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azzifuddfanpage · 2 days ago

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A drunken confession by Azzi to Paige at Ted’s during a team gathering. Azzi sees Paige talking to this girl so out of jealousy, she downs multiple shots to get her mind off her. While downing them she doesn’t realize that Paige had came down to sit by her. So Azzi being really drunk couldn’t control her words so she confesses to Paige right there. "You know, I always look for you in every crowd. Even when I pretend I don’t care, I do. So much." And then they go back to the dorm room and (hehe smut)

Friends with Benefits

This prompt combined with this other prompt: Pazzi fwb and one of them gets jealous and they argue and then they stop being dumb and they make up (make out) whatever you decide!

—------

2.5k words

Themes: fwb/ jealousy/ angst

Tw: smut/ swearing

—-----

It was Azzi’s freshman year. She had chosen Uconn after a lot of serious thought, and hard convincing from Paige, but she was almost positive that it was the best school for her.

Paige had done the majority of the convincing, making edit reels on Hudl, sending her merch, tweeting about it, when it came to Uconn, Paige had absolutely no shame.

It was no secret that the girls had chemistry on the court, Geno didn't have to make a big decision on whether or not the girls would work well together. Slam even made an entire cover story solely on their friendship “one in a million”.

But their chemistry didn't stop at just the court. All it took was one shared plane ride back to Minnesota from team USA and there was no denying it.

—----

Azzi had been in love with paige ever since that flight, she knew paige loved her as a friend, but would never be able to tell if the feelings of love the way Azzi felt them, were mutual.

In highschool, living 100s of miles apart, meant not being able to have anything permanent. Maybe that was what made Azzi feel so unsure of herself when it came to her relationship with Paige, what they really had, and how worth it was.

—--

It all started when they shared their first kiss.

Paige had flown down for Azzi’s 16th birthday.

They spent the entire day sharing cake, laughs, and memories.

By the end of the night it was just her and Paige.

Aside from snapchats and long facetime calls, this was the first time they had seen eachother since team USA.

There was obvious tension, neither of the girls could hide.

Laying in Azzi’s bedroom both girls stared up at the ceiling, longing to break the loud silence between them.

Neither of them would remember who moved first, all they could remember was somehow, someway, they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Azzi would never forget that moment, and neither would Paige.

—------

After that what followed just came natural, the first kiss led to a first make out, and even them losing their virginity to each other.

Azzi’s feelings for Paige were unimaginable. Everytime she thought it might be different she was reminded that what they had was completely casual, and they were just friends.

—----

Paige picked her head up from between Azzi’s legs, wiping her mouth and putting her shirt back on.

“Thanks for that!” Paige said cheerily standing up and walking over to fix her hair in the mirror.

Azzi on the other hand had yet to recover from their little “excursion” and was still trying to catch her breath.

Once she had regained her sanity and came back to earth, Azzi propped herself up on her elbows so she could have a better look at Paige.

She cocked her head, “Hey why are you so dressed up, I thought we were just going to Ted's with the team?” Azzi asked as she watched Paige put on some of herrrr mascara, which was very out of character, seeing as how she had to literally use Azzi’s.

“Dani is gonna be there, so i dunno just wanna look good i guess.” Paige shrugged her off.

Azzi couldn't hide the way her heart dropped. How did she keep letting this happen?

She has tried to stop it from happening, she knows this “friends with benefits” wasn't good for her, it clearly isn't working, and all it does is leave Azzi alone wanting Paige even more than she did before.

“Oh-well you always look nice” Azzi said quietly while Paige just continued running around the room not even hearing her.

Azzi sighed to herself, she was in for a long night.

By the time they got to Ted's, Azzi and Paige were still for the most part attached to the hip. Azzi hated to admit it, but she just felt safer with Paige, it didn't matter how broken her heart got, she couldn't bear to be away from her.

That was what she thought.

Now here she was ordering a round of shots.

Paige had gotten up and managed to run into Dani by the bar.

“What kind of name is Dani anyway.” Azzi sneered at Amari as she threw another shot back, glowering over at the two girls. She hated the way Dani touches Paige's arm. Paige always hated when girls did that she would say it just felt, “Too obvious”.

“Says you AZZZIIII” Amari teased, dragging out her name to highlight the irony.

“Well I guess she has a theme.” Azzi said gruffly, turning her back so she didn't have to look at them anymore.

“Damn Azzi pace yourself” Aubrey says coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I'm fine,” Azzi replied shortly, trying to stand up. But in all honesty, she was far from fine. She hadn't drank too much but the amount she had in such a short period of time made all the blood rush to her head causing her to wobble.

“Yeah Azzi you don't look so good- sit back down I'm gonna go get you some ice water from the bar.” Amari added standing up and making her way over to the bar.

Ugh the bar. Even the thought of it made Azzi feel even worse, and not because of the alcohol, but because of the idea that Paige was over their probably planning to fuck some random girl, and maybe even worse- ask her on a date.

Azzi sat back down leaning her head against the table, letting the cool metal soothe the pounding headache she had.

A few minutes later Amari had returned, setting the glass down next to her. Azzi’s face was buried in the table, and Amari was behind her, so she couldn't have seen that when Amari had gone to get the ice water, Paige had immediately noticed Azzi’s condition.

Paige knew Azzi better than anyone. While Azzi had thought that Paige didn't care about Azzi, she thought wrong. Paige had been secretly watching her all night. When she saw Azzi begin to stubble, she had planned to rush over to her, but ran into Amari instead, who told her that Azzi was more of a light weight than she thought.

So when Amari placed the glass on the table next to Azzi, it wasn't really Amari, but Paige instead. Her gentle hand came around to place a comforting nudge against her shoulder.

Azzi sat up feeling the warming touch, she grabbed the water from the table and took a sip, the cool liquid coating the burning fire in her throat.

“She got fucked like 45 minutes ago, how horny is she god.” Azzi said abruptly, startingaling Paige.

“Are you talking about me silly girl?” Paige smirked, running a finger through Azzi’s thick dark curls.

Azzi felt her body tense and release. She felt a new wave of boldness wave over her. Unsure of it was the alcohol, or if she had just finally had enough she decided to come clean- which she may or may not regret later.

“Yes” Azzi said sternly, crossing her arms and jutting out her bottom lip into a pout.

Paige's heart raced seeing her so open and honest. She watched as Azzi struggled to find words to fill the silence.

She paused for a moment not sure what to say next, the tension between them clear.

“I just don't know how you were fucking me literally 45 minutes ago and you're already moved on to the next girl. Like I act like I don't care, but I do. So much.” Azzi started, her voice moving a mile a minute as her drunken confession spilled out of her.

Paige turned her to face her, holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.

“Why didn't you say something?” Paige asked, running her fingers along Azzi’s shoulders.

“You made it clear that you just wanted to be friends with benefits nothing more, we never put a label on it, I thought- I just thought that once I came to Uconn things would be different-but I don't know it's stupid…” Azzi trailed off, bringing her gaze down to the floor.

“Azzi-” Paige paused, using her finger to direct Azzi’s chin so she's looking back at her. “You've never just been a hook up to me, I just didn't want to hold you back. I thought that with college you would want to experiment and I didn't want to be the person that kept you from that.” Paige sighed looking for a response in Azzi’s eyes.

“I care about you more than you know, I have wanted to be more than just friends with you since the minute that I first saw you.” Paige continued reading her face.

Azzi felt her heart flutter at Paige’s honesty.

Without responding Azzi looks at Paige's lips, and before they knew it they were meeting in the middle, lips connecting, and their surroundings disappearing.

this time when they kissed it didn't feel like time was running out, this time it felt like their time had just begun. They weren't kissing as friends scared to go too far, but they were kissing- exploring something new, an unknown meaning of the relationship.

Paige slipped her tongue against Azzi’s lip, and maneuvered her hands so that they were grasping her ass. Azzi let out a gentle moan and Paige took that as an opportunity to sneak her tongue into Azzi's mouth.

As the kiss sped up, Paige would have taken Azzi right then and there if it weren't for Amari coming back and breaking it up.

“All right, get a room, Jesus.” Amari laughed, shoving them apart.

Azzi was blushing looking over at Paige who was puffy-lipped, and had eyes that were hooded over with lust.

The two escape the bar in a heap of giggles stealing kisses as they make their way back to the dorm.

They barely made it to Paige's bedroom with clothes on.

Paige practically throws Azzi onto the bed before connecting their lips again.

“ so fucking pretty” Paige said admiring Azzi's naked body as she trailed her fingers along her abs.

“Hey you fucked me earlier, its your turn now.” Azzi whined, flipping them over so she was on top.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Paige cooed.

With Paige’s affirmative words, Azzi crept down, trailing a line of kisses from her sharp jawline to the peak of her pelvic bone.

“So wet for me huh.” Azzi said, staring at the way her cunt glistened under Paige’s LED lights.

“Yeah seeing how jealous you got about me with another girl really turned me on.” Paige smirked, watching as Azzi ran her fingers along her inner thigh, spreading her legs wider.

Azzi simply looked up at her and smiled before leaning in and placing a few small slow kisses against her heat.

Paige let out a deep inhale at the sudden contact.

Azzi’s kisses turned into small kitten licks against her clit.

“Fuck Azzi” Paige moaned straining to keep her legs open as Azzi licked a long stripe from her hole back to her clit before going back in with more kitten licks.

Now that Paige was a heap of breathy moans, and her wetness was dripping from her hole, Azzi inserted two fingers jabbing them upward and feeling against Paige’s walls. As she thrusted in and out, she continued to lick against her clit in patterns, alternating between figure eights and tight circles.

Paige let out a sharp whine and Azzi began to suck and pull at her clit while simultaneously pounding her fingers in and out of her.

“Fuck right there Azzi” Paige moaned, lacing her fingers in Azzi’s hair and pulling her, guiding her and pushing down on that sweet spot on her clit.

Paige could feel her stomach tightening around Azzi's fingers.

“Fuck dont stop im so close” she continued, shoving Azzi’s face deeper into her cunt.

Azzi grunted against her, sending the vibrations into her core, and sending Paige over the edge, cumming all over Azzi’s fingers.

As Azzi fucked her through it, paige reached up to play with her nipples, tugging at them and rubbing them under her fingers.

“You're so perfect, did you know that?” Paige asked, her hands traveling down to where her pussy was.

“Mmmm” Azzi moans, not agreeing but not disagreeing. Paige smirks.

As Azzi pulls her fingers out of Paige, Paige takes them and sticks them in her mouth for her. She begins to lick around them, and flips them over, pulls out her fingers and shoves three of them that were dripping with spit and Paige's cum into Azzi’s tight pussy.

Azzi moans from the unexpected pressure, her legs shaking as Paige tries to squeeze in all three of her fingers simultaneously.

“Paige” Azzi moans loudly grabbing at Paige to get her to slow down.

“Too fast, too much, I can't.” Azzi whines, feeling Paige's fingers start to hit her g spot.

“You can, baby. Trust I have you. Let me do you right.” Paige says leaning down to blow against her clit.

Azzi moans at the pressure on her clit and props herself up so she can watch her pussy suction against Paige's fingers.

“She’s taking me so well.” Paige said basically to her cunt as she worked her thumb now against Azzi's clit. Azzi groaned at Paige’s words letting herself be carried away by the euphoric feeling.

The sound of Azzi's wetness and Paige's fingers squelching against her gummy walls mixed with their moans. Paige grunted as she worked her fingers against her pussy.

“Fuck im gonna come P.” Azzi started, leaning over as Paige used her other hand to press on her lower stomach, her fingers still pounding into her at an outrageous speed.

Paige could feel Azzi’s walls clenching around her fingers, the tightness almost impossible for Paige to push them in and out.

Paige used her other hand to ground herself and continued to fuck her through it, hearing her turn into a series of moans as her liquid began to spill from her pussy. Paige could feel her juices coating her hand. Paige bent over and connected her lips to her pussy as she removed her fingers from inside her, letting her cum pour out of her, and drinking up every last drop, not stopping until Azzi was pushing her head away from her.

Paige lay down next to her. Both girls were breathing heavily, just staring up at the ceiling.

Azzi turned towards Paige.

“Paige”

“Ya”

“I love you”

“I love you too baby” Paige said, reaching out and pulling Azzi into her, and spooning her from behind.

#pazzi fic #pazzi fics #pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #azzi and paige #paige and azzi

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mintyhollows · 2 days ago

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Nam-Gyu x Thanos’ ex gf reader part 1

This is my first ever attempt at writing anything lmao so bear with me pls. I’ve had bits and pieces of this stuck in my head for DAYS and I just had to do something about it. This part is really just setting the tone as mc & Nam-gyu doesn’t even interact lmao. But lmk if this is anything worth continuing.

THANOS IS PROLLY OOC BUT I LOVE ME SOME MEAN THANOS🫶🏼🫶🏼

When life gives you crippling debt, you can’t really afford to make lemonade. And it wasn’t so much life as it was your ex boyfriend who gave you crippling debt either.

You’d left Su-Bong a long time ago, before he adopted the personality of Thanos rather than just the stage name, and you weren’t planning on ever seeing him again. He’d broken you down in so many ways. Convincing you to let him invest your money, promising you he knew what he was doing, promising you he was recovering from his addiction. If only you hadn’t believed him.

Unfortunately, it seems that when life gives you crippling debt, it doesn’t take your plans into consideration. Now you could only hope Thanos had the decency to leave you alone after everything, even if his new friend might not.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first game shook you to your core. You hadn’t known what to expect after accepting some random business card and being somewhat consensually kidnapped to god knows where, but it wasn’t this. The sound of gunshots was still ringing in your ears as you were lead back to the main room, and you didn’t know if it would ever stop. You mindlessly found your way back to your bunk and plopped down, trying to regain some piece of mind.

«Fancy seeing you here»

So much for peace of mind. You looked up and met the eyes of your infamous ex boyfriend. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him, yet he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

«What do you want?»

«Aw, don’t be such a downer. I always said you ought to live a little, come join the Thanos world and we’ll get through this.»

He gestured behind him, where you could see the rest of his presumed friends pretinding not to listen in on the conversation. You raised an eyebrow at him in annoyance.

«If I remember correctly, I already left both you and the Thanos world quite a while ago. Besides, I didn’t realize you had groupies»

He almost looked sorry for you for a second, but he kept the smirk on his face.

«Oh sweetheart. I’ve always had groupies, you were just too naive to realize that you were one of them»

Had he told you this a few months ago your heart would have shattered, but your resentment for him had only grown in your time apart, and so the only thing affected by his statement was your ego. Not that you were about to let him know that though, so you only shrugged at him as he turned to walk away. But not without calling back to you.

«Offer still stands sweetheart, the games are gonna be boring on your own»

You spent the time leading up to the vote mulling over his offer. However annoying he might be, his offer was tempting. It was his fault you needed money in the first place, so letting him show off and keep you safe during the next game was only fair, right?

Once it was your turn to vote you looked over at him and his little group. Thanos was whispering with who seemed to be his right hand man as they both looked at you in anticipatoon. You made eyecontact with the unfamiliar man and felt something in you click.

‘Player 124, huh? Fuck it’ You thought as you pressed ‘O’.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#squid game x reader #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #thanos x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game season 2 x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader

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ravenwolf1132 · 2 days ago

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Your answer was immediate and without hesitation "Of course, my Lady."

The Goddess looks simultaneously shocked and relieved, "even after all I have done, you still choose to follow me? I may no longer be the benevolent Goddess you remember."

"Why do you say that, my Lady?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I have fought and killed," she confesses, guilt and sorrow pouring from her aura, "I have sacrificed many lives while I was away, both friend and foe, I have seen horrors that would otherwise drive a lesser being insane. I fear that I have become like the monsters I had sworn to protect others from."

You scoff, "if that were true, you know I would have stopped believing in you a long time ago."

The Goddess looks at you, confused.

"You have always been a fighter as long as I've known you. How you would get pushed around and knocked down but you never gave up. You alway kept going, doing what was right, protecting those you cherished. You would get right back up, covered in bruises and cuts and dirt, and go right back into the fray for round two or three or however many times it took to get the job done."

You let that statement hang in the air, solidifying the faith you have in your Goddess. She looks at you with slight awe in her eyes. You ask her;

"Tell me, did you ever give up during your crusade? Give up on coming home? Making sure the job was finished?"

"There were many times I wavered," she answered, you didn't doubt her, she never gave you any reason to not believe her before. "I wondered to myself whether it was all worth the bloodshed. But even though there were many times I came close to throwing in the towel, I... I knew I had to keep going, if only so I could one day return home."

"Then that's all I needed to hear," you said with a smile. Reaching forwards, you grasp her scarred hands. Hands that had always been worn and callused. "I've known you since we were kids, Hope. You were always kind, but you were never a delicate person. Benevolent, yes, and you always will be as long as I can help it, but not soft. Benevolence and Strength can coexist, you know."

Hope laughs softly. To others, it would be an inspiring and miraculous sound. But to you, you're brought back to the days where you two were content to play games in the neighboring fields, laughing and singing.

"How do you do continue to astound me with your loyalty?" She asks.

"Did you forget?" You playfully ask, "When this whole Goddess business started I promised to be right by your side, your first and last disciple, til the very end."

She grins, a smile you remember from so long ago, "why of course, how could I have forgotten, my daring Knight?"

"Can't say, it was quite the memorable ceremony, my Lady" you snarkily reply.

"Ok, quit it with the 'my Lady' shit," she laughs, giving you a love tap on the arm.

"Whatever do you mean, my Lady~?"

"Faith!" She scolds.

With a laugh and hand in hand, you begin your long trek home. Not as Deity and Disciple, but Childhood Friends.

---

So a little context. The Goddess was originally a human girl named Hope and her Disciple is her childhood friend named Faith. Hope ascended to Godhood as the embodiment of her name, the Goddess of Hope. Faith lives up to her name in which no matter what, she remains loyal to Hope. So long as she's loyal to her, she will continue to live an eternal life to remain by her side as a part of her promise.

You are the last disciple of a benevolent goddess. Years later she returns from a divine war that raged beyond the realm of men. Covered in weapons and spines, she reaches out with a hand marred by scars. "Will you still follow me?"

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing inspiration #writing prompts

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cosmiclily · 13 hours ago

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chapter one: heartache

wc: 2.1k

Five years. Vi and Caitlyn had been together for five years before Caitlyn decided that the exposure from Vi’s life as a musician was “too much.” She said she was already dealing with enough from her mother’s expectations, constant scrutiny, and the pressure to be perfect. Being tied to someone constantly in the spotlight only amplified the chaos she was trying to escape.

But how do you just walk away from five years? Five years of love, growth, and shared memories. They had been through everything together—the awkward phases, the big milestones, the small, intimate moments that made life feel worth it. They were each other’s first in almost everything: first love, first heartbreak, first time believing someone could truly know and accept them for who they were.

Vi couldn’t imagine a future without Caitlyn in it. Caitlyn wasn’t just her girlfriend; she was her rock, her balance, her safe place in a world that could be loud and overwhelming. With her, life made sense. Without her, it felt like the ground had been pulled out from under her feet.

Now, Vi was left standing in the ruins of what they had built together, forced to pick up the shattered pieces and figure out who she was without Caitlyn. Every corner of her life reminded her of what she’d lost—the songs Caitlyn inspired, the jokes they shared together, the faint trace of her perfume still clinging to the throw pillows they’d picked out together.

Relearning herself wasn’t just hard—it felt impossible. How do you start over when so much of your identity has been intertwined with someone else? How do you let go of someone who was your past, your present, and the future you were certain you’d have?

Vi’s days were spent trying to fill the void Caitlyn left behind, and her nights were haunted by the deafening silence where laughter and love used to live.

──────────────────────

“Wake up!” you say, shaking Vi’s body aggressively. “I sure hope you’re not dead or still drunk because we leave in 30 minutes. Pack your shit.” You’re already gathering her clothes scattered across the room, shoving them into her beat-up suitcase. It’s barely holding together, much like its owner.

The thing is, you love Vi—you really do. She’s one of your best friends, and without a doubt, one of the most talented people you’ve ever met. But ever since her breakup with Caitlyn, she’s been a complete wreck. All she does these days is drink and mope around like the world ended.

When she first came to you, heartbroken and teary-eyed, spilling every detail of the split, you were genuinely sad for her. Five years with someone isn’t easy to walk away from. But, selfishly, you couldn’t help but think,“At least we’ll get some killer songs out of this.” Heartbreak always fuels the best music, right? You figured she’d take her pain and pour it into the band.

Instead, she spends 85% of her days drowning herself in booze and picking fights with strangers in dive bars, and the other 15% passed out somewhere she probably shouldn’t be. Honestly, it’s exhausting keeping up with her. At least this time, she actually made it back to her own hotel room instead of crashing on some stranger’s couch—or worse.

“Violet, seriously,” you snap, shaking her again when all you get is a groan. “You’re a grown-ass woman, and I’m not your babysitter. Get up, get dressed, and try not to look like you’ve been on a week-long bender. The van is leaving, and I’m not letting you make us late again.”

She finally stirs, one bloodshot eye cracking open as she glares at you. “What’s your problem?” she mutters, her voice gravelly and tired.

“My problem? My problem is that you’re wasting your talent and dragging us all down with you. I get it—you’re hurt, heartbroken, life sucks. But this?” You gesture around the room, littered with empty bottles and discarded clothes. “This isn’t you, Vi. And it sure as hell isn’t the Vi this band needs right now.”

She sits up slowly, rubbing her temples like even that’s too much effort. “You don’t get it,” she mutters, her voice low. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like Cait.”

You take a deep breath, softening your tone. “No, I don’t. I won’t pretend I do. But I know Caitlyn wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. And I know you’re better than this. So, get your ass up and let’s get to work. You don’t have to fix everything right now, but at least show up—for yourself, and for us.”

She looks at you for a long moment, her face unreadable. For a second, you think she’s going to argue. But instead, she sighs heavily, dragging herself out of bed like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

“Fine,” she mutters, running a hand through her mess of hair. “I’ll pack. But don’t expect me to look ‘presentable.’”

You snort, tossing her a clean shirt you found buried under a pile of god knows what. “Presentable’s overrated. I’ll settle for functional.”

She gives you a half-smirk, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from her in weeks, and starts gathering the rest of her things.

You make your way to the van, your thoughts swirling as you reflect on how much your lives have changed in such a short time. Just a few months ago, you were barely scraping by, playing gigs at any bar that would have you. Your dad thought joining a band was a terrible idea—especially since it meant you wouldn’t be going to college. He never liked Vi, or her family for that matter, constantly calling her a bad influence. He’d been saying that ever since the two of you met in high school, always claiming that Vi was the one putting reckless ideas in your head.

When you told him you were starting a band with her, he completely lost it. You could still hear the echoes of his angry voice, the awful things he said, the way he swore you’d never make it. “You’re throwing your future away for a pipe dream,” he’d yelled. “Mark my words, you’ll regret this.” Those words used to haunt you—sometimes they still do. But right now, you can’t deny the faint sense of satisfaction in knowing that you’ve proven him wrong. Sure, things aren’t perfect, but you’re here. You’re on a tour van, opening for a bigger artist, starting to get noticed by her fans. It’s not the dream yet, but it’s closer than it’s ever been.

Climbing onto the van, you spot Jinx already in her usual spot by the window, earbuds dangling around her neck as she scrolls aimlessly on her phone. She glances up when she hears you, a crooked grin forming on her face.

“Did you get her to wake up?” she asks, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disgust. “I tried, but it reeks in there. Smells like whiskey, sweat, and bad decisions.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Yeah, she’s up. Barely. I had to practically shake her awake and threaten to leave her behind. She’s packing now, probably still half-asleep.”

Jinx smirks, leaning back in her seat and tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “You’re a braver soul than I am. I gave up after two knocks. You know how Vi gets when she’s hungover—like a grumpy bear. Or a bear with a hangover.”

“She’s not a bear,” you say with a sigh, dropping into the seat across from her. “She’s just… going through it. Though, honestly, I wish she’d just move on already.”

Jinx raises an eyebrow, her expression equal parts amused and frustrated. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. When does ‘going through it’ stop being an excuse? She’s dragging herself—and us—down. It’s not like we’re rolling in free passes for her to waste.”

You glance out the window, watching the early morning light streak across the horizon. She’s not wrong. Vi’s breakup with Caitlyn hadn’t just been hard on her—it had been hard on all of you. The drinking, the fights, the inconsistency... It was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Where’s Ekko?” you ask, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me he’s late too.”

Jinx shrugs lazily. “Oh, he forgot something in his room. He’s probably on his way back already. You know him—‘fashionably late’ and all that.”

As if on cue, the hotel doors swing open, and Ekko steps outside with Archie, your ever-enthusiastic manager, trailing close behind. The two are deep in conversation, their hands gesturing wildly as they talk.

“Oh, you girls are already here! Excellent.” Archie’s voice carries before he even reaches the bus. His short, chubby frame and thick british accent somehow manage to command attention wherever he goes. He’s the reason the band even had a shot, the one who saw potential when no one else did.

“I have exciting news,” Archie announces, his grin stretching ear to ear as he climbs aboard. Then, his expression falters. “But… where is Miss Violet? Don’t tell me she’s late again.”

“She’s packing,” you answer, sitting up straighter. “She’ll be out any minute.”

Archie narrows his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Packing? At this hour? I gave everyone strict instructions to be ready by now.”

“She had a rough night,” you offer, though you feel like a broken record at this point. How many times have you covered for her?

“A rough night?” Archie throws his hands up dramatically. “She’s had a ‘rough night’ every night for the past month! If she’s not careful, she’ll burn herself out before we even get close to making it big.”

You exchange a glance with Jinx, who shrugs as if to say, He’s not wrong.

At that moment, the can door opens again, and Vi steps aboard. She looks like she just rolled out of bed—hair tousled, hoodie wrinkled, and sunglasses covering her undoubtedly bloodshot eyes.

“Morning,” she mutters, flopping into a seat without so much as a glance at Archie.

“Morning?” Archie echoes incredulously. “Miss Violet, this is hardly the professionalism I expect from you. We’re opening for one of the biggest acts of the year, and you’re showing up like you’ve just walked out of a frat house!”

Vi groans, tilting her head back against the seat. “Save it, Archie. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Archie pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath before shaking it off. “Fine. I’ll save my lecture for later because—believe it or not—we’ve got good news. Big news.”

Everyone perks up at that, even Vi, though she does so begrudgingly.

“What kind of news?” you ask, leaning forward with curiosity.

Archie’s grin widens as he claps his hands together. “You’re being added to three more tour dates! One of which is in LA. And, if you can manage to pull yourselves together, there might even be offers for an single on the table.”

The van erupts into excited chatter, a buzz of energy filling the space. Jinx punches the air, Ekko grins from ear to ear, and even you feel a rush of exhilaration. This is what you’ve all been working for—an actual shot at something bigger.

Even Vi, slouched in her seat with her sunglasses still on, cracks a small smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s there. Maybe this could be the spark she needed—the moment she finally stopped wallowing and started using all that anger and hurt for something productive.

“Quiet down, please,” Archie calls out, waving his hands to settle everyone. “I know you’re all excited, and you should be. But this will only be possible if you show your absolute best in the upcoming concerts. No more sloppiness, no more excuses. This is your chance to prove you’re ready for the big leagues.”

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the stakes. The excitement dims just slightly, replaced by determination.

“So,” Archie continues, checking his watch, “settle down, get your heads in the game, and prepare to give it everything you’ve got. We’ll be leaving in a couple of minutes.”

Jinx leans over your seat, her voice low but tinged with excitement. “Three more shows, an album, and LA? Think we’ll survive?”

You chuckle softly, glancing at Vi, who’s staring out the window now, her expression unreadable. “We’ll survive,” you reply. “The question is whether we’ll thrive.”

Jinx snorts. “Speak for yourself. I was born to thrive.”

Despite everything, you feel a flicker of hope. This was it—the break you’d been waiting for. Now all you had to do was rise to the occasion.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter two

notes: i love making vi suffer 😔 it’s a character flaw im sorry

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #lily writes

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vibelladonna · 2 days ago

Text

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── ·

Geo has officially become my second favorite character in Tkatb. As an asexual person writing about another asexual-coded character, I have to say—he makes me feel seen. It’s like he literally can’t take his eyes off me (and let’s face it, with Geo, that’s more intense than romantic).

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

But let’s be serious: I love him platonically. Sorry Brittany.

So, of course, I’ll share my headcanons about Geo, some shared by other fans, and even a few from the game’s lore. And no, before you ask, I won’t be writing about Sol in this “Type of Boyfriend” trope. He’s the obvious main choice in the game, and countless talented writers have already explored that lane.

Geo, however? His quiet, unsettling stares deserve its moment in the spotlight.

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off?

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down!

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe. But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them.

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter.

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too…

The kind of observant where he notices *everything*. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead. It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And that’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to change him, just kind of… stuck around.

Geo doesn’t do well with people who push or pry, so the fact that you respected his space but still showed up? Yeah, that got to him. Even if he’d never admit it out loud.

What’s wild is that he notices everything. Stuff you didn’t even realize about yourself? Yeah, he’s clocked it already. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way you twirl your hair when you’re stressed, or even the exact date you mentioned something offhand weeks ago. It’s almost unsettling how much he takes in, but it’s also one of the ways he shows how much he cares.

He’s not the type to constantly shower you with compliments or grand gestures, but his quiet, steady presence speaks volumes. Geo’s the guy who will fix something for you before you even realize it’s broken or offer exactly what you need without you having to ask.

And when he does open up or say something heartfelt? You know it’s real because he doesn’t just say things lightly.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Okay, let’s get real—Geo is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked up in a box somewhere with a “Do Not Disturb” sign slapped on it. But here’s the thing: when Geo cares, he cares. Like, no half-measures.

Once he lets someone in—which is a feat on its own—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And let’s be honest, why would Geo want anyone else? He’s not the type to hop from person to person—when he chooses you, he chooses you.

I’m pulling his asexual card here because it just fits. Geo isn’t about flashy romance or grand declarations. For him, love isn’t in the words or PDA—mind you he HATES PDA—it’s in the quiet, consistent ways he shows up for you. He wouldn’t just call you his partner; he’d treat you like you’re the most important person in his life, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

And the way he shows his affection? It’s all in the details. Geo is hyper-observant—he probably knows you better than you know yourself.

Again, he’ll pick up on the smallest things, like how you take your coffee or tea, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or how you’re always talking about that one book or game you’re obsessed with. And he’ll use that information to make your day in ways that feel effortless.

Expect random, thoughtful surprises. Maybe your favorite snacks just happen to appear on your desk when you’re having a rough day, or you’ll find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see in your bag without him saying a word. He’s not going to make a big deal about it either—he’ll just shrug it off like it’s no big deal, but deep down, he’s paying attention to every detail that makes you you.

Geo’s love language is subtle, sure, but it’s also steady and reliable.

You won’t always see it coming, but you’ll feel it in the way he’s always quietly there for you, no matter what.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s hella protective—like, protective to the point where you know he’s got your back no matter what. But don’t think for a second he’s the clingy or overbearing type. Nah, that’s not his style.

He’s more of a silent sentinel kind of guy, keeping a close eye on everything while letting you do your thing. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That trust speaks volumes. He knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to baby you or hover like some overprotective shadow.

But let’s get one thing straight—if someone crosses the line with you? Game over. Geo might seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to defending you, that sharp tongue of his comes out swinging.

And let’s not forget the fact that he’s an archer. I’m just saying, if someone pushes too far, they’d better pray they’re not anywhere near a target. He wouldn’t need to say much—one cold glare, one well-aimed shot at a bullseye, and everyone around would get the message.

What’s even better is that Geo doesn’t make a scene about it. He’s not the type to start unnecessary drama or puff up his chest to prove something. He’ll shut down any nonsense with a few carefully chosen words or, if it comes to it, an intimidating presence that leaves no room for argument.

He’s protective, yeah, but it’s in this quiet, no-nonsense way that just makes you feel safe without feeling suffocated.

And honestly? That balance is rare. He’s like your personal bodyguard without the need for the over-the-top theatrics. It’s not about control—it’s about making sure you know you’re valued and looked out for.

And for Geo, that’s everything.

✑ A Hidden Heart

Geo’s not the type to be up in your face 24/7. Nah, for him, it’s all about quality over quantity. He’s perfectly fine with spending an hour sitting next to you in total silence, maybe reading or just walking side by side.

You don’t even have to talk—he’s not big on words anyway. It’s the connection that matters to him, not the setting or how much time you spend together.

To Geo, a quiet moment shared between just the two of you means more than any loud party or over-the-top date night ever could.

Now, let’s talk about Geo’s bluntness. We all know he’s sharp-tongued, unfiltered, and way too honest for his own good. It’s kind of his thing. But when it comes to you? That edge softens, and he tries—tries being the keyword here—to rein it in. He’s still going to tell you exactly what he thinks because, let’s be real, that’s just who he is.

But with you, he’ll make the effort to phrase things more gently. You’re one of the very few people who gets that version of him, and let’s be honest, that’s kind of special. You get to see the side of him that’s not all sharp remarks and icy glares, the side that actually cares.

And while Geo might seem like this stoic, broody guy who doesn’t let anything faze him, he’s secretly a total softie when it comes to you. Again, he’s not going to smother you with hugs or drown you in words of comfort when you’re upset—that’s not his style. He’s not like Crowe T-T.

But he’ll be there.

Sitting beside you when you’re crying, quietly handing you tissues, letting you lean on his shoulder without a word. He listens, like really listens, and you can feel his presence grounding you even when he doesn’t say much.

It’s not that Geo doesn’t care—he just shows it in his own way. A quiet walk, a softened tone, a steady shoulder to lean on. With Geo, love isn’t loud or flashy. It’s steady, subtle, and completely genuine.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well�� Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation?

So… Compliments? Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet.

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside. And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service?

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day.

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package.

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though. “Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special. And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking. And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked?

That’s how you win this man over.

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him.

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship.

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts?

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside? He’s lowkey impressed. Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like, “…You actually get me.”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick. When the gift reflects his personality and interests?

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket?

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it.

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause.

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously. This man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad. He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive. He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred. You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony. Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, but he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like. It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire. He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason. You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about “proper application techniques” while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying his skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach. Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.”

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at it. His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation. You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his.

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it. “You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is.

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it.

✑ So Damn Competitive

Don’t let Geo’s stoic, “I’m too cool to care” vibe fool you—this man is surprisingly competitive. Like, you’d think someone who’s all about calm and control wouldn’t get riled up over a board game, right? Wrong. The moment you pull out a board game or even a deck of Uno cards, you’re witnessing a transformation. Same too…

Geo doesn’t just play to win—he plays to crush. He’s not loud about it, though. Oh no, Geo’s trash talk is subtle but devastating. “That’s an… interesting move,” he’ll say, his aquamarine eyes glinting with quiet smugness as he places his piece exactly where it’ll ruin your entire strategy. And let’s not even get started on trivia night. This man has an encyclopedic knowledge of random facts, and he’ll flex it in the most deadpan way possible.

But here’s the best part: Geo will let you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. He’ll subtly fumble a move in Jenga or conveniently “forget” the answer to a question during trivia, all while keeping that unreadable poker face. If you call him out on it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’ll say, completely straight-faced, as if he didn’t just let the tower fall on purpose.

The funniest part is how petty he can get when he doesn’t win. Like, say you beat him in a cooking challenge (because your pancakes were objectively fluffier). He won’t throw a fit, but you’ll catch him side-eyeing your plate like it personally offended him. “Your syrup-to-pancake ratio is off,” he might mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

But his competitive streak isn’t all bad—it’s actually kind of adorable. If you’re struggling with something, Geo will quietly make it his mission to help you improve.

Trying to get better at a sport? Let’s use Kyūdō, in other words, the Japanese martial art of archery. It started as you’d expect—Geo, all serious and instructor-like, standing behind you to adjust your posture, his hands steady as they guided yours. “Hold it like this,” he’d say, his tone calm and precise. You could tell he was in his element, and honestly?

He’s kind of hot when he gets all focused like that.

At first, you weren’t great. The arrows went everywhere except the target and Geo’s quiet sighs of exasperation were hilarious. But instead of getting frustrated, he’d patiently explain what you were doing wrong, occasionally muttering things like, “It’s not that hard,” under his breath.

But then something shifted. One day, it just clicked. Suddenly, your arrows weren’t just hitting the target—they were landing dead center.

Every. Single. Time.

Geo’s reaction? Priceless. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his aquamarine eyes narrowing as he watched your shots. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Except it wasn’t luck. You kept getting better. So much better, in fact, that you started beating him.

The first time it happened, you expected him to be annoyed. But instead, he just stared at the target, then at you, and said, “You’ve been practicing without me.” (Spoiler: You hadn’t.)

From then on, Geo challenges you to little games—first one to hit three bullseyes, trick shots, you name it. And every time you won, you’d catch that subtle crease in his brow like he couldn’t quite believe it.

But despite his bruised ego, Geo was secretly proud of you. You’d catch him smiling—just barely—when you weren’t looking, and if anyone else tried to challenge you? Oh, he’d brag like crazy. “She’s the best shot here,” he’d say, completely deadpan, like he wasn’t lowkey sulking about the fact that you’d surpassed him.

Watching Geo try to outshoot you while pretending he wasn’t bothered was half the fun, you know it’s eating him up inside. “Good game,” he’ll say, his tone perfectly neutral, while internally plotting his revenge for next time.

It’s all part of the charm, though.

✑ You’re His Safe Space

Okay, I know—Geo and PDA? They’re not exactly besties. He’s not the guy to be all over you in public; in fact, he hates it.

Holding hands? Brings too much attention.

Kisses in front of people? Absolutely not.

He’s got that whole “reserved and composed” thing going on, and the idea of being openly mushy in front of others? Yeah, hard pass.

But here’s the plot twist: when it’s just the two of you? Total cling mode.

When Geo’s guard is down, he’s secretly so affectionate it’s almost like a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Imagine this: you’re just minding your own business—maybe reading, scrolling on your phone, or binge-watching something—and out of nowhere, you feel his arms snake around you. He doesn’t say a word; he just pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder or burying his face in your hair like it’s his personal safe haven.

It’s his way of saying, “You’re my peace,” without actually having to string the words together. Subtle? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Geo isn’t heartless—not by a long shot. He cares so much, he just doesn’t always know how to package those feelings into neat little boxes with bows on top. He’s the type to skip the love letters and dramatic proclamations and go straight to showing you how much you mean to him.

Actions over words, always.

And okay, let’s be real—some of us can relate to that. Maybe feelings aren’t the easiest thing to express, so we see a bit of ourselves in Geo. It’s not that he’s cold or distant; he’s just navigating his emotions in his own quiet way. And when he finally lets his guard down? That’s when you see his true colors.

After pulling you close, Geo turns you around, his hands lingering gently on your arms. His touch is feather-light, deliberate, as though he’s giving you a moment to realize what’s happening. He pauses, his fingers brushing against your lips in a way that sends a quiet thrill down your spine.

His eyes lock onto yours for a heartbeat—then they drop to your lips, lingering there just long enough for you to feel the tension in the air. When his gaze meets yours again, there’s something unspoken in his expression, a question he doesn’t need to say out loud: Is this okay?

And then, he leans in. It’s not rushed or overly dramatic; it’s a simple, slow movement like he wants to savor every second. His lips meet yours softly at first, testing, then growing a little firmer as he presses closer. It’s the kind of kiss that says a thousand things he wouldn’t dare put into words—trust, vulnerability, and a quiet kind of devotion he’s still figuring out how to show.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as he lingers there for a moment. It’s like time stops, and nothing else matters except the two of you in that little bubble of intimacy.

Geo’s not about grand gestures or big, romantic speeches. But this? This is his way of telling you everything. His actions speak volumes, and each small touch, each lingering look, is filled with a kind of tenderness that words could never capture.

And maybe that’s the most Geo thing about him—he doesn’t need to shout his love from rooftops or drown you in cliché romance. Instead, he gives you moments like this. Moments that feel raw, honest, and entirely yours. Moments where he silently tells you, “You’re my world,” without ever saying a word.

Trust me, it’s worth the wait.

✑ Flaws? There’s a few…

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer. Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way.

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell. Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him.

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances. Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good.

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P. Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with.

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Lastly, Geo’s got walls on walls. He’s not about to open up to just anyone, and even once he does, it’s a slow process. He’s constantly watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions. It takes someone special to get through that, and even then, he might still keep certain things locked away.

So, What Does This All Mean?

Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him. His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

At the end of the day, Geo’s trust issues are a double-edged sword. They make him fiercely loyal to the people he *does* trust, but they also mean it takes a long time for him to get there.

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that? That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope.

But would we want him any other way? Not.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay, let’s get this out of the way again: Geo has serious trust issues. And honestly? Can you blame the guy? He’s been through (we don’t know about) so much that his walls aren’t just up—they’re basically a fortress complete with a moat, a drawbridge, and probably a dragon or two guarding the gate.

Here’s the deal: nobody really knows Geo. Like, we know he’s loaded, he’s ridiculously good with a bow, and he has a death glare that could probably stop traffic. But beyond that? Nothing. It’s like his life story is classified information, and we’re all just stuck guessing what’s in the classified files.

So anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building. Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars.

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy.

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk. And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends.” Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, what does that mean for literally anyone else? Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger. What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: in the game, he’s not super complicated to figure out. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain. He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

We’re starving for answers!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── ·

#the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb geo #geo oogami #subaru oogami #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb head canons #the kid at the back head canons

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castdust · 3 days ago

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⤷ wish that i could !

yn, a part-time barista, and daniela, a busy university student, have never crossed paths despite frequenting the same cafe. their schedules have always kept them apart--until finals season at ADMU forces daniela to adjust her routine. as late-night study sessions and caffeine cravings bring her to yn's shift.

⤷ bleed by The Kid LAROI

16. pain and loss + written (1550 words)

pain and loss became yn’s best friend at an early age.

it came in the way her ex-girlfriend had smiled at her that first night—soft, tentative, the kind of smile that seemed to carry a question. yn had thought it was love back then, the way the girl had looked at her like she was something worth figuring out. but now, as she sat frozen in her seat across the gymnasium, she realized how cruel that smile had been. It hadn’t been a promise. It had been a test.

that she had failed.

or the way her mother’s hands trembled as she packed away the remnants of her father’s things after the divorce. the quiet rustle of cardboard boxes being taped shut, the hum of a vacuum cleaner erasing the last traces of his presence. loss didn’t scream—it whispered, insidious and sharp, sinking its claws into the fragile parts of her heart.

pain and loss was a lesson yn learned early, in ways both big and small. a broken toy, a pet goldfish floating lifeless in its bowl, the fading warmth of her grandmother’s hugs. but nothing had prepared her for the hollow ache that came with losing the people who promised to stay.

now, as she sat on the cold bleachers of the packed arena, the weight of it all pressed down on her chest. the cacophony of cheers and chants from rival schools felt like static in her ears. her gaze was locked on daniela, whose lithe figure moved with precision and grace across the gym floor, the lights catching the sheen of sweat on her forehead. her smile was radiant, infectious, and utterly unreachable.

yn couldn’t look away, even though every second of watching felt like swallowing shards of glass. she had memorized every expression on daniela’s face—the determined set of her jaw, the playful glint in her eyes during the routine, the way her cheeks dimpled when she laughed with her teammates. yn had dared to believe that smile was hers to hold, once.

the performance ended with a deafening roar from the crowd, but the ache in yn’s chest only grew heavier. she watched as daniela and her teammates hugged, jumping up and down in celebration. it should’ve been a beautiful moment, one to cheer for, to be proud of, but all yn could feel was the sharp sting of what she could never have.

it wasn’t until after the winners were announced that the world seemed to tilt. daniela, still glowing from the high of the performance, from her spot on the other side of the court, yn saw him—a tall, broad-shouldered DLSU basketball player, his jersey casually slung over his shoulder. he approached daniela with the kind of confidence that made yn’s stomach churn. his smile was easy, charming, and when he leaned in to talk to her, daniela laughed.

it was like being thrown into a memory she didn’t want to relive.

her ex-girlfriend had laughed like that too.

yn’s grip on the edge of the bleachers tightened as she watched the scene unfold. the basketball player handed daniela his phone, and she hesitated for only a moment before typing something into it. she handed it back to him with a smile, and he grinned wide, his hand brushing hers briefly before he turned to leave.

a lump rose in yn’s throat, hot and suffocating. the sound of the gym seemed to grow louder, the cheering crowd, the announcements, the celebratory music—all of it crashing over her like waves, drowning her in her own thoughts.

had she been wrong about daniela?

she had known daniela was questioning, and had thought they were navigating this labyrinth of emotions together. but now, it felt like she had been walking blindfolded while daniela had found the exit. had she discovered her truth, leaving yn as nothing more than an experiment? a fleeting phase?

it was like being sixteen again, watching her ex-girlfriend flirt with another boy at a party, laughing and touching his arm in the way she used to touch yn. it was the same hollow ache, the same sinking realization that she had never been enough—not for her ex, and now, not for daniela.

she thought about all the moments they’d shared—the late nights spent studying together, daniela’s sleepy voice on the phone when she’d call yn just to say goodnight, the way she’d light up when yn brought her coffee during practice. had yn made it all up in her head? had she imagined the way daniela’s eyes softened when they met hers? the way she seemed to lean into yn’s presence like it was the only thing keeping her steady?

or worse, was she just another experiment?

the thought clawed at her chest, sharp and unrelenting. it was the same fear she’d carried since her ex-girlfriend had admitted, tearfully, that yn had been her way of figuring things out. “i’m sorry,” she’d said, her voice breaking. “i thought I loved you, but I was just confused.”

confused.

the word made yn’s chest tighten, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

she blinked rapidly, she watched daniela laugh with her teammates, completely unaware of the storm brewing on the other side of the gym. how did I not see this before? the question clawed at her, bitter and accusatory.

yn wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to stop the hurt from consuming her, but all she could do was sit there, frozen.

her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to memories of her ex-girlfriend. the way she’d used yn to confirm her own identity, only to discard her when the answer became clear. the hollow excuses, the tears that never felt real, the way yn had been left to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart alone. now, she saw her ex in daniela’s position, and the resemblance was too much to bear.

yn’s chest felt hollow, her breaths shallow and uneven. she pressed her palms against her knees, willing herself to move, to stand, to leave before daniela saw her. but her legs felt like lead, her heart weighed down by the unbearable weight of what could have been.

for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different ending—one where daniela turned around, saw yn sitting there, and ran to her. one where she didn’t give her number to the basketball player, where she chose yn without hesitation, without question.

but that wasn’t reality.

in reality, yn was just the girl who sat on the sidelines, watching as the person she loved slipped through her fingers.

“yn?” jungwon’s voice cut through the noise, concerned but hesitant. he and minji exchanged worried glances, but yn barely registered them. her legs moved before her mind could catch up, carrying her down the stairs and out of the arena.

she wouldn’t cry here—not where anyone could see.

the cool evening air hit her like a slap, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the suffocating weight in her chest. she stumbled into the parking lot, her vision swimming as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. her breaths came in ragged gasps, her hands trembling as she clutched at her chest, trying to hold herself together.

she felt pathetic. stupid. delusional for ever believing daniela’s lingering touches and soft smiles meant anything more than fleeting affection. for thinking she was different.

Special.

“i’m such an idiot,” she choked out, her voice breaking on the last word. the sound echoed in the empty lot, swallowed by the darkness.

memories of daniela flooded her mind unbidden—her laughter, her warmth, the way she’d once brushed a stray strand of hair from yn’s face with a tenderness that had made her heart stutter. was any of it real? the question burned in her throat, acidic and sharp.

a sob tore from her lips, raw and guttural, as she sank to her knees on the pavement. the world around her felt too big, too cold, too empty. she wrapped her arms around herself, desperate for a semblance of comfort, but it wasn’t enough. nothing could fill the void daniela had left.

she didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying into the night, before jungwon and minji found her. they didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions. jungwon knelt beside her, his hand warm and steady on yn’s shoulder, while minji crouched in front of her, offering a tissue.

“it’s okay,” jungwon murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rawness of yn’s pain. “you don’t have to say anything. we’re here.”

but yn couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to explain the storm raging inside her. all she could do was lean into their presence, letting their quiet support ground her as the pieces of her heart lay scattered around her.

for now, she let herself grieve—grieve for the love she thought she had, for the future she had dared to imagine. she didn’t know if she’d ever feel whole again, but for tonight, she let herself break.

this was heartbreak.

raw.

unrelenting.

all-consuming.

and as much as she wanted to stop it, to push the pain away, she knew she couldn’t. she’d have to carry it, just like she always did.

because that was love.

and love, she had learned, was never kind.

° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ masterlist next

taglist: @gtfoiydlyj @saysirhc @artrizzler19 @jellaaa @taikabui @spongebobtentacles @hwonnrinji @sunshinez4 @fillthwvoid

a/n: special thanks to only on camera by cinnamanz (especially the angst chapters cuz it helped me a lot by writing this part :p)

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.

Wendigo.

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.

But you’ll have to try.

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer.

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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patisseriu · 3 days ago

Text

he tasted of dark chocolate || hts

univ!taesan x gn!reader

genre : strangers to ???

wc : ~2.1k

cw & tw : late night walks, exam period, riwoo and leehan are taesans edgy little friend group; bad influence, cigarettes - both taesan and y/n smoke here(smoking is bad don't smoke please), implied over the legal age; y/n supposedly has quit smoking but taesan is being a hot influencing asshole ppl loooove taesan badboy agenda don’t they. y/n is mentioned to be shorter than taesan, and is kinda cocky in the beginning. there's swearing. lots of internal monologue. use of real names.

no pronouns used; full lowercase intended; proofread

main character names are italicised

you loved these little moments when the sky had just turned dark, the dark-purple veil taking over the silver clouds, making them nearly impossible to tell apart from one another. sun was nowhere to be seen since the passing streetlights were the ones responsible for playing with your shadow now, casting it in different directions as you kept walking.

its been a long week. you just finished studying for the exams taking place tomorrow. you still wondered what luck it took for the two of your most important classes to have exams on the same day, back to back. you were a lot more excited for the following whole month of a break than frying the remaining bits of your brain over the final academic push. maybe you weren't all that confident in your knowledge even after the whole weekend worth of studies. or maybe you were overdoing it and pushing your mind in a corner.

either way, that didn't matter now. you didn't want it to matter.

you focused on the cold air you inhaled, wanting to float away from all the worries along with the wind particles that ruffled your hair.

it snowed just last week, giving you hopes for a prettier imagery during your testing period, but the continuous forecast of rain and warmer temperatures melted everything down, leaving nothing but a slight shine on the road and a humid hint in the air.

and as you immersed yourself more in the atmosphere, the one thing that made you snap back from your thoughts was the appearance of a persisting bitter smell. you open your eyes.

in front of you, a group of three boys were making their way in the same direction as you were, completely barricading the entirety of a thin alleyway as they all walked beside one another. the three were dressed in same dark colors, beanies over their heads, and the shorter guy on the right side even turned over his shoulder for moment and gave you a tense eye. seems about the typical public to walk around these times. you turned your head and looked around, feeling like you shouldn't have looked up in the first place.

but you wish it was as easy to switch your attention with just a head turn. a wave of a sharp, acrid scent mixed with the crisp night air stung the walls of your nose. it was so familiar. though you tried to bury it in the fragments of your memory, there were times when you yourself would be in their shoes; inhaling a chestful of smoke after along day that felt like it would never end, the bitter burn of nicotine hitting your throat like flames.

you didn’t need to look up again to know the source. it quite literally was all around their presence - the smoke of cheap cigarettes, ones that burned too quickly and with too much force.

by the time you were shaking yourself mentally out of it, the casted shadows of the group before you were already actively whispering between each other, giving you over the shoulder looks until all three had glared at you at least once. great. if you didn't feel weird before now you definitely were.

you tucked your hands into the pockets of your jacket and tried to keep your pace steady, swallowing, eyes still down on the asphalt. but that was only for a couple more seconds or so, until the boys had seemed to stop their pace and turn your way.

"hey," the guy in the middle, clearly the 'leader' of their little gang, was trying to get your attention. unexpected. you really wished to be able to just pass by, you didn't want any tension or problems, especially on a relatively empty street, sky getting darker every second. you really tried making it look like you didn't pay that much mind, until getting uncomfortably close and having to stop. you tilted your head up, not enough to meet gazes just yet, as looking at them directly seemed like a death wish at the very moment.

"got somewhere to be?" his voice was teasing, eyebrows raised at you sternly ignoring him for as long as you could. his question hung in the air like the smoke curling from the corner of his lips.

you really panicked for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"just passing through," you replied, voice steady despite the uneasy thrum in your chest. did that sound stupid? obviously you weren't following them. self doubts climbed up your skin along with the shivers. you kept your eyes on the leader, sensing he was the one who mattered most in this interaction. hell, you almost felt like breathing too much could've turned out the wrong way for you.

his lips curled at your answer, not quite a smirk, but close enough. "passing through, huh?" he echoed, as if tasting the words. did it really sound that stupid? you felt almost embarrassed at this point. doing your best to keep your form, you finally brought your eyes to examine the guy's face.

god, was he tall. his shoulders seemed especially broad with the unzipped puffer jacket resting on his shoulders, and height was hyperbolized by the below-average sized guy next to him. as your eyes crawled up to take apart his face, in the matter of seconds you noted the uniqueness of his features, his sharp jawline and plump lips that just finished letting go of a grey ribbon of smoke. his mimic seemed almost like one of a hand-drawn character, eyebrows especially expressive.

you felt so small, unrealistically small, nearly a whole meter smaller than him. a weird feeling continued spreading all across your body, so fast you couldn't even tell what it was.

you weren't the only one observing a stranger - while the tallest man was clearly staring back at you, his other two partners were doing just the same, but instead of your face they were more taking apart the details of your outfit.

standing so close to them and the recently released cloud of smoke just got in your head further, making it surprisingly difficult for you to feel like the whole situation wasn't just a part of your imagination or a hazy dream.

"do you smoke?"

what an ironic fucking question. the universe might have just been testing you right now. you had to take a second and blink to make sure this wasn't your brain talking.

"if you're sharing."

how pathetic.

how. fucking. pathetic.

the words just left your mind as if you turned back time, as if the whole period of quitting didn't even happen.

the man seemed to be in complete awe at your response, though. his lips parted, and eyebrows raised even higher. somehow he combined the expression of a subtle gasp with a smirk, clearly liking the way you spoke to him, how confident you seemed in the words, even if in reality you really weren't.

he looked at the two boys standing beside him, motioning something with his head, followed then by the two nodding and continuing to walk forward in the direction you all were going to initially, already finding themselves busy enough with a topic to discuss.

he used the one hand with a glowing, nearly-spent cigarette to hold up the the fabric of his jacket, so he could reach into the inner pocket and offer a brand new one to you. "be my guest"

if you're this far in, and the man in front of you is that good looking, there isn't much that could convince you to back off now. this isn't your proudest move.

you take the cigarette with a nod as a polite 'thanks', resting the fragile cylinder between the two of your fingers and bringing it closer to your lips.

you expected for him to also take out the lighter by now, but after shifting your focus for just a mere moment, you were only met with him inches closer to your face, the smoldering bud now pressed between his lips.

that was the exact second you felt it - your heart was beating at a pretty crazy pace. holy shit. your fingers were on the edge of shaking from the adrenaline in your veins, but you could probably shrug it off on the cold or the nicotine itself.

you knew exactly what to do, and the desire to keep your cool moved your head forward, the burning tip of his cigarette meeting the edge of yours with precision. a deep inhale and the faint crackle of the ember lit your own, sound filling the silence between you, something so quiet and gentle yet impossibly loud in the moment.

you swear his pupils dilated more with each second before you backed off to let out the first puff of bitter smoke. you felt disgusting. but yours probably got just as big in the moment. the heat seemed to be hitting not only your throat but also inching somewhere deeper. was it the same kind of heat? it's been too long for you to understand, and too many emotions were taking over you at the moment.

"I'm dongmin" with a soft smile and a draw from what's left of his bud, he extended his free hand out to you for a handshake, to which you did the same.

"y/n"

he looked at you with a smile, so mellow and cute, practically melting off the 'scary guy' image off his face. and you noticed it before he seemed to try and shrug it off right as he caught himself on it, suddenly starting to pace forward once again, you followed right after.

maybe it wasn't just you trying to make yourself look cool in front of the other for an impression.

"other two are donghyun and sanghyeok." he kept staring off into their backs, already significantly far that they couldn't hear any of his words, without trying to be quiet. "they're nicer than they look." he turned to you, the revealed tenderness still in the notes of his suppressed expression. it felt.. genuine.

you smiled back, walking beside one another in comfortable silence for a few moments, only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional inhale of smoke filling the air.

as the cigarette burned down to its last embers, your guilt was somewhere long forgotten, and the other two boys in the distance already seemed to walk off the other way, the two of you had made your way right to the entrance of your dorm without really thinking about it, filled with all kinds of conversations and facts about one another. both of your phone numbers already in the contacts of another. the cool night air had settled around you both, and you stood there for a moment, unsure of how to put the point you had in mind the whole time.

"you know, maybe we all are 'nicer than we look'" you quoted dongmin's words from the very beginning of your chat, and he felt a pang of surprise at you recalling his words. surely, by the way he shyly smiled and led his eyes away for a moment, you could tell he did find that bit of your words truthful. his exaggerated coolness slowly coming off, revealing a faint pink shade over his cheeks, so light it almost had a pastel-like quality.

and while you were busy noticing such details about him, all warm and fuzzy in your feelings, you didn't notice how dongmin stepped closer. there was no hesitation in his movement, and before you could process it, his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in gently.

the kiss was soft, exploratory, like he was tasting the moment, tasting you. it was nothing like you expected, no rushed desperation, only a slow, lingering connection that felt entirely new. his lips were utterly bitter, but had a distinct note - he tasted of dark chocolate.

the moment felt fleeting, and ended just as carefully and gently as it started. after a shared smile, you stayed a little longer for a tight hug, before waving goodbye and him observing the door behind you close.

the whole evening still felt like a haze - your head was dizzy from the warmness of your feelings, everything inside you fluttered and a smile was impossible to erase from your face as you rode up the elevator; you wondered if he felt the same way, walking back to his place.

you were looking forward to tomorrow, and the day after; to more things to share about yourself, more things to learn about him; and eventually, after some while, watch him chuckle at you confessing you agreed to smoke just to continue a conversation with him, and appear cooler.

maybe you share more than it seemed, and the things that brought you closer might have been just equally pretentious.

#taesan ₊ ⊹🍞#sonny writes ₊ ⊹🍞#taesan #taesan oneshots #taesan x reader #han dongmin #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #bnd imagines #boynextdoor #taesan bnd #taesan boynextdoor #han taesan #taesan imagines #boynextdoor scenarios

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rauspberries · 1 day ago

Text

i can't be your lover on a leash, every other week, when you please.

evan buckley x reader.

summary: sleeping around with buck is fun - until it's not.

tags: afab reader, no use of y/n, cut that always bleeds by conan gray, slightly angsty, right person wrong time[s] if you squint, buck struggles with commitment but its all reader wants, buck 1.0 AND buck 2.0, all too well ten min version reference, alludes to size kink i fear

word count: ~1.8k

notes: inspo from sawyer n el once again. evan buckley i'm going to gnaw on you. i also keep changing tenses in this but we're gonna act like y'all understand why okay. i'm not the proudest of this but im staying strong

There is absolutely no telling when your insatiable need to be next to Buck went from lust to love.

For a while, you thought it had all started in the dimly lit lights of a bar, some Journey song blaring over the jukebox and cigarette smoke hanging in the air as you clung onto Buck's arms to keep your drunk self standing. In your alcohol-infused state, you had admired how small your hand looked curled around his bicep, had realized that his muscular stature made you look so small overall.

It was the first time you had glanced at the man next to you as anything other than your best friend's brother. He was tall, devilishly handsome, alongside the fact that he was sweet and adoring. Despite his known fault of being a manwhore, he was still a gentleman, constantly standing behind you when you wore a skirt and grabbing your hand to help you out of his Jeep. It was maddening, the fact that he was so attractive both inside and out.

Unsure if it was solely the alcohol in your system changing your perspective or allowing yourself to let your guard down, you had dragged him to the back hallway, reaching up high to cup his cheek and bringing his lips down on yours.

Buck had been anything but gentle once he got over the original shock of you kissing him, one large hand curling around the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your hair while the other grasped at your hip to pull you closer. He had yanked your head back to tilt your chin further up towards him, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you gasped, taking advantage of the moment to slip his tongue in your mouth.

He kissed you so hard, so desperately that it made your head spin. Your knees were weak as he broke the kiss to drag you into the men's bathroom, locking the door before lifting you up onto the bathroom sink like you weighed nothing.

And that was just the first time.

From then on, any time you drove down from your smaller city to visit Maddie, you would take the time and find any excuse to spend some alone time with Buck. It was fun, and it was casual. Nobody knew that your hips and thighs were bruised in the shape of his fingertips, that you knew exactly where to place your lips to draw a throaty groan from his mouth.

You didn't mind it for the longest time. Sneaking out of one of the closets at the firehouse and making excuses to leave Maddie's apartment to see him was exhilarating, well worth the effort. Nobody seemed as in tune with you as Buck did, no matter how much you tried to date in-between your rendezvouses with him.

Until it became a problem.

Every date you went on, every man and woman that attempted to court you, none of them measured up to the firefighter you only saw on occasion. They weren't as naturally kind, they weren't as gentle. Every small thing they did reminded you of how that wasn’t what Buck did. Buck usually tucked your blankets around you tightly when he got up to leave - they just let it settle around your hips. He placed a kiss on your forehead before he ducked out of your bedroom - they gave you an awkward wave.

You had brought up the idea of dating once, although the slight butterflies in your stomach had made you phrase it as a joke.

"One of these days, you're going to have to be seen in public with me." You had teased as you laid your head atop his arm, fingernails dragging along his skin soothingly as you basked in the feeling of his chest against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.

Buck's response had been a soft laugh, the rumble of his chest apparent against your back. "Don't think so. I think we're perfect right where we are." Then, he had turned you over with a hand on your waist, propping himself up on an elbow to kiss you lazily, the feeling only slightly dulling the pang in your chest.

The push and pull between you two went on for longer than you cared to admit. Every time he pulled himself away from you willingly, discarding you like a one-time use food wrapper, a part of you became angrier and angrier until it fizzled over.

The tipping point was at one of the house gatherings that Bobby and Athena often held, you only being invited because you were friends with Maddie. It already sucked being a plus one to a plus one, making you increasingly irritated the more that Buck refused to be seen in your presence.

The nail in the coffin was dinner. You had sat next to him without glancing at him, hoping for any indication that he recognized you there, that he needed that casual touch from you the same way you yearned for it from him. While everyone was laughing at one joke or another, you even mustered up the courage to reach for his hand beneath the table, only to be rejected with the shake of it as he placed it back in the view of everyone else.

After everyone was left to mull about and chat, once Maddie announced that she would be taking her leave to head back home, Buck’s hand curled around your bicep, the touch featherlight and yet holding you still. His breath brushed against your ear as he leaned down, voice low and tempting. “You coming back with me?”

But rather than melting, like you had done many times before, you looked up at him, eyes cold and steely. “No.”

Buck had physically recoiled in surprise at the irritated look on your face. “What?” He had asked instinctively before shaking his head, hand on your arm unwillingly guiding you to flank the wall as he stared down at you with those alluring blue eyes. “What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

“What’d you do?” You dryly laughed back, eyes rolling as you scoff. Defensively, you crossed your arms over your chest, taking one step backwards to keep the distance. “I cannot tell if you’re an idiot or just extremely mean.”

Genuine concern crossed his face as he looked down at you, the birthmark above his eye blending into his eyebrow as it furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

In a voice that didn’t sound like your own, you responded. “You dropped my hand.” You remember feeling embarrassed, shame burning in your throat at the same time that tears built up in your eyelids.

“What?” Buck repeated, face twisting into an incredulous look. “That’s what this is about? I was talking.” His tone had grown defensive, hands waving as he spoke, as if doing the action right then proved his point.

“No.” You shot back, anger pushing away any other emotions you might’ve felt. “This isn’t about that, Buck. It’s about you expecting me to be at your beck and call. It’s about wanting everything from me and giving me absolutely nothing back.”

He had scoffed in response to your words, rolling his eyes as if you were being ridiculous. “Why are you suddenly getting so upset about this?” He accused, voice sharp around the edges in a way you never expected from him. “This is what casual is. If you didn’t want to be casual, you should’ve told me so I could’ve stopped this a long time ago.”

Your lips had parted in shock at how easy he had turned the situation around on you, the pain in your chest amplified by the look he was giving you. All the hope you had had leading up to this moment, all the ideas that his touches and gentle kisses were more than just out of want, crumbled as you turned on your heel, leaving him behind as you went to find Maddie.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

All of that had led up to this moment, standing at your front door and staring out at Evan Buckley, wondering just what the hell he was doing. It had been years since you had left him behind at Bobby and Athena’s, since you had spoken to him. You had kept tabs through Maddie’s word of mouth and doomscrolling his Instagram, of course, but you also learned that you held grudges tighter than he had ever held your hand.

“What are you doing here?” You ask dubiously, reaching out to grab his arm and pull him into your apartment, shutting the door so that your voices didn’t wake up your neighbors. “Evan, it’s two o’clock in the morning and you live three hours away.”

He looks tired. It’s the first thing you notice as he looks down at you, eyes soft around the corners and his lips pulled into a frown. Dark circles bring out the sadness swimming in his blue eyes as he takes you in, gaze trailing over your sweatpants, sweater and mussy hair.

Your name falls off of his lips just as he makes eye contact with you again, the sound quiet and yet seeming to echo around your small apartment. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles, hands reaching out before they fall back to his side, fingers clenching into a fist for just a moment.”

“For what?” You can’t keep the confused look off of your face as you reach up to touch his forehead, as if testing for a cold. “Are you drunk?”

He shakes his head, grabbing your hand just as it pulls away from his face. “No. I…” His voice trails off, tone rough, before he speaks again. “I’m sorry. For everything, back then. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night at Bobby’s and, God, I was so stupid back then.”

Carefully, he pulls you closer with the hand he was holding in his, free hand finding your hip. The touch practically burns through the thick material of your sweatpants as you look up at him, shock and awe rendering you speechless.

You open your lips to respond, words cut off by the feeling of his lips on your own. Unlike every other time you’ve kissed him, this one is soft, gentle, like he’s worried to anger you. Rather than his hand dipping to your ass, it moves up to your neck, cradling the side of it as his body presses into yours.

He kisses you like he needs you. Not wants. Needs.

You realize that it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

#911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley x reader #911 #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #911 on fox #evan buckley

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vettelsvee · 3 days ago

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COME WHAT MAY SERIES Prologue (previous): A phone call and a new beginning

⋆ Hey everyone! I'm almost done writing the first part of Come What May series and, since many of you are waiting for it and, also, asking me when I'll be posting... here's the beginning of the chapter and its name! ⋆ Special tags to @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri for being interested in this series <3 And of course special thanks to @maripiastri because Come What May series wouldn't exist without her 😭 ⋆ Also... let me know if you'd like me to post the chapter this week instead of next one! I'm open to suggestions, comments and questions too 🤠

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice, your little sister, snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the diary your best friend gave you, and your main source of therapy, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with a joy you hadn't felt in a long time.

You walked over to your desk, gently moving aside the scattered notes you still hadn't cleaned up despite having finished the semester two weeks ago. You made sure you looked as presentable as possible. Your hair, which fell over your shoulders, was perfectly straightened, though your bangs needed a little fixing. You decided to apply some lip balm as well not just to keep your lips hydrated, but to give them a little extra shine.

Then, somehow nervously for reasons you didn't want to recognize, you decided to adjust your clothes focusing on your own reflection, trying to come with positive affirmations about how everything you got was absolutely deserved.

You knew all too well that Sebastian Vettel was your best friend but, somehow, you always tried not only to look as perfect as possible in front of him, but also to let him know that you were truly worthy of his friendship.

No matter how much the German had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern and he was one of the team's drivers, you always had the feeling of not being for enough for him... Of not being worth to be close to him.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing your two younger sisters.

"Why are you taking so long?" Amelie, 15, asked. "It's not like your boyfriend is the one who came..."

"Yeah, yeah! Why are you extra pretty today?" the youngest, Louisa, who was 8, chimed in. "Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He's talking to dad and uncle Hans, and I think they're talking about soccer. It's super boring."

"Shut up, would you?" the middle sister scolded the youngest, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. "Ignore her," she said to you. "What they're really doing is trying to figure out why Sebastian came over today and, more importantly, why he's staying with us for a few days. Care to explain?"

Your eyes widened because, as far as you remembered the conversation you had, Seb never mentioned anything about staying with you.

"What do you mean staying with us? Seb really said that?"

"Uncle Hans thinks he's just your friend, but dad thinks you're sleeping with him at the same time as Mark," Amelie replied.

"How could I be sleeping with Seb?!" You shouted, pulling your sisters into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. "That's... that's ridiculous. Yeah, that's what it is," you finished, trying your best not to curse and, also, trying to calm your nerves.

"But if dad says it, it must be true, Y/N," Lou said, a little annoyed. "You know dad never lies to us."

That was a lie, and you knew it perfectly. However, for her was just... the reality you made her live in since Bernhard, your dad, told the three of you he was dying from cancer.

"Listen to me, both of you," you cut in, ignoring their words. "I need you to behave and promise me something."

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at their older sister.

"I don't want you to mention anything Mark related in front of Seb. No jokes, no offhand comments about how much you dislike him... Absolutely nothing. Got it?"

"Why can't I tell Seb that I don't like Mark even it's the truth? Do I have to lie to him?" Lou asked innocently. "You always say we don't have to lie."

"Well, because..."

"If you're doubting so much it's because you really are fucking Seb. Don't get me wrong, but..."

"Amelie, watch your mouth, you're not alone!" you shouted, cursing her off while glancing at the youngest of you three.

"What does fucking mean? Does it mean you're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Louisa asked again, curious and innocent.

"Seb doesn't have a girlfriend anymore, okay?"

Your statement left the other two stunned. Louisa had really liked Hanna since she had always been nice to all of you whenever you'd met. Amelie, on the other hand, started wondering why the German driver, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend for years, had suddenly broken up with her.

"Seb isn't with Hanna anymore?"

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jivvie · 2 days ago

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SO YEAH I LIKE MOONCOVEY

but what I really liked abt this season was that min ho still cares for kitty. yes, she rejected him on the plane and he probably spent winter break wondering why he confessed on the damn plane RIGHT AFTER DAE AND KITTY BROKE UP- but when kitty ends up talking to him, he understands the situation they both are in and they continue being friends with a side of teasing.

and yeah we didn’t get a lot of mooncovey screen time cus of stella and also they aren’t roommates anymore BUT WHEN THEY DO YOU CAN SEE HOW MUCH MIN HO CARES FOR KITTY

when kitty exposes stella to min ho and he believes she’s jealous, at the party, Min Ho listens to Q and asks Kitty for a dance. He pushes away the thought of Kitty being jealous and instead asks her as a friend. The first thing he says when Stella is threatening him is “if you dare touch kitty” (or smth like that). HE REALLY CARES FOR HER SO MUCH.

I saw @listentomerant’s post about xo kitty and they talked about how kitty falls in love through strong emotional bonds. I LOVE THIS POST SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD. Thats why Min ho being there for when Kitty needs someone or legit anyone makes this all the more worth it. He knows she��ll never think of him as more and he moves past that to become a better friend.

I’m glad that Kitty rejected him because this season gives more into their relationship. It isn’t just min ho having a “sex” dream about kitty and focusing on her more. We get to see kitty’s side (even if it was kind of short). We see her understand how reliable Min ho is even though she rejected him. He really does become the bigger person and although it might just be denial, this really shows how much better min ho is as a partner.

even with stella, min ho is just a good partner. stella wants to sing for the show, and because he sees how she stood up to his dad and how much she cares for him, he decides to ask. He was still rocky with his dad but because stella was a good person to him, he felt the need to give back to her.

If they had kitty accept min ho’s confession, it would really fall flat. Kitty just “fell out of love” with Yuri and broke up with Dae, and getting into a new relationship would honestly destroy their chemistry. Having a whole season to actually develop this relationship is more worth it instead.

sorry I went too into this. I know people are really upset about kittyuri and how they wrote yuri this season, but I really think that in the context of this season, min ho feels more reliable. I would love to see the writers next season pit yuri and min ho against each other (which would be super funny; imagine fighting against your older sister/younger brother to become the canon relationship) as it’d be very interesting, but I think we can tell mooncovey is most likely endgame.

#xo kitty #kitty song covey #min ho moon #xo kitty minho #kitty x min ho #mooncovey #vij rants for way too long sorry guys #RANT #I WROTE 553 WORDS #THATS MORE THAN I HAVE WRITTEN FOR MY APPLICATION ESSAYS FOR AN INTERNSHIP

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 22 hours ago

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I have a genuine doubt about Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian’s relationship in the novel. (I just read your post about if a kid jc would defend a kid wwx, but has a little to do with that post).

I remember Jiang Cheng tried to defender Wei Wuxian from his mother, and later he even sacrificed himself for wwx, losing his core in the process. (If there’s more, I don’t remember. It’s been a time since I read the novel).

I really don’t understand why he sacrificed? I get that he thought Wei Wuxian was better than him, but… after everything he did, he just let people jeopardize Wei Wuxian in the end of his first life?…

It was a way to say “everything I owed you is paid”? Was he mad that he did that but in the end Wei Wuxian wasn’t “grateful” even never knowing what Jiang Cheng truly did?…

I think after Jiang Cheng lost his core to “protect” Wei Wuxian, he started to see wwx as a servant and nothing more. Before the attack we saw that they got along very well, but after it seemed like he started to agree more with his mother's ideas about Wei Wuxian being only a servant.

That’s why he was so mad that Jiang Yanli died defending him? He threw Jiang Yanli’s sacrifice away and lead a siege against Wei Wuxian anyway…

Not only he threw his relationship with Wei Wuxian away, but he did not respected his sister’s wish and choice. She knew something was wrong, that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t kill her husband for nothing, and Jiang Cheng didn’t trust her…

I am wrong? I really want your point of view about this. And I’m sorry if you already talked about it, I’m new here. Thank you!

Caring about others, is complicated. For as much as I'm called a hater and anti, I have never denied that Jiang Cheng cared (as lacking as that may have been in a significant way) for Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng did care in some capacity for Wei Wuxian and try. He just didn't put up much effort in the long run to maintain that support when it was a detriment to himself and was spiteful when that care required effort and some sacrifices. Even when he "protected" Wei Wuxian from his mother he was still cowed by her threats to him, and let Wei Wuxian be whipped (and later turned to strangle Wei Wuxian, twice actually, and blame him for his parents deaths).

As for the core issue. Jiang Cheng never expected to give more than what he was expecting for Wei Wuxian. He did not willingly give his core and was resentful about that cost for protecting Wei Wuxian. It cannot be a kindness when he hated what it cost and lashed out years after. He always thought of Wei Wuxian as his servant first and foremost despite being "friends". That is what always would make them eventually part. Ideologically they are nothing alike and that was obvious as soon as their talk about servants children and Jiang Cheng dismissing their worth and ability. He threw his relationship away because he felt entitled to Wei Wuxian as a tool more than a friend. A friend does not have stipulations for their care and love especially when they start forming it as a debt of give and take.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 2 days ago

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ৎ୭. . . SORORAL ─── Platonic! Harley Quinn

⊹ ٬ Headcanon. Harley showed up at your door after years, broken by the Joker, and you, with more patience than common sense, took care of her. At the end of the day, no matter the fights or crimes, you were two inseparable souls, always ending up on the couch, reminding each other that sisterly love heals all.

⊹ ٬ Word Count. 2.14k

⊹ ٬ Content. MDNI. Violence, Blood, fights, drugs, toxic relationships, mental health, criminal behavior, past traumas, normalization of the self-destructive component.

「 (Adj.) Like a sister 」

You met Harley in college. The first time you talked was because you shared the same team project… and also a hatred for the same professor. It was all downhill from there. For everyone else, that is. You were at your best.

You were the Watson to her Sherlock, the Robin to her Batman, the salt on the edge of her daisy. Harley talked and you nodded, but not because you were quiet, but because no one had the energy to keep up. You tried to interrupt her once and ended up going on a two-hour monologue about why bats are adorable, all without taking a breath.

You were there for everything. Her first cry over a boyfriend who wasn’t worth it (and whose social media you hacked with brotherly love). Her yelling in the cafeteria about how her parents were the worst dynamic duo ever. Her fights with other students, where you just picked up her stuff and said, “You’re still alive, right? So let’s go.”

You were inseparable. You were her rock and she was your... earthquake. An explosive friendship, literally at one point. But then he came along. The guy with the green hair.

You heard about it on the news. "The Clown Prince of Crime Has a New Partner." At first you didn't believe it. Harley wasn't that kind of girl. But when you saw her picture with her makeup smeared and that crooked smile, you knew. Your Harley was there, buried under tons of chaos.

That day, at the medical center where you worked, you broke a cup. Not because you were being dramatic, but because it was the only way to make the pain feel real.

And then you understood: Harley wasn't anyone's Watson. She was always her own Sherlock, and now she was solving a case that was tearing her apart.

The reunion was a coincidence. Well, coincidence for her. You were leaving work, a long and boring shift, when the sound of a loud laugh made your blood run cold. You saw her leaning against your car, wearing a red leather jacket, torn tights, and a baseball bat that she was spinning between her fingers as if she was deciding whether to use it on you or not.

“Friend!” she shouted, as if it hadn’t been years since you last spoke and as if she wasn’t on the country’s most wanted list.

You didn’t know what to say. Harley threw herself at you before you could react, the smell of gunpowder and something sweet permeating the air. It was as if nothing had changed… but everything had changed.

You tried to pretend it was like before. You chatted for a while, forcing a smile while she talked non-stop, as always. She told you how she had “deconstructed” a bank last week, how Joker had said something “so romantic” that she almost cried, and how Commissioner Gordon “needed to relax, because, hey, a little dynamite never killed anyone… well, not many people.”

The Harley you knew was still there, but she was buried under layers of insane laughter and chaos. Her world was no longer yours.

“Why so quiet?” she asked at last, tilting her head like a curious child.

“Harls… I can’t do this.”

The silence that followed was strange. She looked at you as if you had spoken in another language.

“Oh… that’s why, isn’t it? …Because I’m a “criminal” now.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She smiled, but not in the way you remembered. This smile was broken, crooked, as if she was trying to convince herself that she didn’t care.

—It’s okay, you know. I don’t need everyone to understand me. I have Mr. J. And he understands me better than anyone.

That hurt more than you wanted to admit. But not more than watching her turn around, the bat resting on her shoulder as she walked away, humming a song you didn’t recognize.

Harley didn’t look back again. Not because she didn’t care about you, but because she didn’t have room in her mind for you anymore. She had filled every corner with it, and you knew there was no way to compete with that.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t look back either.

Years had passed. A monotonous routine was your life. The medical center, the long hours, the patients who needed an ear more than a prescription. It didn't bother you, not at all. Listening was something you were always good at, and the idea of a partner seemed far away. Between double shifts and sleepless nights, where was there room for romance?

It was a night like any other. Your apartment was silent, except for the sound of the rain hitting the window. You had left a forgotten tea on the table and were about to pick it up when you heard a knock on the door. Not a polite knock, but something desperate, insistent.

When you opened it, you saw her. Soaked, shaking, her makeup running from tears mixed with the rain. Harley. Your Harley.

"He left me," was the first thing she said, her voice broken and trembling.

You didn't know what to do at first. It was like time had gone backwards, but this time you weren’t in college and it wasn’t a fight with some campus jerk. Everything was darker now, more broken. Without saying anything, you let her in.

She plopped down on your couch, clutching a pillow like it was a lifeline. Between sobs and curses, she ranted about Joker. How he’d used her, how he’d betrayed her, how this time it was final.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she suddenly muttered, looking at you with swollen eyes. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? After everything that happened between us…”

You stayed silent for a moment. You knew she was right. Harley had disappeared from your life without looking back, but now she was there, broken, seeking comfort from the only person who ever truly understood her.

“I didn’t think of anyone else,” she whispered, hugging the pillow tighter. “Because… because you’re my sister, you know?” The one person who was always there, even...when I didn't deserve it.

That was enough to make something inside you melt. You sat next to her, gave her a blanket, and let her talk. Because that was your specialty: listening.

Harley talked until she was speechless. Until her voice faded away and only the sound of the rain remained. You offered no advice or judgment, just your presence. Because you knew that, as much as it hurt, she needed you now more than ever. And, even though time had separated you, there was one thing that had never changed: she was still your Harley. And you, as strange as it seemed, were still her sister.

Harley didn't leave after that night. At first, it was like having a permanent storm in the apartment. One day she'd come home drunk, staggering around and singing off-key songs about what was (or wasn't) worth it in life. Another day she'd show up with a black eye and a cut eyebrow, muttering under her breath that "being the clown's ex isn't exactly a queen's title."

You couldn't say you were surprised. Harley was always a controlled mess… until she wasn't. What you didn't expect was how much that mess would absorb you. You became her nurse, her therapist, her babysitter, and, on the worst days, her bodyguard.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asked you one night, half drunk, with an ice pack in her hand and a split lip that you'd cleaned yourself.

"I don't know, Harls. Maybe because I'm dumb. But someone has to take care of you."

She laughed, that cracked laugh that always made something inside you clench.

You couldn't help but be upset. Because, come on, Harley had gotten herself into this mess. She'd decided to dive headfirst into a world of chaos and crime, knowing full well there was no net to catch her. But it wasn't hate you felt, or even resentment. It was frustration. Harley had always been a big girl, someone who saw the world as an amusement park, ignoring the warnings to "stay off the grass" and "be careful, wet floor."

Sometimes you wanted to yell at her. You wanted her to understand that you couldn't rebuild her every time the world broke her into pieces. But then you remembered who she was. Harley had never needed someone to yell at her. What she needed was someone to show her the mirror, to remind her that beneath all that paint and mess she was still her.

So you took care of her. You cleaned her wounds, you put up with her cries and her unhinged laughter. Because even though it wasn't fair, you knew Harley was learning. Maybe not fast, and maybe in the worst way, but at least she was learning. And if that meant being her anchor in the middle of the storm, then you were willing to hold on a little longer.

One day, everything changed. It wasn’t a dramatic moment, or a revelatory speech. It just happened. You woke up one morning to find Harley in the kitchen, her hair in two uneven pigtails, humming a song as she made pancakes that smelled like they were burning.

“Morning, Doc!” she greeted you like they were in a 1950s sitcom.

It took you a few minutes to realize what was different: she was smiling. Not the broken, I’m-going-to-do-something-illegal-in-less-than-five-minutes smile, but a genuine smile. Harley was Harley again.

Sure, she was still a criminal. She wasn’t going to change overnight, and you didn’t expect her to, either. But now she was a criminal with… what did she call it?

“Scruples!” she said, holding up a half-charred pancake like it was a trophy. “No more punching the bird boy in the face. No more blowing up police stations!” Well, maybe one, but only if it's empty.

You found it hard to believe, but you saw it. Harley was different. She was still chaos, but a contained one. And even though she didn't tell you, you knew some of that change had to do with you.

Then the invitations came.

"Come on, doc! You need to get out of this hole," she'd say, tugging on your arm with the same energy as a tornado. "I'm going to introduce you to the girls."

"Ivy" and "Selina" turned out to be Ivy the Poison Ivy and Selina Kyle, Gotham's famous thief. You spent a surreal night in their company, sitting in a speakeasy where laughter was more dangerous than guns. Selina taught you how to pick a lock with a paper clip, Ivy talked to you about the importance of caring for plants, and Harley was still acting like you were the guest star on her own variety show.

But the height of absurdity came when Harley showed up one Friday night and announced,

“Black Canary is coming to party with us! You know how many people can say that? Nobody, because we’re exclusive.”

The night was legendary. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard or danced with such little sense of the ridiculous. Between Harley trying to do karaoke in a bar where no one had asked for karaoke and Dinah watching her next to you in amusement, you almost forgot that you were with a group of women capable of knocking down a building if they put their minds to it.

Harley looked at you at the end of the night, with a knowing smile.

“See? I told you you were one of us, doc. You can’t escape.”

And deep down, you knew she was right. Harley was still Harley: chaotic, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, she was also someone who was trying to be better, in her own way. And you, without realizing it, had gone from being his anchor to being part of his storm... and it wasn't so bad.

The invitations never stopped. Harley was determined to drag you into every corner of her new life, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was like she was making up for the years she’d missed with you.

Roller Derby was one of the first things she forced you to witness.

“Doc, you have to come. I’m a legend on wheels!” she told you one day as she pulled out a t-shirt with her number printed on the back.

And she wasn’t lying. Harley was a storm on the track, charging at her opponents with a mix of skill and sheer madness. From the stands, you found yourself yelling things like “Don’t break that poor girl’s jaw!” and “That’s got to be a foul, Harley!” But she only responded with laughter, making a victory gesture as a rival player tried to regain her dignity after falling on her back.

“What did you think?” she asked you at the end, with a swollen eye and a half-dented helmet.

“I’ll tell you when my nerves are back on track.”

Burrito mornings became a tradition.

One day she showed up at your door at six in the morning, a greasy bag in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Burritos and eggs, doc! The best hangovers are cured with food for champions.”

That became a recurring thing. Every week, Harley would wake you up early with the excuse that burritos “taste better at dawn.” You never had the heart to turn her down, though sometimes you silently cursed her when the caffeine wasn’t enough to keep you functional.

Other times, she’d take you on her “normal adventures.”

Like the time she decided you both needed a “spa day.” Her definition of a spa included going to a speakeasy with Ivy and Selina, playing poker with handmade cards, and ending up with nails painted impossible colors.

“Are you relaxing or not?” —Harley asked you while trying to dry your hair with a hairdryer she had clearly stolen from some hotel.

—I don’t know if “relaxed” is the right word…

And then there was her obsession with movies.

One random Tuesday, she burst into your living room with a stack of DVDs.

—Bad movie marathon. Time to educate yourself, doc!

You spent the night watching B-movies while Harley laughed more at your sarcastic comments than at the absurd dialogues in the movies.

—You’re a terrible critic, but I love you anyway —she said while throwing popcorn in your face.

But, of course, Harley wouldn’t be Harley without her chaotic touches.

One day she took you to a costume store because they “needed outfits for friends.” You came out dressed as a pirate clown, while she wore a unicorn costume. They passed through an ice cream shop, a park, and of course, a karaoke bar where she forced the entire bar to sing along to "I Will Survive."

It was exhausting, unpredictable, and honestly, the best few weeks you'd had in years. Because even though Harley was still a whirlwind of madness, there was something different about her. She was more herself. A criminal with a heart, a loyal friend, and someone who, after all this time, finally seemed happy.

And you, even though you never would have imagined it, were happy too.

Always, no matter how chaotic or exhausting the day had been, it all ended the same: the two of you lying on the couch in your apartment, too tired to continue talking but too comfortable to move.

Harley always took the larger end, curled up in a blanket she had declared hers. You settled on the other end, legs dangling because Harley managed to take up more space than she physically could.

At first you tried to watch something on TV, but Harley always ended up changing the channel every five minutes, claiming that “everything is boring.” So, in the end, you just stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company.

That night was no different. Harley was half asleep, her head resting on the arm of the couch and her eyes half-closed. She looked at you, somewhat sleepy, but with that mischievous spark that never seemed to completely go out.

“You know something, doc?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“What’s wrong, Harls?”

She paused, as if she was gathering the courage to say it, even though you knew Harley rarely had filters.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time Harley had said it, but this time it sounded different. Softer. More sincere.

“I love you too, Harls.”

She smiled, small and genuine, and closed her eyes.

“In the end, we are sisters, aren’t we? We always were. Even if we don’t have the same last name.”

“We always were,” you confirmed, settling into the couch, letting the calm of that moment envelop you.

And so they stayed, Harley breathing calmly beside you, and you wondering how something so chaotic had ended up being the most stable and comforting thing in your life. Because in the end, no matter what happened outside, how much trouble they got into, or how many egg burritos they shared, you would always be her sister, and Harley would always be your Harley.

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