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evie-sturns · 5 months ago

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upset - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day, your best friend chris, always knows how to cheer you up.

contains: flufffff, crying, comforting, teasing, bestfriend!chris, flirty friendship.

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my hands shake as i speak on the phone to my boyfriend, well ex boyfriend.

ive been dating noah for the past year, everything had been perfect until today.

he called me 5 minutes ago with no warning, then broke up with me. it was so blunt, he had no emotion to his voice at all.

now i'm left desperately talking to noah on the phone.

"i- i dont understand.. it doesn't make sense noah? c'mon..?" my voice quivers, clutching the phone up to my ear,

"it'll be fine, just move on f'me yeah?" noah speaks, he almost sounds bored.

"why? what is- what's your reason!?" i raise my voice, holding back tears.

"just don't fuck with you anymore sweetheart, i'm sorry." noah says with a small laugh before hanging up.

im in such a state of shock i can't even fully process this.

my first instenct is to call my bestfriend, chris.

"chris! chris please come over right now." i practically burst into sobs as soon i speak, i hear a small gasp from his end before shuffling.

"yeah- yeah! i'm coming right now, ill only be a minute." chris speaks, his voice soft as though hes trying to calm me.

"thank you." i whimper into the phone before hanging up.

---

i hear two soft knocks at my bedroom door, followed by chris's voice.

"can i come in?" he asks, gently twisting my door knob before walking into my bedroom.

im sat cross legged on my bed,

"oh sweetheart." chris sighs, walking over to me and sitting down on the matress infront of me.

"can i have a hug.." i cry,

chris wraps his large arms around me, pulling me to his body.

"whats happing y/n.." chris whispers into my hair, his hand reaching up and stroking my back.

"n-n-noah- noah broke up with me!" i stammer out between hiccups.

i physically feel chris tense, his grip on me tightening slightly.

"im so sorry," chris sighs into my ear, i bury my face into his shoulder.

"he didnt even- even give a warning and he was so mean about it chris!" i choke out,

chris just nods, letting me speak.

"i hate him! i hate him so much!" i cry, my voice breaking.

"i know you do, you hate him don't ya?" chris says softly, stroking my hair.

"i do!" i sob,

"i know it hurts sweetie, i'm right here." chris mutters,

i slowly pull away from his shoulder,

chris gives me a sorry smile, his eyes roaming my face, which is a total wreck.

i have snot running down my face, which chris seems to take amusment to.

he grabs a tissue from my bedside table and holds it up to my nose.

"big blow for me?" chris speaks, then instanltly slams a hand over his mouth with a small 'sorry.'

i crack a small smile,

chris pinches the tissue to my nose, "blow blow blowww"

i pathetically blow my nose into the tissue,

"good girlllll, that’s right." chris smiles,

“let’s get you ready for bed okay? try sleep it off yeah?” chris suggests, staring into my eyes.

i nod, wiping my nose.

he lifts me up off the bed, i flail my legs as i clutch onto his shoulders.

“if you drop me i swear to god!” i attempt to raise my strained voice.

“i’m not gonna drop ‘ya sweet girl.” chris says taking me into the bathroom,

he sets me down on my feet infront of the sink,

i stare at my red, mascara-stained face. only causing more tears to start up,

chris instantly grabs my chin, “shh- shh.” he whispers

“let’s wash your face okay? don’t worry about noah, i promise if he could hurt you this much so easily there’s no point in being upset over him.”

i nod at him,

chris rubs my back, running the cold water.

he stands behind me, slowly tipping my head fowards under the stream of the tap.

he cups water in his hands and brings it up to my face, gently washing away the mascara.

“that feels better doesn’t it.” chris smiles gently, drying my face with his shirt.

i nod, wiping my puffy eyes.

he guides me out into the bedroom,

i slowly shimmy towards him with my arms open, pulling him into a tight hug.

he rubs my back as i bury my face into his shoulder, “you know i love you so much, i’m so sorry he hurt you, you don’t deserve any of it.” chris sighs,

i nod shakily,

“he didn’t know what to do with such a pretty girl like you, i’m sure of it.” chris speaks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

i don’t let him go, holding him tight.

“i know it’s hurting so so much right now, but it’ll get better.” chris says,

i slowly pull away from his chest,

“y-you’re my bestfriend chris, i love you.” i sniff, my voice cracking as i bury my face back into him.

he laughs lightly, “i love you too,”

“are you sleepy?” chris asks, rubbing my back.

i shake my head, “just sad.” i say with a frown.

“do you want to do something to distract you?” chris asks,

i nod, wiping my nose with the back of my hand

“you wanna bake?” he asks,

baking has always been my favourite thing ever, chris knows that.

i nod my head frantically,

he scoops me up off my feet and starts to run down the hallway,

i scream with a loud laugh, clutching him tight, “CHRIS!!”

he grins widely, running me into the kitchen and setting me down on the counter top.

“we’re making cookies i don’t care what you say.” chris chuckles, grabbing out ingredients.

he sets down most of the right ingredients, and grabs a bowl

“not that bowl!! that’s my vomit bowl!” i laugh,

he grimaces with a smile, “stinkyyy”

he pulls out a new bowl and puts it in my lap,

he turns back around and grabs butter, throwing it onto the counter beside me.

i go silent,

suddenly i burst into tears, again.

chris’s eyebrows instantly furrow, he grabs my shoulders, “hey- hey-“ he speaks softly

“i’m sorry- noah- noah used to use that butter to butter my toast every morning.” i sob,

chris picks up the butter,

abruptly chris hurls it across the room into the trash can, with impressive aim.

“then we won’t use butter!” he smiles, wiping my eyes with his buttery fingers.

i crack a smile, before laughing loudly.

he grins proudly at my smile, “there she is!”

i cover my face with my hands as i laugh, “don’t look at me!!”

“i want to look at youuu.” chris smiles, peeling my hands away from my face

i smile at him, “let’s just make the cookies.”

he nods, “good plan.”

he starts to put oil and brown sugar into the bowl,

“oil?” i question,

“i mean it’s basically butter.” he replies,

“fair enough.” i laugh, pouring in the sugar with no measurements whatsoever.

“okay, now flour.” chris says, he grabs the flour back and holds it up to my nose

“sniff it.” he smiles,

i furrow my eyebrows and sniff it,

chris suddenly presses both sides of the back together, causing flour to puff up all over my face.

i gasp, my whole face white, “chris!!!”

he erupts into laughter, bringing his hands up and dusting it off my face.

i’m in total shock before giggling along with him, peeling open my eyes

“you are such a moron!” i laugh, grabbing a handful of flour and slamming it onto his cheeks gently.

he goes to reach for more flour, but i grab his wrist.

he gives me a small pout, clearly trying to hold back a grin.

“okay- cookies!” i smile, pouring the flour into the cookie dough

he mixes it with a wooden spoon, before dumping in half the bag of chocolate chips.

“dude we should just make one massive cookie.” chris states,

i roll my eyes, “chris.”

“pllllleeeaseee.” he grins,

“fine.” i scoff, chris claps.

he grabs all the cookie dough in his two hands and plops it on a baking tray, before punching it several times to flatten it.

“okay- so just put it in for 10 minutes.” i say, chris nods, humming to himself as he pushes the baking tray into the oven.

he shuts the oven door and walks back over to me,

“feeling better?” chris asks, placing a hand on my knee as i sit on the counter.

i nod, “i really am, thank you chris.”

he smiles, “i’m glad, i hate seeing you so upset.”

i wrap my arms around him again, giving him a hug.

a couple minutes have passed, chris goes to check on the cookie.

he opens the oven and his jaw drops, a small laugh escaping his mouth.

“bro- it’s like spread across the whole thing.”

chris says, pulling it out of the oven and showing me.

i giggle, “maybe cause we used oil and didn’t measure a single thing”

he pulls a bit off of it and plops it into my mouth.

i grimace, “it tastes funny.”

he tries a bit aswell, “what!! it’s good!”

“it’s gross!!”

“okay, i’ll keep it to myself then.” chris says with a sassy tone

“um.. do you think you could maybe stay over tonight- i mean you don’t have to but i don’t know.” i ramble,

chris smiles, “you wanna have a sleepover with me!!” he claps

i scoff, “yeah.”

he helps me off the countertop onto my feet, grabbing my hand and leading me back to my bedroom.

he sorts through my closet and pulls out a pyjama pair, throwing them at me.

i shake my head with a frown, my eyes watering again.

he pauses,

i start to cry again for the 100th time today,

“that was noah’s pair he bought me.” i sniff,

chris wipes his face, “i’m so sorry.” he groans,

he picks me up, i bury my face into his shoulder.

“no more tears please.” he sighs, wiping my eyes.

i nod, “i’m just sensitive.”

“i know you are, let’s get you into your favourite pyjamas then, how’s that sound?” chris speaks softly.

i nod, chris carry’s me over to my closet and opens my pyjama drawer, letting me pick one.

i pull out a pink pair, my hand shaking.

chris walks me over to the bed and sits me down on the edge,

he crouches down beside me, pulling my jeans off down my legs.

he grabs my pyjama shorts and tugs them up me, a concentrated look on his face.

he tugs off my shirt gently, his cold fingertips grazing over my skin.

he pulls on the baby tee, “how’s that?” he asks,

i sniff, “thank you..”

he turns off the main light and crawls into bed beside me.

he tugs up the sheets over us, pulling me closer to him.

i rest my head on his arm,

chris suddenly lets out a snort, covering his mouth with his hand.

“what’s funny?” i ask with a confused smile,

“just having flashbacks to you with that damn flour all over your face.”

@downbad4reid

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ghouljams · 2 months ago

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I feel like each of the 141 has a difference preference when dicking down their mate.

Kyle prefers to stay human, it lets him really get a good show while fucking into the pretty thing he managed to take home. Seeing how your skin contrasts to his softly colored sheets is more reassuring to him that you're his than any scenting could be. Also, he's a lighter sleeper as a human, letting him keep you in his bed if you try to slip out while he's asleep.

Price likes the little hint of other, as a sign of his age and experience. He's the only one of the 141 who can shift only a few senses instead of having to start properly shifting. Let's him memorize your scent while fucking you, all so he can let you have the illusion of choice by letting you go and "finding" you again later. Eventually, he'll make it seem like a bit of fate and offer you out on a date.

Ghost partially shifts, and that's the most he can hold himself back when it comes to you. Claws and teeth come out, drool dripping from his maw to your skin. He needs to taste you, to make sure you taste the same. Taste like his.

Soap is a dog and he will fuck you in full transformation because of it. This man needs you on the most primal level, so why not just fuck you at his most primal. It also gives him a better nose to smell your sweat soaked skin, a longer tongue to shove into you, better hearing to catch each and every whimper you make. He needs to consume you and the best way to do that is with his wolf.

At least, that's my thought.

As usual how does it feel to be so fucking right?

Gaz absolutely prefers fucking you as a human, it feels too much like taking advantage of you when he has his semi-transformed strength and the idea of fucking you fully wolf makes him itch a little. He's so worried about damaging you with his claws and fangs :( his poor human mate, he doesn't want to ruin you. We'll, not like that at least. That won't stop him from knotting you, that's a luxury he can't afford not to indulge in. He loves the way you squirm and complain about the stretch, shushing you with soft coos, promising it'll be over soon, even when he knows it'll be a good 20 minutes at least.

Price is old hat at transformations and after years of growing and shrinking it's worn on his joints, if he doesn't have to transform he won't. He'll indulge in the sensed his wolf-form lends him, pressing his nose to your pulse and getting himself drunk on your scent. His eyes are always dark, animalistic, when he drags his flat tongue against your sex, and you worry that the teeth he's hiding might bite too hard, but he hasn't hurt you yet. And the only scare he gives you is when he presses his hand against your come filled stomach talking about pups.

Ghost simply lacks self control around you. The man has the control of a saint, but once he gets drunk on the scent of your arousal it's over for him. He grips you with heavy clawed hands, his skin splitting with fur and his nose starting to lengthen, and it scares you a little. His breathing is uneven, but his hips don't stop moving even when his bones start to break and his joints begin to pop. His drool dripping onto you is the only indication you get before he's sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You'll have to take wolfsbane in the morning if you don't want to end up going through the same pain.

Soap though... Soap fucks you like a dog, literally. He'll hunt you down on a full moon and hold you down with big paws, murmuring canned tones from his open maw about how he can't stop himself. He's all instinct, all panting and howling as he mounts you and ruts his cock against your sex, uncaring what hole he fucks himself into as long as it's yours. He'll lay directly on top of you once he's knotted you too, licking your face in apology but you know he doesn't mean it because he keeps asking for another round.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #werewolf au #tf 141 x reader #oh wait i forgot i actually have fucked up body horror werewolf headcanons

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erwinsvow · 10 months ago

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drunk rafe nd shy!reader talking when he starts telling her all about his dark twisted plans of marrying her and getting her pregnant, that she’s going to be his forever. <3

"you need to sleep, rafey," you hum, trying to keep your boyfriend upright while you get him inside tannyhill.

topper had been sweet enough to drop the two of you off before heading home, knowing that you would have trouble driving rafe's truck. you had to remember to thank him tomorrow, maybe bake him some brownies, since you remembered those were his favorite last time you made them.

"wha' i need is you-" he slurs back, and you giggle. rafe never gets drunk like this, and he's usually always composed. the extra shots at the end did him in—the boys were celebrating something that didn't make much sense to you.

"what you need is an advil and some water. and greasy food tomorrow morning, don't worry, i'll make some for you."

"i know y'will." you try to sneak in, remaining as quiet as you can while you guide rafe up the stairs. you're sure everyone's asleep and though rafe's family seemed to really like you, you don't want to make a bad impression. rafe's being loud, and you pray no one wakes up while you get him into his bedroom.

finally finishing the journey up the staircase, rafe gets on his bed, struggling to untie his laces. you can't help your smile, the laugh spilling out. you never get to see him like this.

you hurry over, dropping down and taking the laces into your hands, untying them quickly. rafe kicks off his shoes and sits up on the bed, opening his arms to you. you know you should go and find the bottle of advil, but you can't resist, crawling into his lap and steadying yourself by holding onto his arms. he looks right into your eyes, something that always makes your face burn.

"you're a real good girl, y'know that?" rafe says, words a little less slurred. you smile and nod gently, at a loss for words. rafe's hand comes up to touch your jawline, holding you there a little tightly, but not painful at all. "really. mean it. you're so perfect."

"rafe-" you protest quietly, entire body flushing with a wave of heat. you're used to all kinds of praise for him, it's really commonplace for the two of you, but this feels different—feels more intimate, maybe because you know he's in the state of mind that makes you say everything you're thinking.

"no, i mean it. you're perfect for me. you always listen, always do what i say. how'd you get like that, hm?"

"i don't know," you mumble. he's drunk, so you think he won't remember. "you bring it out in me."

"good. you're so good." you smile, resting your head against his shoulder, eyes shutting while you inhale his scent. "m'gonna marry you as soon as i fuckin' can." your eyes shoot open, a laugh bubbling to the surface.

"rafe-"

"no, really. maybe i should knock you up now, make sure no one gives us any problems."

you pick your head up, looking back at your boyfriend. he seems to be in his own world, lost in his thoughts.

"that sounds good. knock you up and then marry you, and then it'll jus' be me you and the kids forever. that's right. perfect. gotta get on that." you listen with wide eyes and parted lips. even in his drunken state, he wonders if he scared you this time.

"promise?"

#is this the best prompt ive ever received?? yes #i love you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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bigification · 6 months ago

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Somethings in the Water

Being the great team captain that you are, you show up to the locker room early. You've had a reputation throughout your entire college football career of being put together, and being a good example for your team. And now, at your final game before your graduation, you feel the pressure lift off your shoulders. It's gonna be nice passing on the torch to someone else for next year.

Footsteps echo as you walk through the empty change room. The faint smell of sweat from yesterday's game feels nostalgic. A thud rings out as you drop your heavy bag on the bench.

"Huh? What's this." You say to yourself as you notice a bunch of water bottles in a holder in the middle of the change room. You investigate and see a note nearly placed on top.

"So you don't have to bring water from your university." Is written in neat handwriting on the small piece of paper.

How nice of them to provide your team with water bottles, it'll be convenient not having to carry them all the way in.

You grab one of the water bottles from the holders and hold it above your mouth. You grip tightly, shooting water down into your mouth. It feels oddly refreshing. Sure it was cold, but there was something more. It is... sweet. And it costs your teeth in a weird way. They must put something in the water to freshen it up, you think to yourself.

Though it doesn't take long for you to realize that there is in fact something wrong with the water. The coating in your mouth gets thicker and thicker, making it hard to swallow. Did they spike your water? You ask yourself, trying to make sense of it. Soon your body starts to feel weird, as if you were high. Only more intense than you've ever felt.

You drop the bottle as you stumble back into the showers. Trying to grab at the walls to stabilize yourself, but your hands feel too weak to grab anything. Though you still manage to lean against the damp tile walls of the shower. You bend down, still leaning against the wall, in an attempt to regain your balance. You've been high out of your mind at every frat party, so you can handle any drug they gave you, you tell yourself.

Little did you know, you couldn't.

As you're catching your breath, you look down in horror. There's a big lump under your jersey. Are the drugs making you bloated? You lift your shirt, and your heart sinks. A flabby stomach bounces as you pull up your shirt, this was no bloat. With every breath it swells, becoming rounder and softer until you can't see your feet anymore. But the worst is yet to come. Your strong pecs, the ones you've built throughout your entire football career, also begin to soften under an ever growing layer of fat. They kept their shape for a while, only looking a bit swollen. But they quickly grew into an undeniable pair of man tits, that pressed tight against your shirt. As your shirt rides up more and more, your nipples also swell, making you involuntarily moan as they rub against the rough texture of your jersey.

You jerk back, recoiling at the moan that just escaped your lips. In a fleeting attempt for control, you desperately tug down on your jersey, hoping it will hide your rotund midsection, but it barely reaches past the top of your gut.

And if you think it can't get worse, it can, and it will.

A pelt of brown hairs grows all over your exposed gut, making your once clean shaven body look unkept. The hair spreads up to your chest, where you can feel the rough hairs rub against your tight jersey. You also feel an intense itch spread around to your back, down your ass, and all over your legs.

Don't worry, you'll get used to the itchiness eventually. Because shaving it will only make it worse.

The defined muscles on your back disappear under a layer of pudge and your thin waist bulges out as love handles spill over your waist band. Making even your silhouette look fat. Next your arms begin to sag slightly under their own weight, making your hard earned biceps look old and flimsy. And the hair on your arms grows much thicker than everywhere else, growing even over your hands. Which are now massive, with thick calloused fingers, perfect for catching and throwing a football.

That means you can convince yourself you haven't let yourself go old man. Oh right, I forgot to mention. Your hairline has started to recede, exposing the top of your head. And the hair that's left is not fooling anyone, you've maybe got a couple of years before even that becomes too thin. The wrinkles on your forehead and around your eyes are not helping either. Maybe some moisturizer would help. But I doubt you would use that, considering you're a crusty old man. Also, don't worry about that double chin that's forming under your softened jawline, your scruffy beard totally hides it. Trust me, no one can see it.

As you can probably tell by now, you are completely out of it. You are holding onto the wall for dear life, trying to make sure your hefty body doesn't fall. Your skin feels weird, your eyesight is fucked, and there is voice in your head narrating all of the horrible, I mean wonderful changes that are happening to your body. Those aren't done by the way.

Next, your ass begins to plump up. Your cheeks start to strain the fabric in your shorts, letting out a few ripping noises. The front gets just as tight, as your dick doubles in size, begging to escape your tiny jockstrap. Your thighs continue to strain against your shorts, becoming thick and solid like tree trunks. That's at least something you never lost from your football days in college, though they're much hairier now. And your feet burst out of your tiny size 11 shoes, now only fitting in a manly size 18.

It looks like all those drugs you took in college really paid off, as the high starts to wear off. The familiar heft of your body returns in full, and your memories start to come back. You became a full time coach at your college after graduating. Of course you put on some weight over the years, but that's only natural for a man in his forties. At least that's what you tell yourself. Your team used to make fun of you for growing a spare tire, but you're the one laughing since you've got them on a new diet. Besides, a man isn't complete without a bit of meat on his bones, and your team knows that now. The pussies on the other team aren't gonna know what's gonna hit em.

You finally regain your composure, acting like nothing happened. You fold the collar on the polo tee that has appeared over your body, and you loosen the belt on your jeans to give the belly some breathing room. The water tends to leave you with a bit of a bloat, so you've gotta leave some room.

Being the great coach that you are, you stand up tall and walk out to greet your team. You first see Colin, your team captain. He's been doing great since he took over, but he's stubborn. He questioned your judgment when you wanted to put them on a new diet, but realized his mistake and followed his coach like a good captain does. He's a little behind the other boys but he's getting there. His buddy Stephen is making sure he shapes up well before this game, thanks to that diet powder you put in the team's water.

Historians would say Colin and Stephen have become 'really good friends' recently, so it's no surprise Stephen has been helping Colin with his dieting. They always seem to shower together, and you even love to join them after a long hard game just to blow off some steam.

"Stephen! I want Colin twice that size by the time we get in the field." Your voice echoes around the room.

"Yes coach!" Stephen responds as he sprays more of your water into Colin's mouth.

Next you pass George. He's been a great offensive lineman. He was always one of the bigger guys in the team, but your diet has done wonders for his waistband. Now no one can get through that wall of a man. Looks like Brenden is feeding him his pre game dose of diet powder to make sure he's nice and plump before the game. Those two are shaping up to be done real men, the thought of them growing more only makes your jock tighter than it already is.

"Don't forget to take some too Brenden, don't let George hog it all." You shout unnecessarily loud in your deep gruff voice. And just like the good player he is, Brenden takes his dose. Looks like he's ready for action.

You stop by every player, making sure they're sticking to their diet. And if you need to force feed them spiked water to make them grow into the big football players they're meant to be, then so be it. You also make sure to slap each player on their ass as you pass by.

Finally you stop at Peter. He's kind of the runt of the litter, more of a bench warmer. You've been trying to train him to be the man he could become, but all the diet has done is made him extremely fat.

He thinks that stretchy sports shirt hides anything, but everyone knows it doesn't. You grab him by the wrist and drag him into the showers with you. You press your heavy hand down on his shoulders, and he knows his job. You pull off your shirt and drop your jeans to the ground. Peter drops to his knees, his fat rippling as he does so, and he looks up at you as if to ask for further instructions.

"Coach has gotta release his stress before a tough game." You command him.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #reality change #hairy #male transformation #male wg #muscle tf #age progression #football tf #coach tf

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yanderambling · 2 years ago

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omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #sub yandere #hybrid yandere #puppy yandere #male yandere #bully reader #gn reader #dom reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere requests

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makeitmingi · 2 months ago

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 9]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of corruption, bounty-assassination .

Yunho had a satisfied, albeit evil, smile on his face as he hung up, putting his phone back on the desk.

"What are you smiling about?" Jongho raised an eyebrow, noticing the taller from the corner of his eye. Yunho shook his head with a playful shrug before continuing his work.

"If you get in trouble, don't make me complicit." Jongho warned with a chuckle.

"I won't. Don't worry, dear maknae." Yunho giggled. Jongho sighed, Yunho was always mischievous and messing around but got away with it because of his charming smile. Seeing how he had pulled up Hongjoong's phone location, he didn't want to know what he did to manipulate the captain.

"I'm done with my tasks for the day. I need a breather." Jongho yawned and stood up, stretching his limbs.

"Go ahead." Yunho hummed as Jongho grabbed what he needed and exited their computer cave.

"San hyung, I finished vetting all the potential investors for the casino. Here are their profiles." Jongho handed San the stack of folders with all the background checks of the investors.

"Thanks, Jongho ah." San took the first file off the top and skimmed through the contents.

"I'll take 5 and give the rest of Wooyoung." San snickered.

"He'll chew your head off if he finds out." Jongho shook his head. San shrugged, he has worked with Wooyoung long enough to know how to handle his tantrums.

"Hongjoong said there was an issue with the gardener?" Seonghwa walked in, eyes trained on his phone.

"Yeah, he was sketchy, taking photos and stuff. We suspect he's a spy so we fired him but Yunho hyung said he can handle it so I left him to it." Jongho explained. Seonghwa nodded, it was just hiring a new gardener, not a big deal that he needed to get involved in.

"Where did you go dressed up so fancily, hyung?" San asked, turning his body slightly to face the second in command. Seonghwa looked up from his phone.

"Meeting with the chief police commissioner. I needed some updates on the ground sensing." He blinked.

"Is it true that the smaller gangs are joining forces?" Mingi and Yeosang came in, having just finished their workout downstairs.

"It's too early to say for sure but they have noted a decrease in gang disputes in certain areas. There could a peace treaty or truce somewhere." Seonghwa informed.

"We should find out. I'll get my men on the ground." Jongho said.

"Thanks." Seonghwa cracked a small smile, heading up to go to his office to continue working.

"The chief police commissioner's gonna have to retire soon. We should get our hooks into the new potential candidate before he's elected in." Yeosang said.

"Hongjoong hyung's already working on that. But the current chief's influence sways the vote so we still have to maintain good graces with him. If they decide to elect someone else, like one of those upstanding justice types, it'll be tougher to get a foot in." Mingi crossed his arms.

"I'm hungry. I want a sandwich." San stood up from the couch and headed to towards the kitchen.

"Me too!" Mingi raised his hand

"Make that 3! After my shower." Yeosang chimed in.

"4!" Jongho added with a snicker. San spun around to scowl at the 3 before marching towards the kitchen to get the staff to make them all sandwiches.

"Okay, time to shower." Yeosang groaned and went upstairs. Mingi nodded in agreement and went to take his shower too.

"I'm home~!" Wooyoung declared as he entered the mansion, doing a spin and flipping the end of his jacket.

"I got a new suit." He smirked and spun around to show his outfit. The glittery on his jacket was subtle and sparkled the moment he stepped into the light, it complimented his figure well.

"How many black suits do you have?" Yeosang asked as he chewed on his sandwich. The others nodded in agreement, making Wooyoung's face fall.

"This is special. New silk lining." Wooyoung lifted one his of his jacket to show them the silver silk lining. San reached out to try and touch it but seeing his dirty fingers, Wooyoung scoffed and slapped his hand away. San yelped like a reprimanded puppy.

"Dirty hands!" Wooyoung scolded, making San glare at him.

"Mr Song, there is a visitor for you. Shall I let him through the gate?" The butler came in. MIngi frowned in confusion and checked his phone.

"Oh yeah... Okay, let him in. Have him wait in the living room area. I'll go get changed." Mingi waved.

"What visitor is this?" Jongho asked.

"The jewellery and accessories for the gala are here so I need to check them through." Mingi finished his sandwich and wiped his mouth, standing up to leave.

"Someone help me call Joong hyung to let him know." Mingi yelled to one of the remaining boys before running upstairs.

"Let me know what?" As if on cue, Hongjoong walked in.

"Mingi says his jewel guy is here with the accessories for the gala. Wanted you to check it out with him." Yeosang informed. Hongjoong nodded and left the dining room.

"Sir." The male stood up and bowed when he saw Hongjoong, knowing he was the head of the group. Hongjoong gave a curt nod and sat down. The staff came with a tray of hot coffee for Hongjoong, already prepared the moment he entered. Mingi came down in proper clothing.

"Hey. You're here, hyung." Mingi smiled to Hongjoong and sat beside him, giving an acknowledgement nod.

"Following Mr Song's request for white gold accessories to match dark, royal purple. These are what I have procured for your family." He took out trays from the box.

"Very nice." Hongjoong scanned through the tray and nodded in approval.

"This is yours, Mr Kim." The jeweller took out a velvet box and opened it, showing the necklace that Hongjoong requested.

"Asscher cut diamond with white gold, as per requested." The male said proudly. Mingi whistled while Hongjoong lifted it up, looking at the diamond right in the middle, surround by smaller diamonds.

"Nice, very well done." Hongjoong smirked.

"Wooyoung will like his new earrings." Mingi said to Hongjoong, showing him the diamond earrings.

"He's like Seonghwa, both like princess cut diamonds." Hongjoong scoffed and checked the diamonds, using the loupe from the jeweller to check the diamonds. Mingi, who usually had the keener eye for jewellery, took over to look at it.

"Damn." The other boys all came, seeing all the sparkly pieces laid out on the coffee table. Hongjoong gave out each piece to the designated owner, as per his plan.

"Nice." Yeosang smiled happily as he wore the white gold cuff on his wrist, stacking with a tennis bracelet.

"What do you think?" Wooyoung held up the collar chain in front of his shirt, showing the two diamonds at the end.

"Mmm, looks good. It'll match well." San gave a thumbs up, admiring his best friend. Seonghwa held his hand out in front of him, admiring his new ring.

"I'm glad you like it, sirs." The jeweller stood up to bow to them. Mingi smirked with confidence.

"Told you I only get good stuff." He scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah." Yunho slapped Mingi's shoulder. Once everything was settled, the jeweller packed up and took his leave.

"So, Yunho said he updated you about the gardener issue? Turns out he was being suspicious, worried that he's a spy for someone." Seonghwa asked Hongjoong as they were about to head upstairs to their offices. Hongjoong nodded his head in confirmation while Yunho snickered secretly.

"I settled it already, don't worry about it." Hongjoong replied, checking his phone. He and Seonghwa didn't hear Yunho's snickers, too caught up in their own conversations.

"You didn't have to busy yourself with that. We can survive without a gardener for a bit." Seonghwa pointed out.

"It's fine. Easily settled." Hongjoong shrugged, smiling gratefully to his best friend.

"Okay. Do you need Jongho or Yunho to vet the person?" Seonghwa asked. Hongjoong shook his head, walking alongside Seonghwa to return to their offices.

"What are you laughing about?" Mingi blinked in confusion.

"Nothing~" Yunho sang, stacking his jewellery boxes and bringing it up to his room.

"Dude, sometimes you're so weird, it's scary." Mingi said to his best friend as they walked together. Yunho turned to his best friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Coming from you?" Yunho taunted with a scoff. Mingi shrugged and turned to return to his room. It was purely coincidental that Yunho called Hongjoong about the gardner while he was at your shop. He totally didn't hope that you would overhear their conversation.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong was working at his desk, going over the number from the businesses that Ateez oversaw as a group, making sure everything was in order and there were no discrepencies.

Before he left, he had slipped his business card onto your work table, just in case you needed his number.

"Real smooth, Hongjoong." He scoffed at his actions. Would you even see the card?

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong looked up from his computer to see Jongho at his door. Jongho came in with a small, displeased frown on his face. He didn't say anything, merely sliding Hongjoong a piece of paper.

"What's wrong?" Hongjoong was confused but took the paper, unfolding it and reading the contents.

"What? Is this real?" He looked at the youngest in disbelief.

"Yeah, I was getting my informants on the ground to check for the change in gang related activities when this information came in. It's reliable, San hyung confirmed it on the network." Jongho explained, nodding over to the paper. Hongjoong let out a curse, standing up, he went over to Seonghwa's office.

"Thanks, Jong." Hongjoong said as he entered Seonghwa's office. Seonghwa knew it would be the leader, he was the only one that would enter without knocking.

"What's wrong, Joong?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. With the same piece of paper, he slid it to Seonghwa.

"You're kidding..." Seonghwa frowned as he read the paper's contents.

"No, I'm not. Jongho came to me after his informants got that, confirmed it with San too. He saw it on the network." Hongjoong crossed his arms.

"Sh*t. I was just there." Seonghwa cursed.

"We can't ask San to take the job, it's too obvious. It'll raise suspicion and be worse for us." Hongjoong said.

"Let's call the others." Seonghwa sighed, taking his phone and sending a text to the other Ateez members. Luckily everyone was home and they quickly gathered in Seonghwa's office.

"So, to let everyone know, Jongho's informants got new information. And San confirmed it on the network. There's a bounty on the current police commissioner's head." Hongjoong informed. The others all nodded, not saying anything yet.

"The bounty's payer is anonymous, according to the network. And you know the network will never give out the info." San said, leaning against the wall.

The network, a place where information and bounties were exchanged amongst all the underground organisations.

"Seonghwa hyung, you were just there. Anything?" Mingi asked. Seonghwa shook his head.

"I doubt he knows, he was too relaxed if he knew. This bounty is fresh, Jongho just gave Hongjoong to information." Seonghwa replied. Jongho nodded in confirmation.

"Can we ask him to hide then? Come back when the new commissioner needs to be elected." Yeosang raised his hand.

"No. We can't ask San to take the bounty too, it's too obvious of our involvement. It'll not end well." Hongjoong said.

"What can we do then? We need his vote for the new commissioner election. If that anti-corruption guy gets elected, it'll be harder for our businesses." Yunho sighed.

"For now, we need more info, get all your informants out on the ground. Any update, alert us immediately. I want to know where this bounty came from. Wooyoung, we'll need you to stake out the poker games. Any piece of information is useful. We'll contact our guys in the police to keep an eye out." Hongjoong decided.

"Yes, captain." All 7 replied.

"I'll go call my guy to get me a buy in for the next poker game." Wooyoung said, excusing himself to make the call.

Wooyoung was one of those that went to high stake poker games for high profile people. All kinds of people were there and all kinds of information was exchanged there.

"San, keep an ear out in the network. That's the best way to keep track of the bounty status." Seonghwa added.

"Yes, hyung." San saluted and walked out.

"We cannot alert the commissioner yet. But Jongho and Yunho, I want surveillance." Hongjoong looked at the two. They nodded and left the room.

"Would it be ironic if the anti corruption, "clean up the city" dude was the one that initiated the bounty?" Yeosang chuckled.

"I wouldn't put it past him, the whole thing with no more corruption and no more gangs is all a front. If he was the one that posted that bounty, I want proof that he did and we'll use that to sink him." Hongjoong said.

"Should I let Hyunmin know about this?" Hongjoong asked the remaining men in the room. Hyunmin was the candidate that was most likely going to be the current commissioner's successor.

"He's a blabbermouth, can we trust that he won't tell the current commissioner?" Mingi asked.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but Mingi's right." Seonghwa said with a small smile on his face. Mingi rolled his eyes at that comment.

"I'll keep it on the DL for now then. I have a lunch with him in two days. I really hope this issue gets sorted quickly." Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Thanks." He waved and left Seonghwa's office with Mingi and Yeosang in tow.

"San? I don't want to alert the network that we are investigating who posted the bounty, okay?" Hongjoong said to the male who had emerged from his room, dressed in gym clothes.

"I know. Don't worry, hyung. I'll be careful. I won't ask them anything directly or raise any warning flags." San smiled, knowing exactly what Hongjoong expected of him. Patting the captain on the shoulder, San walked towards the exit of the mansion to go to his fight club to work out and work.

"Captain, I got something extra for you." Mingi entered Hongjoong's office. The shorter male turned around, blinking at the taller.

"This is for you. From us." Mingi grinned, taking a velvet box out of his inner suit pocket and handing it to Hongjoong. Hongjoong took with confusion on his face.

"Oh, wow." He was speechless. There was a ring with his captain crest, studded in diamonds, on it.

"For the head of the family, the captain." Mingi explained.

"This is amazing. Thank you, Mingi ah." Hongjoong smiled softly, wearing the slightly heavy ring on his finger immediately.

"No problem, hyung. We're all here thanks to you." Mingi grinned and waved before leaving the office. Hongjoong sat at his desk, looking at how the diamonds sparkled under the sunlight.

This was his mark, a sign of Ateez's power and his own power. Hongjoong had a tattoo of this crest on the back of his left shoulder and always had a captain's band on his arm, clipped onto the sleeve of his jacket, but this ring meant something so much more.

"We're all here thanks to you."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa formed Ateez from nothing. It took the effort from all the boys, their determination and strengths coming together to get to where they are today.

Although everyone says Hongjoong is the prince of darkness, his past was the reason for that. He wasn't always like this.

"I see you got your present." Seonghwa's voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Yeah... I love it. Thanks, Hwa. I know it must have been your idea." Hongjoong gratefully smiled at his best friend. Seonghwa shrugged it off but mirrored a similar smile.

"I forgot to give these to you earlier when you were in my office. You need to sign off on these." Seonghwa put the stack of files down.

"Ugh. Can't you do them?" Hongjoong whined.

"That was our deal remember? I handle illegal signings and you handle legal signings. You need to check the property acquisition contracts." Seonghwa raised his eyebrow. Hongjoong nodded with a sigh and Seonghwa took his leave. Taking the first file off the stack, Hongjoong looked at the contents.

"Hyung, I got my buy in." Wooyoung came into Hongjoong's office. Hongjoong looked up at Wooyoung and nodded.

"Do you need to brush up on your poker skills?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow with a chuckle.

"No! I run casinos, that's an insult." Wooyoung scoffed. He plopped himself down on the chair opposite Hongjoong and took one of the files off the pile, flipping through it.

"We're really buying that vineyard Jongho wanted?" He laughed.

"Birthday present for him. It's the only thing he wants." Hongjoong sighed. He felt like a dad buying his kids expensive presents.

"So if I want horses and stables on the property, I can ask for them for my birthday?" Wooyoung asked with bright eyes. Hongjoong shot him a flat look.

"A vineyard is a good investment. I'm not sure how horses are a good investment for us." Hongjoong said.

"Boo, you're no fun, dad." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at the captain. But seeing how Hongjoong was alone with so much paperwork, he stuck around to keep him company, chatting with him and weighing in on certain issues.

"Want one?" Wooyoung held up the crystal glass, helping himself to Hongjoong's bar cart. Hongjoong nodded and Wooyoung poured whiskey into two glasses.

"Thanks." Hongjoong took a sip, leaning back in his chair tiredly.

"These words and papers are making my head hurt." Wooyoung groaned and Hongjoong grunted in agreement.

"I should tell Hwa to give out some of these to the rest of you to do some too. Then both of us won't be stuck with moutains of files." Hongjoong said.

"No way, please. I'm already up to here with all the account books for the casinos." Wooyoung held his hand above his head.

"Remind me what's the charity we're donating to this quarter?" Hongjoong asked.

"Children's heart foundation." Wooyoung replied, sipping the remainder of the whiskey in his glass. Hongjoong hummed and signed off on the cheque that they will be cashing, putting it in an envelope. He looked at the huge pile that was still there, it never seems to get smaller.

"Ah! Hyung, let's take a break! We've been here for so long and the sun is setting already!" Wooyoung suddenly exclaimed, making Hongjoong jump.

"Your idea of a break means leaving the work entirely." Hongjoong pointed out.

"Exactly! Let's go." Wooyoung tugged Hongjoong out of his chair.

"Where are we going?" Hongjoong asked as Wooyoung pushed him out into the hallway, turning off the lights in his office and closing the door so Hongjoong wouldn't re-enter.

"Anywhere but here." Wooyoung laughed. He sent a text to everyone that they'll go out for dinner tonight.

"If Seonghwa gets mad that I didn't finish the work, I'm blaming you." Hongjoong threatened but of course, Wooyoung didn't care.

"I already texted the others. Go get changed, we're going for dinner and drinks." Wooyoung left Hongjoong in the hallway and ran to his own room to change.

"Yah! Jung Wooyoung!" Hongjoong yelled.

Series masterlist

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evangelical04 · 10 days ago

Text

A Single Daffodil || 7

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 6.2K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: maybe some angst?? not really, it's pretty fluffy

Author's Note: hello hello!! i hope you're all well! sorry (again) for taking so long to get this out, but i think i'm as happy as i can be with this chapter. it's not perfect and i'm worried it'll be boring, but i like it, i think! well, i had fun writing it at least, and i hope you have fun reading it! it isn't super closely proofread so i'm sorry for any errors, i just wanted to get this posted today!!

TAGLIST CLOSED [follow asingledaffodil tag for all notifications]

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandyrecs @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @pastelpeachess @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @kooklovee @whoa-jo @familiarlikemymirror3 @blueberriesm @llallaaa @purpleheartsandarock1 @lillmeowmeowsblog @this-most-assuredly-counts @kayleefriedchicken @ur-grandmum @sylviamuela @notarshia @minghaosimp @ilikekpop-c @maynina @rinkud @jesshujk @kimsaerom @suker4angst @mar-627 @maynina @pitchblack0309 @wobblewobble822 @praetae @yoongibaybee @weareatthebadlands

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The alarm blaring in your ear felt foreign and your eyes were bleary as you blinked awake, vision slowly coming into focus. Momentarily, you forgot why you’d set your alarm, having gotten too used to sleeping in the past two weeks, but your senses soon came back to you. It was your first day back to the office after your extended vacation in place of a honeymoon.

The idea of it made you laugh slightly, like there was ever a honeymoon in the cards for you, but you soon silenced when you remembered the past weekend. Yoongi and you had gone on a semi-date, which meant that you would probably end up dating, which would lead to marriage (even though you were already married), and then a real honeymoon? Your head spun, it was too early to be overthinking like this.

You finally silenced your alarm, dragging yourself out of your warm duvet and shuffling toward your bathroom. Sleepily completing your morning routine, you got dressed for work and made your way downstairs. You usually neglected breakfast in favor of a small snack before lunch at the office and you smiled at the kitchen counter, seeing a small container of riceballs that Mrs. Lim had likely prepared for you. You could hear her puttering around in the far room, seemingly doing laundry.

You grabbed the container, slipping it into your tote bag, and began walking to the door, before startling at Yoongi’s voice coming from the top of the stairs.

“Y/N, wait a second,” he called, making his way down the stairs, “Want to go to work together?”

Your eyebrows raised at the suggestion, not even realizing he was still at home. Home? You supposed it was your home now. You weren’t sure when you had started to refer to it that way.

“Sure, but I usually take the bus,” you responded, watching him gather his things and approach you at the door.

“Oh,” Yoongi responded, slightly breathless, “That’s fine. I can take it with you.”

You thought for a moment, the Min Industries building was a block or so down from your own office, so you figured it should work out.

“Okay, then I’m ready whenever you are,” you mentioned. Yoongi nodded, slipping on his shoes, “Let’s go.”

The two of you made your way to the bus stop in a comfortable silence, enjoying the bustling scene of a morning in Seoul. When you both reached the bus stop, Yoongi spoke up, “Do you have any specific plans this week?”

You closed your eyes, racking your brain, “No, not really. But I’ll probably working a lot of overtime since I missed two weeks.”

“Oh,” Yoongi responded, “That’s unfortunate.”

You smiled, turning to face him, “I’ll find some time for us to hang out, promise.” You brushed a stray hair off his forehead, making his eyes widen and his head quickly turn away.

You giggled softly, apparently you still had it. It was kind of fun to flirt with him.

The bus soon arrived and you entered, scanning your card and making your way down the aisle before hearing the bus driver’s stern voice ring out.

“Sir, your transportation card?”

You turned to find Yoongi with a confused look on his face, seemingly at a loss at what the bus driver meant. The scene made you shake your head and smile, reaching over to scan your pass once again and bowing an apology to the bus driver. You grabbed Yoongi’s wrist, tugging him to one of the empty pairs of seats and gently guided him into the far one by the window.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I’ve never actually taken the bus before.” He scratched the back of his head, you could see his ears tinging red. You squeezed his wrist before letting go, “It’s alright, I’d figured as much. It’s kind of nice to have company on the morning commute.”

Yoongi sent a gummy smile your way making you exhale harshly, it felt like one of the first real smiles you’d seen of him and it was breathtaking. His hard edges and steely eyes softened, it was a sight you wanted to imprint on your mind. You distracted yourself by opening up your phone and scrolling through some recent texts, feeling Yoongi’s presence boring into your own.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi take one last glance at you before grasping your hand in his own and entangling your fingers. It caused you to look up at him but he was already turned, facing the window, fingers still tightly gripping your hand.

You felt the heat spread on your face but you settled into it anyway, enjoying the feeling of Yoongi’s palm against your own. The rest of the ride to your stop was largely silent, with you focused on the warmth emanating from Yoongi’s hand. You felt like a teenager with a crush. You were just holding hands! What was the big deal? Yet, it still felt like one.

The scenery caught your attention when a cafe you frequented flew by, signaling that your stop was next. Yoongi seemed caught in the view from the window so you drew his attention by tugging gently on his hand, still flush against yours. He looked over at you questioningly before you started rising out of your seat. The bus came to a slow stop and you gently pulled him to the door, scanning your card twice quickly and exiting with Yoongi close behind.

As the two of you stood on the sidewalk, you were unsure of where to go from here. Your office would be in the opposite direction from his, so it seemed that this was where you split ways. Yoongi didn’t seem to realize this as he began walking to his office, stopping when he felt the resistance from your hand, as you stood in place.

He turned, ears tinged pink, “Oh, right, OK is that way. I guess this is goodbye.”

You smiled, untangling your fingers from his, “See you at home, Yoongi.”

His mouth parted before breaking into a small smile, “See you.”

You turned quickly, feeling your cheeks warm, and started walking quickly to your building. All you did was ride the bus with him, yet it felt exhilarating, what was happening to you? You were supposed to be just friends right now, you couldn’t afford to fall this quickly.

Well, you supposed that nothing was really stopping you but yourself, but you still had your principle! You had to hold steadfast, you were the one who’d asked to start as friends first after all.

Feeling your phone buzz in your hands, you glanced down to catch Namjoon’s name in your notifications. You opened his message while navigating through the crowds on the sidewalk, fantasizing about the iced tea in the cafe in the lobby of your building.

From: Kim Namjoon

Good morning, Y/N-ssi! I managed to get tickets to that art gallery we were talking about, I stayed up almost all night, but it was worth it! I’ll send you the details when I’m more coherent, have a good day at work!

You smiled down at your phone, sending off a quick confirmation and well wishes for his sleep schedule. As you pushed open the doors to your office building, the cafe stationed off to the right felt like a beacon in the bustling morning office rush. The barista, Junmi, greeted you warmly as you approached the register, “Hi, unnie! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, were you on vacation?”

You shot her a conspiratorial wink, “Something like that.” She rung up your order, knowing it by heart by now, and held out her hand for your card. You handed it over while your eyes raked over the bakery display next to the counter, but you knew you already had the riceballs Mrs. Lim provided. No way you can justify another purchase, even if it was for the softest looking croissant in the world.

“Unnie,” Junmi exclaimed, startling you from your bread infused daze, “Your ring! Did you get married?”

“Oh,” you chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, I did.”

“Wow, congratulations! Here, have a croissant, on the house. That’s so exciting! You’ll have to show me pictures sometime,” she smiled, handing you back your card before turning away to prepare your drink.

As you walked past security gate toward the gate, awkwardly scanning your badge while balancing your breakfast, you took your first bite of the warm and flaky croissant. It seems like this marriage had more perks that you’d initially given it credit for.

Sitting down at your desk was a relief after navigating your curious and energetic team. You’d fielded questions about your marriage as much as you could, but you still ended up showing them a picture of Yoongi that Joohee had sent you from the wedding. Your team had commented on how handsome he looked and how happy they were for you, and from there, the energy calmed down some, with some members returning to their seats.

The excitement had left you feeling conflicted, staring down at the picture of Yoongi that Joohee had sent. He looked handsome, definitely, his eyes were dark and piercing and his slightly tanned skin looked soft and smooth. You hadn’t realized how pinched together his eyebrows had been during the ceremony, or how bitten his lips looked. You swiped to the next picture in your messages with Joohee, seeing yourself and Yoongi during the reception. You both looked tired and miserable, making you frown at your phone. You kind of wished that you had a nice picture of you and Yoongi to show other people. Something to show when people like Junmi asked, one that made you look like a happy couple. You knew that Yeonsik had a stupidly cute picture of himself and his boyfriend as his phone’s lockscreen, and it made your stomach clench with envy.

Maybe you should bring it up to Yoongi?

No, it was much too soon, you shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Turning off your phone, you logged into your computer, seeing the number of unread emails rapidly increasing. You sighed, slipping on your headphones and starting some jazz so you could focus.

Combing through the mountain of emails was tiring, but one caught your attention, even as your eyes glazed over.

From: [email protected]

RE: Influencer Campaign MIRA’S AWAKENING

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided to pursue Jeon Jeongguk (user/sns:goldenboy97) as one of the main influencers for MIRA’S AWAKENING’s campaign. We have been communicating with him about ideas for the campaign and decided upon the following:

Early access - stream upon release day

PR merchandise - we are confirming designs with Graphics 2

Vlog/tour of OK Gaming on August 25 - this will include a tour of Planning Team 1 office space. Please see attached for video appearance consent form for your team and have it submitted to me by the end of the week.

We will follow up with more information as we approach the filming date.

Thanks,

Team Leader Lim

You had to read the email twice before you fully understood the contents. Shaking your head with a smile, you forwarded the email to your team and grabbed your phone to text Jeongguk.

To: Jeon Jeongguk

Are you invading my office for your vlog channel?

The reply came almost instantly.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

morning, noona!

you finally got the news, huh?

i’m so excited, i can’t wait to see you working!

we should get lunch or dinner together that day!!

any preferences?

don’t tell hyung though

can i get your opinion on what i should wear, i don’t really go to offices often lol

You set your phone down as the buzzing continued, trying to contain your laughter. The kid was so exciteable, but his energy was contagious. You decided to respond to him later as you heard the quiet ding of more emails coming in. A sigh escaped you, you had promised Yoongi to find time to do something with him, but taking off two weeks so close to the launch date of your project and at the tail end of beta testing had taken its toll. It was clear that you’d be working overtime for the next few weeks.

Leaning your elbows against the desk and taking your head into your hands, you rubbed circles into the sides of your head. Thinking about everything you had to do was leading to a migraine and a quick look at the clock revealed that only about an hour had passed since you’d gotten to work. You felt your body sag in defeat, hearing the pings of more emails coming in.

Pressing your head against the cool feeling of your desk, you tried to distract your mind from the overwhelming mountain of work you had waiting for you. Naturally, your mind drifted toward the past weekend with Yoongi. You could still feel the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster weighing on your bones, but the uncertainty of what the future would look like with him felt like prinpicks against your fingers. This weekend had changed a lot for you, changes that you weren’t sure how to deal with.

Yoongi’s new attitude was also confusing, even though you fully knew his intentions now. The shift from trying to dismiss any ambiguous actions from him and steel yourself against any romantic feelings of your own to full transparency of his feelings toward you and your obligation to externally reciprocate was difficult to adjust to. You had been playing it by ear so far, going for a risky flirt whenever you felt cheeky, but it still felt unnatural.

It was hard to put it into words, but it felt like you were uncomfortable around Yoongi. Maybe you were still upset with him for what transpired with Jimin, after all, it was not too long ago, only a couple days really. Or maybe it was for what he said at the gala, the way he had dismissed you still irked, making you bite the inside of your cheek. Or perhaps when he’d been an hour late to your meeting before you’d gotten married, showing up with mussed hair, hickeys, and the heavy scent of a woman’s perfume.

You blew a short and aggressive breath out of your mouth, Yoongi had really been an ass. More than feeling upset with him, though, you felt more upset with yourself for caving so quickly. You supposed it wasn’t necessarily caving since you weren’t starting out as friends through your own insistence, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. Your feelings for Yoongi were annoyingly persistent and only getting stronger with his newfound feelings and confidence in them.

Why couldn’t you be stronger?

It felt a bit pathetic. You’d thought that you were doing so well in closing yourself off from him, shielding your heart from, not only from his attractive looks and seductive gaze, but from his biting remarks and harsh glares. As it turns out, not only did you still end up feeling hurt, but you only deeper for him despite your best efforts. Were you really even preventing anything that whole time? You bit your lip, squinting to make out emails through your blurry vision.

Were you in the palm of his hands since the beginning?

Did you ever stand a chance?

Was this relationship more unbalanced than you previously thought?

Your eyes closed in defeat, feeling your headache envelop the rest of your brain. You wished that you could level the playing field somehow.

The harsh blue undertoned light from your computer was aggravating your headache even more. To give your eyes a break, you took a look around your office space, seeing your teammates in similar condition to you.

The past couple weeks had been grueling, finalizing the post beta testing debugs, a last minute story adjustment, a heavy debate on the use of a mechanic your team was pushing to keep after some confusion in beta testing, and wrangling the graphics team to confirm and pack the shipment of merchandise had taken a heavy toll on your team’s morale and energy. This was always the worse part of development and production.

You’d barely seen your home since your return to work, spending over twelve hours at the office, catching the last bus home, scarfing down a mediocre, store bought kimbap, and crashing on your bed or the couch, whichever one you made it to in time.

You weren’t going to lie, you were a bit frustrated that you’d barely been able to spend any time with Yoongi in the past two weeks, but a part of you was relieved. Your emotional state still hadn’t fully recovered and you were relishing the opportunity to delay the inevitable as long as you could. Even so, waking up on the couch with a soft blanket thrown on you and your hair brushed away from your face made your heart ache. To his credit, he seemed to be an expert in tugging on your heart.

He was understanding, at the least. Even though you barely saw him, any time you did, he wore an empathetic expression and quietly handed you a can of your favorite fruit juice from the fridge with a small smile. Yoongi hadn’t had any complaints of your constant late nights and occupied weekends, which, in your defense, had been unavoidable and continual.

Today was no different, despite it being a Friday, your team was still working late into the night. A yawn off to your right, courtesy of Song Ha, drew you out of your drowsy trance. You blinked a few times, feeling the world coming back into focus, and glanced at the time. It was approaching nine and you could feel that nothing else productive was going to happen today. Wiping your sweaty palms on your leggings, you stood, “Okay, everyone. Let’s go home for today, we’ve done all we can. I want you all to enjoy your weekend this time, so don’t check any emails. If it’s really important, I’ll call you. Go get some rest and be ready to kick ass on Monday.”

Your team stared up at you gratefully, seemingly rejuvenated. The packing up was quick and efficient, everyone more than ready to get out of the stuffy and dreary office. As you were packing up your own belongings, your phone buzzed with a message.

From: Kim Namjoon

Hi! I hope you’re doing well. I know your game is coming out soon so you must be busy, hopefully you’re getting enough rest!

Just a question about next Friday, would you like to head over to the gallery together? I can pick you up. Let me know when you can!

Oh, that’s right, the gallery that you were supposed to go to with Namjoon was coming up in a week. You had forgotten in the chaos of work, but you resigned to text him back later. Getting home was your top priority. Though, now that you were thinking about you, you had a nagging feeling that you’d forgotten something else.

You bent down in front of your desk to log out of your computer, catching a flagged email a bit further down in your inbox, referencing the filming day that was involving your team. Your fingers snapped automatically, that’s what it was! You’d totally forgotten about Jeongguk coming to film the behind the scenes and doing a segment with your team. Rapping your desk to catch your team’s attention, you quickly reminded them.

“Just a reminder, this upcoming Tuesday, we have the filming team coming in here with Jeon Jeongguk. I think all of you signed the consent form, so you can all come to work as normal, but just be prepared that they’ll be there. You’ll have a couple cameras around and they may pull you aside for some questions, but that should be about it. Have a good weekend, guys.”

A chorus of goodbyes and well wishes rang out from your team, followed by idle chatter as they made their way to the elevator. You sat back for a minute, deciding whether you should text Yoongi to say you were coming home early or not. Was this early? It was almost nine, but it was relatively early to when you had been coming home.

Whatever, you’d just go home. No point in texting when you’d be there in about twenty minutes anyway, what would texting change?

You hauled yourself to the bus stop, feeling the heaviness of the day weigh down your bones. You’d given your team the weekend off, but the same couldn’t be said for you. You knew plenty of managers in the corporate world who could leisurely take time off work and the productiveness of their team wouldn’t change, but your team was, unfortunately, not the same. Your weekend would consist of monitoring your email for anything urgent coming in and making sure other teams were on track for the upcoming release, but at least you’d get a bit of a break. It was a bit like being on call, but you didn’t want to think about it that way, it’d make the unpaid overtime a bit too real.

The sound of the bus approaching made you jolt to attention, stopping for a moment to close your eyes and stop your head from spinning. You had forgotten to pick up dinner, but you’d make do. There must be something in the fridge, and if there wasn’t, you’d make for some emergency fried chicken delivery.

The bus ride home was peaceful, to your extreme delight. Late Friday night bus rides ran the risks of drunk and rowdy businessmen, energetic and loud college students, and excitable high schoolers. Thankfully, the bus was quiet and serene, soon stopping near your apartment. The trek up to the building felt more taxing than usual, dragging your feet along the pavement until you reached the elevator. The cool feeling of the elevator walls against your forehead felt refreshing, at least, but you internally groaned when the doors slid open and you had to move your feet once again.

The click of the door to the apartment unlocking felt like an angel’s voice, and you entered the apartment only to be met with five faces staring back at you. Your eyes immediately found Yoongi’s, staring at you, a bit surprised, but he sent you a smile. You returned it weakly before trailing your eyes over everyone else, finding Namjoon and Seokjin on the couch and Jeongguk and Taehyung seated on the floor around the coffee table, seemingly playing some low stakes poker.

How could you forget that Yoongi has his friends over on Friday nights? The gaps in your memory were starting to grow concerning.

You gave a half wave before awkwardly closing the door behind you. What did you even look like right now? Your team had given up on any sort of professional appearance once the overtime had started and your team routinely showed up in sweatshirts, sweatpants, leggings, or pajamas at this point. If someone was wearing the same clothes as the previous day, everyone else turned a blind eye. You were sure that your hair was a ratty mess atop your head and your overly loose sweatshirt was drowning you in fabric, likely making you look like a kid playing dress up. Your concerns over your appearance dissipated when you felt a body slam against yours in a hug, arms enveloping your waist.

“Noona! Did you get back from the office just now? You’re working too late,” Jeongguk exclaimed, squeezing you before releasing his hold.

You laughed slightly, “Yeah, things are busy since the game’s coming out in about a month, and since you get early access, we have to work even harder.”

Your joke made Jeongguk frown slightly, “Maybe I’ll catch some labor law violations in the vlog and you can win big in a lawsuit.”

You chuckled, patting his shoulder, “I’ll file after I get my new year bonus.”

You began taking off your shoes, having to face the rest of the group, who all gave you warm smiles, Taehyung and Namjoon both sending you a friendly wave. Seokjin sent a stern glare in your direction, facing his vitriol on the oversized young man behind you, “Yah, Jeongguk, leave her alone, she only just got back. What vlog are you talking about anyway?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jeongguk beat you to it, slinging his arms around you, a bit like a sloth hanging onto a tree, you noted.

“I get to hang out with noona all day on Tuesday since I’m filming a behind the scenes vlog for my second channel,” he responded, letting you go when Taehyung beckoned him over with the promise of a dangling chicken drumstick.

Right, food. The chicken on the coffee table looked far too appetizing, but it felt rude of you to intrude so you tried to casually look away from it.

“I didn’t know about that,” came Yoongi’s voice for the first time since you’d stepped into the apartment. It drew your gaze immediately, seeing a small frown on his face and furrowed eyebrows. Was he upset that you hadn’t told him? You suppose Jeongguk was his friend first.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to you too much,” you said, trying to convey your guilt.

Yoongi shook his head, “Not your fault, you’d think that this brat,” he flicked Jeongguk’s forehead, who protested through a mouth full of chicken, “Would tell me that he was spending the day with my wife at work.”

Your chest bloomed at his choice of words, you’d rarely heard him refer to you as his wife, only at the reception of your wedding when talking to guests. Somehow, him using it now in such an intimate setting made your marriage feel all the more real.

“Speaking of,” Seokjin interjected, “Isn’t your one month anniversary coming up? Are you guys doing anything fun?”

You and Yoongi both looked at each other, a bit at a loss for words. You hadn’t even thought about that, had it really already been almost a month? Somehow, it felt simultaneously shorter and much, much longer than that. You felt like you’d already spent a lifetime with Yoongi, but it’d barely been four weeks.

“I believe that’s on the same day as the gallery,” Namjoon said casually, snatching a small piece of chicken from Jeongguk’s clutches.

“Gallery,” Yoongi questioned.

“Oh, Namjoon and I are going to a gallery for an artist he introduced me to, we’d talked about when we met at that gallery a few weeks back,” you explained, trying to focus on the conversation and not how good the chicken looked.

Yoongi seemed to be pondering his response when Namjoon caught your gaze on the food.

“Have you eaten yet, Y/N,” he questioned.

You shook your head softly, a bit embarrassed that you were found out so quickly.

“Join us,” Seokjin said, snatching the rest of the box from Jeongguk who pouted sadly, “You can have the rest of what’s in here and we can order more too.”

“No, you guys should eat that, it’s yours,” you insisted, feeling slightly childish with Seokjin’s suggestion.

“Jeonggukie ate most of it anyway, so we were going to need more,” Seokjin said, waving away your concerns, “We really need to start ordering multiple portions for him so he doesn’t eat all of it.”

You laughed and started toward the couch to join them, but took a quick glance at Yoongi’s expression to see if he was okay with it. The scene felt oddly familiar to you, reminding you of the last time you were invited to sit with them and you felt compelled to refuse.

Yoongi’s face looked unreadable, just like then too, but he seemed to be more deep in thought this time. He caught your gaze and smiled, though, nodding for you to join them. You gave a sheepish smile in response, making your way to the couch and sitting next to Namjoon, who had moved closer to the middle to make room for you.

“Thanks, it’s been a long day,” you said, leaning into the soft cushions of the couch. You were going to have to be careful not to fall asleep, you were so used to collapsing onto this same couch after work.

The food quickly arrived and the men continued to engage in conversation, making sure to include you, but you felt yourself getting drowsy. It seemed you had reached your limit when you felt your head bump into Namjoon’s shoulder in a sleep induced sway. You lifted yourself upright, blinking sleepily up at him, making out his soft smile, “Sorry, Namjoon-ah. I’m a bit tired.” You could hear yourself slurring your words.

“No worries, Y/N, maybe we should get you to bed,” he responded, steading you again with a firm hand on your shoulder.

If you had felt like a child earlier, you most certainly felt more like one now.

You felt Namjoon’s hands grasp your shoulders, gently lifting you to a standing position before a new pair of hands took over.

“I’ll take her upstairs, Joon, can you make sure Seokjin doesn’t spill anything while I’m gone,” you heard Yoongi’s voice ask. Your eyes were barely open and your mind felt quite cloudy in your drowsy haze. Looking up at Yoongi, you caught his pensive expression before he looked down at you, sending you a small smile. He gently squeezed your shoulders and slowly led you up the stairs and to your room, you could distantly hear Jeongguk calling out a goodnight.

You were barely conscious for the walk to your bedroom, feeling yourself lean against Yoongi for support. He patiently guided you, opening the door to your room and laying you down on your bed. Why did this feel familiar too?

Yoongi’s fingers brushed a few stray pieces of hair out of your face, you could feel the rough pads of his fingertips against your forehead. Almost asleep now, you barely registered yourself leaning into his touch as he brought his fingers around your face to cup your cheek.

“Will you be okay sleeping in those clothes? Any makeup you have to wipe off,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“No,” you mumbled, “I’m fine. Wanna sleep now. Goodnight, Yoongi-ah.”

You felt his thumb freeze its motions before he whispered back, “Goodnight, Y/N-ie. Sleep well.”

You were already asleep by the time he closed your bedroom door.

Yoongi felt conflicted over his newly realized feelings for you. In a way, it was freeing, being able to act affectionately with you without any ambiguity or restriction. Well, there were still some restrictions and maybe some ambiguity too. You were starting as friends, and Yoongi did think that was a good idea, he really did, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to go further with you.

His hands constantly itched to take yours and his eyes were always drawn to your soft and gentle smile. You had been smiling a bit more since that fateful weekend, and Yoongi was enjoying every second of it.

Though, there weren’t really that many seconds of it to enjoy, considering your hectic schedule since your date. You’d been cooped up at your office pretty much every evening, a feeling Yoongi was familiar with, so he couldn’t fault you. Every time he managed to catch a rare glimpse of you in the house, you were either sleeping on the couch, or tiredly eating at the table. Despite your haggard appearance and exhausted demeanor, you’d always managed to smile a greeting at him and apologize for being so busy.

Yoongi couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at your absence. Even though he was aching to be close to you and spend more with you, he knew your work was important and busy right now. Yoongi had to be patient, something he was not excited for. Your skin always looked too inviting, your lips too soft, and your eyes too alluring. He constantly had to reign in his wandering thoughts about you, even having to do a bit of overtime himself to make up for his distracted nature the past few weeks.

Despite his growing attraction to you, whenever he laid eyes on your messy appearance with considerable eyebags adorning your sweet face, your lips forming a tired pout, in the multiple times he’d caught you sleeping on the couch when he went downstairs to check if you’d returned, his thoughts dissipated. You were clearly working yourself to the bone and Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop you, he’d been in your position multiple times. Sometimes, there was no other way around it. So he did what he could, a blanket covering your sleeping form, a small snack or candy slipped into your bag, or an extra serving of dinner waiting for you in the microwave, this was how Yoongi knew to show his love.

Love? Was it?

No, he didn’t think so. At least not yet. It was too early on to tell if he loved you, but he could feel himself starting down that path. He only wished that he could be in an actual relationship with you, though he knew why he couldn’t. His friends knew about the arrangement, he’d confided in Seokjin and Namjoon, but he hadn’t revealed his growing feelings for you, only that you’d decided to become friends.

Maybe that had been a mistake, considering how close they seemed to be getting to you. Yoongi recalled how his friends had jumped at your presence when you’d entered the apartment. As he climbed into bed, he remembered how Jeongguk had stood excitedly at your arrival and immediately crushed you in an intimate hug. Had Yoongi hugged you before? He couldn’t remember, but it was all he could think about now. Jeongguk had mentioned that he’d be spending the day with you at work on Tuesday, Yoongi had never seen you in your office either. Suddenly, that single walk to work together all those days ago felt minimal compared to what Jeongguk was going to get to experience.

You seemed to have grown close with Namjoon as well, Yoongi thought, remembering the way that Namjoon had smiled invitingly at you and the way you’d sat next him, bumping your head against his shoulder in your attempt to sleep. What was that? Yoongi felt restless, maybe he should’ve clarified his feelings to his friends so they’d know you were off limits.

Except, you weren’t. Yoongi knew that. He had no claim over you, he wasn’t your boyfriend, only your designated husband. Yoongi’s mind wandered back to the interactions between you and Namjoon, racing to analyze every interaction, despite his acceptance that it wasn’t his place.

You seemed so comfortable with Namjoon, you’d even called his name so affectionately. Well, you’d said Yoongi’s name affectionately too, he gloated internally. That had been a sweet moment that he was going to treasure, you had been so placid and vulnerable, a side to you he hadn’t seen before. It had been hard to contain himself since he’d brought you to your room, feeling you lean against him and into his hand, he’d wanted to kiss you.

But he knew better, he had to wait. Yoongi tried not to think about what would happen if you decided you only wanted to be friends with him and nothing more. He had already fallen so deeply for you. It was unexpected for him to fall so quickly and so hard, surprising even himself. You’d managed to wedge your way into his heart, making him uncomfortable, only to set up shop there and grow his fondness toward you.

Yoongi’s mind drifted back to the earlier conversation, when Seokjin had mentioned your one month anniversary. Should he be planning something? He wasn’t sure. To be honest, he didn’t really want to celebrate your wedding day, it felt like it was yours. It was more for other people than anything. Not to mention, he didn’t want to call attention back to when he’d been acting so crassly. Yoongi cringed at the memory.

Besides, Namjoon had mentioned that you two were going to a gallery that day. Yoongi was only slightly jealous, or that was what he was telling himself. Why did you have to have so much in common with his friends and be so personable? His envy grew at the fact that Namjoon would be spending so much time with you on your wedding anniversary, despite Yoongi’s earlier dismissal of it. How was it fair that the man you were spending your anniversary with wasn’t your husband, but his friend?

Maybe he should plan something for that day for when you come back from the gallery. The idea made him smile. He wanted to make it a special day for you, and with newfound determination to show up Namjoon, he would.

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impactedfates · 9 months ago

Text

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!

#Diluc x Reader #Diluc x You #Wriothesley x Reader #Wriothesley x You #Cyno x Reader #Cyno x You #Argenti x Reader #Argenti x You #Jing Yuan x Reader #Jing Yuan x You #Gepard x Reader #Gepard x You #hsr x reader #Genshin x reader #hsr imagines #hsr x you #genshin x reader #honkai star rail x you #genshin impact x you

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youreyeson1y · 7 months ago

Text

still got so much to find out

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader(f)

title:i like it by stray kids (album: ate)

cw: swearing, mentions of drinking/getting drunk

synopsis: chan thought there was something between you both, but when he saw you put your arms around hyunjin's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began questioning the whole situation.

tags: fluff, mutual pining-ish, miscommunication-ish heh, stubid :( and petty chan, minor minho + chan bonding, loong exposition, hwang siblings = real siblings (!!)

link: ao3

note: there were some issues with the povs I faced while writing this, so for the first part, it'll be in 2nd person, while the last 3/4th of the story is in 3rd person. sorry for the confusion !

word count: 2.9k

enjoy !

“I think you need help, man.”

“What’chu talking about, I’m fine.” The man you were basically carrying on one shoulder tried to stand up, tripping over his feet and words.

“See?” He stumbled, standing up on one foot to prove his sobriety. “Are you proud of me now?” He flashed an endearing smile at you. Your face flushed at the sudden eye contact. You covered it with a groan as Chris fell right into your arms again.

Instead of the quiet evening you had planned, you had never imagined that you'd end up spending your Sunday night at a restaurant watching over eight guys drinking as if it's their last day and telling a very drunk Christopher that you were proud of him for standing up.

You turned around as you heard a click sound behind you, and saw a chuckling Felix clicking pictures of their leader.

“Aw man,” Jeongin looked over his shoulders. “That has such good blackmail potential.”

“Or a really cute birthday post.” Felix cackled.

“Hey, come on now guys, don’t—” Felix turns his screen towards you with a smirk. “—forget to send that picture to me. Anyway, instead of smiling like fools, come here and help me get him in the car.”

Changbin and Jisung walk towards you, followed by Minho and Seungmin, who were the most sober of the bunch, and helped carry Chan off of your shoulders.

“Hey, no, wait,” Chris whined as soon as Changbin pulled him off of you, his senses seeming to come back to him. “Let me drop you home, y/n.”

“Chan,” Your eyes went soft with a smile. “I would love to, but neither of us are sober enough to drive, and I—”

“She's coming with me, man, not with your drunk ass,” Hyunjin walked over, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Lets get going, y/n. We can't be late.”

As you gave Christopher’s hand a squeeze and walked over towards Hyunjin, it felt as if you had squeezed the life out of Chris.

Had he misunderstood you this whole time?

As Chris sat sandwiched between Jisung and Changbin in the backseat, he saw you and Hyunjin get into another car while you were giggling with an arm casually wrapped around his waist.

As you got into the car, he saw Hyunjin hand you a present.

Chris thought you and him had something going on; he didn't know what, but he sure felt something. And those feelings were stronger this evening, when each smile he brought out of you made his heart ache and his lips twitch up.

But was it only him who was feeling that way?

“You okay, Chris?” Minho called out from the driver's seat, looking over at him with concerned eyes. “I've never seen you drink so much.”

“Ah, yeah, don't worry about me,” He rubbed his face with a groan, the effect of the alcohol making him tired. He smiled as he felt Changbin and Jisung’s heads fall on his shoulders with a soft thud. “You know how hectic it has been with the new single. I guess I just wanted to let loose for a moment.”

“I get it,” Minho paused, debating on whether to continue or not. “I just… I hope you're not pushing yourself too much, Chan. We're here to help you if you need… and y/n’s here too. So just, reach out, okay?”

“Mhm,” Chris smiled. “I will. Thanks, Minho.”

Usually it would seem weird that they were having a heart to heart after a night-out when one of them was sober, but Chris understood where Minho was coming from.

It was unusual for Chris to drink, let alone get drunk, so he might think that something was on his mind for him to drink like that.

But little did Minho know, it wasn't something, but rather someone.

Chan wasn't even planning on drinking, knowing he had a producing session the next day, but when his stupid friends suggested a game of a shot for a secret, he couldn't help but comply, intoxicated not by the soju, but by the need to learn more, to know more about you.

But as he remembered seeing you wrap an arm around Hyunjin as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Christopher didn't know what to feel.

The only thing he was sure of now was that no matter how he felt, the feelings of his brother came first; he could never do something that would hurt Hyunjin, or put you in an awkward position.

Y/N, although a fairly new producer at JYPE, was already popular amongst other artists. She had almost received a celebrity status, when even the public knew a song produced by y/n was sure to top the charts.

But as a kpop fan since her younger days, for y/n, her job was more like a paid hobby, where she got to meet and collaborate with other artists.

So, when she was proposed to co-produce several songs for Stray Kids’ new album, she jumped at the opportunity; not only because of the group’s popularity, but also because she was a die-hard fan of the group.

She was obsessed with their music, their vision and the momentous impact they’d had on artists and fans around the globe— she felt honored that she would be able to leave her mark amongst their talent.

She was excited to work with them; even while casually greeting them in the halls of the building, she found their energy to be highly contagious. And that feeling remained when she became close friends with the members only after a few weeks of working with them.

While becoming friends with all the members, y/n couldn't help but want something more with a special member.

Maybe she did have a tiny crush on him even before they started working together; greeting him in the elevator or bumping into him while getting coffee used to be the highlight of her day.

But after spending more time together, it wasn't just his extremely handsome face, but he became incredibly attractive to her once she saw the way he treated those around him, his commanding but caring personality and his charming aura.

Being co-producers, she always had to spend time with him, and looking at him in his element, his passion is what made her look up to him as a fellow artist too.

Y/n was down bad, but how couldn't she be?

Because the person living rent free in her head was Christopher Bang of all people.

But what excited her, was the fact that maybe she wasn't the only one feeling that way—

From asking her to hang out with them during dance practice, to purposefully going on coffee-runs together, or going on late night drives on the guise of dropping her home when both of them knew they had drivers.

Y/n couldn't help but feel delusional and believe that Chan was doing these small gestures as a way to spend more time with her.

And maybe. Just maybe, her suspicions were proven right last night, when in a crowded restaurant, it felt like it was just the two of them.

As the group decided to go out to celebrate, everyone expected Chan to look after them, as always, and stay relatively sober for his session the next day. But contrary to popular belief, when y/n saw him gulp down shot after shot to know more about her, y/n couldn't help but feel special.

As the other members were immersed in their own conversation, Chris and y/n were in a different world.

They shared their hopes and dreams and desires, and the moment that y/n knew that this moment counted for something, that it was different, is when Chris told her, the most relaxed and genuine she had ever seen him, that “It's nice being just Chris, for once. Thank you for not being bored of Christopher y/n.”

She knew as a leader, and as a performer in general, how much responsibility Chris had to shoulder on a daily basis. And hearing him say that made y/n feel somewhat proud of herself, for letting him let go for once.

In the dead of night, when half the city was asleep, she whispered in the softest voice, almost unknowingly, as she helped him walk out of the restaurant.

“I think I'm in love with you, Chris.”

But as he stumbled over invisible rocks, y/n felt thankful for drunk Chris because spilling it out like that felt like a mistake.

But once hearing it out loud, she understood these feelings were here to stay, so she decided she would have a conversation with him once he sobered up.

But now, roughly an hour had passed of them sitting uncomfortably in the recording booth, and for the life of her, y/n couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Christopher Bahng.

As she had entered the recording booth an hour ago, she’d felt herself smiling instinctively as she saw Chris sitting on the couch, nervously clutching the hangover medicine in her hands.

“Hey,” Y/n stood in front of him with an uncharacteristically nervous smile. “How are you? Yesterday was wild, right? I brought hangover medicine for you… I wanted to make sure—”

“Oh, I'm okay.” Chan replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his phone. “Just so you know Changbin and Jisung will be late, so you can probably save it for them, I guess.”

This was different.

Chris, no matter how busy or preoccupied he was, always made an effort for the other person, may it be the other members or a polite barista.

The thought hitting her like a pile of rocks, y/n realized what if he had actually heard her confession last night and this was his way of rejecting her?

But no matter what, they still had to work on the songs together, and y/n thought maybe this was for the best, so that they could still continue working together as if nothing had happened, because no matter what, y/n did not want her own feelings to meddle with Stray Kids’ performance.

But as an hour had passed with them making little to no progress on the new song, y/n was fed up.

They usually had such good chemistry, and it felt like their production and arrangement styles merged perfectly, but honestly, she felt like Chris was being a major asshole now.

Chan was working as if she wasn't even in the room, or when she made a suggestion, he added it without as much as a thought, making her feel as if he was just humouring her.

Okay, maybe it was hard to work with someone you know has a crush on you, but did he have to act as if he couldn't even stand when your hands brushed together?

Y/n was hurt, but as a workaholic, she was also frustrated by his closed-off behavior. She was surprised too, because she knew how much Chan valued his work, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way.

“Okay, man.” Y/n finally snapped, when they'd been replaying the same three second audio clip from the last fifteen minutes. “What's your problem?”

“What's my problem?” Chan had the audacity to act surprised. Y/n hated how she still found his accent attractive in this situation. “I don't know, maybe you'd like to answer that when you've been the one silently just sitting here s—”

“What else do you expect me to do when you don't even want to acknowledge my presence in the room?”

“What do—”

“Okay you know what,” Y/n had to address the elephant in the room, or else they'd be going back and forth the whole day. “I know I fucked up, okay? And I guess you must hate working with me now, but can we just forget about it and act like nothing happened? I swear I won't do anything weird.”

“Wait a minute, back up;” Chan’s face flushed. “Can you tell me exactly what you're talking about? Did… did something happen last night?”

“What the hell, man” Y/n wished the ground would swallow her at this point. “You want me to say it aloud? Is this your way of making me more embarrassed than I already am?”

“No, I—”

“I confessed, okay? I said it.” She blurted. “And now you're uncomfortable, I understand, but please try to—”

“You confessed… to me?”

“Are you dumb? Of course, Christopher, who else?”

“Wait but,” He didn't know what to feel, happy or distressed. “What about Hyunjin?”

“Hyunjin? What about him? I—” Y/n was confused, but then her eyes opened wide in realization as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you with Hyunjin?! Shut up, I'm so sorry! He did tell me he was with someone but I never thought… Oh my God, Chris, I never meant to—”

“What the actual fuck? No?!” Christopher stopped her, unable to hear her talk about this for another moment. “I'm not with Hyunjin, okay? We're literally like brothers. And why aren't you mad… aren't you dating Hyunjin?”

“Me… and Hyunjin? Ew, no!” Y/n looked like she was about to throw up. “He literally is my brother. Well, my cousin, but still. What the hell, what made you think we were together?”

“Hold up, you guys are cousins?”

“Well, yeah. I mean we didn't want to be public about it because people may think I got the job only because of him. Honestly I thought he told you guys, but it may have slipped his mind.

"And I didn't think it was my place to tell you guys, so I guess its kind of like a secret?” She scratched her head. “But what made you think we were together?”

“Well,” It was Bang Chan’s turn to be embarrassed now. “Last night I saw him give you a present and you both went together to—”

“Don't even finish that sentence.” She made a mental note to have a talk with Hyunjin and the members and finally tell them about their relationship, otherwise she was going to loose her mind. “It's Ye-ji’s birthday today, remember? Since the three of us are close, Hyunjin and I had planned a little something for her to wish her at midnight. So the present you saw was for Ye-ji, not me.”

“Oh.” The silence that followed was the most awkward moment of Chris’ life.

After what felt like eternity, it felt like the ice had finally been broken has they broke out into unfiltered laughter once they met each other's eyes.

“Wait,” Y/n smirked. “Does that mean you were jealous, Chris?”

“Whatever,” Chris gave her an endearing smile, the same one from last night. “I was okay? I was jealous, and I'd never felt anything like that before. I just didn't want to put either of you in a difficult position, which now I realize was a pretty stupid move from my side because I guess I could've simply just asked either one of you.” Both of them chuckled.

Chris gently took y/n’s hands in his as he continued.

“So, I tried to distance myself from you. But I realized, I just couldn't. We're a great team, and I think it's because we truly understand and know each other, which is a surprise, because I've never felt like this about anything or anyone in a long time.

“And not only that, you're one of the most talented and amazing people I've had the honour of knowing. Unfortunately, I do not remember what you said last night, so, I'm going to shoot my shot and hope i don't make a fool of myself.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/n. It may be a risk, but you're a risk I'm willing to take. So I want to ask you, y/n, would you please—”

Before he could finish, Y/n, misty-eyed and overjoyed, reached forward to kiss him, and she felt relieved when she felt him smile against her.

“I guess that's a yes?” Breathlessly, Chris smiled.

“Yes, yes, yes… A thousand times yes, Christopher Bang!” Y/n laughed. “I think I'm in love with you, too. You—”

The two of them jumped in their seats as they heard something fall. As they turned their heads, they saw Changbin and Jisung standing near the door, looking at everything but them.

“Oh, hey, guys, didn't notice you there!” Jisung said in an extremely high-pitched voice. “How are you?”

Changbin, the voice of reason for once, smiled knowing. “We were going to say that we're sorry we're late, but I guess you did not really feel our absence.”

Chris knew that smirk— it was that of him winning a bet. “We can complete this song another day if you want.” Changbin said, smacking Jisung on the head for acting so dumb.

“It's okay guys,” Y/n wanted to die. She knew she was never going to live this down. “We were just waiting for you—”

“No, you know what, thanks, Binnie.” Chris held y/n’s hand with a smirk as they stood up and walked towards the door. Chris knew they were not going to live this down anyway, so he might as well take this opportunity. “We'll let you know when we'll be free. Don't call us!”

As Chris and y/n walked out of the room in a fit of laughter, they heard Changbin laugh just as loud.

“Sweet!” Changbin cackled. “I’m gonna be 50 dollars richer!”

a/n: honestly i never really thought how hard it would be writing an xreader fic, because at one point i literally started using you as a name instead of a pronoun lol. literally was so much harder and i had actually written a snippet weeks ago before i abandoned it due to writer's block but then ate dropped (go stream y'all !!) and the new era has been living rent free in my head, so that gave me the motivation to finally get back to that and make it what it is today lol.

my first xreader and honestly channie was the best person as my muse ♡ i can only say i may write more hehe

i hope you enjoyed and please lmk what you thought and leave comments in my ask box, on ao3 or the tags !! requests are also welcome ♡

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

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youling-the-ghost · 1 month ago

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As a D&D fanatic I believe I can help with the first thing :] (I'm by no means a professional but I've been playing for a couple of years so I feel pretty confident explaining the basics)

So D&D is a fantasy tabletop roleplaying game, so it's similar to a board game but you roleplay as different characters and go on adventures. A D&D campaign is one of those adventures.

(Basically imagine if the concept of a board game was created by a bunch of theatre kids, if that makes sense?)

There are players and there's a dungeon master (DM). The players create characters based on a character sheet (there are different versions but the most widely-used one and the one that sfth use is the 5E version). Each character has a race, class, and background that the player gets to choose (I'll explain those later on). There's also an online character builder using the website D&D Beyond which is a lot friendlier for beginners (I personally use this because I'm lazy as hell).

The DM is the person who runs the campaign. This involves planning the adventure, telling the story, managing fights, playing NPCs and so much more. For Roll From The Hip, the DM will be Tom Midgley (I'm not sure if it's gonna be for all campaigns but he's definitely gonna be the DM for plagueround).

A big part of D&D is the encounters and battles with NPCs. These encounters are managed by dice, which is also one of the things that D&D is most known for. If you ever see the letter d next to some number, then that's probably referring to a die (a d20 is a 20-sided die, just for example).

Here's some common D&D terminology that might be useful:

nat20 - when you roll a d20 and get a 20

nat1 - when you roll a die and get a 1

ability score - a number from -5 to +5 that represents the character's proficiency in that ability (the 6 abilities that a character can have scores for are strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma)

ability check - happens when a player wants to perform an action, wherein the player in question has to roll a d20 and add their ability score to see if they pass the check. The DM decides on the outcome depending on how high the player rolled. (for example: the DM might ask a player to do a strength check if they want to punch down a door)

skill - specific aspects of the abilities that the DM can ask a player to roll; skill modifiers are largely the same as their respective ability modifiers, although skills that the character is proficient in would have a higher modifier (see the next bullet point)

proficiency - when a player is proficient in a skill or weapon, their modifier for that skill will be increased by their proficiency bonus (which is decided by the character's level)

AC - stands for armour class; basically how high someone has to roll in order to deal damage to the character in question

GP, SP, CP - stands for gold piece, silver piece, and copper piece respectively; the currency used in D&D

Also remember those things that I mentioned earlier (race, class, stats)? Well here's what they all mean :D

Race: basically which species the character is. Some examples are human, elf, dwarf, tiefling (human with demon-like features), and dragonborn (human with dragon-like features). The character's race will affect their ability scores as well as their proficiencies.

Class: You might've heard of barbarian, bard, and sorcerer on the interwebs before. Those are all classes. A character's class defines the character's abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Each class has its unique abilities, and some can even do magic (called spellcasters)! A character's class is arguably their most important aspect, since it dictates so much of their abilities and proficiencies.

Background: Think of it as the character's origins. Is your character from a well-off family or a thief on the streets? Are they a studious prodigy or do they live in the forest? Things like this are explained by the character's background. (please note that a character's background is NOT the same as their backstory, the background is more practical as it gives the character proficiencies and certain objects that they might have. a thief would have proficiency in slight of hand, for example)

There's so much more to D&D but that's like the very basic-level stuff :] my ask box is always open if y'all have any more questions!

questionnaire time: 1) Are lucas and Ashen canon or u just making it up? 2) What is up with Spanish Jesus and the plot of Nun and the monkey?

3) How does dnd work?

#sorry that was a lot of text ^^; it's very hard to explain d&d to someone lol #don't worry if this is all confusing at first! d&d can be *very* intimidating for newcomers haha #(and I definitely could've explained certain things better)#you'll definitely get the hang of it soon dw it'll make more sense as you watch the boys play #again my ask box is open if you have any questions or want to make any clarifications

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pampushky · 21 days ago

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and I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 4 - 5.5k words

And we're back baby! Warnings for this chapter: uh, just lore building. Lando thinks maus is lying lol. apologies for the possibly incorrect german, I'm rather rusty on it lol, but I'm brushing back up on it lol

oh and eggroll the service hound is a queen ofc.

also in need of more beta readers. dm if interested.

don't worry it'll make sense soon...ish

previous part | next part | masterlist | series masterlist

The Previous Day, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

Lando Norris watches the conveyor belt at the baggage claim, standing next to Oscar. The Australian’s arms are folded. You’re casually drinking a tall can of Red Bull as if you hadn’t gotten them into this situation, with a hands-free leash looped around you like a cross-body bag, connected to your little beagle, sitting patiently at your feet.

His eye twitches when another bit of luggage comes out that’s not his.

“Doesn’t your sire literally own a private jet company?”

“Not anymore. He sold it. Gained quite a bit of money from it.” You shrug. Offering a sip of the can to Oscar, who actually takes a hard drink from it, tipping his head back. “Besides. I fly normally most of the time. Better for the environment, no?”

“Who gives a shit about the environment?”

“I do. I actually quite like to hike.” You frown as you look at him, brow furrowing. Your beagle yawns. “So does Seb. Didn’t you flirt with him your first year?”

“I did what— no! He was like my grid dam!” Lando screeches, almost immediately trying to banish the images of Sebastian and himself in any type of relationship beside that of a rookie and a veteran driver mentorship.

“Ah.” You nod slightly, and then go back to looking at the baggage claim. Studying it. “We flew business anyway. Why are you so pissy about it?”

“We could have flown private or— or at least first class!”

“Why, though?” You tilt your head at him. Momentarily scowling at Oscar as he’s drunk all of your Red Bull— a fact only discovered when you try to take a drink for yourself. “It’s not even a long flight, just seven hours.”

“Seven hours is a long time,” Lando chuffs, folding his arms across his chest. “I need to be able to lay down!”

“Okay, next time, we’ll fly first class,” Oscar buts in, already trying to smooth things over between the two of you. You almost look offended until Oscar glares at you from the corner of his eye, which gets you to bite down on your cheek. “Lando can schedule that.”

“Fine.” Lando sniffs, watching as more luggage lands on the conveyor belt. “But we are so upgrading to first for the flight home.”

“But that’ll cost extra,” you whine, which makes the dog at your feet snort. Lando silently decides that your beagle is on his side, in this argument, even if you don’t acknowledge it.

“Compromises, Mousey,” Oscar just puts one of his hands on the top of your head, the way an older litter mate might do to quiet an argument. It’s quite funny for Lando to watch, especially with the little huff you let out, conceding. “Compromises.”

The little smirk that Lando gives you nearly makes you growl, until Oscar just pushes down on your head a bit harshly, saying something about grabbing his bag and leaving the two of you alone.

“So….” Lando starts, standing a bit awkwardly as you both watch Oscar struggle with his frankly oversized duffle bag. Your dog has now sat back down at your feet, watching the Aussie nearly fall over himself. “Mousey?”

“Oh my god,” you rub your face in frustration and prepare to clobber Oscar for revealing that to Lando. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“What is it?” Lando grins widely, suddenly finding a new way to torment you. To possibly break down the walls you have set up, all in the interest as making yourself seem like a hardass. “Like— some pet name, from your Oscie?”

“My Oscie?!” You screech, just as the Australian in question lets out a loud ‘oof’ from where he’s finally managed to lift the duffel, only for it to get caught on someone else's luggage, forcing him to walk awkwardly beside it while trying to unhook it from the other bag. Both yourself and Lando watch in partial amusement on Lando’s part and disappointment on yours. “Do you think I’m— oh, no, that actually makes sense you think I’m dating him,” You murmur, more to yourself, before looking at him stoicly, as if to clear it up. “That idiot is more like my littermate.”

“Hey! He’s not that bad, he’s quite smart.”

As if to prove him wrong, Oscar somehow stumbles over his own feet, and falls onto the conveyor belt, now moving along with all the luggage, looking somewhat surprised at his new situation.

“Okay, so he’s got some quirks,”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” you watch as Oscar just sits on the conveyor belt for a few seconds, as if relaxing, before realizing he’s tangled the strap of his duffel bag around himself. “Besides— he’s courting someone.” You follow Oscar’s movement on the conveyor belt as he further entangles himself. “And as for Mousey… it’s a stupid name the media gave me. Because my Sisi was die Ratte, so I was called die Maus.”

“Why not like— Rat two, or Rat junior?” Lando’s brow furrows. He seems genuinely confused about the nickname, instead focusing on how it didn’t seem to make sense to him. Oscar’s adventures and struggles with the luggage are completely forgotten to him, while the poor omega finally manages to free himself from the conveyor belt.

“Ich weiß nicht. The media is dumb.” You mumble. Not looking at him for fear of him calling your bluff.

But you do know the origins.

Before your identity was made public, a picture had leaked of you, when you were still healing. A rare moment when you were allowed outside of the hospital to get some sunlight, and to slowly introduce you to the new country you were now living in, Mathias and Lukas doing their best to amuse you.

The picture had been you, sitting on Niki’s lap, looking tiny and frightened by how loud Vienna was, despite sitting on a bench in a park near the hospital.

Your eyes were wide. Your little face was still bandaged, your hair shorn close to your scalp, and your hands so heavily wrapped in bandages that it made you look like you were wearing white mittens as your wounds healed. Sitting on Niki’s lap, oblivious to the paparazzi, while your sire was looking at the camera straight on, the calculating fury on his face a heavy contrast to your wide-eyed anxiety and innocence. Flinching at every noise that wasn’t something familiar, with a shy smile on your lips as you stretched a bandaged-wrapped hand towards Mathias.

How had it been leaked?

Published to the press not a day later, the front page of some gossip magazine Niki had sued into oblivion. But that was the first picture of you the public had ever seen, tucked under the headline: “Die Ratte und das Mäuschen!” The rat and the little mouse.

The article itself was just blatant gossip. Theorizing about where you’d come from, based on the fact he’d just recently flown to the United States and returned not even a month ago. Who you were to Niki to make him so protective of you— and what an unfortunate event it was that such a pretty young girl was to be branded with the same scars Niki bore.

Had Lando ever seen the picture before? Probably not. But you could never be certain. Especially not with your last name, and the weight it carried in motorsport. Not with how freely any information the media got its hands on became public knowledge.

“I agree,” Lando said tartly, snapping you out of your little dissociative state. Eggroll sitting at your feet, now aware and pressing a paw to your shin. Alerting that you were experiencing the start of a dissociative episode. Not that Lando knew that part— he probably just assumed it was a pet asking for attention. “Is your dog… asking for Red Bull?”

“She’s alerting. I had a trigger, or something,” You mumble, already going to lower yourself to the ground so she can sit in your lap to help keep you calm, her weight reassuring and familiar. “Eggroll’s my service dog.”

Before Lando can even question the fact that you have a service dog, and further, the fact that they dog's name is Eggroll, Oscar finally lets out a yelp for assistance, now pulling your bag and Lando’s from the claim, looking like he’s going to get pulled onto the little conveyor belt again by his bag.

The older driver rushes over, forgetting about Eggroll and your mystery disability that required you to have her, helping Oscar pull the two remaining bags off the track. And by the time they’re both heading back towards you, you’re standing up again, and Eggroll is alert by your side, and Lando’s already forgotten about the little talk you’d both had.

Two Days Later, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

It’s the second day of pre-season testing. Everything is terrible. You’d always hated testing out your ideas and putting a driver in the seat. A chance to have all of your carefully laid calculations and strategies, brought to you by countless other mechanics and engineers, and then having to make the hard decisions on what should actually be included. Or. That’s what it was like at Williams. No one would dare say it to your face— but they underestimated you. You were, firstly, the child of a wealthy and famous Formula One legend. Secondly, a woman. And third, your worst crime, an incredibly well-educated and blunt omega who would never back down when you knew you were right about something.

The Williams team who worked with you always seemed to regard you with thinly veiled loathing. Jealousy. You’d applied under an assumed name, wanting to strike out on your own without your sire’s name attached to you, cutting the symbolic umbilical cord. They’d already removed the fact that gender wouldn’t be taken into account, much less your designation. When you’d shown up, with James to back you up after you’d gotten the job, and the proof to show that all of the accolades under your name were your own, he had immediately sunk his teeth in. The investigation had revealed just how much he’d whispered about you to the rest of the team. The lies told about you from the very first moment you’d stepped in the garage. He had orchestrated it all as if it were part of his plan to have you as his mate, stuck in his web from the moment you’d joined Williams.

Only Alex had been truly welcoming. Understanding the struggles of your stepping up and the jump into Formula One after finishing your masters. And Nick… he’d been nice enough. A bit awkward. But that was alright. You’d both commiserate over being considered “outsiders” to the Europeans, occasionally joining Lance at separate events when the isolation grew to be too much.

But you were at least partially European. A dual citizen in the United States and Austria. And your name helped to at least cover more of the disappointment in your parentage, or what the public knew about.

You were a Lauda. Plain and simple.

The last name Lauda originated in the Latin language. Likely from the word Lauds. The Morning Office. The first prayers of the day in the old, old ways of the Catholic Church. A Lauda was someone who sang the praises of a god you’re not quite certain you or your sire even believed in anymore.

You’d seen the way his hands twisted when he’d prayed after one-to-many accidents. How his head bowed lower with each life or career-ending injury of some promising motorsport legend. The way he had cursed and screamed and raged after Jules Bianchi had died. You were almost 15. The funeral had been quiet.

All you remembered was how broken the F3 driver had looked as he touched the coffin before it was pushed into the vault.

Lauda became a name that people sang praises about. Raising your beloved Sisi on their shoulders and holding their hands together, clasped in worship when they saw him in the holy red and prancing black horse on a golden background. And you. The little Lauda, the new light of the family. They stared at you and whispered as if you already had a halo about your little head, shining bright enough to hide the mottled scars on your jawline and neck, your wide eyes more reminiscent of a little mouse than the slick, calculating rat your Sisi was.

The drivers cried for his guidance there. Micheal would lean and talk with him in hushed tones, with you balanced precariously between the two of them. There’d been a picture of you looking up at the two of them from where you sat between them, as if you could understand what they were discussing. Already trying to figure out a solution to the worries that creased your Sire’s brow, and to make your uncle smile. It’d made its rounds on social media when Williams announced you were going to be a Race Engineer starting in 2021. Now with your halo photoshopped in.

To extol. Everyone wanted to see another Lauda charge forward in a car, backed by a legendary team. McLaren or Ferrari, they didn’t care, the media just wanted to see you from the moment your identity became public.

That’s what everyone wanted.

But the notebooks stacked by you state a different story. An alternative ending. The true ending. The way your eyes watered from the thick contacts being in too long. But the glasses caused too much of a glare when you were out in the sun. The twitching of your hands and the lack of the compression gloves that’s stopped them from aching.

You would not be charging forward with a team in a car. But you could atleast guide them.

That’s what you liked more, anyway. It was what you could do.

What you wanted to do.

A mechanic drops a wrench behind you, snapping you from your daze. Lando talking over the radio as you sit along the pitlane wall.

You haven’t spoken once. Just watching and listening carefully as Will walks Lando through a practice run to get an idea of what McLaren ran like. The Alpha smiles at you warmly, lifting up one side of the headphones. You follow suit, intent on listening to whatever advice he may give. Even if you plan on turning everything on its head.

“Lando does quite well with positive reinforcement! It’s really been able to drive him to success in the past,” Will explains, his voice soft and his eyes kind even as he glances at the screens with all of their data. “Would you like to try? There’s no time like the present—“

“I’d rather not,” you murmur, looking back at the screens. He was doing alright. But not what you expected out of the current car. Not with what all the calculations and simulations had been saying. Positive reinforcement or not, the results were lackluster at best, and you weren’t about to reward him for pretty much just taking the car out for a joyride when he was supposed to be getting you data to work with and to use for strategies. “I thank you for the advice. But his data is not looking good.”

“What does she mean it’s not looking good?” Lando’s voice crackles through the headsets. “That was my best lap yet!”

“I mean it’s not looking good.” Your words are blunt as ever. Will’s face seems to drop at your… rather indelicate speech. “You’re not following the race line, and you’re taking the corners much too fast. You’re just playing around with the car, honestly.”

“Better than losing speed.”

“Tell the mechanics that when you crash. You’re driving the car like it’s the shitbox you had from five years ago.”

Will visibility winces at that comment, and Zak just raises an eyebrow as he listens in on your conversation. Andrea laughs. Then you can hear the huff Lando lets out, actively taking another corner and nearly clipping the front wing on the railing. You hear a few yelps from the mechanics behind you for the close call.

“Rude.”

“It’s the truth. You’re understeering like crazy right now due to how fast you’re taking the corners. I’m literally looking at the data to prove it.” You close your notebook, the final page filled with ink scrawls of notes you’d taken. No more notes. Only bluntness. “Do you want to be a champion? Or are you content to be Lando Nowins?”

“You’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” Lando starts to take the corners even faster as if to spite you. But he’s following the set path much closer now. Your brow furrows. “Just let me fucking drive!”

“Stop taking the corners fast. You will make your own calls when you have at least four wins to your name.” You snap back, adjusting the mic to be a bit closer. “A single win can be a fluke. Match your number and we will talk.”

“Just let me fucking drive!” Lando roars, the radio crackling from how loud he shouts. Another near miss with the railing seems to scare him straight, responding curtly to you as you start to give him guidance. And you just smirk, folding your hands in front of you as you watch the data start to turn upwards, Will beside you, looking shocked as you seemingly force Lando’s hand into doing better.

“He gets positive reinforcement for doing well. Not for throwing tantrums.” You say to him, muting yourself so that Lando won’t hear the little comment. Still facing forward. Will’s face flushes slightly, and Zak just leans in a bit closer, looking at the notebook you’d written in.

“He’s not a dog for you to train,” Will mutters. “Not like that American you worked with.”

“Watch it,” your voice is cold, and your eyes narrowed to slits as you look at him. It’s bad enough that you’re already tired, and that your eyes hurt from the contacts. But having someone drag Logan’s name through the mud when he wasn’t there to defend himself nearly makes you snap, pulling your teeth back over your lips, your scarred skin making your mouth almost seem lopsided, with the way it creases under the heavy makeup you used to even out the bumps, not looking quite right to those who are too close to you. “I have my ways. You have yours. But I am the one with the job now.”

You just focus back on the screen above you, calmly giving directions to Lando, who complies with sullen responses. When he gets out of the car, you notice Will leaning down to whisper something to him. But you don't care.

You have your ways. He has his. But you will not feed yet another ego.

The debrief after the second practice session is full of tension. Thick enough that Lando nearly gags when he enters the room. Something that makes Lando’s blood boil a little, especially with how you’re sitting just relaxed, arms a bit folded, leaning back in the office chair as you look at the slide deck of all the data that’s still being edited by the strategists. You’re across from him, while Will is next to Lando. Oscar is next to you, and on his other side is his own race engineer. You should be sitting next to Lando. Will should be a bit further down, with his new position.

Yet there you are, sitting beside Oscar and laughing as the two of you speak.

That idiot is more like my littermate.

Your words ring oddly in his ears. Were you just trying to throw him off? The two of you have your foreheads pressed together, whispering and discussing something like it was just the two of you in that room. Oscar smells so undeniably happy, with his eyes shining, and a little smile on his lips to reveal his bunny teeth.

You seem so satisfied. Pointing out the positive turn in data when you had held Lando’s feet to the fire. Doing the opposite of what Will had recommended. Zak just listens silently while Andrea stands at the front of the room next to Randeep, the head of strategy. The praise makes you give a small smile— Lando’s not even sure he can call it that. The corners of your mouth tip up, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly— and you continue to pay attention as Andrea signals for everything to move on. Oscar seems to preen at your being praised, and that all-but-seals the deal for Lando, realizing you’d probably lied about not courting him, for whatever reason.

But Will raises his hand.

“Uh— I actually have a few concerns,” The blond alpha is polite, but there’s clear agitation in his words. You stiffen a little, but ultimately tilt your head to the side, questioning. “Mainly about how Lando’s new engineer seemed to ignore my advice,”

“....Elaborate,” Andrea motions for Will to keep speaking, though he seems agitated, a prickle of annoyance scenting the air. “Please try to keep this unbiased, Will, and also remember that each race engineer does things differently.”

“Right. I’ll just get right into it. I don’t like the way Ms. Lauda talks to Lando,” Will stands, clapping his hands together, and looking directly at you. You, in response, raise both your eyebrows and meet his gaze head-on. Cold. Calculating. The way you’re addressed almost feels too formal. Like you’re not really welcome at McLaren yet, as he refuses to use your first name.

It’s not lost on you. And it certainly isn’t lost on Lando, who suddenly realizes Will is trying to make a statement of some kind, as the other alpha smiles at him, like Lando’s his littermate, that they’re closer than they’ve really ever been.

“Lando, in previous years, has done great with positive reinforcement, even with how often his race engineer changes—”

“He’s also never gone further than the top five in driver’s ranking, nor won a race yet.” You respond cooly. Under the table, you’re picking at your nails. The claws on your left hand extend to pick at the back of the compression glove you’re wearing, custom-made to match your skin tone and to hide the burn scars that mar your right hand. Being careful not to break the fabric. Practiced. A perfected nervous tick that had only worsened since he had been sentenced. Perhaps you should take your anxiety medication earlier, rather than at night.

Will ignores your response, though he does pause a bit, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yes, that may be so, but we’re here to uplift him, and help him go further than before. Admittedly, the car hasn’t been the best in the past few years, but that’s changing. I’m speaking as his race engineer here—”

“Former race engineer,” You remind him, looking at Will, who looks to Lando again, as if ask for him to jump to his defense. “You’re not his race engineer anymore.”

All Lando wants to do is curl up in a ball because he really, really doesn’t want to get into the political power struggle between his current and former race engineer right now, even if you’ve not exactly been the most… approachable, for this first month.

He feels nauseous, caught between the two of you right now. With how you’re staring him down, lips turned downward. One of your upper canines slightly snagged on your lower lip.

“Yes, but,” Will huffs through his nose, now looking straight at you. You no longer look as calm as when the conversation— confrontation, more accurately— started. Just staring down Will, sitting stiffly in your chair. Maybe trying to intimidate him, using the legendary Lauda death stare. Perhaps it’s working— Will isn’t even trying to talk to you directly anymore, looking straight at Andrea and Zak. “Be reasonable, the way she spoke to Lando is unacceptable, I mean, Lando can’t help that he hasn’t won yet— but to outright taunt him as she did, it makes me wonder why she actually left Williams!”

No one’s quite sure when he’d started to growl. Or when his scent had turned so bitter with frustration and outright disgust as he spoke.

But the fact is, Will used his voice. The edges of his irises had flashed red, showing his designation, and showed exactly what he was doing, even if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

The aggression from him is shocking. Completely unlike him, in all honesty. But everything is frozen by the loud, panicked baying of your dog, now pressing itself into your lap, her nose against your face and licking your cheeks. Your eyes focus on the table in front of you, while Oscar grabs you by the shoulders, turning your chair to look at him. You let out a low, defensive hiss, and Lando can see the way you bare your teeth at him.

An odd ripping sound fills the room, the tips of your fingers extending and stretching until Lando realizes you’re wearing a glove on your right hand, and that your claws had ripped through the fingertips of it as Oscar now holds to your wrists to stop you from clawing at him. The edge of a scent-blocking patch is just visible on your wrist, where the glove had partially stretched and ripped because of the extention of your claws.

And your dog keeps baying. Ear-splitting and urgent, as you wrestle yourself from Oscar’s grip, before directly baring your teeth at Will. Sharp canines under your pulled-back lips, one side almost looking a bit… droopy, as if your skin couldn’t tighten the way it normally would.

That snaps Will out of his daze, and he pales, starting to stutter out a response. “I—I didn’t mean—”

You barely manage to make it from the room, a flash of white near the door, in what Lando can only assume is your canine form, Eggroll still hot on your heels, baying and howling as she chases you. Oscar sprints after, pushing past Zak, who tries to hold you there. You’re gone— god knows where— along with the younger driver and your beagle.

“Mr. Joseph. A word.” Andrea hisses, and motions to the door quickly, the team principal's face set in a rare display of utter fury.

Lando has no idea what to do. Because this goes against everything he’s been taught and everything he believes in, Alpha or not. No matter how angry you got, no matter how aggravating someone might be— you never, ever let it get to that point. Not like Will had just done. Using his Alpha voice and almost certainly setting off some episode that your service dog was trained for.

Truthfully, Lando had never seen someone use their Alpha voice. Yes, he had it. All the other Alphas he knew had it. But he’d never seen it actually used on someone. Sure, he’d seen people speak with it, but that was when he was in school, in health classes, learning to control it so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone. Just like how Betas had to learn how to properly recognize scents, and how Omegas had to learn how to control their own scents, so as to not cause accidental distress to those around them. That’s just how everything was.

Zak closes the meeting with little decorum. His face is stoic, a mask that hides whatever he’s thinking. But it’s clear that not a single word of what just happened will be spoken about outside of the team and those who’d witnessed it.

“Zak,” Lando walks up to him, flinching at how the older Beta seems to stare right through him, “I didn’t— he didn’t tell me he was going to do that. He only said he didn’t like how Mouse did things,”

“Mouse?” Zak says in confusion. “Do you mean— never mind, but— we’ll— we’ll get this figured out, Lando. Just.... take the night."

The way he says it doesn’t fully convince him, though. Even as he trudges to the nesting rooms, following the faint trail of the heavenly scent from last night. Room 12 is open this time. And Lando is a creature of petty desires. So the moment his body hits the pre-built nest in the little room, he closes his eyes and hopes the third and final day of testing while somehow be less of a shitshow than today.

You need to use your canine form more. The click of your claws on the floor is a dead giveaway that it was a bit... neglected.

You’re panting, trying to find a small place to tuck yourself to hide, like your instincts are telling you to do. Following your instincts is good. Great, even. But you can hear Oscar and Eggroll’s steps behind you, almost upon you.

The wind is knocked from you, and you tumble forward as a human, with Oscar in his canine form on top of you. Eggroll trots up to your face, lets out an angry bay, before sitting down and licking your face to help ground you. It takes nearly a minute before Oscar trusts that you’re not going to try and run, and turns human himself, gently lifting both yourself and Eggroll, while you try (and fail) to tuck yourself into a ball, still thinking you're being chased.

Eggroll, seemingly all-knowing, bays again. Shoves her nose against yours. And then leaves a slobbery lick up your face, forcibly grounding you as you glare at the little beagle.

“Okay. Let’s talk.” Oscar hums, taking you to the nesting rooms, haphazardly choosing one that won’t look too odd to be closed. He helps you through the paces, wiping off the remaining adhesive for your scent-blocking patches. Letting you hide slightly under him, Eggroll grumpily pushing her paws into your side. “What was that?”

"What was what?"

"That," Oscar moves his arms as if to gesture to the entire debrief. "What else could I be talking about, Mouse?!"

“I don’t know. He started getting so angry,” You mumble. And you’re genuinely confused— nothing like that, even at Williams, had happened before. There were usually warning signs, if it was something with your scent. It was hard for you to regulate it, with how damaged your scent glands were. But you could, and that’s what your scent blockers were for.

An omega’s scent could cause those around them to feel whatever the omega felt if they so wished it. It was a defense tactic that had evolved back from the early days of humanity. To control one's scent was to control the pack, and it often became a task for any prime omega to keep the pack calm, able to make sure level-heads prevailed in any circumstance. Just as the prime Beta and Alpha served their purpose, the prime Omega had their own duties to uphold.

You’d never been able to control your scent. Even when you presented, with Marlene to guide you through your Omega schooling, the majority of your scent glands, were too damaged. Quite honestly, you were unable to scent anything. If you tried too hard, the damaged glands would start to ache, and the few untouched ones would blister from having to overproduce the scenting hormones.

“Do you think your scent…?” Oscar trails off as you go silent.

“Shouldn’t have. My scent blockers are prescribed.” You mumble, squeezing Eggroll a little bit tighter. “They’re meant to make it so I don’t have to try and regulate my scent.”

As if to show your friend, your pack mate, you tremble, squeezing your eyes shut to try and regulate it as you’d learned to from Marlene. The scarred part of your neck aches with the effort it takes for you to control it. The gland on the other side of your neck manages to splutter out a weak stream of your scent before it starts to sting. Trying to make Oscar feel calm. Oscar just frowns, and then lightly pushes you to break your concentration so you don’t continue to try and regulate your scent, obviously not affected.

“Point taken.” He looks at the mostly undamaged part of your neck, checking it carefully. “Jesus. That’s gonna blister.”

Eggroll huffs, and digs her front paws into your chest. Her mournful brown eyes look up at you in seeming judgement for pushing yourself. “They always do.” You gently scratch the dog’s head. “She did her panic alert. Not the scent alert.” You look back down at her.

“So maybe you set him off?”

“Maybe,” you shrug it off. “He probably got scared of my face, right?” You feel the uneven texture of the scar on your jaw, the makeup you’d been wearing to even everything out now sitting on a soaked cloth in the corner of the room. The media knew you had scars. Fuck, everyone did. But your strict skincare and makeup routine ensured that many didn’t know just how bad they were.

“You have makeup on, though.”

“But it doesn’t always hide the… droopyness.” You frown. Feeling how one side of your mouth moves less than the other. “Be honest, does it look like I'm having a stroke? Like a chronic one, or some shit?”

“No, you're just dramatic. ” Oscar puts his chin on top of your head, huffing. “The new treatments have been helping.”

The huff you make isn’t as convincing as he’d like it to be. But you’re too tired to try and argue with him anymore as you let yourself try to relax and focus on the next and final day of testing tomorrow.

tags: @charlesgirl16 @boo8008 @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @vellicora @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda @actuallyazriel @noam-rosier-icr

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