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happy74827 · 4 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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forlix · 1 year ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

2K notes · View notes

impactedfates · 11 months ago

Note

Hii! I loved your platonic Genshin kidnapped child reader so, could I ask for Platonic Honkai star rail men when their child is kidnapped?

★ A/N: Yep, you can. Here you go, hope this is alright!

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Characters Included (Separate): Sampo, Blade, Argenti + Gepard)

☆ Warnings: Mentions and hints of kidnapping // Mentions of death (In Blades one)

★ Extra: Reader is shorter then most characters (They're about 6-7 age wise) // Characters are single dads // Semi Proof-Read // Short

Sampo is a con man, and he's made many people dislike him, many people want revenge on whatever he did. He knows this, however he never thought those people would resort to kidnapping his own kid to do so.

Look, you can hurt him, you can ruin his reputation, you can do whatever. But to kidnap you just because of your association with him is where he draws the line. As soon as he gets word on what happened he's finding out your location straight away.

And as soon as he knows it, he'll find a way to get you back and the perpetrators won't know what hit them until they wake up to find you gone and a note from the man himself, Sampo Koski.

Blade is pissed. Sure he may not always have time for you however he cares for you a lot. You are his kid, and once word gets to him that you're kidnapped? He is tracking you down no matter how long it takes or the amount of bodies gets left in his trail to find you.

He gets SilverWolf to help track your location and as soon as he knows he's off to get you. He only has to pray to whatever Aeons that you're blindfolded as he's not wasting a minute in hearing the cries of mercy, they don't deserve it.

Once he gets you home he inspects you to make sure you're fine, to ensure you're not hurt. He never lets you leave his sight after that, or anyone's for that matter. If he must leave for a mission he asks for the other members or even Elio to take care of you until he returns.

Argenti truly loves and protects you. As a knight he does this incredibly well so when someone successfully kidnaps you he's more than surprised. He puts a halt in his search for Idrila as looking for his child is far more important in this moment and time.

He isn't sure what he did to get someone to want to kidnap you or if all they want is money. But he will track you down, if they want money then he'll give it to them. However if you are hurt upon returning to him or they still refuse to give you back then he isn't afraid to put up a fight.

He won't go too far, he'll merely knock them out and call the appropriate authorities to take them away. He understands that whatever happened shook you. Scared you, so he'll spend more time with you to try and take your mind off things, take you out to various planets to shop. His search for Idrila can wait. For now YOU are his priority

I feel like Gepard oftens leaves you with Serval when he's out on duty. So the chances of you getting kidnapped are rather low as you have an auntie to protect you, not to mention the Silvermane Guards outside her workshop and how I feel Serval would make small guard robots.

So it comes to a surprise when he finds out you've been kidnapped. He doesn't bother asking questions, for now he quickly gathers a search party and gets others to ask around as he investigates the workshop. Perhaps you were kidnapped by a worker of Serval, this gives Gepard a good idea and he searches the houses of said worker.

Once he finds where you are, he wastes no time in arresting them and anyone else who happens to be in there as he quickly goes to your side to check on your wellbeing. He takes you to the doctors to get you checked up and once you're confirmed to be okay he's relieved.

Bronya gives him a few days off so he can spend time with you, it also gives him time to figure out how to ensure this won't happen again. He still trusts Serval to look after you, and she's already making sure to be careful who she lets work with her but he wants to be doubly sure nothing will happen to you again.

I need Blades banner to go so I'm not tempted to pull for his LC. I need Loucha.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr imagines #honkai star rail x you #platonic hsr #hsr platonic #Sampo x Reader #Sampo x You #Gepard x Reader #Gepard x You #Blade x Reader #Blade x You #Argenti x Reader #Argenti x You #🎭 masked fools

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

Text

zeykoyu

zeykoyu [zɛj.ˈko.ju] n. healer

Anonymous Request: I would like to request a Neteyam x Na'vi reader with the "you'll never be her trope", where reader is promised to Neteyam, but he loves another. He is sort of a shitty asshole to her, a girl who is a quiet not very well known member of the clan; he treats reader with the coldest shoulder. However, he overhears the girl talking to her friends about how she just using Neteyam to gain status in the clan. He then sees reader for the caring person she is, and grovels for forgiveness.

I have resigned myself to my fate.

In what feels like a very short amount of time, I will be mated for life before Eywa, to a man who does not love me. In fact, he barely seems to tolerate me.

He looks at me with disappointment, and sometimes, it even looks like he feels disgusted by me.

It wasn't always this way. Neteyam used to be a friend, and someone I trusted. He was so kind and good-hearted when we were younger, but he has turned his back on me and come to resent our pairing.

As if it is my choice! I am the next Tsahik of our people, and he the next Olo'eyktan. We are promised to each other from youth, and there's nothing either of us can do that would not cause much upset in the clan, and with our families.

Though Neteyam clearly does not want to be mated to me, even more than that, he does not want to upset his family.

The change in his heart happened just a year ago, and it was slow at first. We went from friends to acquaintances to strangers, and now to near enemies, because of her.

I don't really blame her, though. He fell in love with her, and she can't control that. I felt jealous at first, but over time, as Neteyam has treated me more and more coldly, I have started to hate both of them.

If I'm being honest, I understand why he loves her; she is beautiful, and funny, and many men have had their eyes on her. I am plain, and small, and not many people speak to me. She does seem a better match for someone like Neteyam, and I almost wish we could be free of this pairing.

As much as Neteyam does not want to disappoint his family, I don't want to disappoint our people; I am a talented healer and I will serve our people well as Tsahik.

So I have resigned myself to my fate.

Our fate.

Neteyam watches Sa'me from a distance, as she approaches the center of home tree with her friends, dropping off a full fishing net from a day's work.

His heart swells with pride at the woman he loves, and then, he gets angry. These two feelings always accompany each other.

Love and adoration for Sa'me, and disappointment towards his fate. It doesn't matter who he loves; he's promised to Y/N, and he can't get out of it. That's just not how it works.

She is the next Tsahik and he knows, despite how he wants things to be, that she will be an excellent Tsahik for their people. He has to put the people before himself.

But he does not have to be happy about it.

He approches Sa'me and her friends, but their backs are to him as they empty their nets, and as he gets closer, he hears their conversation.

"Aren't you worried, about his upcoming mating ceremony?" one friend asks.

To his surprise, Sa'me laughs. "No! I have gotten what I wanted, and I am relieved it will end soon."

He stops in his tracks, listening closely.

"Sa'me!" a friend chastises.

"Well, I have three offers for my hand, from fine men. I owe that to Neteyam. When they knew he wanted me, that made them want me. I think I'll pick Marek - he's handsome and strong. Neteyam is nice, but too boring for me. Plus, the way he's treated Y/N since we started spending time together... I almost feel bad for her. She will have a miserable life."

The girls laugh, and Neteyam spins on his heel, charging away.

He expects sympathy from his sister, but earns only an eye-roll when he tells Kiri what he overheard.

"Well, she's right. You knew you were promised and pursued Sa'me anyway, even though it was kind of obvious what she was doing. And you have been an asshole to Y/N. She's really nice to still put up with you - to even speak with you. You've treated her like dirt the last year, and she's never said a mean thing about you. Even though, she would be right to do it."

Neteyam stares at his sister, slack jawed, unsure whether to feel angry or guilty. A fine mixture of both rises in his chest, and he sighs.

"You used to be friends with her, you know. She's so sweet, and so kind. She's only putting up with your behavior so she can be Tsahik, and not because she cares about the title. She wants to help the People, and knows she'll be able to if she's Tsahik. She just has to marry an asshole to do it."

"Okay, okay," Neteyam says, waving his hand in the air, begging his sister to stop.

"Well, I just don't feel bad for you, Teyam. You need to grow up and deal with what you did."

He rolls his eyes, but he can't deny it: Kiri is right.

Without her noticing, Neteyam starts to watch Y/N as much as he can from that day in. Her daily routine is simple. She rises early, and heads into the forest to gather supplies she can use in her healing practice. Once she's done, she begins going around to people who she knows need her help, in and out of their homes all day, gaining hugs and smiles and thanks wherever she goes.

She is soft-spoken, and kind hearted, and her small stature only serves to make her seem more gentle, more dispositioned for healing.

He sees the way people look at her as she approaches - they look at her with relief, and hope, and when she leaves, she leaves people better than she found them.

Neteyam feels sick to his stomach.

He tries to remember what it is about Sa'me that drew him in. He sees her beauty, he can't deny it still, but it's clear now that her beauty is only on the surface.

Did she ever compliment him? Support him? Offer him a kind word?

He can't even remember what they talked about... for a year.

"Neteyam?"

He turns from the tree he's leaning against and sees Y/N approaching, a large basket in her arms.

"You look ill. Are you okay?"

Neteyam wants to tell her he's fine, that she should leave, but he feels light-headed and instead, he sinks to the ground, a sweat breaking out on his brow.

"I'm... okay. My head feels light."

She kneels in front of him, rummaging through her basket. She pours a few things in a cup, and mixes them together with a powder.

"Here," she says, handing it to him. He takes it, his hands touching hers for a second, and he's struck by how small her hands are.

She's so delicate, like a flower, and he has certainly done his best to trample all over her.

The shame he feels is unlike anything he's ever felt before.

The drink is bitter, but it starts working almost immediately, and the faint feeling begins to fade.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, handing the cup back to her. She takes it with a small smile and a nod, and rises to leave. Neteyam reaches out, grabbing her arm. "Wait."

She turns, frowning down at him. He stands up.

"I want to apologize to you, Y/N. I have been... terrible. I have neglected you, and I have been an asshole. I'm sorry. I would like to start again."

She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes, staring deep into him. He wonders if she can see his soul.

Of all of the things I thought Neteyam wanted to say to me, 'I'm sorry' was not even on the list.

My instinct is to tell him to go to tell, but there is such a strange look on his face... he still looks sick, and sad, and a little bit ashamed.

Well, he should be. But also - what choice do I have? If Neteyam is offering me a chance to make the best of this situation, shouldn't I take it?

I remember how I felt about him once. Hopeful, excited, nearly in love... but that feeling is so far away now. I'm not sure if there's even a possibility of re-gaining it.

But, it seems smart to try, if we are to have any chance at a happy life.

"Okay," I reply finally. "But I don't think Sa'me will appreciate it."

Neteyam hangs his head for a moment, and then meets my eyes again. "What she appreciates does not matter. You are to be my mate. You are all that matters."

He places a hand over his heart.

I would like to trust him, but it's going to take more than one conversation where he says the right things.

It seems I cannot get rid of Neteyam now. When I gather supplies in the morning, he is there. When I make my rounds in the village, he is there. He is always... there.

Not silently, either. He is full of questions. Everything I do and say, he has a question about. If it wasn't endearing, it would be exhausting.

After a week of this, he asks me to take a ride on our ikrans with him - and I can't say no. I have been so busy working lately, that it sounds like a wonderful and welcome break.

Early in the morning, we head out together, and take one of the longest rides I've ever been on. In the air, we twist and turn and glide together, and all the while, Neteyam is whooping and throwing me ear-to-ear smiles.

He gestures to a nearby cave in the floating rocks, and we land together, dismounting. We are both wind-burnt, but smiling.

"I must ask you something," I say.

"Anything," Neteyam replies, chest heaving from the effort of riding.

"Why did you change your mind? About Sa'me?"

His face darkens, and he sighs. "I overheard her talking about how being seen with me has gotten her offers from many fine potential mates, and she doesn't care that I'm promised to someone else."

I wince. Even if Neteyam is a jerk, I don't think anyone deserves to be used like that.

"I'm sorry, Neteyam. Though, that does explain your sudden... interest."

He shakes his head. "No. After I heard what Sa'me said, I went to Kiri and she, uh, pointed out what an asshole I've been. She also pointed out how kind and smart and talented you are, probably to let me know, uh, what an asshole I've been. So I started kind of, uh, watching you. And I realized she was right."

"About what?"

"Well, I am an asshole but... you are the most kind-hearted woman in this clan. And you did not try to withdraw from our match because you deserve to be Tsahik. Not for the title, but because you are best suited to serve our people. You care about them more than yourself. You're selfless. And beautiful. And I was blind to think anyone could be better suited for me."

I bite my lip, and take a step back. "Neteyam, that all sounds very nice, but I..."

He steps forward, reaching out and taking both of my hands in his. "It isn't enough. I know that, Y/N. I don't expect our problems to be solved now. I just want a chance to prove to you, who I really am. What a good mate I can be for you. I can make you happy. I want to. It's all I want."

I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and I blink hard to keep them at bay. "I always thought so highly of you, Neteyam. I want us to be happy. I want to try."

He squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me to him.

"I will make you happy. I promise you, Y/N. Please, let me kiss you."

I hesitate for only a moment. The look in his eyes is so sincere, and his eyes fall down to my lips for just a moment, then back up to my eyes, and I can't resist. Everything I want seems to be within my grasp.

He places his hands around my waist, and pulls me in.

"Say yes," he whispers. I can't find my voice, but I nod.

The kiss is explosive. A year of anger, frustration and want packed into one kiss. My body is flush to his, and I feel the tears spilling over, but I can't stop them, and I don't want to pull away.

It feels too good.

I put my hands in his hair, gripping tightly, sighing against his lips, and he groans.

Finally, we pull away, and stare at each other, both breathless.

"I will make you happy, healer," he whispers.

I might believe him now.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar #avatar twow

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fortheloveofkonig · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

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slasherbvnnie · 2 years ago

Text

Until We Found You | Part V

Part V is finally out!! I enjoyed writing this one a lot! I still have some more chapters in mind, especially for the big reveal. Not sure how many I can write out, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon. Sorry it’s a bit short this time! The next part is going to be longer. As usual, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

word count: 1836

“Don’t you know the trope of never having sex in horror films?” The other line asked you, making you laugh, “you didn’t kill me the first time, why would it be any different now?” You asked as you sat out on your front porch, taking a seat on the bench outside. “What if someone else made you star in their movie, huh? Wouldn’t you be part of their film instead,” they said as you laughed, “yeah, but then it could be some big cross over. Like alien versus predator or king kong and Godzilla, I would kinda like to see that, my two boys fighting for protecting me.” You teased as they chuckled.

“I heard you wanted both of us there tonight,” they hummed, making you smile, “so you’re the one who makes the calls?” you asked before continuing, “I want you both here…alongside a new lingerie outfit too, you boys are really racking up a total. You two should take me shopping sometime.” You suggested playfully, wishing that you could go out in public with the two. “Maybe someday,” they said, sounding a little more somber now. “Will you two ever let me know who you are?” You asked, it had been on your mind lately, but the silence gave you your answer. “I guess you still can’t trust me, huh? It’s fine, I’ll find a way to prove it to you two.” You said, hearing another phone call coming in. “I have to let you go now, one of my friends is calling, I’ll see you two tonight, right?” You questioned, “we’ll be a little later tonight but don’t worry, we’ll be there.” They promised you before hanging up. Y

ou smiled, answering the new call coming in. “Hey! Me and Stu were gonna head out for lunch soon, did you wanna join? Sid’s gonna call Billy to see if he wanted to go,” Tatum’s voice said, you debated for a moment before agreeing. “Great! Me and Stu will pick you up, we can pick up Randy too afterwards,” she said as you hummed. “Sounds good, I’ll get ready now,” You said, hanging up after saying goodbye. Your eyes lingered out into the street, you couldn’t help but feel as if there was someone watching you, wondering if your secret stalker was watching over you right now. Part of you wished they’d just come out and reveal themselves to you, pull off their mask and show you their faces. You let out a sigh, getting up from the bench and heading back inside the house to get ready.By the time Stu’s car pulled up to your driveway you were ready, hair and outfit finished along with just the right amount of makeup for you.

You could hear the music playing from outside, wondering at which point in time Stu would finally lose his hearing, you gave him another 10 good years. You texted your parents that you were going out with your group again, promising them to be home before curfew. Curfew had bummed you out recently, you made a mental note to tell your masked killers that you were mad at them for making Woodsboro go under a curfew, everything sucked now that nothing was open past 6. “Hey Macher, calm it with the stereo,” you said as Stu chuckled, “can’t help it, I like making my presence known,” he said as he turned up the music louder. You rolled your eyes, chatting with Tatum as you all headed to pick up the others.

Sid and Billy met you at the restaurant, already sitting down at a booth when you all arrived. It was about an hour later, everyone finished with their food and just spending time chatting about whatever came up. “Did you guys hear about Oliver?” Randy asked as Tatum nodded, “Dewey said it was even worse than Casey and Steve, said you couldn’t recognize him at all,” she added in as your eyebrows furrowed. “Sid said the neighbors tried getting the killer, did Dewey say anything about that?” You questioned as Tatum shook her head, “no, he said the neighbor tried to shoot at them but they missed. Said they took off into the woods,” she said, you growing worried if they had been hurt. They didn’t mention anything on the phone so you assumed they weren’t, making you relax a bit. “Maybe it was your mystery date,” Randy teased, making you glare at him, “I mean we were talking about him yesterday, maybe your boyfriend got mad about him and decided to off him as some romantic present,” he added as you laughed. “Right, cause I totally want to be an accomplice,” you joked as you rolled your eyes, but you did wonder if that was true.

Oliver had bullied others as well, so you didn’t put it past them to have also been one of his victims. Though, the thought that they did it for you made your heart beat faster. “I think you cracked the code Meeks,” Billy teased, noticing your reddening cheeks, “are you all forgetting she was almost killed by them?” Sidney brought up as Stu hummed, “well she is still alive, maybe Randy was right with them doing it to cover up their tracks,” he said as you scoffed. “Can you jackasses back off before I take my turn at you?” You said jokingly, waving the butterknife on your plate around playfully.

Later that night you sat in bed, rewatching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on your laptop with Irena purring and fast asleep on your lap. You snacked on some popcorn as you watched the movie, looking to your side as you saw Tatum calling you. You hit pause on the movie and answered as you ate another piece of popcorn, “whats up, Tate?” You asked as she quickly spoke, “holy shit! They almost got the killer!” she yelled into the phone, making you sit up. “What?” You questioned as she laughed. “The killer! They were going after some of Oliver’s friends. They were having a celebration for him and one of the guys actually fucking stabbed them! Dewey said they were chasing them down but lost them a few moments ago, they said the police are gonna be waiting at the hospital incase anyone comes in with a stab wound,” she said, you carefully moved Irena off your lap and set your laptop on your vanity as you looked out your window. You could see the black outfit moving and struggling to climb up, “shit, that’s awesome Tate, let me know if Dewey calls you again, I’m gonna go tell my parents,” You spoke, hanging up the phone and putting it down as you pushed your window open.

“Seriously? Going after the whole fucking football team?” You asked angrily, putting your hand out to help them inside. You shut the window after they got in, seeing them collapse onto the floor. “Shit, hold on,” You said as you rushed to your bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and rushing back to their side. You were about to lift up the robe before they grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away. You felt a little hurt that they still didn’t trust you, but pointed in the direction of the restroom. “You can patch yourself up in there, my friend said the police are going to be at the hospital, you can’t go,” you said, seeing the flashing of police lights pass by outside. “Is the other one okay?” You questioned them, getting a nod as they hubbled to the bathroom. After half an hour they emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat on your desk chair. “Are you okay? Did the bleeding stop?” You fretted over them, getting a nod as they motioned you over. They grabbed your wrist, holding your hand up to their chest so you could feel their steady heartbeat. You relaxed before pushing on their chest, huffing at them. “The whole fucking football team, you’re actually fucking crazy,” you huffed out before gently rubbing where you had pushed them. “The other one, he got away okay?” You asked, smiling when you got another nod. “You can stay as long as you need tonight, the police are probably out searching for you,” you said, sighing softly as you looked to them. “Don’t think I forgot about that lingerie set either, it was pretty expensive,” you said jokingly, earning a laugh from behind their mask. “I’m gonna head to bed, I have an exam tomorrow,” you said, giving a little kiss to their mask. “If you wanna join at least take off your clothes, I won’t look, I promise. You can even blindfold me if you don’t trust me,” you offered, heading to bed. They followed after you, you laid down and closed your eyes, facing them so they could see that you weren’t looking. They began to shuffle out of the costume, going to your door and locking it before heading back to your bed. They laid down behind you, wrapping their arms around you and holding you close.

You fell asleep easily in their hold, relaxing in their arms throughout the night. A few hours later you woke up to muffled voices in the bathroom, you sat up and rubbed your eyes as you looked to see the morning sunlight lighting up your room. “I’m fine, just spent the night at her place,” you heard coming from the bathroom, your groggy mind a bit too slow to recognize they weren’t using the voice changer. You did your best to not pay attention, not wanting to betray their trust by finding out who they were too soon. You laid down again, closing your eyes when you heard the door open. You felt their hand tracing your face before they planted little kisses on your cheeks before planting a soft and loving one to your lips. They pulled away and pulled the mask on before tapping you, you pretended to stir awake, blinking up at them. “You’re leaving?” You asked as they nodded, “be safe, okay? I would rather prefer finding out who you are when you trust me and not through some Gale Weathers interview,” you said as you leaned up, planting a little kiss on their mask just like last night. “Be safe, both of you,” you said as they nodded and began to climb out your window.

An hour later Tatum came to pick you up in her little red beetle, driving both of you to class. You met up with Sid and Stu, who had his arm wrapped around Tatum. “Where’s Billy at today?” Tatum asked as Sid sighed, “said he came down with a major stomach bug. He said he was sick all night and didn’t even sleep, his dad told him to head to the doctor instead of class,” she said as you turned towards Sidney. Stu became aware of your glance at her, his eyes widening in surprise when you made eye contact with him.

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crystalizedcryolite · 11 days ago

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While waiting for me to finally finish the next chapter..

DESIGN ANALYSIS FOR MY VIGILANTE AU >:D

As always, let's start in rainbow order! But first things first; all CG members have matching eyes, in one way or another! Red has yellow eyes, Orange has green eyes, Yellow has orange eyes, Green has blue eyes, and Blue has red eyes!! I might change things depending on how it looks, though.

Anyway, Red!!

I'll admit, I'm definitely giving him a design upgrade, but let's talk about this one.

Ah, the classic yellow bandanna. How could I leave it out? It's iconic!

His hair is definitely the wildest out of everyone's. A lot of black and grey in his design, too, which makes the yellow bits and the light-up shoes REALLY stand out.

The yellow matches his eyes and bandanna, and is reminiscent of that media trope with seeing yellow eyes peek from the darkness. The mask is, of course, to hide his face. Red didn't really seem like the guy to wear a visor like Green, or cover his entire face like Blue, so he gets that mask! Might change that, who knows.

His outfit looks thrown together with not that amount of effort. Very casual, as Green pointed out. Before Orange, he was the latest addition to the team, which can mean he can be a bit inexperienced. Wanted to convey that somehow!

Light-up shoes, oh, light-up shoes... who doesn't love them? Green certainly doesn't, but Red disagrees!

Next one!

Orange/Sketch

Now, I didn't draw their vigilante outfit yet, but I added the description of it to give an idea!

I wanted her hair to give a very anime-protagonist feel, if that made sense? Not sure if I got that right but it works for me! And hey! Freckles!

Working clothes: His pants are covered in paint to give an artist-like feel. (I should know. I paint a lot and some of my clothes did NOT survive the process.) As for the top and apron, I wanted it to feel like an actual café worker's uniform without it being a basic starbucks rip-off.

Vigilante outfit: VERY reminiscent of outfits animated characters would wear in scenes where they're doing some graffiti on the streets. That was my main inspiration behind the design.

Also in dark colors. They have to blend into the darkness and stuff!

The pouch mentioned was for practical sake; as is something I like to do when thinking of designs. And it helps with the artistic urge to draw at any time, regardless of what the situation is.

Not much to say about Orange's design, besides the fact that I wanted to give it a very protagonist-y vibe.

Yellow/Y

The second design is more or less his actual vigilante outfit, buuuut yeah!

Curly hair -despite my inability to draw it- and Yellow has been a favorite hc of mine!

His outfit is somewhat inspired by steampunk? Not exactly, but I DID have steampunk in mind while making it! The pilot's jacket was the best change yet.

Someone on a03 has told me that he looks like Alan, somehow! I'm not sure if I see it, so does anyone else see it? It would be a funny coincidence if so!

Green/Songbird

His hair is my favorite part of my Green design so I HAD to keep it! The classic headphones are there with a gamer-ish colour scheme.

VERY hip-hop and streetdance inspired! His visor is a reference to the sunglasses Orange gave him in the "More Faces" short, rather than his sunglasses in the Influencer Arc.

His clothes are a reference to the clothes I see my sister wear for her own dance training, and I love streetwear in general, so its a perfect fit! The necklace is just for show, though. Nothing practical about that, but it does look cool! Plus, it's a notion to his powers! His outfit is practical, but still shows off somehow, just like Green!

My vigilante!Green is the most experienced in the group, so I wanted him to look that way, somehow? And he definitely looks the most professional! I think!

Blue/The Witch

The second member to join the vigilante team!

I HAD to give her a hat. The witch's hat is a must. Practical? Not exactly. Cool? Yes, indeed.

The mask is my favorite part. A direct reference to the "Faces" short, AND a good way for Blue to, ahem, mask her identity (hehe a pun)

The sweater and coat combination seems strange, but it looks a little like a modern witch outfit? Trenchcoats definitely give a vigilante vibe in a way, and Yellow already had one, so Blue gets a belt and a sweater to go with it!

Blue definitely needed a bag for her potions. She can't just make them on the spot!- well, she can, but it would still be a hassle! She'd be the most practical when it comes to her clothing for vigilantism, after Yellow.

Purple/Aeolus!

Obviously, the cloak is a reference to elytra. The green hairtie, the bag and the cloak buckle is a reference to their mother, Orchid. You can see the vines on the bag strap, the flowers on the bag and buckle, and the leaf-shape on the hairtie.

There's also a lot of green on them, wink wink ;3

To hide their identity, they cover a majority of their face with the cloak hood!

It was hard to balance the colors, but I'm happy with the results! This one is simple compared to the others, but its still cool nonetheless!

Purple was meant to have ripped jeans but my drawing ability to low, so... sorry, Purple.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL! Sorry if this seemed boring or disappointing, or whatnot. I tried my best!

#avm #animation vs minecraft #avm green #avm purple #avm blue #avm red #avm yellow #avm orange #alan becker #crystalizedcryolite #ogtdwv #orange's guide to dealing with vigilantes #the colour gang's guide to heroism vigilantism and villainy #the color gangs guide to heroism vigilantism and villainy #avm au #TCGGTHVV #dang that's a lot of tags

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anthemofgvf · 6 months ago

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Groupie Love: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

"you're in the bar, playing guitar, i'm trying not to let the crowd next to me. it's so hard sometimes with a star, when you have to share him with everybody." description: being jake’s groupie was heaven on earth, yet sinful in every desirable way. while the world reveled in his public, entrancing persona, you reveled in the boundaries of reality and fantasy intertwining in secrecy.

word count: 6.9k+

trope: groupie! reader x jake

taglist for future fics

warnings after cut…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

warnings: good amount of plot, mentions of drinking, alcohol, smut (18+ minors dni), swearing, unprotected sex, hardcore dom! jake, choking, spitting, praise/begging/degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (male and fem! receiving), bit of fluff, some aftercare

disclaimer: this does not follow the real events of the starcatcher tour for the sake of the plot. thanks!

a/n: would also like to mention that yes, this IS based off of the Lana Del Rey song with the same title. As soon as I heard it, I immediately thought of Jake and writing a fic based off of it. If you haven't listened to the song, now is the perfect time to do so! hope you all enjoy :) <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

There was something so addictive about secrecy. To share such vulnerability with someone where no one's eyes could witness, but only you and another alone. To know each other by touch alone if every sense was stripped away, yet hiding the true reason why you could pick them apart in a crowd from that feeling. And while you two were friends with one another publicly, behind closed doors, you were both fucking like animals. There was no better way to describe your relationship with Jake. You were just one of his secrets, hidden in a closet, and you had accepted that.

You had met him after one of Greta Van Fleet's shows when their careers were just about to skyrocket and thank God you were able to catch him then. You hadn't really listened to their music before or even heard of them, but local concerts under 30 bucks as a fun night out with friends was always on the table. If it weren't for their small fanbase and lack of fame, you were positive you wouldn't have become Jake's personal groupie.

After hooking up with him in the venue's bathroom, twice, Jake simply couldn't have enough of you. And you, you were entranced by him and his sexual drive. You both also enjoyed each other's company in the short period of time you knew one another, so, you and he exchanged numbers and kept in contact. Whenever he was in town, you'd be next to him, and when he was gone, you were with someone else. More often than not, you two were spending time with one another purely for sex, but it was rare for you to leave immediately after. After all, Jake cared about you regardless of the label of your relationship with him, and you were enjoyable to be around.

There was no discussion of monogamy, so it was mutually decided that seeing other people was no issue. Sure, no one compared to the guitarist, but there was always someone to run down your time in the day when boredom struck, and you were unable to be at Jake's beckoning call. Even though Jake would always call you his, it was words that withheld no meaning. Only in moments where you and Jake were together alone did they obtain meaning, but you knew never to take him seriously.

Jealousy is a bitch, though, and it possessed you. It rotted you to your unchaste core. You could easily pretend it didn't bother you that other girls have had Jake the way you have or have even looked at him in that manner. Of course, you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a single sliver of selfishness towards him. How many girls Jake had been with next to you was a mysterious number, but you didn't choose to spend your time thinking about how many girls he's said the same things to as you. But, rather, feel empowered that there were fans in their crowds at shows that desperately wanted your place. Fans that screamed his name, made signs and t-shirts for him, dreamed of being more than just a fan in the crowd. That was something you had over them. That's what made you special. That's what gave you your title of a so-called 'groupie'.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

They had closed their most recent tour with a show in Nashville, and of course you were in attendance. Jake had even asked if you'd be there, knowing well enough that there was no way in hell you'd be skipping out on it, because you knew where the night would take you. Besides, you hadn't seen him in months. You hadn't been with him in months. You had grown a sense of longing for him after a short period of time away from the guitarist.

Before Greta Van Fleet had a larger fanbase, you were able to sit in the seats and get escorted backstage to Jake so you could watch as a fan. But, due to suspicious speculation amongst fans, and you and Jake wanting to continue the secrecy and keep the reputation of "just friends," you were granted a backstage pass and allowed to come into the arena or venue they'd be performing at before fans would arrive. Every place was different, so the execution of reaching him was always tweaked, but no matter what, you and him both knew you'd see one another after the show. You preferred to hang in the sound booth rather than backstage, anyways.

Rarely did you come early to be in attendance for soundcheck. Sure, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with it, but you always enjoyed watching him look for you amongst the fans, and his eyes light up in the slightest that had your heart stopping only for a second at the sign of recognition, feeling as though your breath had been taken from you and forcing your body to freeze. It never got old feeling his eyes latch onto you.

And you never got tired of watching him perform on stage. Now, with the new introduction of 'Mirador,' you got to watch him nearly twice as long. And, God, you never knew he could sing that well. That certainly was a turn on for you. Now your mind was wandering off to the thought of him singing in your ear.

You rarely tore your eyes from him while he was on stage, and he knew that he was hypnotic. He liked knowing that there were people who only cared to watch him and come to Greta Van Fleet's shows to be in his presence. Thrusting into his guitar as he spoke to himself and the crowd, hairs sticking to his cheeks with the accumulated sweat and still breathlessly giving his performance his all. You kept your eyes locked on his stomach and watched as the sweat beads dripped down his tender skin, and his hair whipping around and throwing his head back as he skillfully played on his instrument, exposing his Adam's apple to the fans that kept their eyes glued on his every move while he struck the next few chords of the song. You'd always convince yourself while swinging to the music that he was performing more theatrically for you, but you'd never been proven right nor wrong yet. He was entrancing to watch, and sometimes you found it unfathomable that you were a person in his life. A person who knew things that most didn't, a person who saw things most people didn't.

Your adrenaline always arose as soon as the four boys left the stage, and the lights illuminated the venue. Hearing different conversations from a multitude of fans that surrounded you, shuffling of feet and complaints of exhaustion. But there you were, hanging out in the sound booth waiting for security to come to your aid to escort you to backstage.

You wore a silver halter top that accentuated your chest, with a pair of velvet-blue flared leggings and converse. Thankfully, your shoes weren't shown due to the coverage of your pants, and it truly did not matter what clothes were on your body. They would be thrown on some floor in less than an hour, and that's all you cared about.

Eventually two men from Greta Van Fleet's team made their way to you once the venue was near empty from fans and began leading you backstage to the green room. You always loved that feeling in the pit of your stomach; it excitingly tumbled and twisted with each step closer you were to him. The awkward silence never faltered while the security guards guided you to backstage, but that gave you enough time to collect yourself before seeing Jake.

Your eyes were first met with Sam cracking open a beer, chatting with his girlfriend and keeping to themselves. When they saw you, they smiled without a word, and allowed you to keep moving. While you and Jake became "friends" the more you two saw each other, you had been brought around the band from time to time. More likely than not, it was for some sort of party, large gathering, or simply catching the boys after the show - uncommonly anything intimate. They knew what your purpose was, but they never questioned you. Either they simply didn't care, or they didn't want to ask questions they did not want answers to.

Danny was nowhere to be found, most likely in his dressing room, but the twins were walking into the green room, laughter erupting from Josh as he cracked his large, infamous smile that put his perfect teeth on display. His presence always soothed you when eyes seemed to be peering down your neck from your presence. Both were still in their stage attire, which was usual when you'd come so soon after the show had ended.

Josh had noticed you first, closing his mouth to a smirk that raised with the right corner of lips and pierced his cheek to reveal his dimple. Once Jake laid his eyes upon you, they were already following down your body, finally greeting you with a crack of a smile that told you his mind was already somewhere else.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again," Josh greeted you with a tight hug, "nice seeing your face after so long." He patted your back and pulled away with a grin still plastered on his face.

"It has been long enough," you huffed a laugh. "Tour was good?" You flicked your eyes to Jake.

He gave you a slow, steady nod. "Was great. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't want anything else." You huffed a laugh, sticking your tongue in your cheek at his light sarcasm.

"I expect you'll be sticking around to celebrate the end of Starcatcher with us?" Josh said as he began to walk away. You followed his movements with your eyes as he walked over to a small fridge, turning to Jake who gave you a blank stare. Josh wasn't hinting at your intentions with Jake, but rather what would occur after-the-fact. He shrugged at you suggestively, but you couldn't depict what his choice was.

You chose to be safe. "We'll see, Josh," you directed your attention to him for a moment, "if I don't, I'll be sure to say goodbye to you before I head home."

He sauntered over to you with a beer in hand and patted your back with a soft smile. "Always a pleasure, y/n."

Leaving you and his twin alone, Jake ran his hand to your side and found the small of your back, pressing light enough to signal movement forward and follow him to his dressing room. You dared to look at him, to examine the light sheen of sweat that resided on his forehead that he forgot to wipe away once he exited the stage. And you knew he could feel your eyes lingering upon him, but he liked to be looked at. He liked the attention.

His dressing room door was already open, welcoming your entrance and waiting for your arrival. You eagerly stepped into the neatly decorated room and scanned the area for familiar artifacts of his scattered about: sunglasses, bracelets, necklaces, and his attire to be thrown on after his stage wear was stripped from his body.

He turned his back to you quickly and closed the door, locking it swiftly behind him. And once he turned around, he was wearing a softly cracked smile. It was always so intimidatingly perfect, how his eyes rested into a look that only told you that he was going to devour you.

"Barely said a word to me since I've arrived," you said innocently with your hands behind your back, "what's with the shyness, Jake?" You began to slip off your shoes as his eyes faltered from your own to do the same.

He took slow steps towards you to increase the intensity of your heartbeat in anticipation. He knew you craved the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your figure. He always remembered what made your heart bang against your chest and your face flush into a pink hue.

His index finger cradled your jaw as he focused your eyes on him intently. "Was it so wrong of me to want a more private 'welcome home' from you?" His voice was coarse with the words slipping off his tongue smoothly like butter. Close to a whisper - the tone of intimacy.

You flicked your eyes to his coy smirk, then back to his dark brown eyes that peered at you so attentively. He was always so patient in these moments for an answer back.

"All this is, is private. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the gesture, though." You wrapped your arms around his neck after motioning your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, and in return, he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you against his body tightly.

And there he was, breathing softly down the side of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, and feeling the figure and warmth of your body in an embrace. You buried your face into the crook of his neck that you made room for with your arm to feel the skin that rested there to remember how it feels to be so close to Jake once again.

"You're a good singer, Jake," you said lowly into his ear, "better than I had expected."

You felt him chuckle against you, but his laughter came out in small breaths. He was amused by your playful banter and humbling words that he knew were harmless.

He unwrapped himself from you but kept the close proximity between the both of you. His tongue darted out and ran across the middle of his bottom lip, cracking a coy grin as he looked down at you with half-hooded eyes. He was effortlessly seductive.

"You're lucky I like you, y/n." His hand raised to the side of your face as he slowly began to caress it, watching the motions of his fingers as they began from your temple and journeyed to your jaw. "Because if I hadn't known better, I'd think you were disrespecting me." He gave you a playful, lazy glare.

You gave him a small smile, allowing your fingers to focus on toying with the silver jewelry that hung dangerously low on his exposed skin.

"Well, you and I both know that you love to play that game." You said softly to yourself. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to showcase your lack of desire for a response.

You took the opportunity to run your hands onto his chest, letting them reach to the waistband of his trousers, and looking to him innocently with a smile. And he smiled back at you softly, waiting patiently for you to be finished reveling in his presence and this moment.

You placed your hands onto his neck, thumbing at the skin and looking at him for direction, for initiation. So, he cupped your jaw and placed a gentle, longing kiss onto your lips. You practically melted into his mouth and encouraged his tongue to begin roaming around the inside of your mouth as you began to dance your own in his. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and you both remembered the addictive taste of each other. The swift routine of throwing each other clothes began, where you're tugging down Jake's pants to leave him in his boxers, and he's tossing off his cropped, black jacket to land onto the ground.

Your hands traveled into his damp hair and tugged him deeper into your lips as his fingers played at the waistband of your leggings. The muscles at your stomach began to tense up at the sensation of the pads of his fingers toying at the idea of diving down into your underwear and satisfying you.

His mouth pulled from yours for a moment to throw off your top, which you assisted him in doing, and allowed it to fall wherever it landed. As soon as he got the sight of your bare breasts, he encapsulated his mouth onto yours, and massaged one in his hand, while the other hand held its place at your waist.

You snaked your hands in between your glued bodies and cupped his hard cock with a light squeeze, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from his throat and into your mouth.

"God, how I've missed you." He said into your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip. His lips began to travel to your neck, pressing rough, sloppy kisses onto the skin. You contemplated telling him how much you missed him, but you knew that he knew you did - you were like putty under his touch.

Your head titled back to allow Jake more access to your neck. One of his hands ditched your body and tugged at your hair to gain dominance, keeping your neck bent back as far as possible so he could taste your skin. His other hand traveled to the small of your back to keep you on your feet, and you swore you would've fallen to your knees if it weren't for Jake holding you up. With your eyes shut, you tuned into the feeling of his wet tongue trailing its way up your neck and to your jaw, then suckling down to your collarbone. His mouth always felt like a beautiful curse against your skin, while compelling, still so unbelievably relieving.

Your hands stuck onto his hair, tugging and pulling as his lips trapped your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled circles around it, with his index and thumb massaging the other with the movements. Soft moans escaped your mouth, but you were sure to monitor any sound out of you.

His eyes peered up at you as he removed his mouth from your body and grabbed your face with his hands clasped at your jaw.

"Pants off, now." He instructed lowly, and while you slipped off your underwear with your velvet flares, he was throwing off his boxers and revealing his throbbing cock. You could hardly focus on anything other than him inside of you at this moment, with your head dizzy at the thought of his length filling you up to the hilt.

He never got sick of the sight of you naked, running his hands down your waist and to your hips while a deep sigh escaped his mouth. You watched his eyes focus in on your clit, with his thumb dancing around the area and causing your knees to grow weaker and weaker. Your hips bucked forward, and your motion only caused a light snicker to come from his mouth.

"Get on your fucking knees." He demanded as he pushed you down by your shoulder, although you were quick to follow his instructions and obey.

His length rested onto your left check, and his hand reached down to lift your chin to look up to him. He loved how submissive you looked before him. The way your eyes lit up to the sight of him bare in front of you, along with his devilish grin that captivated you.

He held your eyes with his own. "Good to know you're still such a good girl for me." That sentence had sent a shiver down your spine, with how intimidatingly dominant Jake was. There was something about his small, cracked smile, and the light squint in his eyes that always had you feeling shy and overexposed. Yet, you were always so comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He tapped at your jaw, which signaled for your mouth to open, and you allowed his thumb to travel onto your tongue, sliding the finger out and dragging your bottom lip down with the motion. You slid your hands over his thighs, kissing the head of his cock and slicing your tongue onto it. He groaned at the sensation and landed his hand on the back of your head in preparation.

And you grabbed his length, wrapping your lips around it and beginning to bob your head up and down at a slow pace. You took all of him for a moment to elicit a harsh groan - a response you craved hearing from Jake and pulled off his cock to purse your lips and spit onto his tip with your hand aiding you in coating him.

You immediately resumed bobbing your head up and down, while your hand at the base of him began working slowly with a twist of your wrist. He deeply sighed, looking down at you to see his cock disappear into your mouth. You were irresistible to him with the way you took him into your mouth so effortlessly.

"Fuck, just like that, y/n." He winced lightly as your tongue swirled around his tip. His mouth was slightly hung open as he admired the view of you below him. Hearing your name had never sounded better coming from someone's mouth.

The unoccupied hand of his landed at the side of your face with his thumb caressing at your cheek. He was being gentler with you than usual, which could only mean he intended to be rougher with you later on. You didn't mind the lack of degrading, though. It was good to soothe into things after being away from him for so long.

His breathing was deep, and the muscles at his stomach were tensed up as you quickened the pace of your mouth and hand. Your other hand massaged his balls lightly, which evoked a deep sigh from him. Hushed slurs drew from his lips as you worked your way up and down him, spit dribbling down your chin. The back of your throat fought against taking his whole length, but as long as he felt good, you could care less about your own pleasure. You loved to feel as though you belonged to him and were the only one making him feel this good.

His head was thrown back, while the hand that tousled with your hair on the back of your head had a harsher grip. It was as if he was innocently guiding you, but really, it was to steady himself as he cautiously bucked his hips into your movements. Jake had his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, fighting against his own release so quickly.

He grabbed your hair and held it back for you, tugging you off of his cock and raising you up to your knees by the pad of his index finger resting under your chin.

"Think you deserve something in return, huh?" He said as his hands relaxed from their places and found your waist. The rhetorical question had you pressing your thighs tightly together with a whine trapped behind your closed mouth.

He was slow with his hands, letting them fall down to your hips, then scooping you off of the ground whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the long table that sat before a mirror, setting you down and immediately forcing your legs open for him. He was quick to step in between your legs and place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your lips as his fingers traveled down your stomach and to your heat.

His right hand rested at the inner of your thigh, his thumb at your pubic bone and mere inches from your clit. He rested his forehead upon yours and listened intently to your unsteady, choked breaths, while he traced his index fingers and middle up and down your pussy agonizingly slow. Your back arched into him with a whine, closing your thighs together cautiously in hopes his fingers would caress you. But instead, he forced your thighs back open, and removed his forehead from yours with enough space to just barely see the entirety of your face.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He glared at you, practically spitting in your face at your small movements in a silent plea to have him touch you. But you nodded vigorously. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to beg for it. Don't act like you have forgotten how this works."

The way he was looking at you was sending butterflies into the pit of your stomach, and it was nearly overwhelming to you how lust-filled his eyes were.

You threw your head back, sliding your right hand onto his bicep and sighing heavily with shut eyes. "Jake," you whined out, "please."

"Please what, y/n?" He urged you further. He loved playing this game.

You brought your head back up and looked at him in mere agony, desperately saying, "please touch me."

A devilish smirk twisted onto his lips as he flicked his eyes down to your pussy, leaning down and pursing his lips to allow spit to dribble from his mouth and onto your folds. As soon as the spit hit your pussy, he was gathering it onto middle and ring finger and locking his eyes onto yours. He captivated your attention just to mimic the way your mouth fell open as his fingers eased themselves into your entrance. He even repeated your deep exhales as his fingers curled inside of you and began to pump in and out of your entrance. You couldn't contain your moans and allowed them to fall out of your mouth while Jake admired your breathless state.

His calloused fingers added an extra layer of sensation to what you were feeling. He began kissing at your neck, humming onto the skin and trailing his mouth to your ear.

"Feel good, y/n?" He asked in a pitiful, mocking tone. He knew the answer, yet he wanted to hear you say it. Just another thing he did to control you and what you said.

"Yes, yes Jake." You moaned. "Please, don't stop."

He tugged at your earlobe and said, "so we do remember our manners, hm?" in a teasing tone.

Your hand reached for the back of his head as he continued to suck at your neck and travel down to your jugular. Your other hand was gripped tightly against the edge of the table to keep yourself upright while Jake meticulously drew every sound possible from you by his touch. His tongue flattened against the skin and slid its way up to your jaw. You never realized how deeply you missed Jake until you were finally with him.

You had your eyes shut with furrowed brows as you allowed your head to hang back. Every movement Jake made with his fingers, his mouth, his hand that found its way to your breast and massaged it - you were in euphoria. Only did he make you feel this good, and you made it known with your lack of words and preferred usage of pleasured sounds.

Then your eyes were shooting open and your fingers gripping harder at Jake's hair as you felt his tongue circle at your clit. You looked down at the sight, seeing him kneeled down before you as he devoured at your pussy. He hummed in satisfaction of the taste of you - sweet like honey, and your mouth hung open in an "O" shape, unable to utter a sound. Finally, an exaggerated groan rolled off of your tongue, and your head was able to be thrown back with your head fuzzy in ecstasy.

Your hand that rested at the back of his head landed back onto the table, clenching and unclenching, which Jake was quick to notice. His hand immediately found yours and folded his fingers into your own, giving you something to squeeze onto you. The small note of intimacy made you crack a small smile, but quickly allowing it to fade away as Jake grasped harshly onto your hip to keep you in place and reminding you where your focus should be.

He lapped at your folds as he kept a steady pace in and out of your pussy while your thighs squeezed tightly around his head. He switched between sucking at your clit and allowing his tongue to do all the work. You were grinding your hips to the motions of his tongue, and while normally you were ridiculed by him with a slap at your thigh, he allowed it after being away from one another so long.

You were clenching around his fingers, which elicited a pleased hum from him. He could tell you were close to your release, and that's exactly where he wanted you to be before stripping it away from you so suddenly. The tightened knot in the pit of your stomach completely dissolving, not unraveling, always had you whining in annoyance.

He flattened his tongue once more and dragged it up your pussy, then pushed himself up by slapping his hands on the tops of your thighs and levering himself that way.

You encapsulated your mouth onto his by bringing him with your hands harshly slapping against his face. He groaned into your lips with satisfaction, while you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking it. At some points in moments like these, you felt like you just barely had some sort of dominance over Jake, and he was submitting to the pleasure you were granting him. He found it harder to kiss you back, resting his forehead against your own with eyes squeezed shut. As if anything you had asked him to do, he would without hesitation. And his face even showed how resistless he had become under your touch, contorting and softening with his eyebrows pulled in and mouth parted open.

You kept your eyes open to see the way his face shifted emotions, watching him grow restless with your position of being in charge. He wrapped his hand around your own and stopped your motions, looking down at his cock and focusing on lining himself up with your entrance. You quickly propped one of your legs up onto the table to allow easier access for him and impatiently waited. As spit dribbled down from his pursed lips and onto his cock, with a few more strokes, he was easing himself into you and resting his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, y/n," he drew out in a long breath as he was fully rested inside of you. He was slow pulling himself out, but quick to slam into you.

He raised his head off of your shoulder and met your eyes, seeing yours with the lids of them resting halfway, mouth opened in an 'O' shape with eyebrows softened. You made it known to him that you were all his - and always will be, but in this moment, you were whatever you needed him to be. Through your lust-filled brain you imprinted the memory of how perfect Jake feels inside of you, how he knows exactly where his fingers need to dance onto your skin, or where his hands should rest. He was wickedly talented at the art of pleasure, and he knew what made your body tick. He was in tune with your body, which he oh-so adored, and wasn't going to go anywhere until he felt satisfied enough.

You had one hand sprawled behind your back onto the table and the other on Jake's shoulder, throwing your head back as he slammed into you and rattled the items that lay astray on the tabletop. If anything were to fall, neither of you paid mind to it. What mattered was the sensations that ran throughout your entire being, your heartbeat increasing with every second, and your body accumulating a sweat that began at your hairline.

His breaths were heavy, daring to look at you while his pace increased. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious smirk, forcing your lips onto his by pushing your head towards him after landing the back of his hand in your damp hair. His other hand was placed beside your thigh to keep him up, but every once and a while, it would travel to the outer of your thigh and squeeze tightly.

Your kiss shared with him was a sloppy mess, with both of you breathing into each other's mouth and unable to contain your moans from sputtering out from your lips. His tongue danced alongst your own, toying with it before resting his back in his mouth and pulling from your lips to kiss your cheek. He reached your ear with his lips, tugging at your earlobe, and allowing you to hear his restless, guttural groans that tore at your core with pleasure.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He groaned to you. "Your pussy is for my pleasure only - no one else's. You understand?" He continued his fast-paced thrusts while borderline whispering these words to you.

You swallowed harshly, breathing out a small, "yes," as you were unable to utter anything else. It was already a battle enough to keep yourself quiet to minimize the noise anyone in the green room could hear, but yet, they all knew why you were with Jake. And frankly, Jake didn't care about the noise. In fact, he encouraged your cries of ecstasy. He demanded it from you.

He wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him as he withheld your breath.

"Say you understand, y/n. Say that you understand that no one else can have you but I." He breathed, lessening his tight grip around your neck to allow you to speak for him.

"I understand, Jake," you said as your eyes rolled back from the way Jake was thrusting into you, "I'm all yours."

You didn't have to refocus your eyes on him to know he was smirking - you could just hear his lips curl. Now he was quickly pulling himself out of you, and in a swift motion, lifting you off from the table and barely giving you time to land on your feet before turning you around and bending you over. You were face to face with yourself, seeing how your makeup had run, and your lips were swollen and darker tinted than normal.

But then you saw him, and how he looked from behind you. His eyes landed on your ass, and in a near second, you saw his hand raise and swat against the skin. You jumped with a light whimper trapping itself behind your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip. His eyes met yours, and there he was, giving you the smallest hint of a smile, and forcefully pushing himself all the way inside of you.

One of his hands rested at your hip with a harsh grip, and the other was at your shoulder while he watched the movement of your ass each time it hit against his stomach. He was entranced by the way your body moved, how good it felt to be inside of you, how perfect you looked fully exposed to him.

He whispered something near incoherent, but you were able to pick it up.

"Good, good fucking girl. That's it, baby." He said as he kept his eyes locked on your rear. You watched his lips drop open, his hair moving with his motions and his eyebrows softening and furrowing with each sensation that drove through his body. He grabbed at your ass once more, giving you another swat to make sure he would leave his mark on you as if the bruises caused by his mouth weren't already stained onto your body.

You moaned his name, begging him not to stop as he was hitting the spot you craved to be caressed the most. You dared to reach your fingers down to your clit to reach your orgasm, but as your hand began to make its way there, Jake immediately caught on, and grabbed ahold of your hair and tugged you far back enough to where your back arched away from his chest.

"Greedy now, are we?" His hand from your hair released itself to forcefully grasp your throat with his pointer finger and thumb harshly pressed at your jaw to look towards him. You didn't know what to respond with, other than to rest your hands onto the edge of the table and allowing your knuckles to turn white.

You dared to hold eye contact with him, and he squeezed your cheeks with the intent of forcing your mouth open and spitting onto your tongue. You swallowed the substance without thought, looking at him as you raised one hand to hold onto the side of his face. And the grip he had onto your face wasn't harsh enough, because you felt your head turn forward and lean back with a loud moan as your orgasm grew closer, and the pads of his fingers rubbed vigorous circles onto your clit.

"Greedy little whore." He whispered into your ear, looking at you through the mirror. He watched the way your breasts bounced, how your body twitched, how you were nearly unresponsive with the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You truly were all his.

"Jake, please," you begged quietly. There were more words you wanted to say, but they had fizzled and left your mind, and you could only focus on the way Jake was pumping in and out of you at a quickened pace.

Strands of his hair began to stick to his cheeks, and his silver necklaces that he had on left a cold sting onto your back as they would barely graze the skin. Every single sense in your body had become heightened and intensified, along with your entire body tensing up that had your entire body running hot. All you could do was chase your release, to tune into the intoxicating sensation of Jake delivering as much pleasure to you as possible.

"God, I'm gonna cum." He warned as his thrusts became inconsistent, yet perfectly paced to reach his high. "Gonna cum with me?"

There was only one answer to that question, and he knew that. But hearing you say it helped send him over the edge. It helped him feel more in control of your orgasm. Hell, you were surprised your release hadn't overtaken you yet.

"Yes, Jake, just please, don't stop." You moaned.

And as you felt the tight knot unravel in your stomach, you began to fall forward with your legs trembling, and Jake coming to your aid by bracing his arm across your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it darling,” he soothed, “there you go.”

His head fell forward as he finished inside of you, draining himself fully and leaving himself with a heaving chest. His arm fell from your chest and landed his hand on top of yours on the edge of the table, with the other hand teasing at your sensitive clit once more just to feel you twitch a final time around him.

After you nearly grabbed his wrist to move it away from the overstimulation, he landed his hand onto your waist, and stayed inside of you for a moment. His eyes found yours in the mirror, and he pressed a soft, long kiss onto your cheek.

"You okay?" He said to you.

"Yes, yes I'm okay," you giggled, "more than okay."

He chuckled at your statement. "Just making sure." He said as he looked at you.

His lips traveled onto your neck with soft, relaxed kisses, reaching to the end of your shoulder and stopping there as he pulled himself from you. You tried to turn around to face him, but as he saw your legs nearly give out, he came to wrap his hands around your waist, and keep you on your feet. If it weren't for the warm liquid dripping down onto the insides of your thighs, you would have forgotten that Jake had finished inside of you.

After seeing that animalistic side of him, you had nearly forgotten how caring he was, and how important it was to him to tend to you after practically using your body. And while one hand stayed at the small at your back, the other raised to your cheek, and his thumb softly swiped against it in a back-and-forth motion.

You two allowed each other to catch your breaths, keeping your eyes locked onto his and smiling at him softly in your hazed state.

"Do you want to stay after for a bit before you head off?" He said to you, finally having his breathing under control.

"Don't want me to stay over for the night, or are you already sick of me?" You said to him with a knowing grin.

He chuckled at your response and placed a soft kiss onto your lips. "Go on and get dressed and we'll head back to mine when you're ready to, alright?"

You nodded at him and began to clean yourself up, which he helped with, then aiding him, and getting dressed to make yourself presentable to walk out of the dressing room and accept the stares from the rest of the band and any of their team members who witnessed the sounds that erupted from Jake's dressing room.

But they all knew why you were there. After all, you were Jake's personal groupie. And you enjoyed the lifestyle. You enjoyed Jake, and he enjoyed you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist:

@hollyco @songbirds-sweet @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @bluee07 @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @laneygvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

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svmjaeyvn · 9 months ago

Text

love maze, s.jy.

chapter six pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER SIX: EXS

previous masterlist next

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, kisses, calling minjun a stalker, protective jay and ni-ki

a/n: not a lot of jake in this one i know but i have to make a plot and conflict yall 😩 adding in bbg riki and some more best friend!jay pls enjoy

"HOW MANY TIMES have I told you to wear the gloves when you do the dishes?" You tsk, delicately wrapping the small gash that ran along Ni-ki's, the newest trainee at your work, hand. He sheepishly smiled, tilting his head in the smallest of ways.

"Sorry noona," He mumbled out, embarrassed by his third time sitting like a kid being scolded due to his clumsiness. "I needed the steaming pitcher so I just reached in the sink and didn't see realize the tongs were so sharp,"

You shake your head with mock disappointment though a small smile perked at your lips nonetheless. With the middle of the semester rolling around, most freshmen had found themselves finding a rhythm with balancing their school lives enough to find a part time job. You've seen numerous come and go, Cho— your generous manager who was the sweetest old lady that ran the cafe, always took them in for at least a short amount of time.

Ni-ki was your favorite thus far, always listening intently (to everything aside from the dishwashing) and picked up the skills relatively fast. Respectful but also comfortable enough to joke around with, the two of you had become a dynamic duo in closing four days out of the week together.

Of course he was still a boy, a young and partially annoying one at that but he reminded you of your younger brother, weaseling his way in having a soft spot in your heart even though it had only been two weeks.

"Okay now we switch, you run the front I'll clean up back here," Satisfied with your makeshift bandaging, you shoo the younger boy along who rolled his eyes but nonetheless disappeared from the back of the house. Cleaning up the medical kit and barely managing to slip on your gloves to handle the load of piling dishes, you noticed his head poke in around the corner.

"Someone would like to talk to you," He hums before disappearing once more, not giving you enough time to determine whether it was a good talk or bad one in having to handle the customers. With a small sigh, you make your way to the front, prepped for the worst but your tension dissolves seeing your bright smiled best friend leaning over the pastry case.

"Off the glass," You warn, making your way to the register where Ni-ki stood with a goofy smile. Jay reluctantly stands himself up straight, pouting seeing as you didn't greet him with the same warmth he was expecting.

"That's not very good customer service, where's ajumma Cho? I'd like to file a complaint," Jay tuts, peering around the store though he knew well enough it was only you and Ni-ki in the building. The younger boy lets out a small snort, used to his antics in the past two weeks of running into each other and forming a budding friendship through their mutual teasing over you.

Rolling your eyes, you lean against the counter expectantly. "What'd you need Jay?"

"I can't just come say hi?" He pouts, seemingly offended by your words while he shakes his head. "I haven't seen you in days teeny, you've been too busy with your boyfriend to give me any attention now,"

"I saw you when we had lunch," You deadpan, finding his dramatics amusing though you knew the mess that occupied the back room needed tending to before you were forced to stay late. "Seriously, I actually have work to do today so I can't talk—"

"I'll help!" Jay volunteers, the same boxy smile on his lips while you shake your head. "What? I've done stuff before! I'm bored and want to hang out, let me help. It'll show me what you broke college students do everyday to survive and stuff,"

"Let rich boy do the dishes," Ni-ki interjects, rolling his eyes at his ladder sentence though it was all in playful manner.

"As long as I get to wear an apron," Jay agrees, pointing a finger at the coffee brown colored uniform piece you had to wear.

It was a temping offer, and he wasn't wrong. Typically you had him clean the menus or refill caramel bottles whenever he wanted to be like a kid and help out but you really did dread washing dishes. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded your head and not even a split second later, Jay had made his way around the counter to the employees side.

"This is exciting," He hums, following you to the back while you reach into the locker cubbies, pulling out one of the spare aprons left just in case anyone needed it. Jay slips it over his head, securing the strings behind his waist while you point toward the far end of the room. His excitement visibly deflates seeing the mountain of items waiting to be cleaned, the cherry on top being the empty dishes Ni-ki waltzed in with a genuine smile of content as he added to it.

"Have fun princess," You laugh, patting his shoulder as you walked by and with some reluctance, Jay made his way to begin without a word of protest much to your surprise. Having far more time to do your tasks, you began with the inventory. Going through the store and marking down the amounts had while Ni-ki continued to clean and restock due to the end of the night approaching, it was peaceful with the younger boy taking hold of the aux to play his own music now opposed to the cafe playlist.

A few minutes passed without any words, finding comfortable silence and both of you working on your own things before the jingle from the front door indicated someone coming inside. "Welcome in," You called out, not bothering to look up from the fridge you were bent down beside while Ni-ki headed for the register to attend the guest.

"Hey," You stiffen at the familiar voice. Pausing in your count, you stare at the half empty milk carton in the fridge, waiting for the person to speak again, praying it wasn't what you thought. "Sorry man, is ___ here?" With a deep sigh, your head falls down. Ni-ki peers to the side, giving you a questionable glance noticing your reaction and unaware of what to respond with.

Sending him a half smile, you stand up properly, exposing your hidden figure behind the counter. You make eye contact with Minjun, void of emotion and placing the fakest of smiles onto your lips as you spoke. "How can I help you?" Decidedly going with the faux customer service route, you place the book down you were previously using to record while his eyes trail over your figure.

"Hi," Was all he spoke, almost hesitant and you had to hold everything in you to not roll your eyes. "You're a manager here now?"

"Yeah stuff changes over a year," You respond dryly, not particularly seeing the point in his attempt in a conversation. Ni-ki lingered, seemingly wiping at the warming station but he listened carefully, aware of how unenthusiastic you seemed and found it best to stay close just in case with how stiff the air seemed. "Something you need from me?"

Minjun opens his mouth only to close it twice over. Not having the proper words to say, he purses his lips. "I've been wanting to see you," Was all he could come up with, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Heard you still worked here and figured it'd be the best place to find you,"

"Yunjin told you to leave me alone and that I didn't want to talk," You reiterate, sending him a pointed look while he nods along. "So you came to my place of work knowing I didn't want to see you," Another nod. "Yeah, think that's called stalking,"

Ni-ki stiffens up at your words. "Noona," He mumbles, coming up significantly closer to your side while you shake your head. Ni-ki was tall, significantly more than you and a majority of the male population was shorter than him but he was still a kid. Besides, you didn't need any protection, Minjun wasn't a dangerous guy, just an idiot.

You hold up your hand, silently telling him that everything was fine. Reluctantly, he backed away, though he still lingered and his eyes stayed glued to Minjun who stood on the opposite side of the counter.

"I just wanted to talk," Minjun starts, voice seemingly sincere but you shake your head.

"There's nothing to talk about,"

"No means no dipshit, did you forget kindergarten rules already?" Jays' loud voice interrupted the stiff air, the attention brought to him as he emerged from the back room, a drying towel being throw over his shoulder and his apron slightly damp at the waist. He makes his way beside you, arms folded across his chest and puffing out the muscle and veins that peaked out from his rolled up sleeves. You nearly let out a laugh seeing the tough guy act your best friend pulled, almost wanting to take out your phone and take a picture but you had to admit, Jay was intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Lovely to see you again too Jongseong," Minjun sighs, plastering on a more than fake smile at the man who always expressed his distaste over him even when you were together. "Didn't think you'd be a part-time cafe guy,"

"You gonna order or not?" Jay cuts to the point, his patience thin enough as it was and especially with people he didn't like. You made a mental note to applaud him for being mean for once.

"If I order will you go away so I can talk to ___?"

"She has a boyfriend," Ni-ki interjects, standing beside Jay who nods along. "Plus she doesn't like you, so I can either take your order or you can leave,"

Minjun's eyes flicker to you once more. "A boyfriend," He repeats. "Thought you told Yunjin to tell me that just to get rid of me,"

"Not everything's about you man," Jay rolls his eyes, quick to answer for you. "Being desperate doesn't really work for you,"

"How long?" He ignores Jays jabs, eyes focused on you while you shrug. "Recent right, considering you haven't posted anything about him,"

"You really are a stalker," Ni-ki grimaces, not knowing the full details but hearing enough to make his judgements.

Sending the two behind you pointed looks, silently telling them that you'd handle it, you look back at Minjun with a small sigh. "It's not really any of your business, is it?"

"Well with me you were all about posting stories and making sure I posted you so it's just surprising,"

Narrowing your eyes, you pick at the skin of your nails at your side, something that Jay took note of in your old habits whenever you grew irritated. "Things change. Being with a guy who provides reassurance and treats you well does wonders," You hum, no longer bothering with decorum. "I don't have time to go back and forth with you. If you want to order they'll help you, if not, leave,"

Without giving him time to protest, you made your way to the back of the building ensuring he wouldn't be able to follow. Jay was quick to tag along leaving Ni-ki to fend for himself but knowing the young boy would be fine.

"He's fucking insane," Jay rambles as soon as the two of you were out of sight and behind the door that separated the front from the back. "To think that after all the shit he put you through you'd just, welcome him back? Delusional ass who doesn't know how to take no for an answer apparently—"

You nod along, taking a seat in the plush chair that was tucked away in the corner of the room beside the desk. You stared at the ground, focusing on counting the tile patterns allowing for Jay to ramble as he paced around the room. Taking note of your unusual silence, he stops mid step to look at you, a small sigh leaving his lips seeing how your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth and how you continued to pick at your hands.

Leaning down in front of you, Jay squats as his hands find way to your knees, leaning against you and forcing your line of vision to be filled by him. "You okay teeny?" He asks softly, the look of pity one you remember all too well and not what you wanted.

"I'm fine," You respond. And you were, for the most part. You just couldn't deal with your own emotions and Jay going back to treating you like a fragile piece of glass, it was exhausting enough having him be as attentive as he was in general. "Seriously, I'm fine. He's not worth my time anymore J, I just hope he got the hint and won't come back,"

Jay nods along, giving your knee a small squeeze in reassurance while you click your tongue. The door swings open, Ni-ki poking his head in the frame. "He left," The younger boy reassures, a small smile sent your way. "Am I allowed to ask noona?"

He looked concerned, an expression you had yet to see from Ni-ki and it emphasized just how young he seemed in your eyes with the innocent gleam. Gesturing for him to take a seat, you lean back in the chair while Jay settles himself on the ground. Peering up at the security cameras, ensuring to have a clear view of anyone were to walk in, you begin your story.

"Buckle up kid, you're getting a whole new level of lore from me tonight,"

"THIS IS SUCH bullshit," Jay huffs, eyes focused behind you as he takes a rather large bite of the apple he had been holding for the past ten minutes. "I can't believe he transferred back,"

"You know, it's kind of heartwarming how upset you are for me," You tease, significantly less worked up over the situation although it was less than ideal.

"No I agree, he's a fucking asshole," Yunjin adds, shooting daggers with looks that could kill causing you to raise a brow. "What? I hate him. We're not even really related, my aunt is divorcing his uncle and I only hung out with him cause of her so now it's free range since he's being a weird idiot,"

"Are we talking shit?" Sunoo draws the attention to himself, placing his bag down and smiling brightly as he clasped his hands under his chin. "Who about?" He sing-songs, voice dripping like honey and a grin that seemed so innocent but the content behind it was entirely different.

"Her stalker,"

"Whose stalker?" Heeseung interjects, Sunghoon trailing behind him to join the ever growing table. Jay and Yunjin's fingers immediately point toward you, silently answering his question causing the older boys brows to frown. "What happened now?"

As you opened your mouth to explain, a rather loud one cut you off once again. "Noona!" Ni-ki calls out, voice booming as he made his way toward you with Jungwon leading. Rather obviously pointing in the direction you spoke of, his eyes were wide seeing Minjun on the other end of the plaza with his own group of friends. "What the hell is he doing here?" The youngest asks as they reached the table, now having all curiosity peaked of those out of loop.

"Who?" With the last member of the group joining, Jake smiled widely as he weaseled his way beside you, placing a quick peck to your cheek as he sat.

"Everyone here now so I can talk?" You ask aloud, glancing over the group and doing a quick headcount. Over the past week, with the concept of you and Jake being together, your friend group had merged with his. Well your two friends, one of which you shared already, had joined in with Jake's while Ni-ki had been recently adopted in after finding Jungwon and him shared a general ed class. You had to admit, it was nice having more people to talk to, your life had certainly become more interesting in the best of ways.

"Do tell," Sunoo urges, far too excited to know more as the certified gossip of the group, though he was always the best at giving advice so it was two sides of the same coin.

"My ex transferred back here," You finally say with a small shrug. Jake tensed up from beside you, his brows pinching together as he leaned in closer to listen to your explanation. "He came by my work the other day trying to talk and I told him to get lost and then now he's here,”

"He's weird," Ni-ki adds in, his face pinched with disgust as he shook his head. "Desperate stalker behavior,"

"Who is it?" Sunghoon asked, looking in the general direction Jay pointed in but not particularly locking in on anyone.

"Kang Minjun," Yunjin answered without missing a beat.

Jake lets out a scoff, leaning closer into your side. "He's a fucking prick. Came into class today and wouldn't shut up during the lecture," Taking hold of the unpeeled orange you had left since it seemed like far too much work at the time, he peeled the skin off without a word, holding out the first piece to you before popping one into his mouth. "Professor Choi loved it, annoying as fuck when most of us just come since attendance is mandatory even though it's a gen-ed class,"

"We're the same year, he had always been popular," Heeseung shrugged. "Definitely annoying considering he used his looks for basically everything and acted cocky all the time,"

"The pretty one?" Sunoo asks, glancing around while he gained a few pointed looks for the comment. "What? My bad I've never seen him before," He pouts, hands up to show his lack of defense.

"Stalker," Ni-ki reminds, entirely ambient on making it knowing for everyone how uncomfortable he was to be around. "Doesn't matter what he looks like, he's still a weirdo,"

Jungwon lets out a small snort at his comments while Heeseung suddenly changes the subject. The conversation topic switching over to plans of a staycation in the near future while Jake absentmindedly holds out the last slice of orange for you to take.

“He comes over here and I’m throwing this apple at his head,” Jay warns, holding up the partially bitten fruit causing you to grimace.

“I don’t think he’s that dumb,” Sunghoon snickers. “And that’s gross, you can see all your teeth marks,”

“Who cares?” Jay retorts, beginning to bicker as the two change the topic for the second time in a near minute. Everyone else following along, paying no mind and rather comfortable in one another’s company.

You felt Jake’s arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he leans down to your ear. “You alright?” He mumbles, breath fanning against your skin causing you to shiver but nonetheless nod along.

You pull away slightly, enough to see his face while a small smile peaked at the corners of your lips. You had to admit, it wasn’t ideal and made you exhausted having to deal with your past. You put on a brave face, one enough for the others but for some reason, Jake could see through it more than you knew.

He let out a small sigh, a lingering kiss placed to the crown of your head as he did so. “You’re alright,” Jake spoke, the words intended to reassure you, fully certain of it for your sake and that seemed to be more than enough to help your nerves for the time being.

Letting out a puff of air, you allow yourself to melt into his side, settling in comfortably as your head tucked itself below his chin, leaned into his chest and arms caged around you for extra support. Your attention was brought back to the rest of your friends, eyes meeting with Yunjin who sat with an amused expression being one of the ones who knew everything while Heeseung had his nose scrunched up with disgust.

“I hate couples,”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @missmischief1408

( pls make sure your settings make you applicable to tag )

#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen #enhypen smut

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reqxxyt · 1 year ago

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secret relationship trope with danny ric please? 🫣🫣

Second Chance

pairings: daniel r. x f!reader

warnings: a little bit of jealousy, rushed ending

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited] wc: 1.9k

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“This is stupid” you said, practically wanting to flip the table that stood between you and Christian. You only gave you a strong look as you huffed, “Have you spoken to Daniel about it?”

“No, I was hoping you would be able to settle it down with him” he confessed, sighing to himself knowing how hard it was to let go of someone that seemed like part of the family in such a short amount of time.

You couldn’t explain how angry you were, “Get one of the HR to do it then, isn’t that what their job is?” your arms crossed over to your chest standing up from the chair. He stayed silent, only getting you more mad “Hes my-” you stopped yourself, no one knew of your relationship with Daniel, considering having an engineer and driver relationship would look terrible. Your voice cracked, lips trembling near tears welling up “hes my best friend”

He only nodded, understanding the situation you were in. “I just thought it would be better for you since you two are so close, maybe it would be easier” he shrugged.

“Well its not” you said before leaving to not have him see you breakdown and be a witness to your sadness from the news. You would only hope they changed their mind about it but now being told about it, there was no going back.

The entire day you stayed on edge when you were around Daniel, not telling him anything. He could tell you were acting strange considering you were always so bubbly and giddy when around him but he didn’t ask anything. You began to feel as if they may have changed their mind after so much silence, maybe they may have listened to your begging. But it all came crashing down on Friday of that week.

Daniel arrived at your apartment with tears in his eyes, trying to contain himself thinking you had known nothing of it. He hated the idea of having to break it to you, but he had to.

“Baby?” he came in the room, with a quiet tone making sure you were awake. You sat up seeing his frown only made your own heart drop, they told him. But you stayed silent, pretending to not know anything.

“Whats wrong?” you asked scutting up closer to the edge as he sat down trying to organize his thoughts. Your hand laid on his, rubbing it allowing him to say something.

“Its over, I’m no longer a red bull driver” he said it so monetonly, with little emotion while tears were starting to form in his eyes knowing how much dedication he had put into this. “Mclaren offered me a position though, so its not completely over” he held a hopeful look as you just stared back, with a small frown knowing he was only holding a hopeful look for you two but you had to break it to him.

“We can’t stay together” your own words made your heart want to tear out of your chest, throat starting to close at his response. His eyes fluttered, attempting his best to understand the words you just let out. “Baby I’m-”

“No.” his voice had a sudden anger tone in them, picking back up your hands changing his gaze to a much softer one when he met your eyes. “We can work this out- we can still try-” but you just kept shaking your head repeating ‘no. no we can’t’.

“You know how bad this be for the two of us” his grip had tighten, thinking if he could hold tighter you wouldn’t be able to leave. “Our careers could meet their end, I don’t want that for you”

His forehead landed on yours and you didn’t deny the pull of his hands, only closing your eyes to not meet his own. His lips grazed your own and you still didn’t push away or lean in as his lips attempted to connect to yours meeting no response.

“We can still try” his broken voice made your insides want to scream, to pull him close, to comfort the boy who was hurting right in front of you but you listened to your head as you pulled your hands away first before leaning back, wiping away tears in the process.

“I’m sorry, Daniel” you apoligized one last time and he finally backed away understanding there could be nothing more to salvage this. He got up, looking back at you one last time before leaving your lone apartment.

Tears wouldn’t stop flowing that night, having to call in sick the next day because of a headache not being able to leave. The ache in your heart was far worse, you had lost your best friend and your boyfriend in the span of a couple of minutes.

During the next couple of weeks, it took a lot for you to properly talk to someone else even in a friendly manner. You couldn’t stop picturing Daniel walking away even if you were the one to break up with him, it hurt like hell. Max would check up on you, making sure you’re doing all right and you could only nod your head lying to him and yourself before he would leave you alone allowing your thoughts to surround you.

When you had to meet Sergio, the driver for your engineering team you tried to remain a smile. You hated how much you resented him in the beginning, he did nothing wrong. But you found yourself glaring at him, Max spotting it too, helping you out by realizing your constant look of hatred towards him. You even started to notice how Sergio would act around you now, a bit nervous and on edge, which you had to apoligize for.

Soon after that, you two spoke more. Nothing unusual considering you were always talking to him about some parts changing or how to better use newer upgrades but you two started to grow a friendship over the first year.

Meanwhile, Daniel had seen this friendship growing, taking glances at the red bull garage to see you laughing about some jokes being said by Checo. How much he adored your laugh and smile, he thought he would never see it again.

“Making daggers for the red bull driver?” Lando, his teammate would tease spotting Daniel glare lazers at the mexican driver who so happened to be in the same presence and his past girl friend. Daniel only threw the glare at Lando making him laugh a bit more before shutting up.

He hated how jealous he was, even after a year of breaking up he still couldn’t get his mind off of her. Its the sole reason why he was doing poorly in all of his recent races, seeing you laugh so comfortably around another made him distracted.

And while Mclaren noticed the lack of focus, you noticed with them beginning to grow worried for the australian driver. But you still strayed your distance, making sure not to interact with him no matter the amount of alcohol in your system after another victorious race. You were afraid of how fast you would give in to him, and you knew the clear consequences that Christian established.

But all of that changed when you received news on late season of 2022, Daniel was no longer a F1 driver. You called Max that day to make sure your eyes were not crapping on you. You felt terrible for Daniel, wanting to check up on him but you denied your heart and instead focused on the plan for next season. The rest of the week was restless, constantly staying at the office almost falling asleep on your desk before you grab another cup of coffee or energy drink to give you enough boost to keep you up the rest of the night.

Thursday was no different, you stayed making as many outlines as possible to get the best outcome and present to pitch the idea on Saturday but you just needed to perfect it. Maybe this could finally bring you a promotion. But you fell asleep by 2 in the morning, the last one in the office and stayed there the entire night.

“Still overwork yourself?” the familiar voice julted you upwards, noticing the bright lights of the room before trying to adjust your eyes to the figure. Daniel Ricciardo was leaning against the doorframe of the office with a small smile, as if the most comfortable.

Are you dreaming? There is no way Daniel, who was just announced former driver is standing in front of you by a couple of feet. Your mouth fell agape, slightly afraid that your mind was able to make such a detailed image until you hear him clear his throat and you finally shook your head expecting him to disappear but he still stayed there.

“I’m back” his jazz hands didn’t help and neither did the growth of his smile work as you slowly stood up. This had to all been reasoned with sleep deprivation, right? “Okay stop staring” he joked, sounding a bit creeped out as you two walked forward each other, you lifted your hand and poked him on his chest. His eyebrows furrowed from your action and you only gave him an adored look.

“You’re here” was all you could say, still shocked and he only laughed realizing why you had poked him. He grabbed your hand and you didn’t flinch or pull away like he thought you would,

“Red Bull took me back, not as driver but thats alright” he shrugged and finally came your smile, the one he had dreamt of, thinking at one point he had forgotten what it look like at some point. “At least you’re here, right?”

Your pushed your head forward to his figure, bringing it into his neck as he wrapped his hands around you, an action you normally did with him when you felt overwhelmed just needing contact with him. It all felt so familiar, so comfortable, and you realized you never want to leave.

“I missed you so much” he said, voice a bit quiet as he pulled you in closer. You breathed in a deep breath, wanting to intoxicate yourself with his scent. He didn’t expect for you to say it back but you mumbled it anyways, against his skin sending goosebumps from your breath fanning over his neck.

“I’m so sorry” you wanted to apoligize a million times, never having regretted something so much. You pulled away from his neck as he leaned down, touching foreheads, you closed your eyes not being able to bare looking at his eyes but with a touch from his hand on the side of your neck, you flickered your eyes upwards.

“Don’t apoligize baby” his pet name came so natural yet he hadn’t said it once these past two years. He truly did understand why you did what you did, and while he doesn’t think he would have the courage to do it in your shoes, it was the smart thing to do. To no longer have to hide it from people. “But, can we not keep it a secret anymore?”

His eyes filled with hope meeting yours that had spilled a tear or two sent your heart on a blaze, warming your insides as you just nodded causing his smile to brighten. He leaned down closer to your height, beginning to touch noses as the air mixed with each others breath.

“Can I?”

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #fluff #angst

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sleepyelliee · 7 months ago

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how john and abigail treat you after finding out your dating jack. part two.

before you continue!

GN reader, implied financial issues, brief mentions of the VDL gang, brief mention of injury, implied starvation and poverty. Jack is nineteen years old, Abigail and John survive AU. Implied malnourishment Loosely proofread, lmk if I missed anything. just 'you.'

credits...

thank you so much for the love on the last post!! lmk if you want me to write more of this series. part one.

One of my mutuals gave me this idea, so thank you so much @creamqueen <3.

puppy love trope implied with jack marston <3.

Throughout the short period of knowing the marston family, you managed to make a name for yourself in that household. You were popular within the walls of the ranch because it seemed like the couple's lovestruck son didn't ever stay quiet about you, everyday either John or Abigail had to hear about how pretty you were, how you were such a sweetheart, the looks that you give him, and the list seemed to go on without a stop.

Abigail and John both enjoyed your company in that small amount of time of meeting them couple weeks back. Abigail basically became the mother you never had due to her wanting to teach you everything and anything because you were never able to experience that growing up. She loved the sweet mannerisms that would escape your lips whenever you thanked her for something she would've considered small - hand sewing your clothes, fixing up old clothes that had holes in them, teaching you new recipes and she adored whenever you would compliment her food, knowing you aren't as lucky as most, causing her to insist on giving you more food because your small and malnourished body always makes her heart break.

She was also grateful that her son managed to find someone sweet as you, she was afraid that the morales and respectful demeanor she stuck into that boy's head would've gone to waste on someone who was a bad influence. Afterall, she didn't want her son to be following the same path they were running away from for years.

John was no different to you, he was carrying towards you in his own way, he would back up his beloved wife when they tried to convince you to stay over, always buying freshly new packed cigarettes for you and invites you out on the porch as he would tell you old stories of running in a gang - scolding you in the process not to make the same mistakes he did. He smuggles... insists giving you money whenever he would shove it in the pocket of your coat whenever Abigail would fix up your clothes, he knew that you needed it more to keep yourself stable because you'll decline the money otherwise. John decides to set up a room for you in the attic without telling you and gets his beloved wife's opinion aswell as the pair would decorate the room and put things you were lacking - warm blankets, couple of snacks, shoes, clothes and whatever else jack tells them that you needed at the moment.

Both parents also took notice of how Jack no longer called you by your first name. Anytime he spoke about you at dinner, he would call you sweetheart, love, darling, honey or anything that came to his mind that caused his cheeks to grow a rosy red.

He was excited for you to see the room they set up for you, it meant that you finally you have a chance to relax and enjoy a fully cushioned bed without having to worry about bills or food. It also meant that he gets to see you more often and spend more time with you.

He knows that your not fully moved in yet, but the thought of you staying here for a couple of nights makes the young man excited, Afterall he misses you whenever your not around.

...

When you found yourself on the property that belonged to the Marston's once again, you were learning back in the chair as your boyfriends father spoke about his past, mentioning couple members of the gang he used to run in. He slipped a pack of cigarettes to you like he does normally, insisting that you should take one or more.

You don't know how you found yourself smoking cigarettes as the cold wind blew against you to Jack showing the new room they are allowing you to stay in for however you'll like with a big grin on his face - excited that your going to stay over for a couple more nights than just one.

It still didn't change the fact that his arms were wrapped tightly against you, his nose buried deep in your neck as he muttered reassuring words, hoping you'll accept the offer as you two laid down on the small bed, squished together making the proximity closer.

...

Most cases whenever you stayed over, Jack would either be in the room that is considered yours or you'll be in his. You two would sleep until Jack would wake you up, hearing Abigail scold both of you through the door, stating that it's late and breakfast is already cold. Depending on the gunslingers mood, sometimes he would smart-mouth his mother just to hold you longer, causing him to get scolded more.

You two would help John with ranch work, he would always try to impress you in some type of way or both of you would get distracted and his father would scold you both.

thank you so much for reading! please do not repost my work on any other platform, reblogs and likes are very appreciated! <3. masterlist

#john marston #rdr1 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 john #adult jack marston #rai's rambles.#jack marston nation #jack marston x reader #rdr1 jack #jack marston

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honestlyboringperson · 3 months ago

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This entire project took almost all of summer vacation…

I know both Cub isn’t part of the life series, but I just couldn’t resist!

Southlanders

Team B.E.S.T.

The Scottage + Gem

Fairy Fort

Joel - “Bolt” - The Chariot Arcana - Zeus/Thor

“Former” delinquent and architecture student, Joel is abrasive, sarcastic, and even a little mean spirited. He has a short temper, but is highly protective of his friends, especially Jimmy. He tends to poke fun at his friends, and refuses to give up on anything, even if the odds are against him and it’s best to admit defeat. The only one who can reign him in is his girlfriend, who he is hopelessly in love with and can match his stubborn personality with her own. And remember; He’s not obsessed with that stupid engineer with the face mask.

His persona in the metaverse is Zeus. Joel’s Empires character was a Zeus like figure, so why not have him as his persona? Zeus is known for messing in mortal affairs for better or for worse, either punishing those who wrong him or “inconveniencing” anyone who catches his eye. He is the god of storms and can summon lightning with ease, and has an ego to match.

His Ultimate Persona is Thor, The Norse god of strength, storms, and thunder, much like Zeus. Thor wields the legendary hammer Mjolnir, which can smite anything that it hits. He’s noted for his temper and the time Mjolnir was stolen and he had to dress as Freyja in a wedding dress to take it back.

Scar - “Mage” - The Fortune Arcana - Pied Piper/Mephisto

An actor for an up and coming popular superhero show. Although he appears as a non-serious, goofy, and lighthearted demeanour, beneath that silly exterior is a cunning and intelligent hitman, with several kills under his belt. With the helps of his teammate and co-owner Cub, he created a hitman business (called “ConCorp”) with several people, ranging from politicians to businessmen, requesting his and Cub’s services for a hefty sum of money. He is in a shaky alliance with the Phantom Thieves, with his and Cub’s cooperation bought through a large amount of money.

His persona is The Pied Piper, the titular character of the german folktale and legend where a Piper in colourful clothing helps a town with a rat infestation by luring the rats away with his flute music. When the citizens refused to pay him for his efforts, he lured away their children, never to be seen again.

His Ultimate Persona is Mephisto, the antagonist of the german tale of Faust. Within the story, he offers Faust a deal; he’ll aid Faust in his pursuit of both knowledge and happiness, but if he ever feels complete and fulfilled, his soul is his to own. This created the adjective “Faustian” meaning someone who risks spiritual values for something in return.

Cub - “Warden” - The Death Arcana - Zeta Reticulan/Sisyphus

Cub is Scar’s business partner, and fellow hitman. Much like Scar, his laidback and chill demeanour hides a cunning sharp as a knife. He handles most of the business and financial matters in his assassination business. Many of his clients often assume he is more put together or “sane” compared to Scar, but he simply appears more laidback and is possibly even more unstable compared to Scar. The alliance between the two hitmen and the Phantom Thieves is intensely unstable, with both parties having contingency plans in case of a betrayal.

Zeta Reticulan is another word for Martian or alien. They are stereotypically inquisitive, and one of the most popular tropes in media is where an alien steals a person or livestock to experiment with. They appear all over the world with several people giving testimonies to seeing them. They are typically seen as on par or exceeding human intelligence.

His Ultimate Persona is Sisyphus, a king who trapped and evaded death itself. By locking Thanatos, the personification and god of death in a trunk, he was able to continue living beyond what was originally planned. As punishment however, he was forced to push a giant boulder up a mountain in death, unable to move on.

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mintesprig · 2 years ago

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MC getting yoinked down to the devildom while they’re mid LARP. Like full fantasy armour transported from what they were doing and annoyingly pulling a full Aragorn at the doors of the HoL. All genders are hot with swords 🗡

Lucifer: vaguely concerned about what you get up to in the human world, knowing how much danger you put yourself in in this realm

Mammon: wondering where the hell you got all of these accessories, also low key afraid you might be hurt

Levi: 100% losing his cool and immediately planning how to get you to do a TSL role play

Satan: running through a million littérature tropes, noticing that you look like many of them much to his amusement

Asmo: swords. are. sexy. and in this moment you are even sexier

Beel: genuinely concerned that you might be hurt and rushes to check on you to make sure

Belphie: will start acting like a demon in distress, you gotta carry him now

Diavolo: is immediately fascinated and will be asking you an endless amount of questions

Barbatos: will ask you if you know how to use that sword and if you don’t he’s gonna make sure that you do

Simeon: Henry now has a new plot line and an even better look

Solomon: genuinely amused as someone who actually lived through countless eras, and will constantly lightheartedly poke fun at you for it

Luke: let this boi play with you! Get him a short sword, bring him with you and watch your small lad have the time of his life

suffice to say no matter what, you have their attention

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me crack #obey me barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me mc

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blank468 · 10 months ago

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Describe Bakugo’s development in short words

If you were to ask me how would I describe Bakugo’s development in short words, it would come across as being boring and predictable. Let’s start with the fact that despite being a secondary character, Bakugo has no real purpose/contribution in the main story line. His involvement with Deku and OFA doesn’t amount to anything other than mindless yelling, guilt tripping, and just him treating it as a competition to try and surpass Deku when he unlocks his other quirks. The only reason he’s involved in a lot of what’s going on is because of his popularity. He started gaining popularity when he won the Sports festival and because everyone like the stereotypical angry rival trope. He can be replaced by literally any other character and nothing would change.

It’s basically a pattern whenever Bakugo is involved with something.

- Bakugo will treat others beneath him and continue to call the extras.

- Whatever is going in the story if it’s a fight between the villains or something school related, he’ll treat it as a competition.

- He’ll either verbally attack Deku and everyone around them or get physical to get what he wants.

- Deku won’t see this as an issue and continue to gush over Bakugo about how he’s a good friend and the idea of him being the symbol of victory

-Anyone that calls out his horrible behavior will do a complete 180 and talk about how whatever he said either makes sense or to give some baseless excuse about how he changed

- Aizawa, All Might and or anyone in UA will make some claim about how his some kind of an inspiration for 1A and Bakugo is trying harder than everyone else(completely ignoring all of 1A’s accomplishments and improvements throughout their first year)

- After winning or coming out on top whatever Bakugo will take his win for granted and will act like it doesn’t mean anything while acting aggressive when someone compliments him

- What ever punishment or consequences he gets(not matter how fatal is) will be minor and the story will find to way to have him come out at top without any struggle

- The story will have characters feel bad, guilty for Bakugo for something so minuscule and or try to punish them in a similar manner like Bakugo (A recent example of the story punishing characters because of Bakugo’s actions is in the Card OVA. I didn’t bother watching it because I knew it was just a product plug for training cards but from what I viewed from other people’s discussions, the match between Deku and Bakugo ends with a tie. Apparently Bakugo threw another hissy fit and not only destroyed the card game but blew up the dorm with everyone inside. Instead of punishing Bakugo for destroying public property and potentially injuring his classmates, Aizawa decides to punish all of Class 1A and ban them from playing any other games in the dorm.)

I know everyone has their own interpretation on how they feel about Bakugo and that’s perfectly fine. I don’t have problem if you like him, but Bakugo is written as if everything he did or stood for never mattered. Izuku, Class 1A , UA and by extension Horikoshi, wants the audience to believe that all the positive aspects about his character somehow outweigh the negatives and we’re supposed to accept that Bakugo has fully grown while at the same time instantly forgiving him for being a spiteful and petty bully. No matter what happens to him, he’ll still come out on top as if what he went through wasn’t consequential or lethal. He’s constantly giving wins and random asspulls to favor him despite either doing the bare minimum of his supposed development or not doing anything at all. Bakugo in the eyes of others will always be seen as the true MVP and is the one that always has to win. He’s nothing but a pet under the care of his creator who will go out of his way to make every other character look bad and pathetic than they already are; including the main protagonist.

#bnha critical #mha critical #anti bakugo katsuki #anti bakugou #anti katsuki bakugou #bakugo critical

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

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8 Days of Christmas — Christmas Always Makes Me Cry

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, angst, javi being homesick, talks of crime, violence, other shit that comes w/ being a dea agent, alcohol consumption, strangers in a bar trope, blowjob, filthy!javi, cunnilingus, ass eating, dirty talk, soft!ending)

word count: 2.5k

8 Days of Christmas Masterlist

It was Christmastime in Bogota, Javi finding himself far away from the comfort and familiarity of Laredo for the third consecutive year—though at this point, Bogota had become more familiar to him than his hometown.

It was summer in Colombia, the heat making him feel all the more distant from the holiday as he washed off the sweat and grime built up from a hard day chasing down sicarios they never could seem to catch. In a way, he felt appreciative for the sweltering air outside—it gave him the opportunity to pretend as though Christmas didn’t exist, and therefore he didn’t have to feel guilty about missing yet another holiday with his father.

But he did miss him. No matter how hard he tried to push the longing out of his head, he missed his dad.

Every year, Chucho and Javi would be sent off by his tias and tios to collect at least five different Christmas trees, the two men helped by a couple generous cousins. They’d drive over to the town’s farm and pack the trees in the back of their trucks before delivering them to each of the Peña households, their payment typically being tamales and, if they got lucky and picked a particularly good tree out, a cerveza.

His family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, as most other Mexicanos did in this part of the country at least. Javi never really did know the reason why—it’s just what they did.

Chucho and Javi rarely spent a Christmas at their own home, the two-story ranch house full of too many memories of Christmases past when his mother was still around to make the holiday feel right. Since her passing, it just felt easier to leave and head over to one of Chucho’s sister’s houses, the crowded, loud, and busy nature of the home providing the perfect distraction for their grief.

But now Javi was left to do his grieving alone, this job of his becoming less of a career and more like a lifestyle with each passing day.

Though he truly didn’t regret going into this line of work—helping people had always been his strong suit—it would be a lie to say that there were days, weeks, months even that he found himself buried beneath the violence and death he witnessed while trying to put these bad guys away. The old Javi, the one that his father and tias knew, was hard to find through the layers of thick skin and numbness he needed to build up in order to survive.

Even if he made it back home for the holidays, he wasn’t sure his family would even recognize him anymore, which hurt him in a way he wouldn’t dare to acknowledge. Not right now, at least.

Needing to blow off some steam, Javi chose to head out to one of the bars catered to tourists and Americans who couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish, hoping to find someone so far removed from everything here in Colombia that suffocated him to take home for the night. While he thoroughly enjoyed his usual exploits here—DEA secretaries and informants, typically—they were all too close to everything he was trying to forget.

“Whiskey,” he ordered once he walked up to the bar, his head turning to the side to scan the room for anything that caught his eye, coming up short in this unusually packed room full of mostly elderly people escaping the northern cold.

When the glass of amber liquor was set in front of him, he paid and tipped the bartender before picking his glass up, taking a full-mouthed swig in hopes of numbing the constant stream of anxious thoughts running through his mind.

One drink turned to four as the hours passed by, the nagging voice inside finally hushed as he continued to watch everyone else have a good time, but no amount of liquor could cure the loneliness he felt deep inside. In fact, he was pretty sure nothing in the world could cure it. He was bound to feel this way forever.

“I’m serious! We went out for a drive and I swear to god I saw a car shot up with bullet holes,” one of the clearly well-off grandmothers beside him recounted to her group, earning a scoff of disbelief from the man beside her.

Javier had never wanted ear plugs more in his life as he sat listening to these out of touch and over-privileged Americans detail how much fun they were having here “exploring the culture”. If only they had any fucking clue that real people lived in this country and had to deal with this shit on a daily basis, maybe that would have removed the smile on their faces, but he doubted it.

“That gonna be it, sir?” the bartender asked, bringing Javi’s eyes forward. Javi held his finger up to gesture for one more drink, hoping that by some act of fate, the woman he’d been hoping for would walk in and help take some of this weight off his shoulders.

With the door opening, Javi turned to look over at the new patron and found his lips parting in surprise. Perhaps the universe was listening after all.

He watched as you walked in, your face scrunching up at the amount of people packed into the bar, a sigh leaving your lips as you weaved your way to the empty spot beside him at the bar. Between your natural beauty and the clear scowl on your face, Javi felt sure that he’d stumbled upon the only other Scrooge in Bogota.

Finding his courage, he managed to clear his throat and gesture to his glass.

“Can I get you one?” he asked, watching you as your eyes flickered to his as though you weren’t sure that he was talking to you.

“Me?” you questioned with a quirked brow, earning a chuckle and a nod. The bartender turned his eyes from Javi to you, awaiting yo ur order. “Uh, yeah. Gin and tonic.”

“I, uh, I’ve never seen this place so packed before,” Javi spoke, the liquor in his system forcing his voice into a huskier tone than usual.

“Yeah, it’s usually dead,” you replied, taking a look around the room before sneaking a glance at him, impressed by his handsome profile as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Must be the tourists escaping the cold.”

“That what you are?” he asked, setting his glass down and looking back to you. You felt your cheeks heat as his eyes bounced across your features with an intense admiration.

“Uh, no, I teach english lit at the University of Bogota,” you informed with a small smile. Javi nodded as though he was proud of you, widening his smile just a bit.

“Impressive.”

“What about you? You here for the season or do you live here?” You noticed the way he tensed a bit at the question and hoped you hadn’t crossed a boundary. Picking up your drink, you decided to take a few needed sips to loosen you up a bit, your nerves clearly still in control.

“I, uh, live here. For now, at least.”

“Oh yeah? Where to next?” you pressed, watching as he weighed his head to the side and shrugged.

“Hopefully back home,” he replied, cracking a somehow sad smile that brought a frown to your face.

“Why hopefully?”

Because I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out of here alive, he wanted to reply.

“It’s…a long story that i’m not allowed to tell you even if i wanted to.” He flashed you a winning smile before holding his hand out. “I just realized I haven’t caught your name.”

You smiled as you slipped your hand into his and told him your name, pleased by the warmth of his palm and how his fingers encompassed your entire hand.

“Javi,” he gave you his name and you whispered it back to him, watching as he nodded in confirmation. “Sounds better when you say it.”

You blushed and rolled your eyes playfully y his compliment. “Well, Javi, what brings you to a bar on Christmas eve? Sú mujer le molesta?” [Your wife bothering you?]

He chuckled. “¿Ves un anillo en mi dedo?” [Do you see a ring on my finger?]

“Figured you took it off,” you shrugged, the liquor in your system turning you playful.

“No, no wife at home nagging at me,” he finally answered your question, bringing his glass to his lips. “What about you? Escaping somebody?”

“Escaping everybody,” you replied with a groan. “Tonight was our work party, and I walked in, took a look around, and walked right back out. Figured getting drunk in a room full of strangers was better than a room full of coworkers.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes flickering to your lips. “Sometimes it’s easier to be with a stranger. You can be whoever you wanna be.”

“And who would you like me to be for you, Javi?” you purred, reaching your hand over to trail a finger up his forearm. Javi’s breath hitched but he quickly recovered, placing his hand on top of yours and intertwining your fingers.

“Just yourself,” he replied, hardly audible over the loud chatter and ambience of the bar.

“Ah, fuck,” Javi had one hand on the back of your head, the other gripping the sink behind him as you took him deep in your mouth. Sinful slurps and glucks filled the single stall restroom at the bar, your eyes wide with tears falling down your cheeks as you bobbed up and down on his cock like you were determined to win a trophy. “So fucking pretty like this, cariño. Gonna make me cum quick.”

You lived for his praise, his husky rasp like music to your ears as you reached to cradle his balls, determined to get him across the finish line in record time. Javi’s neck strained as he tossed his head back, gulping down the strangled moans both of you wished he could let spill freely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warned looking down at you with a crease between his brows, s look of awe on his handsome face as he watched you stroke him in time with your slurps and sucks. “Fuck, fuck, fuuu-uck!”

Javi’s coco pulsed as you took him deep into your throat, his lips forming an ‘o’ as he watched you swallow his entire load with ease.

“Jesus fucking Christ, come here,” Javi pulled you onto your feet and kissed you without care of the saliva and cum that remained on the corners of your mouth, his neediness driving you wild. You tossed your arms around his neck and kissed him back with just as much fervor, Javi’s hands reaching for the hem of your dress and lifting it up over your ass. “Bend over. Wanna eat your pussy.”

“Fuck,” you whined and did as he requested, bending over the sink while he positioned himself on his knees behind you. You looked into the mirror, staring at your fucked out state as Javi tugged your panties down your thighs and spread your cheeks to get a good look at your glistening heat.

“So fucking pretty,” he praised before leaning in and licking a broad stripe from your clit to your puckered hole, pulling a gasp from your lips. “And you taste fucking good.”

“Shit, Javi,” you breathed out and reached your hand back to hold his head against you. Javi growled and began his work, lapping at your clit until it swelled before running his tongue all the way up to your ass and back down again. Your thighs shook as you kept yourself upright, your eyes unable to watch yourself anymore as you could hardly keep them open, his tongue pressing into your cunt wiping all coherent thought away. “So good…so fucking good, Javi.”

Javi wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit and started to suck, obscene sounds filling the room again as he spit on your cunt just to slurp it all back into his mouth and do it again.

“Your pussy tastes so good, I could eat you for hours, cariño,” he praised before pressing his tongue to your tighter hole while he circled your clit with two fingers, threatening to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum, baby? Tell me so I can lick it all up. Wanna taste everything you have to give me.”

“Fuck, Javi!” you whined, guiding his head lower to your cunt again as your high began to dawn, Javi’s lips replacing his fingers as he started to suck on your clit again, the pulsing sensation finally pushing you over the edge. “Javi, I’m coming! Fuck!”

“Yes,” he growled against you, sliding his tongue to your entrance to drink you down while you convulsed against the sink counter.

Once your walls ceased their fluttering, Javi stood up, tucking his cock back into his jeans before sliding your panties back up and pulling the hem of your dress down. He helped steady you as you turned around, your hands on his face tugging him down for a searing kiss.

“You wanna come back to mine for the night?” he asked breathily against your jaw, palming your ass as he held you close.

You bit your lip and shook your head, feeling him frown against you. “Sober me wouldn’t be proud of me for going home with a stranger on the first night. No matter how handsome or talented he is.”

“Understandable,” he chuckled against you, his lips now on your neck leaving tiny kisses all over. “I’d like to you see you again, though. Got any Christmas plans?”

“Si, con mi gato,” you replied with a playful grin. “You could come and join us, if you want. I bought a ham and some sides for dinner. Wouldn’t mind sharing it with a handsome stranger.”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t see me as a stranger anymore,” he suggested, pulling back to look down at you. “I’d like that. Might have to take an allergy pill but, for you, it’s worth it.”

“I’ll tell my cat to leave you alone,” you chuckled, stroking over his mustache. “I’m glad I came out tonight. You really made my holiday better, Javi.”

“I can’t tell you just how much I agree,” he smiled and kissed you again. “C’mon, stranger. There’s probably a line of old people outside waiting to scold us for taking so long.”

“Gotta fix this first,” you gestured at your face, your mascara running and lipstick smudged over your chin. Javi shrugged as he took a good look at your fucked out state.

“I think it’s a good look.”

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