -The kiss represents him perfectly. It's rough and you feel him overpowering you even in his "weaker" position. It feels like he is teaching you how you should kiss, the hand that was before on the back of your head now is on your throat squeezing every time you try to pull away. -You pull on his bun, trying to reciprocate the roughness, but he bites your lips licking away the drop of blood spilling from the cut, before going back into your mouth. -The soldiers meanwhile walk by, some of them whistling, earning a killer side-eye from Bi-Han who couldn't keep himself. -The kiss breaks when he decides it. "Let's go." He says, finally standing tall next to you, still dazed. -He'll never bring the topic of the kiss back and he is happy knowing you won't either. -After all, it's impossible for you to guess what was the real reason he kept his uniform on, other to his blind loyalty to Lin Kueis, no? -Bi-Han should stop underestimating others.

Kuai Liang: -You dressed him up in modern clothing and you can see how uncomfortable he is in them. -"I'm sorry Kuai, but we had no other choice." You smile at him, sunglasses hiding your eyes. "I know. Please, call me Liang." He sighs out, trying to adjust the collar of the hoodie. -You walk fast, you know that your enemies will soon find you trying to steal the usb key you worked so hard for. -You go down the escalator when your sight cross with a suspicious man. He makes your skin crawl. -You turn around looking at Liang through your sunglasses "Kiss me." You whisper. "What?" "They are suspecting us. Go for it in three, two, one-" You throw yourself at him, your lips against his soft ones. Liang is the first to reciprocate the kiss, his lips already dancing with yours. -His hands travel a lot, always so near to your backside but never crossing that line. -The man finally looks away and you break the kiss, not before pulling his lower lip with your teeth. There is silence until you step on solid ground. "Walk fast, they'll soon understand who has the key." You look ahead, your breath stable as if you didn't just kiss your crush. "Shouldn't we talk about what just happened?" Liang finally walks next you, his steps quicker than yours, and therefore he almost surpasses you. "What? I was trying to keep professional. It looked like an efficient way not to get us caught." You wear your best poker face, hoping Liang won't notice the trembling at the back of your voice. "Well, that was a bit more than just a professional ruse." He now stands in front of you, walking backward trying to look behind your glasses, searching for your eyes. -You exit the building and point at a car where Johnny is waiting for you both with Kung Lao. "We'll talk about that later." Your voice is stable and it makes Liang sigh. -You sit in the back, your shoulders pushed against each other in the back of Johnny's sport car. -A whistle breaks the silence. "Trouble in paradise?" You made sure the kick you gave to his seat hurt his back.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x hunter!reader | word count: 1,7k | requests are open! send yours here

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.” “This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.” “I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

✦ on this fic: dean winchester x reader, fem!reader but this part is pretty neutral, angst, s3 spn plot

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing a reader insert for the supernatural universe. this is super angsty, and other parts to this au may come in the future so feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any suggestions! hope u enjoy the read 🖤

Word travels fast in a hunter’s world.

In a job where information is everything, sharing what you know wasn’t just helpful, but also expected. So, when the Devil’s Gate opened and demons started pouring out everywhere, it didn’t take long before you heard about it. It didn’t come as a surprise when you heard Sam and Dean Winchester had been there when it happened, right in the middle of it. You knew the boys; you knew they had a knack for getting mixed up in every kind of mess that popped up, ever.

What did surprise you, though, was Dean showing up on your doorstep less than a month later.

You knew something was off the second you saw him. First, because he was alone, and honestly, you couldn’t remember ever seeing him without Sam around. But mostly, it was the look in his eyes. As soon as you opened the door, he smiled at you, but his eyes didn’t follow — there was a storm brewing in his green irises, one even he didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean,” you said, frowning as he stood in your doorway. “How did you…”

“Bobby told me,” he cut you off, like it was no big deal, not even waiting for you to finish asking how the hell did he know where you lived. Of course, Bobby had. You sighed — would’ve been nice if Bobby gave you a heads-up, but whatever. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, but… what’s going on?” you asked, stepping aside to let him into your little cabin. It wasn’t much — pretty small, tucked away from the town, and didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Inside, though, was another story. Your eyes flicked up to the devil’s trap right above the door, and you felt a wave of relief when Dean walked right under it. Okay, not possessed. That’s a start.

“Can’t I just pay a visit to an old friend?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow. Sure, you’d crossed paths with Dean more than a few times — occupational hazard of being a hunter — but something about this felt off. It wasn’t like him to just show up without a reason, especially with everything that had gone down in the past few weeks.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” you pressed, not letting him off the hook. His smile faltered, quickly replaced by that familiar annoyed look he got when he didn’t want to talk about whatever was actually on his mind.

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you never just drop by for no reason. Where’s Sam?”

“Not here,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Look, I’m fine. Everything's fine.  Bobby just figured you’d wanna know what went down with the Colt and yellow-eyes…”

“I’ve got a phone,” you cut in, crossing your arms. 

Dean sighed, his usual swagger faltering for a second as he cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous. “And… maybe he also thought I could use some time away from hunting, just for a bit, you know? With someone I… I liked being around.”

He couldn’t even look at you when he said it, a slight blush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t the Dean you were used to seeing, and that made your heart skip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

You blinked in surprise. Dean, shy? Around you, of all people? That was rare. You’d seen him flirt before — hell, he was good at it and he knew it. This wasn’t the Dean you were used to, but then again, he wasn’t exactly acting like his usual self today.

“You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?” you asked, slowly. He huffed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Mind if I check?” You grabbed the knife you always kept strapped to your thigh. Dean just shrugged, holding his hand out. You took it, his skin warm under your fingers, and pressed the iron blade against it until it drew blood. No reaction, a small twitch in his arm muscles the only sign he’d felt anything. 

“See?” he said, his voice a little rough. “Not a shapeshifter, not a demon, just good ol’ me.”

Alright then. As weird as it was, it looked like Dean Winchester had really shown up at your place just to… hang out? You glanced up at him, wiping your knife off on your jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Come on, let me patch you up.”

“So,” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand. “What’ve you been up to? Working any cases?”

“Why do you wanna know? Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break from hunting for a few days?” you shot back, and he chuckled. You glanced up at him. “You know I don’t hunt as much as you guys. I mostly just keep an eye on this area. But it’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“Yeah, well, you take care of yourself, alright? Lots of demons running around lately,” he said. “If you ever need backup, just call me.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly. “I haven’t been up to much other than keeping an eye on things. Honestly, I was worried about you guys. Heard you were at the Devil’s Gate when everything went down.”

“We were trying to stop it,” Dean said, and you nodded.

“I figured as much. But…” You hesitated. “That’s not exactly what everyone’s saying.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning a bit as he flexed his hand, checking how well he could move it with your bandages. “Who’s everyone?”

“The other hunters,” you said. “They’re saying Sam… and you… you guys made the whole thing happen.”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“And did you believe that bullshit?”

“I didn’t! Just… Please be careful out there, alright? Not all hunters are as friendly right now.” He looked at you for a moment, then let out a sigh and nodded. You hesitated. “Do you, uh, wanna hit up a bar or something? I mean, I’m not exactly living the most exciting life out here…”

“You got a TV and some beers?” he asked, catching you off guard. You blinked a few times before nodding. “Sweet. That’s all I need today. We could watch a movie or something, maybe order in.”

“I can cook,” you chimed in. “I’ve got a wood-burning oven outside... we could make homemade pizza.”

The way he looked at you, it was like you’d just revealed you had the keys to Heaven itself.

You finally figured out what was up much later in the night, while you and Dean were sprawled out in your queen bed.

At first, he had tried to be a gentleman and insisted on crashing on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it — the bed was more than big enough for both of you. No point in him getting a stiff neck just because he wanted to play nice. Sure, you were practical, but you also just wanted him to be comfortable. You could sense something was off with him, even if he kept saying he was fine.

So there you were, cozy and ready to sleep, lights out and moonlight streaming through the curtains, lying on your side and facing the wall as you listened to his deep breathing. You were almost drifting off yourself when he said it.

“I made a deal.”

You opened your eyes right away, twisting in bed to find his face just inches from yours. Your heart raced at the vulnerability in his gaze — the angst he’d tried to keep hidden was now clear as day. It made your heart sink and your breath hitch a little.

“What?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Dean closed his eyes for a second, letting out a small sigh.

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.”

“This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

You didn’t answer, just buried your face in your hands, struggling to catch your breath as tears started to well up in your eyes. The reaction shocked you — why did you care about him so much? How could you be terrified of losing him when you were just… what? Occasional hunting partners? Friends?

But he was right there with you, wasn’t he?

Was this why he had come to you?

“I wanted to tell you myself,” he said softly, as if he could read your mind. “I… I wanted to see you. One last time, at least.”

One last time. His words bounced around in your head, and you lowered your hands to face him, confusion scrunching your brow. That didn’t make sense. Demons usually gave you ten years after a deal, so why…?

“Dean,” you said slowly. “How long… how long did they give you?”

“A year,” he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. “They gave me a year.”

“No,” you said, covering your mouth with one hand as the sobs started to spill out. “Oh, no, Dean, no, no, no…”

He pulled you close, wrapping you tight against his chest as you cried, your arms instinctively clinging to him. Incoherent words tumbled out — trying to apologize for crying, for feeling like a hole had been carved out of your chest. It didn’t feel right — you weren’t the one who was supposed to be feeling this way.

Because you weren’t the one dying.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms that night. As your sobs faded into tired breaths and your eyes finally closed, Dean felt a sharp ache in his chest while watching your swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

He couldn’t deal with the whirlwind of feelings churning inside him right now. He couldn’t face the regret, the fear, not even that nameless feeling he had for you — because he was too scared to name it, to even acknowledge it was real. All he knew was that he had lied; Bobby hadn’t sent him to you. Things weren’t fine, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He had come to you of his own choice.

Because when his world was crumbling, he knew you were the only one who could help him pick up the pieces.

Even when everything felt hopeless.

Even when he felt completely lost.