#edit two seconds later: have i made this post before... i might have...

[engagemythrusters]

they need to put that whiteboy in star wars fr (jeremy allen white)

[paarksunghoon]

you plus me (teaser)

SUMMARY: it’s been six years since heeseung stopped being your friend and the thought of him tagging along an annual camping tradition makes you feel like the world must be crashing round you. one misunderstanding and one trip later makes heeseung re-evaluate all he knows, and it makes you believe that there might life after love.

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader (featuring enhypen)

WORD COUNT: no estimate because who really knows but this baby sits at 28K right now. the teaser stands at 2.7K.

NOTES: usually I don’t post teasers but I’m so proud of this story so why not!!!!!! I don’t think I’m going to open a taglist but that could change. I’ll let you know if I do. :) hoping to publish by October 26! thanks for reading!! xx

GENRE: angst + fluff + smut

edit: it’s out!

***

“Please don’t make me go.”

“Y/N, you already said yes. We’re only gonna be gone for a week.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Jungwon. You just said that Heeseung is gonna be there.” 

Your best friend sighs and sits down on your bed, inspecting the duffle bag you have that’s half-packed. Your clothes are haphazardly strewn all over your bedding while you plead with him to no avail. You’re so desperate that you consider getting on your knees to beg.

“I’m sorry for telling you now but he was able to get people to cover his shift last minute and paid for a spot on the kayaking rental.” 

“If he’s going, I’d rather save us all the trouble and stay at home.” Jungwon watches you cross your arms over your chest. “Every time we’re in the same room, it’s just a matter of time before things become awkward.” 

“We’ll be outside in the suuuun,” Jungwon says, tilting his head to the side and giving you those amused eyes that he always gives you when he’s trying to convince you to do something with him. You scoff and look away. It almost works. 

“I bet that it’ll be worse since we have a few things planned with the guys already.”

“So what? You two don’t get along. Big deal. We’ve already made reservations to secure a spot on the campsite and set a deposit for kayak rentals.”

“Won, I think you and I view Heeseung very differently. He doesn’t just not like me. He hates me.” 

“Hate is a wrong word.” 

You huff. “I don’t think you grasp just how weird it is every time we’re together. You could cut the tension with a knife.”

“Seriously, Y/N. It’s one week. I’m sure you can survive that. You’ve never missed a camping trip and it’s the first time all of our friends are coming.” Jungwon deadpans and throws a shirt towards your chest, which you hastily grab after being startled by his sudden movement. You know better than to argue with him when he gets like this. “Just help me pack your clothes, dude. Jay’s gonna be here to pick us up tomorrow morning and you don’t want to be under-packed.” 

You relent and grumble. “Are you still staying over?”

He nods. “My apartment’s in the opposite of where we’re going and I didn’t want to make him drive an extra twenty minutes since he needs to pick Riki up. Just need to drop Maeumi off at my mom’s before coming back here. ” Your eyes fall for a flat second before you squash that feeling down.

“I didn’t invite you over, you know.” 

“No, but don’t pretend like you’re not excited,” Jungwon says with a laugh as he pulls your clothes out of the bag and starts to readjust the clothing you’ve folded poorly. Seeing your best friend smile tugs a bit at your heartstrings and you can’t say that you aren’t happy to have him with you. “We should get you packed now so you don’t stress out later.” 

Begrudgingly, you allow Jungwon to sort out your clothes for you and pull last minute items you’ve yet to pack. It annoys you, watching him be so calm when you’re simmering with worry. But you know he’s right—you’ve invested some money into this getaway and it’ll be the last big outing before you move away from Korea for a year-long job opportunity in Okayama before pursuing your Master’s degree. Jungwon knows you a little too well and sometimes it irks you. 

The end-of-summer camping trip is always one for the books. For as long as you can remember, the two of you have been going camping just before everyone goes back to school to celebrate the beginning of a new academic year with your families. But this time, the trip wasn’t just about continuing an annual tradition. It was also to commemorate a new chapter in your life. 

You’re a year older than Jungwon. He’s known you since you were obsessed with learning how to double dutch and you’ve known him since he first learned how to ride a bike. The two of you started out as neighbors when you moved into the house next to his and his family had adopted your own like old friends, eventually inviting you and your parents into their annual camping tradition. Even when dynamics changed and people had left, the tradition was the only thing that remained a constant for you.

This is the first summer that your loved ones announced they wouldn’t be coming along. They all thought it was time for you to embark on new traditions with new people and nobody seemed to mind the change that much except for you. Jungwon had been ecstatic about it since he invited his friend, Jake, to the camping trip last year. You’d been wary at first since Jake is friends with Heeseung, but he never brought up your confusing arch-nemesis and chose to have a great trip before you all started university again.  

Sure, you had a lot of fun. You might even consider last year’s trip as one for the books. But your mom pulling out of the camping trip and everyone around you agreeing that it was for the best made you feel like your world was crumbling around you.

When you graduated university three months ago (Jungwon swears he didn’t cry but you know better than to believe him) and the weight of leaving your home started to sink in. In the blink of an eye, Jungwon wouldn’t be a twenty minute drive and hanging out with all of your friends wouldn’t be as easy as it once was. You’d be in Japan all alone.

This past summer has been a whirlwind as you tried to do everything under the sun, savoring each moment until you wouldn’t be able to anymore. Jungwon’s been a good sport about it, never once complaining when you drag him to your latest adventure. He deals with your sudden shift in mood from happy to sad, letting you cry on his shoulder and braving the cliche words you say when telling him you’ll miss him a lot. 

Unlike past seasons, this is the first summer you haven’t seen Heeseung very often. Lee Heeseung, who usually keeps his head down and minds his business, always seems to have a bone to pick whenever his eyes settle on you. It confuses you to no end and he keeps his quips to a minimum when your mutual friends are around, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering what you must’ve done to make him act like that towards you. It’s a shame because that small childhood crush you always had on him was squashed the first time he ignored your presence 

None of your friends comment on it much. They’re used to the dynamic between the both of you because it's been years of this. Elementary school saw the two of you become friends for the first time and middle school brought more friends into the group. It was in high school that things changed and Heeseung started ignoring you out of nowhere until one Thursday afternoon when he’d told you to leave him alone after pestering him about his change in behavior. 

The odd tension followed you into university and continued to seep into your life. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a room with Heeseung where he’s been anything but nonchalant towards you, often acting like you aren’t there to begin with. You do your best to put up with it and plaster a smile on your face but six years have gone by and you don’t think you can handle a seventh. All of your friends seemed to have moved past it. You don’t know why you can’t.

“Don’t think about Heeseung,” Jungwon says with a sigh. “In fact, don’t think at all. Let me handle everything and enjoy this trip before you move to Okayama, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But I want to see Maeumi.”

Jungwon snorts. “She’s gonna be real pissed when she doesn’t see you for a year, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungwon knows you like the back of your hand and has seen what you bring on these trips enough to know what you like to have in your duffle. He packs things you neglected to pull out because your mind has been elsewhere. As much as he wants to flick your head and tell you to quit overthinking so you can help him, he did tell you to let him handle everything. 

Your best friend makes you triple check that the two of you didn’t miss anything before heading back to his apartment to fetch Maeumi. She jumps into your arms when you squat to pick her up and won’t allow Jungwon to pet her white fur body while she’s nestled against you. This fondness and the familiar jab of Jungwon’s elbow to your ribcage makes your heart ache despite the sweet moment. You’re really going to miss home. 

Ever the concerned mothers your mom and Jungwon’s are, they send you with a tray full of sweets for the road. They make you tell them exactly when you’ll be picked up and by who (“Jongseong, Eomma,” Jungwon says for the umpteenth time) and when you plan to come back. His dad gives you a spare bucket hat for when you’re on the water and an old sweater from his college days when Jungwon complains about how you never pack enough layers. The gesture feels warm since you consider his father to be somewhat of your own.

Leaving them to go back to your house feels a bit bittersweet. A lot of your belongings sit in storage boxes in the garage from when you moved out of your campus apartment upon graduating. Jungwon decided to get an apartment for himself with the money he saved from his part-time job as a busboy at a local chain restaurant. Staying over with you makes it seem silly when you remember he used to live next door. 

It’s nine in the evening when the two of you get ready for bed. Jungwon puts your bags by the front door so neither of you would forget while you finish brushing your teeth. He grabs extra blankets from the linen closet and settles onto your L-shaped couch, pulling the fabric just underneath his chin. Your heart feels like it’s sinking in on itself when you think about how this might be the last time you’re able to be so casual around him. 

“Stop overthinking,” he says in the quiet of the night as if he can hear the thoughts in your head. The living room lights are off and the moonlight is what’s responsible for illuminating the space. 

You refrain from throwing your pillow at him. “I’m not overthinking. You’re overthinking.” 

Jungwon snorts. “We both know that’s not true. I know you’re scared about Okayama and I know that’s why you’ve been on edge about Heeseung. You’re usually never this loud about it.” Like always, your best friend is right. 

“It’s hard not to.” Your meek voice makes Jungwon’s heart lurch. “Everything’s changed so fast. I feel like I didn’t get enough time to properly say goodbye to everyone.”

“You’ll be in Japan, not America. It’s not like we’ll never see you.” 

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to annoy you for boba and you won’t be coming over to have dinner with my mom and I.” Jungwon frowns. Too caught up in making sure you were happy this summer, he hadn’t given it that much thought. “I know I won’t be far but I’m scared that things will change too much.” 

For the first time today, Jungwon doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better. “I’ll miss you a lot.” 

“I know that, dummy. I guess…I feel like I’ve been dealing with a lifetime of shittiness and the universe wanted to throw another curveball at me.” Jungwon’s heart softens at your confession. He’s used to your quick jabs and sarcastic humor. Knowing you’ve more afraid than excited makes him upset. 

“The universe sucks,” he says, happy that it pulled a laugh out of you. “I’ll always be a phone call away and you’ll never have to worry about me ignoring you because we both know I’m gonna blow up your texts anyway.” 

“I can always count on you to annoy the hell out of me.” You can’t see his face, but no you already assume Jungwon’s sporting a shit-eating grin. Even if you both know the main reason why you’re afraid of living in Okayama, neither of you say it. You’re grateful that Jungwon doesn’t bring it up. “Still, though. You know how I am with change. I’m really scared that I’m going to hate it there and not have you to keep me company.”

“Life is crazy and unpredictable but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be miserable. I mean, you did a pretty good job of making sure both of us had happy childhoods even though I know you were hurting when we were younger.” 

“It’s really hard not to have expectations or think badly about the future when I feel like I took everything for granted.” 

“I know, Bug,” Jungwon says, using a nickname from your childhood he reserves for when he thinks you need an extra bit of comfort. “But you’re the best person I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. Life just…gets in the way.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. “Just please promise me you’ll try to have fun, okay?”

“I know I’ll have fun, Wonnie. I’m scared that I’ll have too much fun and be a sobbing wreck when we get back.” 

The two of you share a laugh. “Alright, fair. Promise me you won’t let Heeseung get under your skin.”

You groan. “If he doesn’t like me, that’s fine. I don’t need everyone to like me. But why go out of his way to act like I’m scum of the Earth?”

“Just ignore him, okay?” Jungwon pleads. “I know it’s uncomfortable but he paid for a last minute spot. I’ll tell him to be mature about it too.” 

And, well, part of you believes Heeseung will listen to Jungwon. Despite being on the younger side in your shared friend group, everyone seemed to listen to your best friend most of the time. Jungwon has an authoritative aspect to himself when he’s refrained from being the silly, happy-go-lucky guy you all know him to be. 

It’s quiet for a brief moment with the wind gently tapping on the windows behind you. “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.” 

Truthfully, neither does Jungwon. “I’m sorry he’s putting you in a tough spot.” 

“Won, sometimes I really wonder if he hates my guts. He doesn’t talk to me and he never replies to my messages in the group chat. It’s like I don’t exist to him.”

“I think that might be a little extreme.” 

“It’s not and you know it.” 

Jungwon hums. “Well, at least you’ll get away from him when you move to Okayama.” Just like that, all of your worries come flooding right back.

“Yeah,” you say meekly. “I’ll have Okayama.”

You don’t see him, but you know Jungwon’s smiling since you agreed with him for the first time tonight. “That’s more like it. You have your whole future ahead of yourself, dude. Heeseung is just a blimp. In three weeks, he won’t matter because you’ll be having fun in Japan. Just think about that.” 

You try not to think about the fears and hesitations you have about starting anew. This time, you wouldn’t be going back to university after the camping trip. You’ll have a week and a half back home before you’re boarding your flight and saying goodbye to the place you’ve called home for the past two decades. Thinking about the future keeps you up until you hear Jungwon’s snores from the other side of the couch. 

Unsure of when your mom will be coming home, you snuggle further into the cushions and curl yourself into a ball before falling asleep. 

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[minlcna]

five knots of affection - george f. weasley

note: thank you for all of the support on my first post! it truly meant a lot. this one-shot wasn't supposed to be as long as it turned out to be, and i haven't perfected it yet, so i might reupload it or edit it later synopsis: george never learned how to tie his tie because you had been there tying it for him until fate tied the two of you together

warnings: cheesy puns and dad jokes which suck but are funny to me (yes i have a terrible sense of humor)

word count: 2.4k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

George cannot tie his tie.

No, really, he cannot tie his tie for his life. He reminds you that if you had not tied his tie the first time, your strings of fate wouldn’t have ended up together like this. They would have ended up all tangled and knotted. He reminds you of all the instances in which you had straightened out his tie and your lives.

The first time was at King’s Cross station. It was his and your first year at Hogwarts, and the crowded station was a new experience for you. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on all four of her sons wearing their uniforms to the station, wanting to get pictures before Charlie graduated.

However, Mrs. Weasley was preoccupied with fawning over Charlie. It was his last first day at Hogwarts, and as a prefect and Quidditch captain, his mother made sure to get a lifetime’s worth of pictures.

Percy had helped Fred with his tie, only to be thanked with a handful of stink pellets in his back pocket, which created an odor of dung all around him, surrounding him like a halo. Because of this, Percy refused to help George, who was left to fend for himself.

You had been watching the whole thing with much amusement. The entire red-headed family eased your nerves on the first day, and with feelings of partial pity and partial repayment for the entertainment, you walked up to the younger twin.

You simply tapped him on his shoulder. As he turned around to face you, fingers still entangled in the fabric, you latched your fingers on his. You quickly untangled his fingers from the fabric and slowly guided them down.

He wanted to back away from the unfamiliar person, but he was stunned by the beauty of the 11-year-old.

Just as he started to wiggle around and grunt in protest, worried that his brothers might use this moment to make fun of him later, you grabbed the tie with both hands, encircling it around his neck and pulling it down slowly to rid the fabric of any creases as you quietly said, “Stay still.”

And just like magic, you inserted the wide end through the loop at the front and adjusted the knot by sliding it upward with just enough room to breathe.

Finally, meeting his widened eyes with a smile, you lowered the collar, said, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?” and tapped the collar’s fall.

George instinctively knew you two had meant to meet and would become good friends.

Since that day, your fate has been tied, and it has become tradition for you to help George with his tie on the train back to Hogwarts.

The second time was just before the Yule Ball started. The doors to the Great Hall were about to open any second, and his tie had become a colossal knot, slowly strangling him. His date was too occupied judging others’ dresses, so she hadn’t noticed the mess her date had become, not as though she could have helped him. She had long nail extensions, which prevented her from using her fingers too much.

He turned around and called out your name with a pleading look. You couldn’t believe how careless he had been to knot up his tie to that extent, but soon, the look of surprise was replaced by urgency. Maybe it was the thought of upsetting your date, leaving his hand to go help another guy, or perhaps it was the thought of everyone walking in with their dates, leaving you and George in front of the doors, trying to clean up the mess and becoming the night’s joke. You grimaced at the thought, threw a look towards your date, and quickly shuffled over to George, working your magic through the fabric, using your wand to clear the creases, and quickly tightening the knot and pulling it up to his collar.

You yanked his collar down and tapped angrily at the fall of his collar as you said, through gritted teeth and a forced smile, “When—will—you—learn—George?”

“Oh, how I love it when you call me George,” he said with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He gently brushed his fingers along your side as he spoke, gliding them lightly under your arm.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you snapped back, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach and quickly ran back to your partner. Slowly, the doors opened, and everyone walked into the Great Hall with their dates in hand.

You caught George giving you a thankful smile during the slow dance, but you missed his gazes on you throughout the night.

The third time was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Finally, there was some excitement amid the tension and stress. George had been busy helping Charlie set up the tent and the tables outside the Burrow, leaving barely enough time for him to get ready.

The guests soon cluttered in as their voices grew louder, and George had just finished putting on clothes.

“Would you mind helping me with the tie here, m’lady?” he exclaimed, trying to comb his hair with his wand.

You grabbed the wand out of his hand and replaced it swiftly with a comb. Without a word, you slowly took out the brand-new purple tie you had gotten months ago, which coincidentally matched the purple waistcoat George was wearing, too shy to give it without occasion, and placed it on George’s neck. He was now attempting to re-bandage the wound on the side of his head without messing up his now tame, neat hair.

You left the tie resting around George, grabbed the bandage, and went on your tippy toes to wrap it snugly on his head without messing up his hair.

George did nothing but stare at your face as you resumed tying the tie.

“You know…” he started, looking down at your face.

“Hmmm,” you lazily replied without meeting his eyes.

“I was thinking about my tie. And how it must be magic. It always leads to knot-worthy moments between us,” he said, finishing cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at the little pun as you crossed the wide end over the narrow end.

“Like as…?” You trailed off as you glanced up at him; your fingers looped the wide end of the tie back underneath the narrow end.

“I was thinking about how ties bring us together, and it hit me—you’re the one who ties my world together. So, how about we knot up some time together?” he asked nervously, chewing his lip from the inside.

You looked up, took in a breath, and froze your fingers. You couldn’t believe your ears, and your heart was beating simultaneously, feeling it dropping to your stomach. You were still holding in that breath and were now trying to move.

But just as suddenly as George had confessed, you scrunched up as much of the tie as you could and pulled him towards you. Leaning in, you closed the small gap between you. You didn’t give yourself time to think, to second-guess what you were about to do.

Your lips met his—firm, warm, and slightly chapped. It wasn’t perfect or practiced, but it felt real. George went still for a split second as if he hadn’t fully processed what was happening before encircling his arms around your waist, holding you softly as if afraid to break you.

He tilted his head, adjusting, and the kiss deepened. The fabric of his tie, still bunched in your hand, was soft against your fingers as you clung to it like an anchor.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks felt hot, and your breaths came faster than before. George’s smiling eyes locked on yours, and for a second, the two of you just stood there, sharing flustered grins.

“It was love at first knot, for you and me, I mean,” you said cheekily, your hands still holding on to his forearms.

“Oh, I see I have competition now for my tie jokes. It is absolutely un-bow-lievable!” he replied.

You burst into giggles. Your attention suddenly returned to the wedding, and you became aware of the music and laughter coming from outside.

“Let me fix that for you,” you said as you pulled out your wand and muttered a quick spell to straighten the tie and remove creases.

“Aye, where’s the fun in that?” George exclaimed, wanting you in proximity again.

“Something is telling me that if I come to fix your tie again, we’re going to miss the wedding, and I can’t have Fleur and Molly blaming me for keeping you away all night,” you said, putting your wand back and turning your back to George as you tidied yourself up in the mirror.

"Jumping so fast to a night together, hmm?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in that signature mischievous way that always left you both laughing and exasperated. "Blimey, didn’t think I was that charming, but I won't complain!"

You ignored his comment, trying to fight the wild thoughts in your head and the flush on your face. Your eyes met him in the mirror as he flashed his notorious grin.

Your eyes widened as you hastily turned back around. "George, no!" you exclaimed, and before you could stop him, George had wholly pulled off his tie and wrinkled it.

You sighed in disappointment, arms flapped down, at a loss for what to say. George leaned in, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone.

"I like it when you personally tie the tie," he declared, tilting his head and flashing you his trademark lopsided grin. "It’s tradition, isn’t it? Besides, magic’s no good for something as important as this. Magic can't give me kisses as good as yours."

And before you could respond, you heard voices calling you down to the wedding.

The next time ended up being your wedding. Your dad had led you down the aisle, and once you reached the altar and faced George, you noticed the crooked tie. In habit, you reached to fix the tie, ignoring everyone else in the crowd.

George’s hands covered yours mid-adjustment. His voice was soft and teasing as he said, “Darling, you’re supposed to say ‘I do’ first.”

The crowd laughed gently, but you didn’t care. Looking into his eyes, you grinned, “I do. Now, hold still.”

With practiced fingers, you straightened his tie one last time, the one you had personally picked out for this day. A deep purple silk that matched the vibrant ivy adorning the wedding arch. Satisfied, you looked up at him and caught his gaze—full of love, warmth, and that eternal mischief.

“Perfect,” you said quietly.

“You always make me so,” he replied, his voice barely audible to anyone but you.

When the vows were exchanged, and the officiant declared you husband and wife, George didn’t wait for permission to kiss you. He pulled you close, his hands warm against your back, and kissed you like it was the first and last time all at once. Cheers erupted around you, but for a moment, the world consisted of just you two.

Later, during the reception, George’s tie had again gone askew, this time from all the dancing and celebration. He found you in the crowd and dramatically plopped into the chair beside you.

“Wife of mine, it appears your services are needed again,” he said, holding out the wrinkled tie like a knight’s banner.

Laughing, you grabbed the tie, deftly fixing it. “You’d think you’d learn by now,” you teased.

“Never,” he declared, pulling you into his lap. “How else am I supposed to get you this close?”

The last time was when your six-year-old daughter learned to tie a tie herself. It was far from perfect—crooked and loose, with one end far longer than the other—but you couldn’t bear to correct her. Not when her little face was so scrunched up in concentration, her tiny hands fumbling with the fabric as if it were the most crucial task in the world.

“Well, what do you think, Daddy? Did I do a good job?” your little girl asked, her big eyes shining with hope.

You playfully nudged George, who was grinning from ear to ear as he admired his daughter’s handiwork.

“Done!” she exclaimed proudly, stepping back to admire her handiwork on George, who was crouching his knees with the patience of a saint.

George looked down at the tie, then back up at her, his face lighting up with exaggerated delight. “Blimey, love, this might be the best one yet! Perfectly wonky—just my style.”

He moved closer to her ear and mock whispered “Better than any your mum’s ever done.”

“Oi!” you interjected with mock indignation, your hands on your hips. “Let’s not forget who’s been saving your neck—literally—for years.”

George chuckled, reaching out to pull both of you into a warm embrace. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the luckiest bloke alive, having my two favorite girls take care of me.”

Your daughter giggled, squirming happily between you. “Does this mean I can tie Daddy’s ties forever now?”

You exchanged a tender look with George. “I suppose,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “but only if you promise to teach your daddy how to do it himself someday.”

George feigned a gasp of horror. “Traitor! I thought you were on my side, darling!”

Your daughter giggled again, delighted by the playful banter, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind you wanted to freeze in time forever.

Later, after she had scampered off to play, George turned to you, tugging at the lopsided knot still hanging around his neck.

“Well, Mrs. Weasley, care to show her how it’s done?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping closer. “I suppose someone needs to teach her the right way.”

George leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on your hips as you began to work on the tie. His voice was soft and full of warmth.

 “You know, every time you do this, I think about that first day at King’s Cross. How lucky I was that you decided to help a hopeless eleven-year-old with his tie.”

You glanced up, your fingers pausing. “Lucky? You’ve been scheming ways to make me tie your ties ever since.”

“And you’ve been falling for it every time,” he teased, his grin boyish and irresistible. “Must be love.”

You finished tying the knot and smoothed it down, your fingers tapping his collar, hands lingering against his chest. “Must be.”

George kissed you then—soft and sweet, his arms pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with your daughter’s laughter echoing down the hall and George’s tie finally, perfectly in place, you knew that your strings of fate would remain tied together forever.

[foone]

Annoying edge case for lycanthropy: a dragon who is also a werewolf.

(A short story I wrote back in 2022 for twitter. I've slightly re-edited it, but it's still "twittery" in how it uses linebreaks (because there used to be post-boundaries there). Sorry! )

So on the full moon, they uncontrollably turn into… A much smaller and squishier humanoid. They can't wait to get their scales and fire breath and wingspan back. They're so vulnerable in their werewolf form!

No one at the werewolf support meetings is sympathetic.

They're all humans or nearly, so one of them is like "it's just so scary. I'm huge, and inhuman, and I feel like I'm made of weapons, with my claws. Everyone fears me, and I fear myself sometimes, never knowing what I might do, if I lose control and just let the rage out…" And the werewolf-dragon is like "and then you turn into a werewolf! It's so annoying, I agree"

Everyone else just turns to look at them, slowly

They do take some tips about werewolf safety. They just do it backwards, because instead of making sure they can't get out and cause death and destruction, it's more about making sure no one can get in and attack them in their merely nigh-invulnerable werewolf form. When you're a dragon, turning into a nearly unkillable rage monster of claws and fangs is a major downgrade. It's a real moment of weakness, and who knows if your ancient enemies or some upstart knight is going to try to take advantage of that moment of weakness?

They get infinitely more annoyed when they finally find a witch who can do the right ceremony and lift the curse of lycanthropy. "there… With the burning of this silver candle, you are finally free. You're human in all moonphases, now." "WAIT A FUCKING SECOND, HUMAN?!"

They got turned into the humanized version of their werewolf form. Permanently.

Always read the fine print before asking a witch to do a complicated magical ritual on you.

"also, question: how the hell did you burn a silver candle? Isn't the melting point of silver…" "one thousand eight hundred degrees, yes. It wasn't easy. Look. "

She pulls back a curtain and points. There's a complicated bellows system being vigorously pumped by a bunch of little black cats, each wearing a tiny witch's hat. They're sweating with exertion and the heat.

"we're done, my lovelies. You can stop now" The kitties hop down off the bellows and lie down at her feet, or wander off looking for food. The witch looks down at the former dragon, now barely 5 feet tall. "why do you think I asked for my fee in cat food?"

"but it was ALL cat food. Don't you need to-" The former dragon pauses mid-sentence, as the witch pulls off her traditional witchy headwear to reveal two pointy feline ears. "you were saying?"

"nevermind. Thanks, I guess." The dragon walks to the door, then turns around. "hey, I need to find out how to be a human, would you happen to know anything or anyone I can ask?" The witch looks up from sitting on the floor with a leg behind her head, licking the inside of her thigh "wouldn't have a clue, sorry love", she says with a smile.

The witch has to show up later and bail the former dragon out of jail. Apparently they accosted a city guard after being told "you can't just wander around the city naked". The dragon told them to contact the catwitch because it's not like they know any other humanoids.

The guard wasn't physically hurt, but getting jumped by a small naked human after merely pointing out you need to wear trousers or a dress or something in public is the kind of thing that leaves mental scars that'll take a while to fade.

Even if your tiny nude opponent was mainly trying to scratch or bite you with claws or fangs they no longer have

The former dragon ends up living with the catwitch. She could use some help with the bellows, and even if the dragon can no longer provide her own fire, they still know a lot about it.

And even if they're now a short little weakling who has to be reminded to wear clothes, they are a bit better at pumping the bellows than a pack of kittens.

Plus they can help with making potions and such in ways the cats can't, what with having thumbs.

They live together for a while, until the grumpy now-human finds out that another dragon has taken up residence in their former hoard.

And that will just not do!

So the dragon convinces the catwitch to come with them on an adventure to raid their own hoard and defeat (or at least evict) the dragon.

So they set out, the former dragon having to figure out the weaknesses in their own defenses and how to navigate a space built for dragons, not tiny humanoids. They're wearing the minimum in clothing they can get away with, and wielding a sword almost bigger than they are.

And following, the catwitch with a broom and a big sack of magical devices and reagents, and a little procession of kittens in their hats.

(the former dragon uses they/them pronouns. Their human body does have a sex, but when gender was explained to them they called it a "foolish human thing" and never bothered with it, just like their opinions on silverware and public indecency laws)

As far as anyone can tell, dragons have only one gender, and it's dragon.

Anyone who has asked further questions about dragon gender, sex, or reproduction has ended up crispy and good with ketchup.

They manage to evict the squatting dragon, and the witch is like "well, I guess you got nearly everything you want now. I'll take my cats back to the city…" And the ex-dragon is like "WAIT… I was thinking, maybe you could… Use my hoard as a new shop? There's plenty of room"

"are you asking me to stay?" "n-no… I mean, yes? Shut up. It's just because it would be a good place for you. After all, your shop has that leaky roof, and you were running out of storage space, and the mayor always wanted you kicked out…"

"oh I see, so it's just for me? How kind. You don't care either way, right?" "right! I don't care! I don't need or want you around! I don't care about silly human things" "human?" she asks with a smile, wiggling her ears on the top of her head. "shut up you know what I mean"

"so you don't want me to stay around you? You don't have a reason why you want to be near me, to be with me?" she says "with" with a certain slant on it, as she rests her arm on the shoulder of the former dragon, having to lean over her to reach. "n-n-n…"

The witch switches to cupping the former dragon's face in her palms. "and your face is so warm, little one. Are you trying to breathe fire? You're turning red, so maybe you are…"

"stop it! I… I just…" "yes?" the witch lets go, but her tail curls around the waist of the former dragon, like they are walking hand in hand down a beach.

"I like you, alright? I want you to stay. I want to be with you! Is that so wrong?"

"nope!" says the witch, happily pulling them into a kiss.

We zoom out, past a pile of gold coins and goblets and scepters, as little black kittens in adorable hats play in the hoard, ambushing each other in play-fights from the high ground of a treasure chest.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Dear Diary... - San

~"Hi love hope you’re doing well✨ Ive read your San kitten fic and I enjoyed it 😀tremendously 🔥. Now If it’s ok with you (I couldn’t find it in your blog that if you’re ok with this kink or nah) to write [cnc+ dirty talk and corruption kink]with San?? And if not cnc anything that comes from authority figures of him. Pls plssss ignore this if it’s makes you uncomfortable ❤️🍓" ~ queen I haven't written cnc corruption kink in my life. I hope I got the idea, even the slightest 😞.

pairing: san x fem!reader

genre: 18+

summary: san read your little journal.. and that ends with you screaming his name.

wc: 5.6k

warnings: dom!san, big dick!san, he eats her out, dirty talk, some cnc + corruption kink (he kinda softly makes her submit to it when he reads her diary + he doesn't care that she's a virgin and he actually encourages it even more so i guess it works? i'm so sorry i never wrote corruption kink before i promise i'll do better 😞💖), she's a virgin, neck holding and softly choking, marking all over, mamhandling, vaginal sex, he doesn't fuck he pounds, multiple orgasms, she screams out his name duh, some crumb of aftercare, cockwarming, unprotected (she's supposedly on bc but booo use protection!), unedited might edit later, for sure forgot something, completely consensual (after he makes her submit to him!)

Author's Note: woahhhh I haven't wrote in a while ngl. Felt good to be back.. sorry for not posting 😞. Life updates: Had 3 exams and I almost failed one but upsies it's maths 💀, had a bf for 3 days cause he acted weird and he said I'm his everything and that he loves me and that he can't be without me and I was like brotha ew we've been tgt for 3 days... and he got offended and unfollowed me everywhere 💀 boys these days... (i sound like a 70yo granma). Anyways I hope I'll post way more these days! There are only two exams to go, one this Friday and one this Saturday (for tutoring!) so I'll disappear again until Saturday night 🧍‍♀️ but I'll post on Sunday ! everyone cheer pls. Love youuuuuu allll

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The rich scent of steak still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of laughter and conversation from earlier in the evening. Your small apartment felt quieter now, with only the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of San’s beer bottle against the counter breaking the silence.

The others had left hours ago, leaving just you and him—like it so often did. You couldn’t even remember how it had started, the unspoken rule that San always stuck around longer than anyone else, as if this place belonged to him as much as it did to you.

“You’re really not going to let those dishes wait until tomorrow, are you?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smirk. The casual authority in his tone was infuriatingly familiar, yet somehow impossible to ignore.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, rolling your eyes as you stacked the last plate. “And let me guess—you’re going to stand there, drinking your beer, and not help.”

“Exactly.” His grin widened, infuriating and so utterly *him.* “I’ve got my role down. Yours is to overachieve and keep pretending you don’t have OCD about cleaning up after people.”

“I do not—” you started, only to cut yourself off with a sigh. There was no winning with San.

Instead, you gave him a look, grabbed the last of the plates, and disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom. “Try not to break anything while I’m gone,” you called back over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled. “I’ll keep myself entertained.”

San watched you go, waiting until the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut echoed faintly down the hallway. Then his attention drifted lazily around the room.

Your apartment was familiar in a way that made it feel like a second home—organized chaos, with books, mismatched blankets, and stray notebooks scattered across every available surface. It was the kind of place that felt lived-in, every corner a reflection of your mind: half-stressed, half-dreaming.

It was a notebook on the coffee table that caught his eye.

It wasn’t hidden, exactly. Half-tucked under a glossy magazine, its leather cover gleamed faintly in the low light. The word *Private* was written neatly across the front in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere—yours.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Private, huh?” he murmured, setting his beer down and reaching for the notebook.

He flipped it open, expecting to find the usual: to-do lists, random doodles, or the same kind of perfectly planned schedules you’d been making since grade school. But instead, his eyes landed on something else.

*Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to lose control completely. To have someone take charge and make me do things I’d never admit I want. Things I’d never say out loud...*

San froze, his grin fading as his eyes skimmed over the words. The meaning hit him slowly, like a low-burning flame that spread heat through his chest and settled somewhere.. lower.

*...to be pinned down, held in place, unable to fight back but not really wanting to. To have someone whisper filthy things in my ear and tell me how much they love seeing me fall apart under their control...*

He swallowed hard, his grip on the notebook tightening as he kept reading. The words painted vivid pictures in his mind—images he’d never dared associate with you before, no matter how many times his teasing had drifted close to the edge.

But this was different. This wasn’t teasing. This was your handwriting, your fantasies laid bare on the pages in front of him.

And the worst—or maybe the best—part? He couldn’t stop reading.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped him out of it. He quickly snapped the notebook shut, placing it back on the coffee table just as you stepped into the room.

When your eyes landed on him, standing far too close to the coffee table, your expression immediately shifted. Suspicion flickered across your face, followed by alarm as you spotted the notebook.

“No,” you breathed, your voice almost a whisper. “San... Tell me you didn’t.”

He arched a brow, leaning casually against the arm of the couch as if nothing had happened. “Didn’t what?”

Your stomach twisted. “You didn’t read that, did you?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. “You left it out in plain sight, sweetheart. Hard not to be curious.”

“San!” Your voice rose in a mix of panic and mortification as you rushed over, snatching the notebook off the table. You clutched it to your chest, your cheeks burning so hot you could feel the heat spreading to your neck.

He watched you with infuriating calm, his dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite name. “Relax,” he said, his tone deceptively soothing. “It’s not like I read the whole thing.”

Your heart sank. “What... what did you read?”

San pushed off the couch and stepped closer, closing the space between you with deliberate ease. He stopped just inches away, towering over you in that way that always made you feel small—and not entirely in a bad way.

“Enough to know you’ve got some... interesting thoughts rattling around in that head of yours,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Care to explain?”

You shook your head, mortified. “No. Absolutely not. You shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” he interrupted, his tone sharpening just slightly. “Picked it up? Read it? Or are you just embarrassed that I know now?”

You glared at him, though your resolve was already wavering. “This isn’t funny, San.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something darker, more serious. “Who said I’m joking?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe it’s time someone gave you what you’ve been asking for.”

The room felt too small, the air too thick. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, even though you knew you should.

San’s smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Mhm-” he murmured, his voice heavy with unspoken intent.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and assessing, as if he could see through every feeble defense you were trying to put up. The notebook still clutched against your chest felt like a useless shield, doing nothing to block the heat of his presence or the weight of his words.

“Not going to tell me to stop?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone. “Guess that means you don’t want me to.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. “This is not funny, San,” you whispered, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Funny? Not even a little.” He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with something darker. “But it is fascinating. You, scribbling all those dirty thoughts down like a good little secret-keeper, acting all innocent around me—who would’ve guessed?”

“Stop,” you said, the word trembling as it left your lips.

“Why?” His brow arched in amusement, though his voice remained low and intent. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Or is it hitting a little too close to home?”

Before you could answer—or even think of a response—he reached out, plucking the notebook from your hands with maddening ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, reaching for it, but he held it out of reach, his grin never faltering.

“Let’s see,” he said, flipping it open again as your heart dropped into your stomach. “Ah, here it is... *I want to be taken—rough, merciless, made to feel like I can’t get enough.*” He glanced at you, his smirk widening at the audible hitch in your breath. “Quite the vivid imagination you’ve got there, sweetheart.”

“Give it back!” you said, your voice cracking.

“Why?” He shifted the notebook to his other hand, holding it out of reach. “Are you scared because I know how badly you want this?”

Your knees felt weak as he stepped closer, invading your space with the kind of confidence that left you feeling unmoored.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying and failing to glare at him.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin sharpening. “But at least I’m honest. You? Not so much.”

San’s free hand brushed against your jaw, his touch light but firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re blushing,” he observed, his voice teasing but softer. “Is it embarrassment? Ouu, is it.. something else?”

“San,” you said, his name coming out more like a plea than a protest.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head as his thumb traced along your jawline. “Can’t take the heat?”

You shook your head, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He chuckled, low and satisfied. “Thought so.”

Without warning, his hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer. His other hand dropped the notebook onto the couch, freeing him to let his fingers trail down your arm, light enough to make you shiver.

“You know what I think?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

You shook your head, your breath uneven.

“I think you’ve been waiting for someone to see past all that sweet, good-girl bullshit,” he continued, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw, “and call you what you really are.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, the words lodging in your throat. “San...”

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, enough to make you gasp. “What’s wrong? Don’t like hearing it? Or do you like it too much?”

The way your thighs pressed together didn’t escape his notice, and his grin sharpened.

“You’re easy to read,” he said softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?”

Your lips parted, a faint whimper escaping before you could stop it.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers slipping lower to trace the curve of your waist. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, the air between you crackling with tension. He didn’t kiss you, but the sheer proximity left you trembling.

“You can tell me to stop,” he said again, his voice rough but steady. “One word, sweetheart, and I’ll walk away.”

You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

San’s grin returned, slower and more deliberate. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

“You’ve been waiting for someone to push you,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “to see how far you’ll let them go. Haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

San leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “Say the word,” he said quietly. “And I’ll stop.”

Your silence said everything, and his lips curved into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

Before you could process his words, his hands were on you again—fast, firm, deliberate. His grip was steady as he lifted you effortlessly, as though you weighed nothing at all. A gasp escaped you, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, but the smirk never left his face.

“You wrote about this, didn’t you?” San teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he carried you across the room. “Right there in your little journal. I had no idea you had such... vivid thoughts.”

He dropped you on the bed. San stood at the edge of it, arms crossed, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and control. You were there, sprawled across the mattress, your chest heaving from the tension that hung heavy between you. The heat of your earlier argument still simmered in the air, but now the power had shifted entirely into his hands—and you both knew it.

“You’ve been quiet ever since,” San murmured, his voice low and mocking as he stepped closer, each movement slow and deliberate. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Not so bold now that I know what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours?”

Your gaze darted away, heat creeping up your neck, but San wasn’t having it. He climbed onto the bed in one smooth motion, his weight sinking the mattress as he caged you beneath him. One hand pressed into the sheets beside your head, while the other traced the curve of your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even think about hiding from me now,” he said softly, the mockery in his tone laced with undeniable command. “Not after everything you wrote. Not after you left me to read between the lines of those fantasies you scribbled down so... shamelessly.”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, which only made his smirk widen.

“I have to admit,” he continued, leaning closer until his lips were brushing the shell of your ear, “I didn’t know you could be *this* filthy. Wanting to be manhandled? Thrown around? Tamed?” His breath was warm against your skin, his tone both teasing and heavy with promise. “Tell me, did you ever imagine I’d actually do it?”

“I-..” You shuddered beneath him, your fingers curling into the sheets as you struggled to form a response. But San was relentless, his hand trailing down to your throat, his grip firm but not restricting as he tilted your head up toward him.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he whispered, his gaze locking with yours. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left that journal out. When you wrote about how badly you wanted someone to take control. To leave you breathless, shaking… *ruined.*”

You swallowed hard, the air between you thick with tension, and he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline, his hand still firm on your throat. “Admit that you’ve been waiting for me to push you like this. That you wanted me to see *every* word of it.”

“I—” your voice faltered, trembling under the weight of his intensity. “Mh..mhm” you were only able to mumble some word.

His fingers loosened just enough to stroke the column of your neck. “Good girl.”

He leaned back just slightly, enough to drink in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and trembling. His grin was wicked as he reached for your wrists, pinning them above your head with a grip that left no room for resistance.

“Now,” he murmured, lowering himself until his lips hovered mere inches from yours, “let’s see if you’re ready to live up to everything you wrote, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back against the mattress, and the tension in the room thickened until it was nearly suffocating. The way San hovered above you, all sharp grins and teasing touches, had you trembling with anticipation. But as his words replayed in your mind, something inside you snapped.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, your voice shaky but certain. “You’ve already read it. You know exactly what I want.”

San’s brow arched, his smirk sharpening as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. “Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You. All of you. No teasing, no holding back.” Your voice softened, almost a whisper now. “Please.”

San let out a low chuckle, his dark gaze flickering with amusement and something darker—something primal. “You’re begging now?” he mused, his tone rich with satisfaction. “Didn’t think I’d get to hear that so soon.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your jawline. “No going back now. Just—just fuck me, San.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as though savoring the sight of you so vulnerable beneath him. Then, with deliberate ease, he sat back and tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion, the fabric landing somewhere behind him.

You couldn’t help it; your eyes roamed over his toned chest, the sharp lines of muscle catching the dim light. Your breath caught, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence as he reached for the hem of your shirt. He didn’t wait for an answer, peeling the fabric off your body just as effortlessly. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, and you shivered under the intensity of it.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his hands moved to your waistband. His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, sliding your pants down your legs with maddening precision.

But then he stopped.

Stepping back, he straightened to his full height, his hands already moving to unbuckle his own belt. The metallic clink of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he worked.

He was slow—so agonizingly slow—pulling the leather free and tossing it aside before unbuttoning his pants. The sharp sound of his zipper being undone felt deafening in the charged silence, and the deliberate pace had your heart racing.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice smug as he slid the denim down his hips, revealing inch after inch of skin.

You didn’t answer, too captivated by the sight of him to form a coherent thought. Your gaze locked onto him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach as desire overtook every part of you.

“Thought so,” he murmured, stepping closer, his smirk never fading. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

You shook your head, your lips parting slightly as you stared up at him with nothing but raw, unfiltered lust. “Not even close.”

His laugh was deep, rumbling, and utterly intoxicating. “Good,” he said simply, lowering himself back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. “Because I’m just getting started.”

San crawled over you with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto yours. His weight pressed into the mattress, pinning you in place as he leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, teasing but not yet giving.

One of his hands wrapped firmly around your neck, the pressure just enough to remind you who was in control. The way his thumb brushed against the side of your throat made your breath hitch, a soft gasp escaping you as your body instinctively arched toward him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Already falling apart, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

His other hand was down around his cock, his movements slow, lazy, and unhurried as he stroked himself. The subtle motion made your mouth go dry, your gaze flickering downward for a split second before snapping back up to meet his. The heat in his eyes was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the way your body responded to the tension crackling between you.

San smirked at your reaction, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your neck as he brought his lips closer, brushing them lightly against yours. It wasn’t a kiss—not really—but the sensation was enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through you.

Then, just as you started to lean up, desperate for more, the hand from his cock moved. Slowly, almost torturously, he trailed it from himself to your thigh. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, before he hooked his hand under your leg and spread it out beneath him.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp as his palm pressed against the inside of your knee, holding you open with deliberate ease. “Just like I imagined.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as he leaned in closer, his lips finally crashing against yours. The kiss was searing, hungry, and consuming, his hand still firm on your throat as he claimed you completely. Your mind was spinning, your body surrendering to the heat of him, to the way he dominated every inch of your senses.

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, grounding you as his thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw. The other hand remained on your leg, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your skin as he shifted his weight, pressing himself closer.

“You’re mine now,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. “No running, no hiding. I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Your only response was a soft whimper, your hands reaching for him, desperate to pull him closer. And San, ever the tease, chuckled low in his throat, his lips moving to your jaw as he whispered, “Good girl.”

As San’s lips devoured yours, leaving you breathless and pliant beneath him, a quiet confession slipped out before you could stop it.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, your voice trembling and almost lost in the heat of the moment.

San stilled for just a second, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at you, processing your words. The smirk that crept onto his lips was slow and deliberate, a mix of surprise and amusement lighting up his dark eyes.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, his tone low, curious, and laced with disbelief. “After everything you wrote in that journal?”

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t meet his gaze, but you nodded, swallowing hard. “I... I just—”

He didn’t let you finish. His grip on your neck remained firm as his free hand slid up your thigh again, spreading you out even further beneath him. “So what?” he murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You think that changes anything?”

Your heart pounded as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice taking on a deeper, more commanding edge. “You want this, don’t you?”

You nodded quickly, unable to form words, and his smirk deepened.

“Good,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Then I’ll make sure your first time is something you’ll *never* forget.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. His lips crashed against yours again, hungry and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. His kisses grew rougher, more possessive, as though he was claiming you in every sense of the word.

When he finally pulled away, your chest was heaving, your lips swollen, and he wasted no time. His mouth trailed down the curve of your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses that turned into light nips. His tongue soothed each bite, sending shivers down your spine as he moved lower, down the column of your throat.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and dripping with authority. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both nervousness and desire.

His kisses continued, his teeth grazing over the soft curve of your collarbone before he bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp. The sharpness of it sent a jolt through your body, and you arched into him, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered, the praise making your stomach flip as he moved lower. His lips and teeth marked a path down your body, every kiss, every bite leaving a faint bloom of heat behind. He was methodical, deliberate, as though he wanted to cover every inch of your skin.

When he reached your hips, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart as he settled himself between them. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm and teasing.

“Right here,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise as his fingers gripped your leg firmly, keeping you pinned in place. “This is where you’re going to feel me the most. Where I’m going to leave my mark.”

You gasped softly, and before you could respond, his teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh, hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt. The sensation was intoxicating, his tongue soothing the bite immediately after, and the combination left you trembling beneath him.

San pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk as he looked up at you. “You’re already shaking,” he teased, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re going to fall apart for me, sweetheart. And you’re going to love every second of it.”

Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as he hovered over your inner thighs, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. The way he teased you—his lips brushing so close but never where you wanted them—had your body trembling with anticipation.

San chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he tilted his head up to look at you. His smirk was infuriatingly smug, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Impatient, huh?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing as he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Can’t wait to have me, can you?”

You whimpered softly, your grip on his hair tightening just enough to pull a satisfied laugh from him.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone darkening as he settled himself between your legs. “I won’t make you wait any longer. Let’s see how loud I can make you.”

And with that, he dove in.

His lips pressed against your clit, hot and unrelenting, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back arched off the mattress. The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a languid stroke that left you breathless.

San wasted no time after that, his mouth working against it with a precision that had your head spinning. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you pinned in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and swirling in ways that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against you, his voice muffled but still thick with satisfaction. “Even better than I imagined.”

You couldn’t respond—not with the way he was overwhelming your senses, reducing you to gasps and whimpers as he found every sensitive spot. Your hands tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the pressure, the vibrations only adding to the fire building inside you.

San pulled back just enough to press a kiss against your inner thigh, his lips swollen and glistening. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to hear everything. Every moan, every gasp—let me hear how much you need me.”

And then he was back, his mouth and tongue relentless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his grip on your thighs tightening as your body started to tremble beneath him. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but surrender completely to the way he consumed you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, your hands still tangled in his hair. San didn’t stop until your body went slack against the mattress, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done—not even close.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to survey the sight of you sprawled beneath him, still shaking from the aftermath. His voice was low, rough, and dripping with satisfaction. “So pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Before you could respond, San moved with the kind of precision that left no room for resistance. His hands gripped your hips firmly, flipping you over onto your stomach in one fluid motion. A startled gasp escaped you, but it was quickly muffled as he pressed your face into the mattress, one hand splayed across the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Don’t think we’re done yet,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he leaned over you. The heat of his bare chest against your back sent shivers down your spine, and you felt him press his hips into you, letting you feel just how ready he was.

Your heart raced as his free hand slid down your side, gripping your waist possessively. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I hope you’re ready, sweetheart, because I’m not holding back… at all.”

His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you whimpered softly, your body arching instinctively beneath him. His voice dropped lower, the words sending a thrill through you as he murmured, “You’re mine now. Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you *feel* it.”

The blunt heat of him pressed against your cunt, and before you could even brace yourself, he pushed into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion. The stretch burned, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed it, and you cried out, muffled against the mattress as he filled you completely.

San groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled back slightly, only to slam back in with a force that made your entire body jolt. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with lust as he set a relentless pace. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, each thrust drawing gasps and moans from you that only seemed to spur him on. He leaned over you, pressing his chest to your back as he buried himself deeper, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Take it,” he growled, his voice dripping with authority. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the rough, unyielding way he moved against you. His hand slid from your hip to your throat, pulling you up slightly so he could press his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin to leave yet another mark.

“You’re mine,” he muttered again, his voice ragged as his thrusts grew even harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I-I'm yours..! ,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to the sheets, completely lost in him.

“Good girl.. or should I say..” he murmured, his grip tightening as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering, never giving you a moment to catch your breath, “good slut?”.

His words made your cunt tighten around him, a grunt escaping his throat.

San’s pace didn’t let up for a moment, his grip firm on your waist as he powerfully ounded into you, every thrust driving you closer to another earth-shattering release. Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and he could feel the way you tightened around him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“That’s it,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and commanding as he reached one hand between your legs, his fingers finding the spot that made you jolt… your swollen clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart. Come for me again. Let me feel you.”

The combination of his relentless thrusts and the way his fingers worked you had you teetering on the edge in seconds. Your cries grew louder, the tension coiling in your stomach until it finally snapped, a powerful wave of pleasure crashing through you as you screamed his name.

“San!” you sobbed, your body shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

He groaned low in his throat, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own. “That’s my girl,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he reached his peak.

A guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilled into you, the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He didn’t pull out right away, instead leaning over you, his chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your damp skin. “You took me so well, sweetheart. Screaming my name like that... you’re so fucking perfect.”

You whimpered softly, still trembling from the aftershocks, and he smirked, his voice dropping to a darker, dirtier tone. “Bet you loved having me ruin you like this. Didn’t you, baby? All that talk about wanting to be manhandled—looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, gripping you firmly as he pulled you upright, your back pressing against his chest. The move made you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his cock still deep inside you.

“That’s what you get for leaving your little journal unattended,” he growled, his smirk sharp and satisfied as he stared into your eyes. “I bet you loved every fucking second of it. Didn’t you?”

Your lips trembled, but you managed a breathless, “Y-yes… y-es I did..”

San’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his grip on your neck softening as his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of dominance.

He held you there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his tone gentler now, though no less possessive. “Every inch of you.”

Your hands came up to rest over his, your body leaning into his embrace as you whispered, “Always yours.”

San let out a satisfied hum, holding you close as the heat of the moment began to fade, replaced by a warmth that felt just as overwhelming. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, his lips pressing against your hair as he held you, his arms never loosening.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

[piracytheorist]

In Life, And in Death (1/11)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 4.1k for this chapter | 32.4k in total Rating: T Warnings: Temporary character death, graphic violence, horror imagery, body horror, mild gore, whump, language Cover art by @buf309

Summary: Anya is kidnapped, and Twilight is thrown into the horrors of a mysterious, deadly village. Forced and then choosing to survive its trials - physical and mental - he's brought to figure out who he truly is. (A Resident Evil Village fusion)

AO3

~

Author's Note: Probably my most insane fanfic project yet. After I successfully probed SOMEONE, aka @spencer-is-someone, into watching a Resident Evil Village gameplay, they fell in love with Ethan Winters but felt he went through too much in the game, prompting the idea "What if Loid went through all that stuff instead". And well, 32 thousand words later, here I am, inflicting this literal horror upon y'all.

I made a post about it, and the absolutely wonderful @buf309 went and made this amazing cover art, and I literally couldn't be more thankful for that. I was so amazed when I saw the first draft sketch that I went like I'M GONNA WAIT TILL IT'S READY TO POST THE FIC. Seriously, words cannot describe how grateful I am, I sincerely hope the fic feels satisfying enough for the work you've done <3

If you know how the Resident Evil Village story goes, this is pretty much the same... yes, in all of its "parts-in-jars" glory (if you know you know, if you don't you will soon), just with Twilight taking the place of Ethan Winters. There will be a few changes from the original story to fit Twilight's character, some to facilitate the adaptation from game narrative to fanfic narrative, some to fit my own tastes, and an actually hopeful ending because we were all left heartbroken after the ending of RE Village so might as well pour some healing juice to put our hearts back together same way Ethan puts his limbs back together and hope for the best.

Do take note of the warnings, please. There is one part of the story I actually had chills while writing (yes, that part for those of you who know, it will be slightly changed but the essence will be the same) and it is based on the story of a horror/survival game, so make sure you're okay to read something as intense as this.

The story is written in full, though I'm still doing small bits of editing here and there. I don't have a posting schedule, but I'm thinking of updating twice a week, or once if I see the editing is taking longer. Chapter titles are taken from track titles of the game's original soundtrack.

So yeah, long intro over, take not of the warnings, I hope you enjoy if you read on!

~

Chapter 1: Bloodthirsty

~

“Anya, don’t sit so close to the TV,” Loid said, not looking up from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He wouldn’t doubt that she hadn’t even heard him, let alone acknowledged his request.

He picked up a handful of minced meat to mould into a burger steak, deciding to give her another reminder in two minutes from now. Yor had just left to walk Bond, so it was only his direction she had to follow – and she was starting to make clear whose directions she preferred to follow nowadays.

He placed the burger on the pan as his body tensed. A split second later, the door burst open.

He jumped through the opening between the kitchen and the living room, but even that seemed a pointless blessing as thick smoke quickly covered the apartment.

He rushed through it to grab Anya, who trembled against him, but he didn’t have the time to move away from the shots.

Two silenced shots, piercing through his clothes and reaching into the skin of his back.

No blood. But they were pinching his skin, and he immediately felt groggy…

He dropped to his side, unable to move as figures approached him. One of them took Anya.

“PAPA!” she screamed at him.

He feebly raised his hand. “Wait,” was the only thing he could say, before his hand dropped.

More figures approached him, and then his vision went dark.

~

Focus, Twilight.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Don’t alert the enemy yet.

He held his breath for a moment.

He was somewhere cold, outside.

He could feel something soft but freezing underneath him. Snow?

His hair didn’t feel wet, so he mustn’t have been lying there long.

It was quiet. He could only hear distant sounds of wind and crows flying somewhere close.

He couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, so he decided to open one single eye to check.

But then both his eyes shot wide open.

In front of him stood a magnificent gothic mansion. It could be a mansion, or it could be a damn castle. It was surrounded by a thick wall, like a fortress.

He sat up. He was indeed lying on the snow, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

He had apparently been placed on the castle’s garden. Right in the middle of the winter, it was only decorated by a few naked trees as well as three scarecrows.

Those didn’t seem to do their job well enough, he thought, as crows still flew around, some even sitting on them.

He got up, checking himself for injuries. He couldn’t feel any pain or any indication of pierced skin. How had they drugged him?

It was then he realized he was now wearing his jacket.

Had they dressed him for the cold? While taking off his apron and the gloves he wore while preparing food?

What the hell?

Where even was this place?

Why was he brought here?

Where was Anya?

His attention was drawn back to the apparently useless scarecrows, and a chill ran down his spine – unrelated to the cold – when he noticed something eerie about them.

Carefully, he took a few steps towards them.

His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to notice.

Those weren’t plain scarecrows.

Those were actual, human bodies hanging on wooden crosses.

His breath finally came out shaky, forming a cloud.

What the hell was this place?

Unable to quell his curiosity, he stepped closer, trying to notice for any details on the bodies, in case he recognized them.

All three seemed to be men, of ages between thirty and fifty, and they couldn’t have been dead for longer than a week or so. The cold might have preserved their bodies, but exposure to the outside would do as much more damage.

He couldn’t recognize any of their faces – or what was left of them.

Well, he didn’t even know where he was, how far away from Berlint or even in Ostania for that matter.

He clenched his hands into fists and turned around, looking around the walls surrounding the castle.

There was a huge metal door blocking the path outside. No climbing the wall; it was too smooth and covered in even more slippery ice. Climbing the trees wouldn’t give him enough height to swing himself out.

Which meant, his only way of getting answers was through the castle.

He must have been placed there for a reason, after all, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have already done so.

He reached the entrance, and the door swung open easily.

The entrance hall was as luxuriously decorated as the outside hinted at. A lush burgundy carpet went up the few steps, leading to a wall where a painting of three young women hung.

The door closed behind him, and he didn’t miss the definitive clang as metal bars started descending right in front of it.

He turned, and for a few seconds he weighed his options.

He could break the door quickly enough before the bars descended too low, and slip outside.

But then again, they obviously wanted him in there, and again, it didn’t seem that killing him was their priority.

He faced forward, ignoring the sound of the bars trapping him in there.

He might as well play their game.

He walked to the painting. Underneath it was an inscription that wrote “Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra.”

Which one was which?

The women on the painting didn’t seem too different from each other. The painting itself didn’t seem all too enlightening, either; it looked like any common Romantic-style oil painting.

Well, it wasn’t going to give him any answers, would it?

He turned around, walking down a corridor and out into another, larger hall. He noticed how warm the whole building was, despite the freezing weather outside and the apparently old construction of the place.

This hall had hanging, lit candles all over the walls, though they couldn’t be the source of the heating. The lighting was low, but lucky for him, he’d been trained enough in low lighting for that not to be an issue.

He jerked back at the sound of a swarm of flies coming his way, then he sensed someone’s presence.

Flies, he could handle.

But then the flies started gathering together, and within seconds they morphed into three women, dressed in black hooded cloaks.

“Wha—?” he whispered.

“Looking for Anya?” a voice said, and he assumed it’d come from one of the women. Who had just formed from flies.

The absurdity of his situation almost made him forget that she had just mentioned Anya.

Which meant they probably knew where she was.

However, he was too shocked by the sight that he couldn’t move when one of the women, all of whom were cackling, approached him and pushed him backwards.

She swung the scythe she held in her hand, and he pulled his legs away just before she could bury it in his calf.

“Oh, he’s feisty!” the woman said with a wide smile.

Her arm then almost zapped through the air, and his left leg was exploding in pain before he could even register the movement.

He yelped in pain as she leaned closer to him and took a long sniff.

Her mouth and jaw were covered in blood, though her blond hair looked pristine clean.

“Mmm, man-blood,” she said.

She then leaned back and started dragging him, by the scythe embedded in his leg, as he still lay helplessly on the ground.

She was too fast. He flailed around, trying to grab at anything they passed by to make her stop, even though that would mean the scythe would rip his entire leg open, but then another woman reached his other side and buried her scythe in his right leg.

He threw his head back, biting down another yell of pain.

Could he just have one moment?!

The women dragged him down another corridor and into what he quickly realized was a bedroom. They removed their scythes, and he quickly reached to assess the damage, when he heard the blond woman say “Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” as she pointed at him with her hand.

“You are so kind to me, daughters,” came a voice of a woman who sounded older than them.

Older, and bigger.

She was sitting on a massive chair, holding an equally massive glass of red wine. She took a sip from it, then stood up and turned to him, saying, “Now, lets take a look at him.”

He raised his head to look at her.

And then raised it higher.

She had the build of a muscular woman, with curves proportionate to her height, which must have been about three meters tall. She wore a black wide-brimmed hat over her chin-length black hair, and a long white dress that reached down to her feet, though she moved comfortably in it.

“Well, well. Loid Forger,” she said. “Came looking for your daughter, I presume?”

He sat there, frozen.

They knew who he was – or at least pretended to be? And they knew Anya was also taken?

She walked closer to him, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “For you to think you can waltz right in here—let’s see how special you are,” she nearly purred.

She threw her hands up in a sign for something, and two of the younger women said “Yes, mother,” as they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

His first thought was that he was standing up surprisingly well for just having had two scythes ran through his legs.

His second thought was terror as one woman grabbed his hand, and the other produced a very sharp-looking knife.

Before he could jerk back, she sliced his palm open.

He bit back a grunt; it wasn’t a deep cut, but it would be annoying…

His last thought trailed off as the tall woman reached down, grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips… and started sucking.

Now he really was frozen in terror.

What the hell was this nightmare?

The woman pulled her head back, licking at her lips with a blood-soaked tongue.

She threw his hand away. “Hmm,” she said. “Still fresh, but only barely.”

He wrapped his hand into a fist, keeping it close to his chest.

“Then let’s devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” one of the women said, handing a handkerchief to her.

“But I’m the one who captured him!” the blond woman protested.

“Now, now, daughters,” the tall woman said, patting at her lips with the handkerchief. “First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later, well, there will be enough for everyone.” She threw the handkerchief aside, smiling down at him. “Put him up!”

The young women surrounded him, and though he struggled, they were too strong for him as they put heavy manacles on his wrists.

A thick build, but he could break out of them with little effort.

But then, they secured a chain to them, and the chain started going up. He was lifted off his feet, and started grunting as the full force of his weight fell on his wrists.

Don’t say anything. Don’t let them take a hold of any weaknesses.

He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice from making any sounds as they headed out of the room. The tall woman had to bend to get through that door, and one of the young women – the second one who had stabbed his leg – bent down and picked up the discarded handkerchief, smelling the blood on it and laughing, as she followed them.

Breathing hard, he looked up at the manacles.

The pain was intense but manageable, though he already felt the tingling of numbness in his fingers. By his calculations, he had about fifteen or so minutes before cut blood circulation would start causing permanent damage.

Escape, first. Then you can freak out.

He grabbed the chain and dragged his body up. Though his legs were still bleeding, he brought them up so he could hold the chain between his feet.

He was gasping by the time he managed that, but at least he had less pain on his hands and a better view of the manacles.

They were old and rusty, but seemed to have a fairly standard locking mechanism. Bringing his body closer, he fished the lockpick out from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

Biting his lip, he worked through the lock of the right manacle. Just as it opened, his feet slipped from the chain and dropped down, causing all of his weight to drop onto his injured left hand.

The pain knocked the air out of his lungs.

Think! Think! Pull yourself together!

Taking in a laboured breath, he looked back up.

The lockpick had slipped from his hand and was now too far down for him to get it. His right hand was free, but he didn’t have any other options left.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free hand around his left thumb, and with a sharp pull, he dislocated it.

As his other hand was coated in blood from the cut, his wrist slipped through the manacle as soon as his thumb wasn’t in the way.

He dropped to the ground clumsily, not managing to balance his landing.

Wheezing, he looked at his left hand.

Bleeding, and a dislocated thumb.

He gave himself ten seconds.

Ten seconds to wonder where the hell he had gotten himself into, what that tall woman even was, standing at three meters tall and drinking blood, and what her “daughters” were, emerging from flies and also participating in… blood drinking? Cannibalism?

Ten seconds, and he was back to himself.

Focus, Twilight.

He looked at his legs – they were still bleeding, but he felt confident he could stand on them. Though those scythes looked sharp, they must have split a tendon or two apart.

At the corner of the room stood a vanity table, and on top of it, along with various cosmetics, lay a small green bottle with a cross on the label.

He stood up carefully, glad that his legs weren’t trembling. He picked up the bottle, carefully reading the label.

Medical alcohol.

Not one to trust this place that much, he opened the lid, and sure enough, it smelled like ethyl alcohol.

He sat down with a grunt, pulling his right trouser up. He didn’t have any clean gauze, so his only option was to pour liquid right over the wound.

He braced himself for the sting of pain, but instead, the liquid brought a cool, numbing sensation.

And then, right in front of his eyes, his wound closed then disappeared completely.

He stared at it.

Ten more seconds.

What the hell.

He looked at the bottle again. Medical alcohol, it said. It smelled like it too.

He looked back at his leg, raising his other trouser where the other wound still stood.

What the hell?!

Uncertain, he poured a little less liquid over that wound.

The wound immediately stopped bleeding as new skin seemed to form, though it didn’t heal completely.

He let out a breath. If he were honest with himself, this wasn’t really the weirdest thing to happen in the last few minutes, was it?

He turned to his mangled hand. Just how much could that liquid heal?

He poured an equal dosage to it, and was still surprised to see his thumb painlessly slide into its place, as well as the cut close completely.

Well, at least it could be useful.

He didn’t have time to worry over the supernatural. He had to get out of there, and find out where Anya was.

He took the path of unlocked doors, as he didn’t want to waste time and noise trying to break the lock of every locked door he found. Breaking the windows wouldn’t lead him anywhere – each one was sealed shut, and though he wasn’t averse to turning into a hooligan for the sake of escaping, the entire castle seemed to be surrounded by that wall.

He needed to get to a higher floor, but the safest and most silent path led him to the basement, where he found himself walking along piles and piles of dead bodies.

He had to hold his breath as he passed them by; apparently the occupants of the castle had the habit of feasting on the blood of humans, and did it so often that the amount of bodies was too big to act as decoration for their garden.

It was all men, however. As young as twenty-three, from what he could gather with a quick look.

The fly-women seemed to be confident enough in their hunting that they didn’t take away the handgun from one of the more fresh bodies. Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a police officer, a soldier, or a man aware of what he’d been dealing with, but it didn’t matter to him. He undid the holster, as gently as he could out of respect of the deceased man, and he put it on under his jacket.

He checked the magazine. Ten bullets out of sixteen.

He looked at the man. Had he shot those first six bullets right before he was killed?

The man had a shoulder bag on him, and inside was a box of bullets, a total of forty. He slid that too over his own shoulder.

He kept the safety on the gun on, but held it in his hand. He picked up a hunting knife from one of the other bodies and walked on.

As the bodies thinned out, he found a lone skeletal figure draped in a plain canvas cloak. The limbs stood out, bare, emaciated, and rotting. While other bodies were in a similar state of decomposition, they were fully clothed, at most with a few rips in their clothes. This one was the only one so bare.

And it was holding a scythe in its hand, old and rusty in comparison to the women’s scythes, but still sharp enough to do harm.

He approached it carefully, keeping both hands on the gun.

He thanked his training for that, as the figure moved when he passed right by it.

He yelped in shock, moving away from it and raising his gun at it.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t move!”

The creature, whatever that was, didn’t seem like it listened let alone register his words. It stood up, hunched over, then lunged at him with the scythe.

Not finding any alternatives, he shot right at its head.

The creature jerked back as a screech left its mouth.

Twilight held his breath.

His blood froze when he saw it still stand on its legs and try to swing at him again.

He shot again. He was perfectly certain the bullet got through its head.

Yet the creature moved again.

And he shot again.

Only now did the creature finally drop to its knees, but it was still screeching and growling.

Desperate, Twilight took the knife and drove it through the creature’s skull, three times, until he felt it stop moving.

It collapsed on the floor.

Hell knew if it would rise again. It was supposed to be dead already, wasn’t it?

He turned around and ran.

There were more creatures on the way. Some he slashed at with the knife, some he shot at, some he simply ran away from. A few managed to nick him with their scythes, and if he were honest, he was more worried about infections than the injuries themselves.

As he found a quiet corner, he pulled out the alcohol – or whatever that was. It seemed to work on the nicks too, making them close quickly and painlessly.

He supported himself on the wall, forcing his breath to calm down.

He had to get out. Now.

Holding the gun tight to his hand, he moved to leave, but then a buzzing and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Hmm. Warm, bright, red blood.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew it was the blond woman.

He made a run for it as flies swarmed around him, until he found a staircase going up, reaching into what looked like a kitchen area.

“Where are you going, little one?”

The woman appeared right in front of him, cutting off his path. She was smiling at him, surrounded by flies, her face still stained with blood.

“I just want to find Anya,” he managed.

“Aw,” she said. She then pushed him back and he fell on the ground. She lay over him, reaching at his neck and biting.

Yelling, he took the gun and fired twice at her stomach.

She reached up, laughing as fresh blood ran from her lips.

He shot at her head.

“Your bullets cannot harm m—”

Her voice cut off when another of his shots passed through her and hit the window behind her.

The glass cracked, and it quickly shattered as a cold gust of wind blew into the room.

The gust threw the woman’s hood off her head. Twilight tightened his hold on the gun when he spotted a massive, fleshy scar on her temple, a bald spot from her long hair.

The woman shrieked, then growled. Her skin, already pale as it was, seemed to start cracking and turn grey. She looked at her hands, still gasping in pain, and then turned to him, yelling, “You stupid man-thing!”

His mind finally picked up the pace. The cold made her weak?

He stood up, raising his gun at her.

“How dare you bare your teeth at us!” she shouted, then lunged at him with her scythe.

He managed to block her attack, pushing her back, and he shot at her face.

She groaned, still standing, but she said, “What? My body—it’s breaking…”

He kept his gun up. “Just let me go,” he said.

A wild rumble came from her mouth as she turned to attack him again. She reached him, and he could only block her at the last moment, his arms taking the full blow of her scythe. “Give up!” she said, reaching back for another swing of her weapon.

He shot twice at her head, and she yelled again.

The flies seemed to drop in numbers, and her skin cracked more and more. He barely managed to avoid two more of her attacks, and then she fell on him, ready to bite his head off, he supposed in the split second it took him to kick her off of him.

He shot two more times.

“This can’t be,” she said, weakly now, her body swaying.

“Let me go!” he repeated, taking two steps back.

She screamed and reached back with her scythe, and he shot again.

And then a sizzling sound came from her body, as she started swinging wildly, not reaching anything. She groaned and groaned, and her body transformed.

It seemed to calcify into gravel, as she slowly stopped moving, her hand still up in a pose of attack.

And then it broke down.

Whatever it was, it cracked into small pieces, and what started as the form of a woman was now a pile of something on the ground.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back on the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.

His hands were trembling, his feet felt like water.

What the hell was all that?

Were was he?

Why was he brought here?

And where was Anya?

What were those creatures…?

He closed his eyes. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds to freak out.

He just had to get out. Find Anya and…

He opened his eyes, his throat tensing.

Did he really have to find her?

As far as he was concerned, right now she was a liability to him. He had to prioritize his safety first.

It wasn’t like there were piles of bodies of dead girls around, was it?

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood back up. The woman had managed to hurt him a little, but the healing liquid was in short supply and he could handle those injuries up to a point.

The woman. Who was now a pile of ash.

Calm down, Twilight. Get yourself in order and find a way out.

The castle proved massive, and he couldn’t find any viable exit paths even as he seemed to reach what looked like hallways reaching into bedrooms.

Then, a mournful scream sounded from a floor below.

“What have you done to my daughter?!”

His blood chilled. If the “daughter” had been that vicious, he didn’t want to face whatever her mother had in store for him.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫・h.j

—for months you have dealt with constant intrusive thoughts, wondering what life was like before your head was swarmed with anxiety—until one day, you wake up and it isn't your OCD that you remember—it's hyunjin. alternatively: you find hyunjin baking your favorite sweet treat and you fall even deeper in love with him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・hyunjin x gn!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・hurt and comfort, established relationships, one sided angst, me trauma dumping, tooth-rotting fluff // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.4k // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・reader with OCD, could be read as any sort of obsessions + compulsions but focuses on the obsession of time and the thought that this state of mind will never change, one curse word, kisses, so so many kisses, kisses that end in food fights, food being made that ends in kisses, was the food ever actually made? the world may never know. // 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭・je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson

𝐚/𝐧・this kind of really sucks, but i decided to throw away my perfectionism for a little bit and just pour my soul out instead. I've recently been dealing with some serious OCD symptoms and I am trying to get a phycologist to help me navigate these symptoms and get diagnosed, but I thought of this today what it would be like to not wake up and immediately remember my anxiety and my obsessions...then started sobbing :D then hopped on my computer and wrote through the tears haha. edit cookie: I wrote this in early December hated it decided to post it anyways in the small happenstance that somebody might relate to it, I hope that somebody out there feels even the smallest comfort from it :)

You wanted to run away—to take Hyunjin by the hands and disappear into the forest brush; to press your palms into the earth until it felt as though your fingers had become roots, twisting and tangling, becoming one with the trees. You longed to rest beneath the grass, to watch as the stars sang like fairies, strung in sweet, serene stillness. You wanted to trace constellations on his skin, set fireflies alight in his eyes, to kiss him until you were sick of it—until your lips could bear no more.

You wanted to run away and never look back, but 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 always had a way of looking back at you. One day, you awoke, and all the stars had fizzled out—ripped from the sky like a fallen angel's wings. Your world had been dipped in ink, a single drop that spread underneath your eyelids as though you had never woken at all. It consumed you, a once-magical world stolen in a single moment, leaving you completely and utterly under their control.

The trees had grown thick with leaves, their vines crawling up your spine; creeping across your legs, your feet, your teeth. Go away, you wanted to scream. Go away, go away, go away! But the more you squirmed, the deeper they sank their thorns in. There was no escaping; you had become one with the fear, one with the shadows. The sense of what had been faded out, swallowed by the crippling uncertainty of who you were 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 the darkness returned.

Months later, that feeling still hadn't left, and it terrified you to imagine it never would.

In the small stretch of time, floating on the edge of an in-between, is where you felt most at peace. Only a heartbeat short of two seconds, where sleep was nothing but an echo, yet the world had not quite begun to spin again. And for a breath, as you stretch your palm across the silky sheets, still warm from the imprint of Hyunjin's body, you didn't think about 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞; you didn't think about anything but him.

You stay here long after the world began to spin again—waiting, wondering, sinking deeper into the thought of him: the fallen star nuzzled just beneath his eyelid, the feel of his fingers, soft and saccharine, brushing over your knuckles; the way his lips taste like oranges and his skin smells like fresh rain. You study every moment as though they were going to fade away—fluttering from your palms like ashed scrolls.

Then suddenly, it hits you. There were no intrusive thoughts, no anxieties—nothing but the ache where Hyunjin should have been; an ache that consumed you so greatly that you didn't have enough time to worry about 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. The realization sinks deep into your bones, pulsing in tandem with your trembling heart—everything felt so overwhelming in that bed, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 flooding back in. Though this time, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 tasted bittersweet—a distant, muted sour, a small break from the usual loud, potent flavor it tended be.

Something about the thought made your chest feel heavy, your head feel loud. You wanted to ask yourself so many questions, so many things you didn't have the answer to, but instead, you decide to search for Hyunjin, rising to your feet.

The faint scent of bananas and honey wafts through the crack in the door, slightly ajar from where he had left minutes before. You follow the scent down the hall, willing your trembling legs to hold you steady, though the sight that awaits you makes you weak in the knees for an entirely different reason.

Hyunjin's standing above the stove, still disheveled in his pajamas, swiftly whisking a bowl of batter. Beside him lays a cutting board with sliced bananas and a bread pan, the inside sticky with butter. And when he tilts his head to check the stove's timer, you notice the streak of flour smeared on his cheekbone, and for whatever reason, that detail absolutely destroys you.

Dewy-eyed and weak, you shuffle towards him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to shake the whisk from his hand. Hyunjin jumps, startled by the sudden touch, before he blanches, watching a single tear fall from your lash line.

The bowl drops onto the stovetop with a soft thud.

One second, you are feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath your palm, and the next, it is pressed against your cheek, the tip of your nose nuzzled into his throat. You breathe him in, filling your lungs up until it feels as though your chest has blossomed with the subtle scent. Hyunjin smelled like the forest's first breath—a faint, delicate petrichor that clung to his skin, as if he was the creator. A smell that brought you right back home.

"My love, what's wrong?" His voice hums against your cheek, trembling with a worry you were so reluctant to cause. It takes you centuries to speak, brushing through the vines creeping up your throat.

"I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought of was you," you whisper.

Hyunjin stills underneath your palms, his breath catching like weeds in his throat. It killed him to see you this way, utterly terrified by the very person he was so overwhelmingly besotted with. For months, he guided you through it, every restless night, every bad day, murmuring into your hair—when there's darkness look for the stars—with his hand held tight, you would argue "but there are no stars."

So Hyunjin created some. Every night before bed, he would coat your thoughts in honey, so with every kiss you would be reminded of him, and not them. It almost brought him to his knees, knowing all his hard work paid off.

He was over the moon, grateful tears collecting on his lash line. It takes him three shuddering breaths to push the words off his tongue—falling into your ears like sweet nectar.

"Oh, baby," he chokes, capturing your cheeks between trembling palms, still mindful of his sticky fingers. "I'm so glad, baby, I'm so fucking glad." Hyunjin can't hold himself back as he leans his forehead against your own, pressing his lips to yours.

He tastes like oranges and joy, so, so much joy it's dizzying. You seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, then his chest. He pulls you closer, so impossibly close, it feels as though your heartbeats have taken root within each other, a love sprouting through a single passionate kiss.

When there is darkness look for the stars—it was a quiet night four months ago when you first heard those words, nestled under the nighttime sky; his cheeks freckled with moon dust.

You could still feel it, the way your heart overturned as you shoved the words out of your mouth. It was embarrassing to talk about—how could you explain something you didn't understand? How could somebody sympathize with something that was so crazy?

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a while after that, bestowing your words with all the deference you deserved. It felt as though you had died a million times before he finally decided to speak.

"When there is darkness, look for the stars." At first, you stammered, both confused and slightly offended—that was, until he hooked his finger under your chin and kissed constellations onto your skin, spreading the galaxy inside your eyes until that was all you could see, all you could think.

It was that night where it all began.

It takes one clumsy kiss for him to accidentally smear a fat strip of batter across your cheek, breaking your makeout with a startled gasp. He goes wide-eyed, only slightly apologetic as he breaks out into a smile, seeing how adorable you looked—lips swollen and red, banana and flour smudged on your face.

"Baby—" Hyunjin doesn't get to finish his sentence, not before a slice of banana is catapulted onto his forehead, sticking with an audible thwap. He yelps, utterly gobsmacked, his jaw dropping in disbelief.

You begin to laugh, a rib-splitting, belly-gripping guffaw that resounds throughout the entire kitchen. With a playful scoff, Hyunjin grabs a handful of bananas, flicking them at you like bullets. You don't stop throwing food at each other until your stomachs burn with laughter and the floor is coated with enough ingredients to make banana bread itself. Hyunjin pulls you in, lips dusted with flour and giggles. He presses his smile against your own.

You realize then, blossoming with adoror, you had been so focused on what it was like 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 that you never stopped to think about how 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 didn't include Hyunjin.

Maybe, just maybe, you could get used to 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫.

cookie owns this. thank you.

[novamariestark]

hey! i love your page, also equally in love with hank 😂

here me out: reader just starts at CPD and is super close with erin, maybe they knew each other before the reader gets the job. erin sets up the reader on a blind date because she’s been trying to get over her toxic ex and it’s not working out too great. olinsky sets up hank on a blind date at the same spot the reader is going to. both of their dates don’t show up and so the two think they are there to meet each other. they hit it off and maybe later that night erin has to stop by hank’s place to get some paperwork. he doesn’t answer the door so erin lets herself in and walks in on the reader and hank

Give Your Heart A Break - H.V.

Loved this idea so much. I hope I haven't butchered it 🤣😭

Might make a part 2 for the part where she (aka you) joins CPD

Summary: You were set up on a blind date. So was Hank. But what happens when your best friend catches you having sex with her foster dad. (hey you didn't know)

Warnings: bad smut, age gap, oral (f receiving), piv (protected) proofread but I'm still certain that a ghost edits it after I post it 🤣

Word count: 4463

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

“Come on, girl, you have to get back out there,” you friend of 10 year tells you. Yeah, maybe you did, but you sure as hell didn’t feel confident enough to do so.

Not after him.

Your ex wasn’t just toxic, he was the kind of poison that seeped into every part of your life. He made you second-guess everything—what you wore, how you laughed, even how you felt about yourself. It took you too long to realize that his “love” came with a price: your self-worth. And even now, 11 months after leaving him, you still felt the weight of his voice in the back of your mind, telling you no one else would want you.

Maybe they wouldn’t. Sometimes you stare into the mirror and just think that maybe he was right.

You tug at the sleeve of your jacket, fidgeting with the worn fabric like it might somehow make your nerves chill the fuck out. The mirror is still in front of you, the reflection of your own lifeless eyes staring back. You hate what you see. The way your shoulders seem to slump a little lower than they used to, the way your eyes don’t light up the way they used to when you laughed. If you even laugh anymore. It’s like you’ve been trying to fit into a mold he made, and now there’s just this empty version of yourself left behind.

But Erin... Erin wasn’t going to let you disappear into yourself. She refused to let you wallow, even if that meant dragging you back into the dating world so suddenly. You were sure you heard her wrong when she said that she had set you up on a blind date.

“I don’t know, Erin,” you mutter, still fiddling with the sleeve. Your eyes flick to her reflection in the mirror, her expression soft but stubborn to get you out of your little comfort zone and back in the world of the living. The look that says she’s not giving up on you, no matter how hard you try to push her away.

Her hand finds your shoulder, squeezing gently. “What if he’s not like that?” she says, reading the fear in your silence. “What if he’s good for you? What if he makes you smile again?”

The words hit you hard, and not in the comforting way Erin probably meant. What if—you hate those words. Those two words are a double-edged sword. They offer hope but never any certainty. What if he’s just like the last one? What if you’re not ready? What if you’re never ready?

You take a deep breath, “And what if I’m not enough?” The words slip out before you can stop them. You feel exposed, vulnerable.

Erin frowns, stepping in front of you, her hands finding yours. “You are enough. More than enough. And you deserve more than what that asshole put you through. Way more.” She tilts her head, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. “But you’re never going to know until you start living again.”

She’s right, and you know it. But knowing it and believing it are two very different things.

“I guess…” you start, but your voice cracks slightly. “I guess I just don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

“I get that,” Erin replies, her voice softer now. “But staying stuck in the past isn’t going to fix anything. You’ve got to take the leap sometime, right?”

“Fine,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll go.”

Erin’s smile is immediate, like she knew you’d say yes all along. “You won’t regret this, I promise.” Like you could ever say no to her. She’s been your rock.

Every minute from that moment felt like an hour. You’re know staring into your closet, feeling like you’ve got nothing to wear. Everything you own seems to either scream “I’m still recovering” or “I’m so not ready for this.” Before you know it, you bed looks like a garage sale. You’ve tried on thirteen outfits already, and each one feels more wrong than the last.

“Are you still in there?” Erin’s voice calls from the other side of your bedroom door. “Do you need some help?”

You sigh, slumping onto the edge of your bed. “I’m not sure what to wear. Nothing feels right.”

The door swings open, and Erin steps in, her eyes scanning the mess of clothes, amusement dancing on her smile. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

You rise and let Erin sift through the chaos on your bed.. She always seems so effortlessly put together. You, on the other hand, feel like you were just stumbling your way through life.

“Okay, let’s start with this,” Erin says, pulling out a sleek, navy dress from the pile. “This is simple but elegant. It’s not too flashy, but it’s definitely date-worthy.”

You eye the dress sceptically. “Is it too much? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Erin gives you a reassuring smile. “Trust me, it’s perfect. It’s all about how you feel in it. Confidence is key, and this dress will definitely help with that.” You take the dress from her and head to the bathroom to change. The moment you slip it on, for the first time today, you don’t feel like a total disaster. The dress skims your figure comfortably, and you can’t help but notice that it makes you look—dare you say it—almost radiant.

When you emerge, Erin’s eyes light up. “See? I told you it would look amazing.”

You spin around slightly with a little giggle slipping from your lips, feeling the soft fabric sway. “It does feel nice. Thanks for helping.”

“You look great. But let’s not forget the finishing touches.” She rummages through your jewellery box and selects a pair of simple, elegant earrings that match your dress.

After you put them on, she leads you to the mirror, “See, a beautiful Goddess and it’s quite rude to keep it to yourself” You laugh at her comment and glance at yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, you actually like what you see. The dress, the earrings, the way your hair falls in perfect waves. You still have a bit of anxiety gnawing at you, but the reflection staring back at you reminded you of who you used to be, and not that hollow robot.

“Alright,” Erin says, giving you a final once-over. “You’re all set. You look amazing. Remember, tonight is just about having a good time. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Erin. I really appreciate all this.”

Erin gives you a hug, her support tangible. “Anytime. Now go out there and show him what you’re made of.”

When you showed up at the restaurant, a woman asked if you had a reservation and you gave her your name. She seats you at a table for two, and you wait.

And wait.

Your date didn’t show up. Classic. You should have known it would be a disaster. In fact. You did.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, trying to look like you weren’t bothered. You kept checking your phone, hoping for a text or a call that never came. The couple at the table across from you seemed to mock your attempts to stay optimistic. You had just started mentally preparing yourself for the ride home when a guy approached your table.

“Sorry I’m late, they seemed to have seated me at the wrong table,” he chuckled nervously, “I thought you stood me up,”

You matched his nervous chuckle, “I thought you had done the same,”

It was a bit awkward at first—two strangers just being thrown together. But you quickly fell into conversation, and you began to relax. You talked about everything and the more you talked, the easier it became.

As you talked, you noticed how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. His stories about work and his mild self-deprecating humor were refreshing. It was like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in the toxic, stifling environment of your previous relationship. The way he listened, really listened, made you feel valued. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that.

You laughed more tonight than you had in months. And the more you laughed, the more you felt like yourself again. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

By the end of the night, when you were getting kicked out, you realised that you had literally talked the night away. Hank suggested you continue at his place. The offer was casual, and there was nothing overtly romantic about it—just a simple invitation to continue the conversation. You hesitated at first, but something about him made you feel safe. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he genuinely wanted to get to know you better. Or maybe it was the comfort you felt in his presence, something rare and precious.

You found yourself saying yes, almost against your better judgment. You felt a flutter of excitement—something else you haven’t felt in a while.

--

As you walked to his place, the cold air kissing your cheeks, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something. Something that could fill the emptiness that had been carved into your soul. And maybe, just maybe, something that could make you feel alive again.

Hank’s house was cozy and filled with the faint scent of pine, probably from his cologne. You took off your coat and he offered you a drink, which you accepted—a glass of wine to calm your nerves. You sat on the couch, the cushions sinking under your weight, and he sat next to you.

The conversation flowed easily as you sipped your wine. His eyes never left yours, and you found yourself leaning closer without even realizing it.

The TV played in the background, a dull hum of noise that was easy to ignore. You talked about everything from your favorite movies to your deepest fears. Hank spoke about his passion for his job, how it consumed him, but also gave him a sense of purpose. You spoke about your love for art, how it was your escape from the real world.

As the night grew late, the tension between you thickened like the air before a storm. You felt it in the way your leg brushed against his, in the way your fingers hovered just a little too long over his hand when you laughed at his jokes. You were aware of every inch of space that existed between you, and every part of you craved to fill it.

But did he feel the same?

You took a sip of your wine, the liquid warmth spreading through your chest and down to your fingertips. Hank’s hand reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face. His touch was gentle, tender, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You placed your hand over his, looking into his eyes, not really wanting his touch to leave.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice a soft rumble.

You let out a breathy laugh "It's been a long time since anyone's said that... well, apart from my best friend" you say referring to Erin. Hank's gaze remained on you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He leaned in closer, his hand still resting gently on yours.

"That's a damn crime," Hank murmured, his eyes searching yours. His thumb began to trace lazy circles on the back of your hand, sending a wave of heat through you. You hadn't felt this way in so long— seen, appreciated, desired. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt your heart begin to race, your palms soaked as though there was group of rivers flowing across them.

Hank leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper against your skin. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for consent. The question was so raw, so genuine, it melted away the last of your doubt. You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips met yours. It was a kiss filled with the promise of something more, a gentle reminder that you were still here, still feeling.

You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into him. The kiss grew more urgent, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It was like your bodies were trying to remember a dance they hadn't performed in a long time, but the rhythm came back so naturally.

His hands slid down your back, caressing your curves, and you gasped into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. You pull away for a moment, panting, looking into his eyes that are filled with a hunger that matches your own. "I...I need to tell you something," you manage to say between breaths.

"What is it?" Hank asks, his voice thick with need, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You take a deep breath, feeling a little embarrassed of what you were about to say, "It's been a while for me. And I'm a little... nervous."

Hank's expression softens, and he cups your face in his hands. "It's okay," he whispers, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "We don't have to if you don't -"

"I want to"

The words came out in a rush, surprising both of you. You hadn’t realized how badly you wanted this—how much you needed it. Hank’s eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were unsure.

"You're sure?" he asks, his voice hoarse. You nod, and the next moment his mouth is on yours again, more insistent than before. You feel the couch dip as he shifts closer, his body pressing against yours. His hands move to the zipper of your dress, and you let him, your own trembling hands working on the buttons of his shirt.

As the fabric falls away, you can feel the heat of his skin, and you realize that maybe—just maybe—this is what you’ve been waiting for. This connection, this raw, primal need that is so much more than just lust. It’s like he’s peeling back the layers of doubt and fear that you’ve wrapped around yourself, and you’re letting him in, even if it’s just for tonight.

Hank’s hands are sure, yet gentle, as he helps you out of the dress, his eyes never leaving yours. You stand before him in your underwear, feeling a mix of vulnerability and excitement. His gaze sweeps over you, and you can see the desire in his eyes. You remember what it’s like to be wanted, and it sends confidence soaring through you. Before your mind can talk you out of it, you straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of him.

His hands glide up your thighs, sending a tingling sensation through your body. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace the edges of your underwear, and you lean in to kiss him again, deep and needy. His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra that surprises you. It falls away, and his hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. A moan escapes your lips, and he swallows it with his own.

The fabric of his pants is rough against the thin material of your panties as you rock your hips into him. His hands slide down to your ass, lifting you slightly so you can feel him pressing against you. The anticipation is unbearable, a sweet agony that makes you whimper. He kisses you harder, his tongue delving into your mouth as he rolls you onto your back on the couch. His body follows, covering yours, his weight pressing you into the cushions.

He kisses down your neck, nipping gently at your collarbone, making you arch your back. His hand slides under your panties, his thumb circling your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging in as he teases you, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and you can feel his own arousal pressing against you, demanding more. You reach down and unbuckle his belt, pulling his zipper down. He shifts, standing to shed his pants, and you see his erection, full and thick. Your own need spikes, and you can’t help but reach out and touch him, your hand wrapping around his length. He groans, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

You kiss him again, your hips grinding against him, desperate for relief. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls it down, leaving you bare to him. His eyes rove over your body, drinking in the sight of you. You feel exposed, but also powerful. He kisses his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reaches your core, he looks up, making eye contact as he runs his tongue along your folds. You gasp, your body jolting.

He tastes you, exploring you with a hunger that's both thrilling and terrifying. Your fingers reach down to rest on his head, guiding him closer as he teases your clit. Your fingers definitely didn’t make you feel this good. Your legs quiver, and you’re so close, so close to letting go. But then he stops, leaving you trembling on the edge.

Hank kisses his way back up your body, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ready?” he asks, his voice gruff with desire. You nod, unable to form words. He reaches into his nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. The simple action is so erotic that you can’t help but bite your bottom lip.

He rolls it on and then, finally, he’s inside you. You gasp as he fills you, the feeling of fullness and the stretch of his cock making you feel alive again. It’s been so long, and it hurts a bit, but you don’t care. You wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper, and he obliges, his strokes slow and steady, as if he’s savoring every moment.

You’re both panting, your breaths mingling in the stillness of his living room. The only sounds are the slap of skin on skin and the occasional groan that escapes your lips. His eyes never leave yours.

Hank’s movements become more urgent, his thrusts deeper. You can feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your stomach. You’re so close, so incredibly close. He must feel it too, because his strokes become more deliberate, his breathing more ragged. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he drives into you.

"What the hell?!" a voice yelled through the silence. The two of you stopped and looked to where the voice come from.

Your eyes widened when you saw your best friend standing there. You barely registered the words spilling out of your mouth as you screamed, "Oh my God, Erin, what are you doing here?" Every muscle in your body tensed, and instinctively, you grabbed the couch cushion, trying to cover yourself, but it was pointless.

You glanced at Hank, hoping for some kind of lifeline, but his expression mirrored yours: wide-eyed, frozen, and utterly shocked. Erin’s voice cut through the fog in your brain, sharp with anger and disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/N," she spat. "What the fuck are you doing with him?"

The words felt like a slap, and you scrambled for some words, "You're the one who set the date up... you know, to bring me back to the world of the living?"

Then Erin said something that confused the shit out of you, "He's not the one I set you up with."

Wait, what? Confusion hit you like a truck. You could barely get the words out. "He's not?" Your voice cracked. You were suddenly hyper-aware of Hank hovering over you, both of you too stunned to move. He was staring at you for answers, but you had none. What is happening?

Then, Erin’s words sliced through the air: "She's my best friend, Hank." She glared at you, fury and disbelief simmering just beneath the surface. "And he is my foster dad."

The words hung in the air like a bomb, and your brain couldn’t process them fast enough. Her foster dad? Your stomach lurched, and you gulped, staring at Erin in shock. "Erin, I'm sorry," you stammered, barely able to get the words out. "I-I didn't know, we were both there for blind dates. I thought you'd set us up." You sounded pathetic, you felt pathetic. Your heart pounded in your chest as you silently begged for her to understand.

Erin’s focus shifted to Hank, who was just as lost as you. "You went on a blind date?" she asked him, her tone still simmering with disbelief.

"Alvin's idea," Hank muttered. His voice was soft now, he couldn’t believe the situation any more than you could, "Erin, I'm sorry."

You turned back to Erin, your stomach twisting painfully. "Please don't hate me," you begged. Erin was everything—your best friend, your anchor, the person who’d always been there for you through thick and thin. If you lost her over this... you don’t know what you’d do.

And then, in the most unexpected turn of events, Erin’s face softened. A small laugh bubbled out of her, and before you could understand what was happening, she was full-on laughing, wiping a tear from her eye.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at her, stunned. "What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you clung to the cushion for dear life.

Erin shook her head, still chuckling. "Oh my God, Y/N. I could never hate you." Her voice was lighter now, her anger gone. "I just... wasn’t expecting this. I’m going to have nightmares," she said, rubbing her temples.

Relief rushed through you, "You didn’t tell him about you-know-who, did you?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. Because she knew full well that Hank would track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine.

You quickly shook your head, "No," you answered quietly, praying Hank wouldn’t press for details.

Hank, still utterly confused, looked between the two of you. "You know who?" His brow furrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice.

You shot Erin a quick glance before turning back to Hank, forcing a tight smile. "No one," you said quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. Please let this be the end of it.

“Well… uh… I’m going to head out. Um, you two enjoy the rest of your night,” she said as she headed towards the door, “Hank, you better be good to her."

Hank straightened up slightly, "Erin, I would never—"

But Erin cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, well, just remember," she said, her voice turning playful but with a subtle threat lurking underneath, "I know where you live."

As soon as the door clicked shut, the silence in the room felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. You and Hank were alone again.

"I guess we should talk," Hank said finally, breaking the silence. You nodded, still trying to get your breathing under control. "But not now," he added, giving you a small, sexy smile, "Now, I think we should finish what we started."

Hank leaned down and captured your mouth in another deep kiss. You kissed him back with the same intensity, your arms wrapping around his neck, your legs locking around his waist.

The shock of Erin’s interruption had passed, and the heat between the two of you roared back to life. Hank began to move again, his hips rocking into yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pushed deeper inside you, filling you up so good, that it sent your thoughts spiraling out of control.

Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he moved above you, his breath hot against your neck. His mouth found your ear, and he whispered, “You’re mine tonight, baby.” The possessiveness in his voice went straight to your core and you let out a moan. You could feel his smirk on your neck as he nipped and sucked at the soft flesh.

You arched your back, urging him deeper, and he responded with a groan, his pace quickening. The couch creaked under your weight, accompanied by your gasps and his grunts. You could feel your climax building, a pressure that grew more intense with every stroke.

“Harder,” you breathed, and Hank complied, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you, the sound of your flesh slapping together filling the room. You were lost in the sensation, the delicious friction of his cock rubbing against your g-spot driving you wild. You threw your head back as Hank's hand found your sensitive bundle of nerves and began to rub it in time with his thrusts, "fuck" you had not felt this good in a while.

And then it hit you. That sweet, powerful release that had been building. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you screamed. The pleasure was so intense that you couldn't contain it, and Hank groaned as he felt your walls tighten around him. He thrust into you one last time, his own climax following yours.

You both collapsed into the couch cushions, breathless and spent. Hank kissed the top of your head, before he got up to get a cloth to clean you up and some spare clothes. You both sat down to watch the tv. You snuggled up to him and before you knew it, you fell asleep in his arms.

Hank carries you to his bed and covers you up and as he starts to pull away, you whisper, "Stay," your voice thick with sleepiness.

He pauses, looking down at you with a soft smile. "You sure?" he asks.

You nod, feeling a sudden, desperate need for his warmth beside you. "Yeah," you murmur, your eyes already drifting shut.

Hank pulls back the covers and slides in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. You fit perfectly, as though you were two puzzle pieces finally coming together. His heart beats a steady rhythm against your back, and you feel your own heart rate slow to match it. He kisses the nape of your neck, his breath warm and comforting. You snuggle closer, feeling safe in his arms.

Thought this song went well with this.

[laventae]

Serendipity

Summary: You accidentally bump into Suna once, then a second time, then a third time.... before it starts seeming like fate has already decided its course for the both of you.

Pairings: Suna Rintaro x F!reader

Genre: Romance/Comedy, Mostly fluff, College/Uni au

Word count: 1.5k words

The Beginning: Chapter 1

(A/N: Well well well, guess who finally re-appeared :) Does anyone even read these? Maybe I’m just talking to myself at this point, haha. I actually had a few chapters sitting in my drafts that I never got around to posting, so I might finally do that (with a bit of editing along the way). If anyone is out there and wants to see something specific, feel free to throw me some ideas! And to my one loyal follower who keeps asking me to update, this one’s for you.)

Chapter 4

“Suna?” you ask, almost to yourself.

He looks around the store, then spots you at the counter and walks in. You notice a faint smile tug at his lips as he makes his way over.

“Hey,” you greet, smiling as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted a quiet place to read,” he says, holding up the book in his hand.

“Right,” you nod, trying not to sound too hopeful. “What can I get you?”

Suna orders a drink, pulling out his wallet, but you shake your head and wave your hand.

“No, no. I told you — it’s on me,” you remind him.

“It’s okay, I can pay—”

“Nope. Let me do this,” you insist, and he gives in.

“I feel bad... but thanks.”

“Please don’t,” you smile. “You can sit anywhere, I’ll bring your order when it’s ready.”

He nods and heads to a table while you get to work on his drink. A few minutes later, you carry it over.

“Here you go,” you say, placing it down. He looks up at you, eyes soft. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“Thanks.”

You turn to leave, but he calls out.

“Uh—wait. When does your shift end?” he asks, a little awkwardly.

You check your watch. “Around five. Why?”

He shrugs. “Just wondering.”

You smile. “Alright, if you need anything, just let me know.”

-~-~-

“Thanks for your hard work, y/n,” your boss says as you leave the staff room, changed out of your uniform.

“Thank you!” you reply, stepping into the main café — only to spot Suna still at the table you left him at. He’s leaning forward with his chin on his hand, looking out the window.

You walk over quietly. “Hey,” you say, but there’s no answer.

“Hey?” you repeat, sitting opposite him. That’s when you realize his eyes are closed.

‘Is he asleep?’ you smile to yourself.

You poke his cheek gently. “Suna?”

He jolts upright, blinking at you — then relaxes when he sees your face.

“Oh. Hey. What time is it? You’re done?”

“Yeah, it’s five now,” you say. “Were you... waiting for me?” you ask, half-joking.

“Would it be weird if I said yes?”

You feel your face heat up. You weren’t even serious when you asked that.

“Oh,” is all you manage.

He grabs his phone and book, then stands. “Can I, uh... walk you home?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. You stare at the way it falls back into place. So soft.

You shake the thought away and stand too.

“You waited all this time just to walk me home?” you tease as you both head for the door.

“It is weird, isn’t it?” he says, holding the door open for you.

You chuckle. “No, not at all.”

You walk side by side, quiet but comfortable, until you speak again.

“Actually... I was thinking of grabbing dinner. Wanna join?”

“Oh—my bad, did you already have plans with someone?”

You laugh. “No, I’m asking you if you wanna come.”

“Oh.” He perks up. “Yeah. Sure.”

-~-~-

After dinner, the two of you step out of the restaurant into the cool evening air. The conversation had flowed easily, light and a little clumsy in a way that made you smile. You even brought up what Hina asked earlier that day.

You were both unsure about the whole fake dating thing — but when Suna said, “We might as well just go through with it or she’ll never believe us,” you had to agree. Backing out now would definitely raise suspicions.

Still, a part of you didn’t feel great about lying to Hina, even if it was harmless. You reassured yourself it wouldn’t last long.

“I’ll just use the washroom before we go, yeah?” you say, getting up from the table.

Suna nods. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Thanks,” you smile, heading off.

It only takes a few minutes to freshen up, but as you’re about to exit the restaurant, a familiar voice calls your name.

You turn to see Noah from uni waving at you.

“Oh, hey Noah!” you greet, walking over.

“I thought that was you! I saw you earlier but didn’t wanna interrupt. How are you?”

“I’m good! How’s your break going? Did you come with someone?”

“Yeah, actually, we’re all sitting in the back,” he says, pointing to a table of classmates. You wave at them.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to hang out lately, but I promise I’ll make time soon.”

He grins. “I’ll hold you to that. You owe us.”

He playfully bumps your shoulder, and you laugh — until you feel someone’s arm snake around your waist.

You look over and find Suna beside you, his expression unreadable.

“Is there a problem here?” he asks, glancing from Noah to you, brow slightly furrowed.

“Oh—Suna, this is my friend Noah from uni,” you say quickly.

Suna’s hand eases its grip, and you wonder if he came over because he was worried again.

“Right, well. Nice seeing you, y/n. Don’t forget your promise!” Noah says as he walks back to his group.

You and Suna step outside again.

“I didn’t know you knew him,” he says quietly, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s okay,” you reply with a small smile. “Thank you.”

He looks at you, confused. “Why are you thanking me?”

“For... always looking out for me.”

-~-~-

The next morning, you head down to the laundry room with a small basket in your hands. You didn’t expect anyone to be there this early, but when you push open the door, you freeze.

Suna’s already there, leaning casually against the bench by the window, a book in his hand. The morning sun filters in, lighting him up from the side—his hair looks soft, skin warm, and there’s a peaceful expression on his face as he reads.

You blink. He looks... really handsome.

You shake off the thought quickly and quietly make your way in.

Just as you're about to reach the washing machine, he looks up—and the second he sees you, a smile spreads across his face. It’s subtle, but you catch a spark of surprise in his eyes, like he wasn’t expecting you but is kind of glad you're there.

“Hey,” he greets, slipping a bookmark in and closing his book.

“Morning,” you smile as you set your basket down and start loading your laundry, trying not to feel too flustered.

“Sleep okay?” he asks casually, leaning back on the bench.

You nod, though your brain’s a little fuzzy. “Yeah. A bit restless, actually. I kept thinking about tonight.”

Suna hums. “Me too,” he admits. “It’s kind of weird, right? Lying to Hina.”

“Yeah…” you pause, “I don’t know, I feel bad. But also nervous?”

He looks at you, expression calm. “Don’t stress about it too much. If anything happens, I’m there. You don’t have to worry.”

His tone is so steady, so simple—but your heart flutters anyway. You bite your lip and nod as you finish loading the machine, then close the lid and press start.

You turn to join him, walking over to the bench without looking properly—until your foot hits a wet patch on the floor.

Your balance slips.

You gasp, eyes shutting instinctively as you brace for impact.

But it never comes.

Instead, arms catch you—strong, steady.

You open your eyes to find yourself in Suna’s arms, faces only inches apart. His hands grip your waist, yours are lightly gripping his sleeves, and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

Your heart pounds in your ears.

He stares at you, quiet for a few seconds, then clears his throat, his voice low:

“Well... good practice for our date tonight?”

You laugh, flustered, cheeks hot. “Smooth,” you mumble as he helps you upright.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes scanning you just to be sure.

“Yeah... thanks. Again.” You glance away, embarrassed. “I feel bad that you keep saving me.”

He smiles gently. “I don’t mind.”

He sits back down and reopens his book like nothing happened. But you’re still standing there, heartbeat nowhere near settled.

You stare at him for a second—soft features relaxed in the sunlight, book resting on his lap—and suddenly, this whole fake dating thing feels... dangerous.

Is this really a good idea? you wonder. Because this… this feels too real.

He looks up from the book and catches your gaze. “Everything okay?”

You quickly look away, cheeks burning. “Y-Yeah. All good.”

You don’t see the small smirk tugging at his lips.

-~-~-

Later that evening, you both arrive at the restaurant Hina had texted you about. The sign above the door glows softly in the evening light, and you pause outside, heart beating a little faster.

Before you can say anything, Suna turns to you and quietly holds out his hand.

You look at it, then up at him—there’s no teasing in his expression this time, just a calm kind of encouragement.

You hesitate only for a second before placing your hand in his.

He holds it gently.

“Let’s give a good performance,” he says with a small smile.

You nod, heart fluttering in your chest, and together, you step into the restaurant.

Next Chapter - Chapter 5

(Full Masterlist)

[lbxbx]

Accidentally Yours 1 | JJK

Pair: Jungkook x reader

Summary: revenge never tasted that good when you decide to get back at the man - who ran you over - with the worst punishment he could ever get, and despite all the grudge, maybe some time after, the grudge will gradually turn into something else..?

Genre: e2l, biker jk, series ( a long one.), smut, fluff, angst.

Warnings: mentions of car accidents, mentions of fractured bone and hospitals, mentions of insecurities, cranky oc, mentions of drugs and money laundering.

Taglist open ‼️

Mood board 1 | Mood board 2

It’s a Tuesday night in October and it’s one of your usual work nights where your beloved routine takes place. It's nothing out of the ordinary really, it’s evening time and you had just finished creating your content and filming it.

You're standing in front of your vanity mirror massaging your face after your skincare routine, your phone buzzing a notification that your food order is ready for pickup so you rush to slip something warm on.

You weren’t someone born with a certain passion or ambitious enough to get a big degree, but you did manage to get a bachelor’s degree in accounting about seven years ago and you did get a job at a local company as a junior accountant, but it just wasn’t enough.

You’d get your paycheck and spend it only on necessities, it was enough money for you to survive, but never enough to get you the life you wanted.

You ran into a couple acquaintances a couple years ago and only three hangouts later, and you’d kill to be in their shoes.

Not only were they living the life you wanted, they owned the house you imagined having in your dreams, owned luxurious cars and hell even traveled places you’ve never even heard of before.

You thought you’d find a part time job and juggle with the one you had back then but it was impossible, and when you did the math, you’ll basically still be in debt.

Instead of taking a step forward you decided to take two steps back and just quit your job, you hated waking up early and hated the fact that you worked under someone, and the money wasn’t even worth it.

One of your friends suggested content creating, and you thought it through, you have nothing to film that people would be interested in seeing, nor that life that’s worth documenting.

“No idiot, I meant onlyfans.”

And it made you feel uneasy at first, but you remember your first night filming your very first video vividly.

You invested your last couple of hundreds of bucks and got a video camera, the shop even handed you a tripod as a “thank you for buying one of our worst cameras” and you ran back home to set it up.

And honestly the whole video was you faking an orgasm and attempting to make sounds that are supposed to get you an audience. And you proceeded to edit it into a short ten minute video and post it.

The app gave you an option on how much you could charge your audience and you chose to charge only five bucks for a subscription, you’re just testing waters.

Gotta say you weren’t really hopeful about it.

You showered that night thinking, what if this was actually it? You might have just changed your life with the stupid few minutes you just filmed of you putting on an act.

Not even 20 minutes later you head out and run back to your phone to find a SMS message from your local bank, oh my god this has to be it.

You hurriedly unlock your phone to read the message, but it was only a confirmation text that you had connected your account to this sketchy website, which made you sulk a little, but really what were you expecting.

Even when this was a little over two years ago you still remember the second you got your first subscription, and it was basically the day after your first video, and it was only 4 subscriptions ( basically twenty bucks. ) but you knew that this was just the beginning, and you knew you had to invest more into it if you were going to live the luxurious life.

And there you are, two years later, you did buy a penthouse in a luxurious neighborhood, you managed to make your first investment and bought a couple apartments that you rent out for college students, you also bought not one, but two freaking cars that are freakishly expensive.

Not to mention you now invite your friends to go hiking or traveling together.

And last but not least, your cat Coco who you adopted right away, every time you came home you look at her with heart eyes when she waits for you by your door, she curls up right by your feet and sometimes she would make failed attempts of jumping right onto you and you find it unbelievably adorable, sometimes she’d even fall asleep right by your keyboard when you’re uploading your content and she is irreplaceable.

Fuck the degree, this is the best decision you’ve ever made.

Back to now, you’re throwing on your pair of sneakers and grabbing your car keys ready to go pick up your fried chicken. “I’ll be right back Coco okay?”

Your stomach was growling you can hear it resonate through the elevator walls, you head out the security and they greet you warmly.

Not only because you’re the most humble out of all the residents, also because you’re the most generous out of them all, treating them for dinners and lunches and sometimes buying gifts for the cleaners, they adore you. Not to mention you were a generous tipper!

You head out the building to watch a young man feeling up your car, a helmet in his hand and his motor bike parked right beside yours, now you usually didn’t mind, until you see him checking out your license plate and taking pictures of your car, his hand is about to touch the door handle before you voice out. “Hey!”

As if his body was prepared, a surge of adrenaline rushes through his system and his heartbeat becomes rapid, he’s fully alert that you’re after him now and as a response for his sense of urgency or fear, he throws on his helmet and right when he’s about to get onto his bike, he bumps into your car accidentally making the alarm go on.

“Get back here.” You are seconds away from running after him but you know you won’t be able to catch up. He manages to gain his balance back onto his motor bike right away and drives it fast enough to disappear out of your sight in seconds. “Idiot.”

You take a quick spin around your car just to check on it before unlocking it and getting in and buckling up, the stupid guy is long forgotten when you hear your stomach growling again, you haven’t had a bite after breakfast this morning, so you rush to pick up your food order and go back home.

-

Being your own boss made a bit careless about weekends, every day was a weekend to you practically, you only waited for the weekends occasionally if you were hanging out with some of your friends.

It’s Friday and the neighborhood you live in gets quite busy on the weekend nights, people who live in this areas usually host cocktail parties and reunions on fridays, some times newlyweds rent out the near by mansions for their honeymoon and it does get a little noisy.

You were never a fan of traffic and you hated having to stay long in the car so you avoided leaving your place unless it was really urgent.

“So are you coming or not?” Your best friend Natty is on the phone, you can hardly hear her when music around her is so loud.

Your friends have decided on hitting the club to celebrate someone’s promotion but with the traffic outside it was impossible for you to leave your place.

Plus you have a schedule you have to follow and you have to post something tomorrow and you haven’t filmed the content yet, so basically you had to work tonight so you’re not going anywhere, or at least that’s what you thought.

“No Nat i’m afraid not, i have some work left to do and i’m waiting for the gate keeper to come over and wash my car.”

You can easily imagine her rolling her eyes when she speaks. “Ugh, i’ll pick you up, work can wait, you’re your own boss.”

“Enjoy your night Natty, i’ll chat about it with you tomorrow.” You hang up right away and open the app on your phone to figure out what’s the meal you’ll devour on once you’re finished.

And honestly Sushi sounds good right now, so with no second thoughts you choose the items you want and add them to your cart, before you get up onto your feet and head to your room.

The room you specifically had designed for this type of content, not like it’s that type of rooms, but accent dark walls and a large bed, with the camera set up prepared all the time on standby along with the lighting ready, and a storage compartment for your “tools” and outfits.

You’ve grown to adore this job, not only do you do it to make money, but you’ve made a great amount of online subscribers that make you love doing it just so you can have a chat with them.

You get changed and right before you hit record you made sure to hit the order button for your sushi, so by the time you’re done you’ll have your food delivered by your door.

It doesn’t take you over 30 minutes to make a clip that you know you’ll have a hard time editing ( which was basically the worst part ever. ) so you get up and make it to your shower to clean up and get into a comfy pair of pants and a sweater, it was freezing cold outside and even with your fireplace on you were still freezing.

A small pop up banner on the top of your phone screen showed notifying you that the order was ready for pickup, which you recall you asked for it to be delivered.

A few clicks and failed attempts to get it delivered it was practically impossible, so you slid on your pair of sneakers and grabbed your car keys. “I’ll be home soon Coco.” You pet her and smother her with kisses before heading out.

Looks like no matter how hard you tried avoiding leaving your house you were eventually coerced to.

The traffic was unbearable, not only was it a friday night, the holiday season was coming up in a month or even less and people couldn’t stay home even when there’s a blizzard outside.

You rush to get into your car and quickly shuffle your fingers over the buttons to heat up the seats and the steering wheel. The sushi place wasn’t that far away but why walk there when you can drive? Specially when snow was expected on the weather forecast tonight. Although walking there would’ve probably been faster.

On regular basis it would’ve been a 15 to 20 minute drive to the place but on maps it was clear enough that this ride will take at least 35 to 40 minutes.

Luckily you didn’t have to worry about the temperature of your food-

Although you tried to be positive about it but you most certainly have driver’s rage and it’s starting to piss you off that the lights turned green and people aren’t driving yet.

You would’ve flashed your lights at the cars if you were patient enough but you’re not, so you honk the horn repeatedly and you couldn’t care less if people judged you for honking this late at night.

It bothers you even more that bikers just manage to slip between the vehicles and just cross the lights that are turning orange by now and soon come to red.

“Will you come on.” You whine before unbuckling your seat belt and turning off your car, and right after you leave your car and close your door, you were seconds away to scolding the driver in front of you when suddenly a searing pain is felt on your lower half, you could quite literally hear something breaking as if your bone is tearing apart, it’s jolting inside your body and it’s hard to ignore.

As if your nervous system was on alert your hand subconsciously moves to your leg, your eyesight even wonders there wondering if you even still have your leg attached to your body, and you immediately feel nauseous and breathless, you’re pretty sure you’re about to pass out.

“Maam are you okay?”

Scratch that. You already did.

The engines of the cars and bikes ( specifically the one that ran over you ) suddenly feel far away and you no longer hear them, your eyelids feel heavy and you immediately lose consciousness.

-

Okay maybe it’s not that reckless of a life, on the verge of being 30 yet feeling like he hadn’t still lived his entire dreams, he insists on doing everything he wanted even if it costed him a fortune.

Of course, he wants to go explore somewhere new? He’d do it, even if he’s in debt, he knows he’d end up starving for the rest of the month, living his best life was a priority and frankly his priorities are severely off.

He wants to drive a boat? He’d do it, even when he’s positive that he’ll never own one but hey, it’ll be a fun experience. He’ll have to give up on a couple of things this month as well

Of course his friends are joining a bikers club, why not join it too? It would be great to own a bike. It took him nights to figure out what to give up next and the only option he has was his car and in his defense it made sense. With the money he can learn how to drive a motor bike and even own the newest yet coolest bike in town.

So? Of course he sells his car and gets the lessons and even owns one of the best remodeled motor bikes ever.

This bike was a legit babe magnet, his good looks helped too but the bike played a bigger role than he did, wherever he went he would get the attention, even when he washed his bike in the nearby gas station he would have girls drooling over him.

Actually one of his latest encounters progressed into having the lady as his backpack on his bike when he drove across the city to show her how fast he can go, of course he ended up in her bed

He’s a little more financially stable now after he settled for his bike, he would end up being in debt because his job doesn’t pay that well, he does photography for fun and it was initially his hobby, he doesn’t have that many costumers but when he does he gets paid well.

His obsession for luxurious expensive cars was endless, he enjoyed visiting luxurious neighborhoods just to check out the cars there, one of the recent cars he saw was the black mercedes suv that was parked in front of a skyscraper in the middle of city and it drew all his attention, and to his shock it was driven by a young lady like you, he panicked that night and quickly rushed to get onto his bike and drove away to avoid getting into trouble.

Your car was custom made to your desire with the options you wanted, so basically it is one of a kind and there are no other cars like yours.

And tonight was one of the numerous friday nights where him and his friends would go bike outside the city and to his luck he was really late, and traffic tonight was insane, so he put his helmet on and drove really fast to catch up with his people, he started gliding through traffic and slicing through the lanes, he can hear people cursing which he was used to at this point but he needed to get there like right now!

He was focused on the narrow gaps being sure to dodge the mirrors and people who were on foot, he was a really excellent driver even when there was barely a breath of space left between his bike and other cars.

His phone let out a familiar chime signaling a new message and it had caught his attention, he was aware that his phone shouldn’t make a distraction while he’s driving but when it’s his friend Taehyung sending him a different location stating that they changed their gathering point, he had to check it out.

“Fuck-“ he muttered and tried hard to focus both on the road and on his phone, when maps loaded and showed him the new spot he pinched the screen to figure out the where the alley was when suddenly he bumped onto something- or someone he wasn’t sure, his phone fell to the floor and he was close enough to fall off his bike, hearing people panicking around him he was pretty positive that he ran over a person.

He cursed on the inside and debated on whether to stop or just run, but he did eventually hit his brakes, the screech of his tires making a deafening sound, his heart sank when he saw an actual person dragged onto the floor, a lady actually.

A look of sheer panic on his face when he realizes that this is an actual accident and it’s making a really big scene amongst this entire traffic. “Ma’am are you okay? Someone call an ambulance!” Someone yells from behind and rushes past Jungkook to offer help.

People were pretty sure they heard the sound of your bones breaking even when the engines were loud but it was unmistakable, Jungkook kneels down to the ground mortified that you could probably be dead!

“Ma’am are you okay?” And to his luck at this point you completely passed out, going totally unaware of your surroundings. Which makes him panic even more.

-

Is it nausea hitting you or what? You’re pretty sure you’re awoken by that, you’re swallowing repeatedly when your eyes flutter open, your pupils stirred, scanning your surroundings abruptly.

Unfamiliar place, unfamiliar faces, the smell is horrific and it’s really noisy and bright around here

Your eyes feel heavy again, you blink several times unsteadily, your mind finding it hard to catch up with your body, are you paralyzed?

Your breath slowly becomes shallow when you start to panic, and you’re pretty sure you’re conscious now but you’re totally disoriented to everything.

“Ma’am, it’s okay you’re safe now, can you tell me your name?”

Your name? It takes you a few moments to piece together what your name was, this was the silliest question yet you are unable to answer.

You can talk, but you can’t remember.

Tears fogged your eyes and right when you’re about to shake your head you realize that you can’t, your neck is stabilized with a brace and something hurts when you try to move. “I don’t remember.”

Someone on the opposite corner of the room who was watching from a far almost passes out when he think he might’ve actually caused permanent damage to you.

Your tears roll down to the corner of your eyes eventually falling to your ears, you hate the fact that you’re unable to wipe your own tears.

You blink repeatedly and your heart drops when you actually see police officers above your head waiting to interrogate you.

You hear the team around you blabbering some medical terms that you find yourself totally ignorant of before you speak again. “What happened?”

“You got hit by a bike, the x ray shows that your leg is fractured and your knee was disloacted, we already put your leg in a cast and you’re likely to be given crutches, but you don’t have to worry at all, everything is going to heal with time and the right treatment, we’ll hand your folder to orthopedics when you’re out of here so you can follow up with them. As for now we need to get an MRI to help us get a clearer look of what’s going on.” He elaborated that it rarely happens when people temporarily experience memory loss but it was just a check up and you wanted to make sure you were fine too, and find out why on earth you can’t remember your own name.

Once the doctors disappear you see a familiar face hovering over your head, long dark hair covering his forehead and eyes that you cannot comprehend the feelings behind, is he someone you know?

“I’m truly sorry, i didn’t see you.” So is he the one that hit you?

“How long have i been unconscious?” You ask, your pupils still scanning his face and your surroundings, he grabs out his phone and takes a glimpse at his screen. “It’s been about four hours.”

A bunch of nurses come by to take you back down to do the scan and you know that the guy with the dark hair is still hovering around because he keeps asking if you’re going to be okay.

Once you’re prepped for the machine with a pair of earplugs the entire team leaves the room and you’re left on your own.

You know the image will take a while so you need to calm yourself down and try and relax, loud rhythmic banging is hear once the machine operates and you shut yours eyes tightly, even when you were never claustrophobic it feels like you are, it’s a little too small for your liking and it feels like you’re suffocating.

Focus on your thoughts, try and think of anything else!

Y/n, that’s right, this was your name. You slowly recall your bedroom and try and imagine what your surroundings were.

What happened and how did you end up here? Your phone, oh no your car, you were driving, something involved sushi of some sort.

Your body relaxes a little and even with the loud thumping that is loud enough to deafen anyone, you’re a little relieved to be finally able to remember something.

The scan took about an hour and it felt a lot longer than it is, you were rolled back on the bed to the emergency room and again you spot the guy with the dark hair.

You’ve seen him once, just dig a little deeper.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little hesitant, his doe eyes monitoring you from head to toe, “the doctors said the scan was perfectly fine.”

“Are you experiencing any pain?” The nurse walks closer with some meds on hand, she injects something into your catheter and moves even closer to take the brace off of your neck. “The scan went well, your neck is okay it’s just that your ribs and ankle are a little bruised, bed rest should help you heal right away.” She flashes a smile before asking. “Any pain?”

“A little, yeah.”

It seems like she injected something to reduce your pain because once you answer her you suddenly feel like you’re floating, your pain feels a little less intense and a little more distant, your breath feels a lot slower and your limbs feel extremely heavy. “I’m fine.”

You haven’t heard yourself talking but it was clear enough that you’re drugged and your thoughts were completely fogged and muddled.

“Ma’am this officer Choi and i’m officer Lee , we’re just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Sure.” You’re finally able to move your neck and turn towards the two officers who you believe were four or probably eight, you’re ready to pass out any second now.

They start asking basic questions, your name and how old you were, and what you did for living, and you outdone yourself when you said that you do your job online from home, not mentioning and giving any further details.

“Did you notice the bike approaching you?” He asks, the officer behind him writing his notes down.

“No, i didn’t see him at all.” You look at the guy with the dark hair, your eyebrows pulling together when you try and brainstorm where you saw this guy. And honestly it feels like a workout!

“Mr. Jeon ran you over with his bike and we’re still interrogating him once we hear from you, do you know him?” The officer asks. “A nearby station towed your car and Mr. Jeon gave them your address.”

Of course he did.

He’s the biker you saw checking out your car earlier this week. As if Jungkook can see how you’re processing your thoughts his eyes widen when you speak. “Yes, he’s totally after me, i saw him outside my building the other day.”

“Am not, officer she’s heavily medicated just ignore that.” Jungkook defends himself. “I’ve seen the car she drives a week ago and after i ran her over i realized that it was the same woman and the same car.”

“Mr. Jeon i’m afraid we have to take you down to the police station for further interrogation.” The second police officer puts his notes in his pockets and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Sir please listen to me, i promise i’m telling the truth, i don’t— I have no idea who she is.”

“Miss do you have anyone you can call? Like family or a friend? Mr. Jeon is the only one around and we need to take him over to the center, we just want to make sure you’ll be doing okay and safe with someone.”

“Do you have my stuff? I can’t see my keys and phone.”

“I have them with me,” Jungkook fishes out your stuff from his pockets and you scoff.

“Of course you do, now he’s stolen my phone and my keys.” You whine. “You broke my leg what else do you want?”

“For the record i was driving on the street like a normal person and you were walking, if you wanted to walk you’d do that at the sidewalk.” He arrogantly speaks while putting down your phone and keys on the stand next to you.

“And for the record, i saw the lights clearly turning red, you should’ve stopped, so not only you ran me over and broke my leg, you also crossed a red light.” You’re drowsy but you still have the power to argue, side eying the officer waiting for him to take note that this “Mr. Jeon” is double as guilty.

“We’ll run over the CCTV and check if what you’re saying is true.” The officer grabs your phone to hand it to you, “Can you call someone to be here with you?”

“Yeah, my friend Natty, she’s the first one on my contact list” you unlock your phone and lazily open the contact list to call her, the officer proceeds to take the phone and talk to your best friend while you lay in bed and struggle to keep your eyes open. Once the officers are a little distracted and their attention is averted away from you, Mr. Jeon takes a step closer with his arms crossed. “Can you please tell them i’m innocent, i’ll do anything you want, i’ll give you money.”

“How exactly are you innocent? I’m here because of you.” Your mouth automatically moves as if it’s the only body part disconnected from your brain,

“How much do you want? I’ll give it to you cash.”

“Hmm, can’t say i’m not intrigued.” You feign thinking before he blurts out. “You’ll take the money and just leave me alone.”

“Will your money fix my leg?”

He pauses for a second trying to think of an answer but you were faster. “Then no.”

“Please, i can’t go to prison, i was never there you can’t be serious.”

“Your friend is on her way here—” the officer walks back and hands you back your phone, an alert look on his face once he realizes that Jungkook was talking to you, a little paranoid thinking he might be offended you. “In the mean time Mr. Jeon we need to have a talk with you.”

-

You’re not sure whether is was a nap or some sort of coma, but your mouth feels dry and you’re a little groggy, you’re entire body feels lethargic and heavy and you’re pretty sure it’s the meds they’ve been pumping inside your veins for this entire night.

You take a glance at your surroundings and you’re still in the hospital this time in a private room, you feel extremely lost since you have no idea what time it is or if it’s day time or night time, once you turn your head to the right you spot a tall man wearing a dark leather jacket and holding a helmet in his right hand and a bouquet of flower in his left hand, his hair covering his eyes and a boxy smile on his smile that widens when you acknowledge his existence finally. “I’m sorry for bothering you- how are you feeling now? Any better?”

You start muttering words that don’t form a sentence before you clear your throat and decide to switch on your brain for once. “I think you’re in the wrong room—“

He flashes you a smile before tilting his head. “Y/n, right? I was told you’re in room 613.” He puts the flowers onto your lap, adjusting them once before picking them back up. “I should probably put those in some water.”

“Do i know you?” You can’t lose your memory again, it didn’t feel very pleasant the last time.

“Actually, i’m here hoping you’d do something awfully generous for me— i know we just met, and you cannot believe how extremely shocking the news were to me, i was really worried over you, but i’m worried more over my friend Jungkook who’s detained in the police station, they think he ran you over intentionally which believe me he wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s an incredible man who was really worried for your well being the whole time you were knocked out— i mean passed out. However i really wish that you.. uhm..”

“Of course he sent you, listen sir, whatever your name is—“

“Taehyung.” He anxiously bites on his nails when he can sense rejection coming up from the way you’re speaking.

“You seem just as reckless as he is,” you glance at his helmet. “So if your entire biking cult begs me to let him out, i won’t.” You sternly speak, before blinking a couple of times. “Aren’t you guys a little too old for riding bikes?”

“Y/n, please, he’s willing to do anything for you right now.” He begs again, putting his helmet onto the chair behind him and putting the flowers back onto your lap. “He promised he’ll pay your entire hospital bill and even take care of you if he needed to.”

You’re a little intrigued, not the bill’s wise, you could easily afford that. But the idea of having him to serve you and do whatever you needed does sound tempting.

“Let me think about it, i’ll call the police station if i change my mind, but for the mean time i want you to leave please.”

“I appreciate it really, thank you so much, you’re so kind and generous—“

“Just leave Taehyung.”

-

“You did not.” Jungkook runs his tongue against his cheek before clenching his jaw. “I will not do that if it costs me my life!”

“Do you wanna get out of here or not?” Taehyung glares at the younger one before taking a look around them. “You don’t belong here, besides it’s just a couple of months and you’ll be over with.”

Jungkook’s face falls into his palms before he sighs. “i can’t believe you suggested that.”

“I can’t believe you broke the woman’s leg and ran her over.” Taehyung shrugs.

“If it weren’t for your message i wouldn’t be here.”

-

“You owe me.” Concealed anger filling your voice and you’re fighting every cell in your body to just not punch him and break both his legs in return.

He shifts in his spot and scratches the back of his head, trying hard to avoid rolling his eyes. “Look i didn’t mean to—“

“Oh i know.” You feign a smile. “Of course you didn’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did.”

You turn to look at the crutches sitting in the corner of the room waiting to be used. “So here’s how things are going to go, you’re going to make this up to me for breaking my leg. Every. Single. Day. Groceries, cleaning, fetching my meds, cooking, you’re going to stay up the night on standby in case i need something. And Who knows, maybe you’ll learn how to be a decent human being along the way.”

“Listen woman—“

“What he meant to say.” Taehyung laughs awkwardly taming his best friend, “he’ll do it.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to babysit her?”

“Yes.” You answer instead. “Consider this as your punishment, it’s either this or jail, maybe you’ll have your license taken away for life then.”

A defeated sigh escapes Jungkook’s lips before he shuts his eyes, fully surrendered. “Alright i’ll do it.”

“Good.” You smirk, already plotting his next task, the taste of revenge was intoxicatingly good.

[beepboopkek]

— Strip Starchess with Jing Yuan (Female Reader)

Including: Jing Yuan cw: afab!reader, pwp but barely, slight mention of reader having a size kink, unprotected p in v, first time writing a proper fic, first time writing smut (please send help), reader is a little bashful, overall its kind of a self-projection I guess. Jing Yuan is a little bastard (affectionate), stripping (who would've guessed), grammatical errors(I tried), Jing Yuan calls you pet names (dear, love), no use of y/n, light bondage ( reader gets their hands tied with a t-shirt nothing too bad), safe sane and consensual w/c: 3941 (might be a little off since I made a few edits in this post) a/n: I am so sorry for this I am going to die of cringe later but I needed this out of my brain so I made my best attempt at writing. There is a lot of stuff that is bad but I do not have the energy or patience to do it so, you have been warned, this is a first-time smut from an inexperienced writer whose first language isn't english :3 hope someone out there likes this

You were bored.

Extremely bored.

Jing Yuan had promised you he’d come home on time so that the two of you could enjoy dinner together. You had something fun planned for the evening for the two of you. Something you were excited to try out.

One problem though, there were still no signs of your boyfriend’s arrival.

You sent him a few messages asking him where he was but to no avail, you knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to respond anyway.

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you turned around and were met with an apologetic soft smile on Jing Yuan’s face.

“Yu.”

“My Love.”

You huffed at him in annoyance, realising what he was trying to do. He always knew how to soften you up.

“You’re late.” You said as you watched him unstrap his boots and place them near the shoe rack before he turned to look at you.

“I apologize, I overslept in the afternoon and had to compensate as a result.” Jing Yuan gave you a pitiful look.

“Regardless, I am here now,” He walked over to where you were seated and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on your head. “And I’d love to eat what my dear has cooked for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him a little and turned towards the table again as he took his seat opposite to you. You began eating in silence while Jing Yuan served himself some of the food you’d made.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He spoke suddenly as you focused on eating and ignoring him.

“Be like what? I didn’t do anything.” You huffed back to him again while continuing to look at your food when you suddenly heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor, you looked up, only to be met with your boyfriend’s amber eyes boring into yours.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

You grumbled something with your mouth full.

“I didn’t catch that, love.”

You gulped down your food, 

“I said, play Starchess with me”

“Do we not play Starchess on a regular basis already?”

“We do, yes, but I found a new variation of the game that I thought would be fun to try out. Only if youre up for it, though.” You made eye contact with him again as his eyebrow shot up in surprise.

He leaned in on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand as he tilted his head lazily.

“Go on.”

Your confidence and annoyance all but vanished this exact second, you really hadn’t expected him to be this interested and knowing him , he probably already has an idea simply based off of the tone of your voice.

“...Nevermind.” You looked away, blushing as Jing Yuan continued to watch in lazed amusement.

“Is it-”

“Yes it’s Strip Starchess, okay? I thought it would be fun to play.” You blurted out as your ears turned a light shade of red.

“I was going to say Blitz Starchess.”

Your eyes widened in horror as you turned back to look at Jing Yuan who was now miserably failing at holding back his laughter as his shoulders shook silently and he pressed his lips together.

“I hate you.”

Jing Yuan laughed and you pouted.

“I didn’t do anything, though?”

“You know exactly what you're doing, Yu.”

Jing Yuan smiled apologetically once again as you pouted while avoiding eye contact with him. He sighed fondly and picked up his chopsticks again.

“Strip Starchess, hm? Let’s finish dinner and begin.”

You huffed again and turned back to your food and soon enough, Jing Yuan started some casual conversation and the whole ordeal was pushed to the back of your mind.

. . .That was until after you both finished eating and cleaning up.

Shit.

You suddenly had very important things to do in your library so you quietly started walking towards it, hoping Jing Yuan had all but forgotten about your earlier conversation. Just as you were about to open the door, a familiar voice called out from behind you,

"Dear?" 

You slowly turned around, trying not to look like you were caught committing a crime.

"...Yes?"

"Where would you like to play? I think the living room would be best since it is rather spacious. We can close the curtains but,"

Jing Yuan paused as he looked towards the box in his hands and back to you,

"I'm saying that while assuming that we will be taking off our clothes sooner or later. Am I wrong?" 

He smiled innocently. This bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"... Fine, let's go to the living room then, I'll explain the rules to you." 

Jing Yuan hummed pleasantly as he walked behind you, setting the board down onto the hard wooden flooring as the both of you sat down facing each other. 

He opened up the box and set up the game and looked at you expectantly.

There was no backing out now, so you might as well give it your best.

"It's in the name, you strip when you lose a pawn." 

"Strip entirely? Or just an article of clothing?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

You gave an exasperated sigh as you stared at him with the grumpiest expression you could muster.

"I'm afraid I don't, love."

He gave you a cat-like smile as he patiently waited for you to explain.

"...Only a piece of clothing. The one who has the most clothes off at the end of the game is the loser,"

You made yourself comfortable, you need your initial confidence back desperately.

"We'll play 3 games and see who wins. I won't be going easy on you."

You smiled at him mischievously as he chuckled and re-adjusted his seating position before looking right into your eyes.

"Very well then, let the games begin." 

You focused your eyes on the board and played your first move, positioning the soldier pawn in front of your king 2 steps ahead.

Jing Yuan’s eyes lit up as he countered it by moving the same piece on his side. He knew exactly how you were going to play and he was going to ensure he won.

The game progressed and you eventually lost your first pawn, you sighed in annoyance at the realization as you looked up to see your boyfriend with his cat-like smile and of course, he had the most innocent look on his face.

Damnit.

You sighed reluctantly as you cursed him under your breath and removed your jacket.

“Happy?” You deadpanned at him.

“Very much so. Don’t be upset, you still have a chance to win.” He smirked lazily as he waited for you to play your turn

You were more cautious now, not letting him take any of your pawns when you realized you had a safe opening to take his pawn!

You took the chance and took his soldier with your bishop. Looking up at him in triumph.

He smiled back at you casually as he raised his hands in surrender,

“You got me there,”

You watchedn him in anticipation as your mouth watered a little, sure you’d been living together for a few months now but, nothing beat seeing Jing Yuan’s body.

He place his hand on his shoulder guard and removed it before smiling at you pleasantly again.

You blinked once.

Twice.

Scanning him to see if he removed anything else while you were day-dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

"I said one piece of clothing, your shoulder brace doesn't count as one." 

"You never specified if accessories were also counted."

You huffed at him, "You never asked!" 

"I don't recall having to ask, I gave you the chance to explain everything to me." He smiled innocently again.

He was right. 

He knew he was and continued to play his next move.

Bastard.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that he was still in his armor and work uniform, meaning it would take at least 15 individual games of Starchess to get even the first layer off of him. Your eyes widened in realization as he looked at you and stifled his laughter.

Well, you certainly weren't in your work clothes and barely had anything on in the first place but you might have a few accessories on your person if you looked hard enough.

Two can play that game.

The game continued as you tried your best to defend your pieces from his attacks but he was too good… much to your displeasure.

By the end of the first game, Jing Yuan barely looked any different from how he was when he entered your shared home while you had to remove your own rings and piercings, putting them away in a corner neatly as to not lose them.

Jing Yuan won the first game by the rules of normal Starchess and the two of began your second round.

You were determined, but so was he.

Time passed rather quickly as you watched your boyfriend remove more accessories and you really wondered how he was able to walk or even fight with that much on his body.

You shook your head. Now's not the time for distractions.

The game progressed as you watched your pawns get taken one by one.

Rook, Bishop, a couple of soldiers and the list went on.

…You realized very late that you were going to lose.

You've never beat him in a game of starches, partially because he sneaks away your pieces but also because he's genuinely skilled at playing the game.

You were down to your last game, Jing Yuan in his shirt and pants along with some random trinkets of his uniform that you didn't even know the purpose of, you, however, were a different story.

You'd managed to get down just to your t-shirt and panties, shivering a little in both anticipation and the chill of the night.

“Do you need a blanket? You won't have anything to cover you soon enough, I'd hate to get you sick, dear.” Jing Yuan looked at you lazily.

Bastard.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I'm good. This is the last game and by the look of it, you've lost more pieces than I have.”

He made a content noise in the back of his throat as if agreeing with you before looking down at the board and smiling.

“I'm afraid you are correct, I admire your confidence in the face of calamity. However,”

He moved his bishop in line with your king.

“Checkmate.” 

You glanced around the board, trying to find an escape route but there were none. 

There was no denying it, you had lost the third game as well.

But the rules were about clothes, you looked up at him and back at yourself.

“. . . Fuck.”

You sighed, reluctantly admitting defeat.

“Alright , alright. You win the 3 games and the whole game considering you have more layers on you than I do.” 

Jing Yuan smiled in amusement as he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly,

“So, what's my reward for winning?” 

You were already packing up the board as you looked at him with a huff and stood up.

“I'll let you nap in the afternoon more tomorrow, that's your reward.” 

But before you could move your half naked self away, Jing Yuan moved closer and swiftly knocked your knees back so you toppled down onto him.

“Jing Yuan! I almost knocked the board on your head!”

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, scared to lose balance and plop onto the floor if he were to drop you.

“I'm interested in another reward.”

“What?”

“I'm the winner so isn't it natural I get to pick my reward? Besides, no proper terms were set for it when you explained the rules to me.”

“You little shit, you knew this was going to happen.”

“Dear, I am the divine foresight for a reason.” 

He chuckled as his hands slowly moved down your torso and to the hem of your t-shirt. 

He grasped the hem as he leaned into your body and spoke lowly in your ear

“Of course, if you don't want this, we could just revert to my original reward.” 

His hold on you was firm but gentle, indicating that he'd let you go if you wanted him to.

“But, something about the way you're trembling in my hold tells me you don't want to stop, do you?” 

Your breath was coming out in shaky puffs now. You simply looked away in embarrassment before he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the warmth of his body through the clothes he was wearing.

“Answer me.” 

“. . . I don't want you to stop” 

He smiled against your ears and you swear if he had a tail it would be swishing around in excitement by now.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” 

Kissing the red shell of your ear he moved your face towards him and kissed you deeply before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Now, allow me to claim my reward.”

He peppered kisses along your jaw as his hands finally, finally took your t-shirt up to your neck as you raised your arms to help him get it off.

You were down to your panties and bra now, coincidentally, you were wearing one of his favourite sets’.

His kisses continued downward, unbuckling your bra with one hand while the other appreciatively squeezed around your body.

He leaned down on your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth as his other hand tweaked with the other and you gasped, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Your hands immediately found purchase in his soft hair as you closed your eyes and whispered his name.

Jing Yuan always , always made sure to lather extra attention to your chest, you never understood why but it had now become a sensitive spot for you.

He kissed and licked around your nipples, leaving little bites in between so that he can see them in the morning and fuck you all over again.

Deciding he'd done enough to your chest (for now) he moved his attention downwards, chuckling breathlessly at the small wet patch on your panties.

His large hand slid down as he started moving his finger up and down on your panties, making the wet patch grow bigger.

“You call me a bastard and yet have the nerve to be this wet for me, hm?” 

“S-Shut up.” 

You panted as your brain became fuzzy and warm, not being able to think of anything else except Jing Yuan touching you.

He smirked as he added pressure with his finger on exactly where your clit is and you gasped loudly. The fabric of your panties providing a weird but not unwelcome feeling.

“Do you think you can cum just from this alone?”

“I don't k-”

You cut yourself off with a loud moan as he pinched your clit and rubbed it.

“You don't know? Well, that's too bad. We'll just have to find out it seems, hm?”

You were gasping for air and moaning loudly at this point, thrashing and tugging at Jing Yuan’s hair like your life depended on it.

“I'm feeling nicer today, let's take this off, dear.” 

He tugged at your panties and your hazy mind cleared for a second 

“Jing Yuan! Don't I-”

A loud ripping sound echoed through the room as you stared in horror at the shredded remains of your panties but before you could utter a word, Jing Yuan kissed you and simultaneously continued to make circles around your clit.

You weakly slammed your fisted hands onto the hard planes of his chest but to no avail, he wasn't going to let up.

He continued flicking your clit at a faster pace before speaking into your ear.

“Be a good girl and cum for me”

You moaned as you clenched his (now crumpled) white shirt in your hands as your eyes rolled back and your orgasm flooded over your body in waves.

The general continued to make slow and gentle circles on your clit as you got down from your high, peppering your body with kisses and bites everywhere.

You were still breathing heavily when you regained your senses again.

“So, my hypothesis was correct.” 

“You're gonna pay for that, Yu.”.

You said, not sure if youre referring to the torn panties or the fact that him massaging your clit was enough to get you to cum.

“Of course I will, and any other matching set you like so I can rip them all off of your body.” 

His voice was so calm while speaking you'd almost think he was unaffected by the situation but that was far from the truth, sitting on his lap gave away that he was extremely hard underneath you.

He kissed you again, gently this time as he pulled back and bore his eye into yours.

“Do you want to continue?” 

You didn't respond, only leaning in to kiss him before bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning it.

“I'm not the only one that's going to be naked here.” 

He helped you take off his whole shirt, watching you as you admired his sculpted and scarred torso. 

“Turn around for me, love.”

You did as you were told, sitting in his lap with your back against his chest.

His hands suddenly came up on you again, going downwards to your pussy as he outlined your lips. Pressing gently on the soft flesh.

Your hands immediately found purchase on top of his much bigger ones, your breathing picking up again.

He inserted two fingers in you, pushing them in and out and curling them in just the right spot, hitting your already frayed nerves and stretching you open for him. Keeping the rhythm of his fingers up, slowly getting you towards the edge again when suddenly,

You were left empty as Jing Yuan retracted his hand and wiped it onto his pants as he unzipped them, before hooking both his hands under your plush thighs and lifting your slit above his cock.

“Tell me if you need a break.”

Before you could respond, he was already impaling you on his cock, pushing you down slowly as you reached back with your hands and grabbed his neck while arching your back.

“F-Fuck- too much-”

“You can take it, I know you can.”

He whispered breathlessly as he continued pushing you down until you met the base of his cock.

“There we go.”

Jing Yuan waited for you to adjust while rubbing gentle circles on your clit, watching intently as you fought to gain back your breath.

You were struggling at this point, mind in a haze at the feeling of being so full. Not knowing where to place your hands you blurted our the first coherent thought that came to your mind.

“. . .Tie my hands, please.”

Now it was the general’s turn to be surprised, you were not one to beg usually. He smiled coyly as he grabbed your discarded t-shirt and rolled it up to form a makeshift knot.

“If i was aware we were going to this tonight, I wouldve prepared more.”

You pushed your hands out together in front of you impatiently, just wanting to move but not trusting your shaking legs to carry through.

Jing Yuan kissed around your ears again started working on binding your hands immediately. Securing it as tight as he could, he tugged on it before pecking you on the cheek.

“There. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

You were fully panting now, subtly grinding yourself on his cock.

Jing yuan took it as his cue to move and hooked his hands under your thighs again before lifting you off his cock.

The split second where you were left empty was enough for you to whine. He wasn’t a cruel lover, though, he thrusted back in, filling you instantly.

He kept the tempo of fast but deep strokes and before long you could feel your second orgasm approaching.

Suddenly, there was a change as he pushed you down onto the wooden floor face first and ass up, the angle making him reach in different areas.

Your tied hands were above your head as you got rubbed on the floor like a mop cloth from his powerful thrusts. Jing Yuan bent over and draped his larger frame over your back, holding down your shaking hands with one of his own and thrusting faster.

“Come on, come for me.”

He whispered into your ear, again, reaching his other hand down to play with your clit.

And that's all it took for you to orgasm, releasing over his cock as he kept his pace.

For a few seconds, you blanked out completely, caught up in the haze of your orgasm that you didn't even notice Jing Yuan continuing,

That was until you were brought back to reality by a hit of overstimulation, tears already collecting at your lashes as the pleasure soared through your entire body.

“Y-Yu-”

“Just a little more.”

He continued rubbing fast circles over your clit and you could feel the tendrils of your third orgasm creeping up on you as you clenched around him hard.

It pierced through you just as your boyfriend finally released inside you, hot liquid filling you up and you felt so full.

Jing Yuan panted as he rested some of his body weight on you, essentially pinning you in place and having no way to move. Just the way you like it.

He grabbed your hips with both his hands as he gently thrusted a few times to get the last few seconds of pleasure in, wrecking your already overstimulated pussy.

“. . . I think my reward is incomplete.” He said after a few beats of silence.

“Absolutely not.” 

Jing Yuan laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back onto his lap and rested himself against the sofa, wrapping his hands around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder.

The both of you relished in the afterglow for a bit with him still stuffed inside you, just enjoying and soaking each other’s presence, you were the first to speak.

“Horny bastard, you really piledrived me on the floor of our living room.” You laughed while pecking at his cheeks.

“Me? I’m the horny one now? You were the one that suggested this game in the first place!”

Jing Yuan feigned hurt as he tightened his hold on you, eyeing you cheekily as your ears turned red.

“I didn’t proposition sex! It was a game to-”

“To what? Play house with each other?” Jing Yuan asked in an amused tone before continuing,

“You wanted it to end like this, didn’t you?”

“Not on the goddamn floor! I’m gonna have bruises from this tomorrow, I hope you're happy.”

You pouted and held your (still bound) hands close to your chest, hearing Jing Yuan snicker and feeling his chest shake.

“I’ll give you a massage right now, on the bed this time, to make up for it”

“And then what? Escalate it into having sex again? I need to walk tomorrow, Yu.”

“You know me too well.”

You looked at him into his eyes and he simply gave you a crooked smile

“Untie my hands, we need to clean up and get to bed”

“Hmm… How about I let you go now and you let me enjoy my reward in the shower again?”

You sighed before nodding in acceptance, you weren’t going to feel your legs tomorrow.

This is the price you pay for provoking the sleeping lion.

“Horny bastard.”

[captainsophiestark]

Vigilante Book Club

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist! - Part 2 Part 3

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: After having an all-around terrible day, the only person who might be able to make it better is a certain book-loving vigilante.

Word Count: 1,562

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed heavily as the tomato I'd set on the counter and turned my back on for two seconds rolled onto the floor and went splat. Some days were just meant to be shitty, apparently.

Today had started out perfectly nice and ordinary. The sun had even been shining, which was a miracle in itself sometimes in Gotham. But then, I'd left my bag unattended at the coffee shop while grabbing my order from the counter, before returning to my table. It didn't have anything legitimately valuable in it, in terms of what the thief got, but it did have my favorite copy of my favorite book, which I'd had for the better part of a decade. All my little notes, bookmarked favorite pages, and the first edition put into print before a few typos and errors were corrected on later runs; in other words, irreplacable. And now it was gone forever.

The rest of my day had likewise been terrible, although normally mundane events might've been colored a little by the loss of my book. Now, all I wanted to do was eat something I liked and then immediately go to bed. And even that wasn't going to plan.

I huffed, setting down the knife I'd grabbed when I turned my back on the tomato and intending to replace it with some paper towels. I froze mid-turn, however, at the sound of the window in my hallway sliding open. Because of course this day hadn't ended yet.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, I turned back to the counter and picked up the knife. I knew I'd locked that window, but apparently someone had managed to just quietly and easily slide it open. That wasn't a good sign.

I crept across the kitchen, tensed and ready to run at a moment's notice as I neared the corner to the hallway. I wanted to see who or what I might be dealing with, while also being prepared to run if I needed to.

I paused at the edge of the kitchen, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. Finally, I mustered up the courage to slowly lean around the corner to peek into the hallway. When I did, I found someone standing much, much closer than I'd been expecting them to be.

"AH!" I screamed, jumping back while brandishing the knife out in front of me. I made it halfway across the room in one leap as the person in my house shifted backwards too.

"Shit," he swore, voice slightly distorted by the vocal modulator in his very recognizable helmet. The Red Hood. Standing in my apartment, apparently after having broken through my window.

I lowered my knife slightly and stopped in my living room, just a few steps from my kitchen. I wasn't completely relaxed, but in general, the Red Hood seemed to have a helpful, non-dangerous-if-you're-not-evil reputation. But he'd also just broken into my house.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. Red Hood held up his hands to show he was unarmed, and apparently also to answer my question: he held a familiar bag I thought I'd never see again in his hand.

"Sorry for scaring you. I didn't think anyone was here, I was planning to just drop this off and go. But I busted some black market smugglers today, and one of their lower-ranking guys had this. Seemed like something you might want back."

I barely let him get through the end of his sentence before I dropped the knife on the nearest table and rushed across the room to grab my bag. I yanked it open while it was still in Red Hood's hands, peering inside with my heart hammering in my chest. I almost collapsed on the spot when I found my book inside, looking exactly the way I'd left it.

"Oh thank goodness!" I cried. I turned back to Red Hood, still clutching my book tight. "Thank you so much for bringing this back to me! I was heartbroken when it got taken."

Red Hood just shrugged. "Glad I could help."

He started shifting back towards the door, carefully setting my bag and the rest of its contents down on the counter, but I couldn't just let him leave like that. He'd quite literally saved my day; I wanted to do something for him in return.

"Wait! Can I... offer you dinner, or something?" I asked. "I was about to start making some tacos..."

Red Hood's gaze drifted to the kitchen as mine did, landing on the pitiful start I'd made on dinner and the tomato still on the floor. I couldn't be totally sure because of the helmet, but I thought I heard him snort.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn't look anything like dinner. Maybe next time I bust some criminals I'll find a cookbook I can bring you."

I scoffed in mock-indignation, but I couldn't quite hide a smile all the same.

"I know how to cook, alright? Today's just been... a little rough. Until you brought my book back, at least!"

Red Hood chuckled. "Well, I'm glad I could help. Makes my day a lot better, too."

We shared a smile (I assumed, since I couldn't technically see his face), then I lit up as a shock of inspiration hit me.

"Oh! What if I let you borrow this book!" I cried. "It's absolutley fantastic, I promise you won't forget it. Since you knew it was important, I'm assuming you're a reader?"

He stared at me, looking a bit taken aback.

"I'm a very big reader, but... you'd actually let me borrow this?"

He gestured to the book still clutched tightly in my hand, and I whipped it up to my chest again, holding it tight to me.

"Hell no! I won't let anyone borrow this copy, ever. But I have a loaner copy I've used to get my friends invested in the story that I'd be happy to share with you. And... maybe you could come back when you're done reading it, and we could talk about it? Maybe over dinner? I promise I'm a better cook than the current state of my kitchen would suggest."

He didn't respond right away, to the point that I started to get a little nervous. Maybe he'd really wanted to leave when he'd first started heading back to the window, and didn't want anything to do with me or this conversation. Just when I started crafting something to say to let him off the hook, he finally spoke up again.

"...As long as you're sure it wouldn't be an inconvenience for you."

"What? Of course I'm sure! If you're interested, I'd love someone else to talk to about my favorite book. And I'd still love to make you dinner as a thank you for bringing this back to me."

Red Hood nodded. "Okay. That'd be nice, thanks."

"Sure thing. Let me go and grab you my other copy of this book, one second."

I ducked into my bedroom, going straight to the bedside table and carefully setting down my copy of my favorite book. No way I wanted to take a single risk of anything happening to it again.

Once that book was safe, I turned to my brimming bookshelf to grab the copy for Red Hood. Only a fellow reader would understand the importance of returning the copy he brought back to me, and honestly, I couldn't wait to hear his thoughts on the story after his first read through.

I returned to the hallway and handed the book over with a smile. Red Hood took it, tucking it safely away in a deceptively large pocket in his hero suit.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll come back in... a week?"

My eyebrows shot up. "Is that enough time for you to read it?"

"Of course. I've gotta do something to fill the time I'm not running around catching book thieves."

I smiled, and I got the distinct impression that Red Hood was doing the same. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and started heading back towards the window again.

"Anyway... thanks for the book. I'll see you next week."

"See you next week! Bring your thoughts on the book, and maybe a different mask so you can actually eat dinner."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning to try to force it under the hood."

"Good. And feel free to use the door instead of the window next time!"

He just waved, clearly making no commitment as he stepped out onto the fire escape. I smiled as I watched him go, waving back when he met my eyes and shut the window. I moved closer and watched him as long as I could before he disappeared over the rooftops, off into the night for whatever other vigilante stuff he had to do tonight.

I sighed, staying at the window for another moment to process the past ten minutes. Everything had started to feel like a hallicination, possibly brought on by my truly terrible day.

No matter what, though, I could reassure myself it was real with the newly-returned book on my bedside table, or the knife I'd left in my living room. Somehow, my precious copy of my favorite story had made its way back to me. And even better, I now had a date with a vigilante scheduled to address said book.

I just needed to figure out what dinner went with 'Red Hood comes over to discuss literature'.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin

[dreamofbetterthings]

No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI. 

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

 You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room. 

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun. 

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs. 

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times. 

So why did the room suddenly feel hot? 

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away. 

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah." 

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers. 

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop." 

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes. 

"Then I won't." 

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts. 

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch. 

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up. 

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.

[anistarrose]

You added an "image description" to my post - now what? (FAQ)

[Plain text: "You added an 'image description' to my post - now what? (FAQ)". End PT.]

While I'm literally always willing to answer (good faith) questions about image descriptions, alt text, and online accessibility writ large, I also know lots of people have social anxiety about sending DMs, doing IDs "wrong," or just not knowing what IDs are for in the first place. Hence, this FAQ.

If I added an ID to your post and/or asked you to do so, and you're confused about any aspect of that, this is where to start. You can absolutely still reach out to me, I just thought I should consolidate as many answers as possible.

"What is an ID and why does it matter?"

IDs, or "image descriptions," are a description of the content of an image, and can range from a transcript of a screenshot of text, to a description of a detailed piece of art. They should be in plain text, and placed on the line immediately following the image (unless it's alt text, more on those pros and cons later).

Before we can answer "why it matters," there are two brief but crucial pieces of prior knowledge we need to establish for this whole post.

Blind people use computers, and navigate the Internet, with technology like screen readers and Braille displays.

Blindness is a spectrum. Partial vision is common. Some blind and low vision people can't make out all the details of images, but can read enlarged text.

Now, we're ready to answer:

IDs are primarily for blind and low vision people, who need text alternatives to images as they use screen readers and/or enlarged text to navigate the internet.

IDs help others too, including lots of neurodivergent people. Check out this post (link) and the notes for more examples (dyslexics, migraine sufferers, people who can't interpret expressions, people with slow internet...)

IDs are important because without them, the Internet really sucks for people who need them. You probably don't realize how many undescribed images circulate on Tumblr every day, with no way for a lot of disabled people to engage with those posts.

A blind person talks in more detail about all of this here (link).

"I reblogged your ID, is that enough?"

It's not that I don't appreciate it, but editing it into the root post and then reblogging that is much more impactful, for a variety of reasons. It means people who need IDs don't have to dig through the notes for them, it means that Tumblr can't glitch by failing to load the notes and make the ID functionally disappear, and it means all people who find the post in the tags or on your blog will be sharing the accessible version.

To explain visually, the best thing to do is something like this:

[ID: two mock-up Tumblr posts to illustrate adding an ID from the notes to the root post. A blog named "your-blog" posts an image of text reading "something cool you posted" with the caption "check out this cool image I made!" In the notes, the blog "image-describer" reblogs with an ID, which is highlighted. This version of the post is labeled: "original post, reblogged via ID writer."

The second version of the post is from "your-blog" again, where they've added the ID directly under the image, with the same caption below the ID. This version is labeled "updated root post, with ID copy-pasted. End ID.]

"My commentary first, or ID first?"

Include the ID right under the image, followed by your commentary. Unless you're putting your commentary before the image itself, a sighted person will see "image, commentary" in that order, so to ensure the post flows the same way for screen reader users, use the order "image, ID, commentary."

Commentary frequently assumes that the reader has seen the image, after all! A person might not even realize the image is described if the ID is buried too deep, because they might lose patience and skip the post. Or, to explain visually:

[ID: two mock-up example posts with an ID, one formatted well and one poorly. They both start with an image, which is just the text "screenshot of a tweet or something." The first post includes the ID immediately under the image. Below, it continues: "commentary blah blah blah get a load of this guy can you believe it." The post is labeled "Like this!" in green with a check mark.

The second post includes the commentary first, then the ID after the commentary. It's labeled: "Reads awkwardly, deprives screen reader users of immediate context" in red with an X. End ID.]

"I want to make a change to the ID, is that okay?"

Yep! If you want me to change it on my blog too (whether it's characters' pronouns, some typo, etc), just message me.

"What if someone else adds an ID to my post? Would they also be okay with me editing it into the original post like you are?"

Almost certainly! I can't speak for everyone, but I've literally never met an ID writer who wouldn't be okay with it — because we all have the shared goal of maximizing accessibility. If you're unsure or nervous, you can always include credit, but most people are even fine with going uncredited.

"I put your ID in the alt text, is that enough?"

I will never tell you not to use alt text when the alternative is an undescribed post, but I really strongly suggest putting it in both the alt text and the post. Some people who use screen readers prefer the flow of alt text, for good reason — but it's also poorly implemented on Tumblr, and it can glitch and disappear on reblogs, in drafts, or just apropos of nothing.

Moreover, when a low-vision person or anyone else wants to read the alt text directly, Tumblr's display options aren't great. (Unless you use XKit Rewritten's AccessKit, which I will always plug, but that's not an option for mobile users.) Long alt text often extends off the page and gets cut off. Tumblr used to use a terrible eye-straining purple background for it, and could always do that again with no warning. It's just not ideal.

Here's a visually impaired person talking more about the pros and cons (link).

We're in need of a compromise, so what can you do? One option is to include the same alt text as image description (placing the ID directly under the image as always, because remember, flow for screen readers is important). I like to lead with "ID from alt," in order to clarify to screen reader users that they can skip the ID, and help differentiate it from the other option I'm about to describe. This should be self-explanatory, but here's an example of a post I did in this style (link).

Option two is to include a short description in the alt text, and a more detailed explanation in-post. This can let screen reader users instantly know that the post is described, and decide whether they're interested enough in it to stick with it, but it maintains an in-post description for others to benefit from too.

Example of me doing this in a post about IDs (link)

Example of my mutual describing art like this (link)

Also, it's the style I follow throughout this exact post! Take a look!

As usual, the ID is directly below the image in all these cases. This means screen readers move immediately from the alt text to the full description, and the post flows the same way it would for a sighted person.

If you're here because I wrote an ID for you, it might be easier for you to put it in the alt text and the post body identically. That's perfectly fine! But if you're confident writing one short sentence for the alt text and including my ID in the body, you can always go for that too!

"Do I need to keep the brackets or the words 'image description/ID' in the alt text?"

Nope, no need. Brackets are purely for the visual distinction, and most screen readers preface alt text with something like "Image" that fulfills the same purpose as the "ID" label. It's not the end of the world if they're there, but it's redundant, so feel free to remove them.

"Can I put the ID under a read more? Or in small text?"

Please don't. Read mores are glitchy, and oftentimes have to be opened in a new tab. Accessibility that requires jumping through extra hoops isn't accessibility. And worse, if you change your URL or get deactivated, that read more link is usually just gone for good, and the post is undescribed again.

A blind person talks about read mores, and why not to put IDs below them, in more detail here (link).

The exception is if the image itself is below the read more, of course. Then putting the ID below the image, also below the read more by extension, is fine.

You should also write your IDs in text without any fancy formatting (by which I mean, you should write them unformatted, just like the text I'm using in this paragraph). Small text, italics, colored text, and so on are bad for low vision people or others who read the IDs directly such as with increased font size. You should not use them for IDs.

The only type of formatting you might want to consider is an indent. As far as I know, indents are a perfectly accessible form of formatting that shouldn't mess up any screen readers, or impair readability — while still helping IDs stand out from the rest of the post. Indents are optional, but can help non-ID readers know what parts of the post they can skip, which can be helpful for anyone who gets overwhelmed by a lot of text. To demonstrate:

[ID: sample description that stands out from the rest of the post. End ID.]

And one more time, just to drive the point home: IDs always go immediately below the image!

I demonstrate the issues with fonts and small text in this post (link).

"Why do you sometimes copy italics and stuff as plain text? Is that a screen reader thing too?"

Same reason IDs shouldn't be in small text, italics, et cetera — because of sight readers with low vision. Font in weird styles, or in a fixed size regardless of device settings (to my knowledge, this includes headings) isn't very accessible, so I try to provide an accessible transcript.

Colored text is sometimes even inaccessible to sighted people using certain Tumblr themes! (I'm speaking from experience with regards to the lightest shade of blue text on the default white background, actually!) If Tumblr gave individual users the option to disable small text and colors on their dash, then I'd tell you to use them to your heart's content, but as it stands, they're not very accessible.

"Okay, I want to make my blog more accessible, but I don't feel capable of writing IDs on my own. How can I get help?"

Good news, this is my absolute favorite question! I strongly recommend the People's Accessibility Discord (invite link here, please let me know if it breaks).

It was created for this exact purpose of crowdsourcing IDs (and answering questions about them). I talk about it more in this post (link), but I also describe an alternative if you're like me and have massive social anxiety about Discord servers.

TL;DR: ask in the post if someone can add an image description, and edit it in once someone does! If you've read this far in the post, you're clearly an expert on how to do that.

In that post, I also recommend text extractors like OnlineOCR (link), OCR Space, and Google Lens to extract text from images and save you typing if it's just a twitter thread or something. I would always spot check the text, adjust formatting, and remove superfluous characters, but it usually saves you lots of time when you might not normally have the energy to describe something.

Lastly, a lot of description blogs take requests! I don't unless I specify otherwise, because I easily run out of spoons, but @accessible-art is a great example of a blog that does this for non-fandom art, and there are lots of fandom blogs out there that do similar.

"I want to learn how to write image descriptions for my posts! Do you have any resources?"

This is my image description masterpost (link). I get a little scared about linking it because it's long, and a lot of the linked posts are long too, and I don't want to overwhelm people — so please, start with the first few links to get the broad strokes, and then feel free to treat the rest like a index. That is, peruse it if you're looking for answers or advice on a specific topic!

While learning, keep in mind that different ID users want different things out of IDs, and that's okay. Some people, including many blind people, care quite a bit about color, but others don't, and that doesn't mean either is wrong about the types of IDs they prefer versus ones they find unnecessary.

Blind People Still Like to Know About Color, as a blind person explains it (link)

Overall, blind people have a massive range of lived experiences, and all the other people who benefit from IDs broaden that range even more. Generally, no one involved wants huge walls of text, but some people prefer super-minimal IDs, while others prefer a nice handful of (relevant) details. It's stuff like the difference between "Two characters hugging in a cozy-looking house," versus "Two characters hugging with their eyes closed, both smiling. Their house looks cozy and cluttered, with warm lighting."

Neither of those is objectively wrong, and there will be people who prefer either. Nor is it wrong for you, the ID writer, to make a subjective judgement, such as on the "cozy" mood. You don't want to misrepresent things, but subjectivity is usually unavoidable on some level, and therefore fine. Likewise, you don't want to let the ID get so long it's a slog to get through (here's an example of what NOT to do), but if you're describing a complicated image like some art might be, it's okay to add some details. Just start with the important stuff and general idea first.

The purpose of an image also matters. With memes, shorter is almost always better, and excessive detail is annoying (post with examples). You don't need in-depth detail to appreciate most quick jokes. But on the other hand, art is often shared for the purpose of appreciating the details. This post goes into detail about how context matters, and how longer IDs make sense for art sometimes. It puts it better than I could, so I really suggest reading it if this is something you're wondering about! Key word: not length, not brevity, but "relevancy."

In my opinion, IDs are easiest to learn by doing, but also by starting small. If you want to build up your "description muscles" and confidence by just transcribing screenshots of text, that's perfectly fine — and also, the path that myself and a lot of people I know have followed.

Lastly: follow some described blogs! Check out how other people do it! Writing IDs is an art, and though it has a few hard do's and don't's we've gone over, we've also gone over how it's subjective. Everyone brings a slightly different style, with a different level of lengthiness, and it's great to learn from multiple sources. Here's one list of blogs like those (link)!

"Why would this matter if I know I don't have any blind people following me?"

Consider the cycle of inaccessibility (link). If no one ever accommodates blind people, then of course you're not going to see them on Tumblr, in fandom, or in whatever internet circles! There are blind people who might want to use Tumblr, but left because they weren't welcomed and accommodated (link). And blind people aren't the only people who need image descriptions — again, consider this post, especially this addition (link).

Worst case scenario, even if you have no one who can benefit from IDs following you, and no people who need IDs would follow you even if you included them, you're still helping people who do maintain accessible blogs to do so — and moreover, normalizing image descriptions in general.

"I don't think blind people would be in this fandom. I mean, there's a huge visual component!"

Described comics and webcomics exist. Audio descriptions for TV shows and movies exist. Disabled people who find creative ways to play video games exist. People who watched a playthrough of a video game by a person who happened to read out the dialogue, and give descriptive commentary on the action, also exist. People who lose their vision over time, or gain other reasons to rely on IDs over time, also exist.

"Where can I learn more about blindness and related accessibility issues, especially from blind people themselves?"

Wonderful question — check out @askablindperson and @blindbeta for starters! BlindBeta focuses on blind characters in fiction, but discusses accessibility too, and both these users have wonderful and very informative pinned posts! I'll link a few additional posts/tags below, from both these bloggers and others:

BlindBeta on Myths That Harm Blind People

"For a lot of blind and visually impaired people, sight is a conscious effort."

Variation in blind experiences and accessibility needs

Ask A Blind Person's tag on Braille

[shinakazami1]

TSPUD: closer look at IOS / Free Trial / Paywall Ending

Me and @decomposten looked through the video of the new ending and here is the summary of our thoughts on it :^]

Table of Content: 1) The two doors room 2) The video 3) The Paywall (room next to it) 4) Ending thoughts

DISCLAIMER: This post talks mostly about stuff SHOWN, not said. If people would be into my analysis of the Narrator's lines, let me know :D (it's a long post - that's why Read more is used >:D )

1) The two doors room

Here, there are two different elements that I want to present.

First - the windows. Or - more important, the light coming from them. This is the ONLY part, in the entire series, that the lighting change comes from the windows.

At any other time in the games, the light change came from lamps, screens or untold spots (just like in the corridor as there are no external windows in there).

Based on the New New Content next to Infinite Hole, we assume these lights are scenery lights.

It's a neat detail to me - it is possible to have either LED options that change colours or a colour filter for the scene to work. But...if that's the case, one detail is wrong. And it's the whites of this scene.

While it's not as visible on the door, the papers and the reflections (noticed by deco) really show that this light does not work how it's supposed to. That could mean that instead of the typical lighting options, the Narrator might have overlayed red separately on the different objects and forgot to do it on some, making the light source possibly still red. It's a small detail but, to me, it only showed more how this Parable is just a playground for the Narrator.

Which, the vault in the floor only shows even more.

First - we've already seen a similar vault in one of the trailers. Though the construction is new - the closest resembling one I could find is in New New Content. it's possible Narrator added this in instead of having all the floors like that from the start. He either might be able to expand the Parable, or as we've seen in past, has some scrapped storage spots here and there he can reinvent later.

Now - onto the longest section of this post.

2) The video

That one single video is packed with a lot of content but, I will try to keep it coherent, mostly showing them and focusing on one part of the video the most.

Before we start, though - a quick shoutout to this blue drapery. They seem similar to the one in the Madness ending.

The Stage seems new, the only thing that resembles its shape is the Bucket Quiz stage.

The video brought two different interpretations from us. To decomposten, this video is so well done, it looks like someone else made it (no credits anywhere, too high of a production).

To me, however, this is the mix of his past video/presentation works that he's done in the past, showing his progress as a creator.

The last video we had made by him was Figley ending. It was the start of his editing journey, where he used Windows Media Editor. Everything else feels like it's been there. The same Stanley renders as usual. The usage of stock images (though that does feel more like Crowsx3 trademark), old movies with silly tone (some trailers), falling money, and much more. and of some weird sophisticated ref to an important and well-known painting (Wanderer above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818).

I feel he's been just working on editing skills and I couldn't be more proud of him :]

Besides that - there are many writings and images worthy of discussion.

First - the content. As someone who made the Fernator AU Apple story, you won't be surprised how happy I was with the food mentions. This man knows about humans but probably doesn't exactly know what's edible. Or he's playing with us. Flavoured styrofoam takes the cake.

The Second - new features. A few are familiar ones (dog mode, theme of forgiveness, eternal contentment as the Bucket) but there are also some other ones. Yellows are typical RPG material (we know the Narrator is a fan), some foods and other game-related stuff. The guarantee resembles writing in the Mind Control facility but - that's a minor detail.

Both of these show how he understand the outside world but likes to play with it and us, as he calls us, the player, a friend. He's on the joke.

But then - the more choices. It's interesting that it only seems to have some chronological continuum. 2011 mod -> 2013 (red blue-door) -> TSPUD: New content -> Skip Button flower ending. But then, it gets to number 3 ending -> New content again -> Bucket Apartment -> Bucket in Expo -> Bucket Quiz -> and THEN returns to Skip -> Jump Circle (Expo) -> entrance to the Memory Zone -> Apple ROOM -> Final Skip.

I was trying my best to find some logic in this part of the video, in how he showed all of these. Here are my thoughts: 1) The Narrator gives a sneak peek to his past traumatic event, showing those who know that he is now above it. That's why this part has the most slides. 2) The Jump Circle, if you look at the video, is scratched out. Decomposten thinks it's due to no spoilers. And I feel that's plausible. After all - he rebranded that part of the game to himself. 3) The Memory Zone entrance is right between the Jump Circle and the same flowered Skip Button. It does serve, in a way, a tunnel between them. To him, both are a memory - he played this already. In his memory, there is a silly phenomenon - of the past that will never come, and the future, that had already been there. And - to me, this shows through the fact the Apple Room is next. Because it shows exactly that - a fake memory. He lived through all this and yet, once you play the game, he will experience it again, like before. Final conclusion: The 'More choice' segment is to show how scrambled his memory really is. He remembers things happening but as each story sits by itself, he tries to stitch it all together. He first made the game. Updated it's looks and then, out of nowhere, someone broke in. The flowers were his mind toughing up, trying to make something beautiful for Stanley. That's why the next two are in the Show category (Stanley making a presentation, and devs showing New Content). And to the Narrator, that's the Bucket. He shows his change and love for his story (Bucket apartment) and to Stanley (Bucket entrance) - who, as the story went, was there to press buttons (Quiz, Skip Button). The narrator wanted to open up to Stanley more. Through reusing ideas (Jump Circle), through safe spots (Memory Zone), mutual memories (Apple), and through freedom.

So, yeah. To me, this video shows his growth, not only as a person but as a creator. Glad he cracked that Premiere B]

But now, let's follow the arrows to the last element of this post:

3) The Paywall

This one is more self-indulgent cus the fact this fucking plant is here only makes me believe Fernator is real and in this essay, I-

Ok ok but, I will try to wrap this part quick. If you reached this part, you're a true soldier. Here have a cookie. 🍪

Anyway, here are a few interesting elements to me about this: - You resetting in the same room after he's done talking is the same like the 2013 Serious Room. Seems he used the mechanisms again. Good for him. - The picture on a wall shows room 430 - the 5-click achievement one that he was most joyful about. - Very lit room (4 lights for such a small space). - The walls: the og Serious room had blue walls. Thanks to help from @/Boz in the Crowsx3 Discord server, we found that the same stripped wall colouring is in the cargo room. But - if you remember the basics of colour theory, yellow is complementary to purple BUT some shades to get into blues. - the. The fucking flower. The hh. The. The... (pls look at my Fernator theory post explaining the significance of nature in the game)

CONCLUSION: This room is the opposite to a serious room - it's a kinder rendition of it. Maybe not the kindest but still, it seems more welcoming.

4) Ending thoughts

While this is more of scratch surface observation, I hope you can enjoy this silly ramble of mine :^] I'm glad to see that after 13 years, this game finally ended up where it was supposed to be - in a mobile form. The Narrator seems to have grown quite a bit and I'm proud of him <3

If you got here - thank you for spending your time on this :] And thank you decomposten for doing this with me.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

How about a ditzy, naive, cutesy ish ( think cutecore ) fem bodied reader with Craig? :3 I love love love your writing btw!

this request is old enough to pay rent in my askbox at this point.

THIS IS THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. next part (the one with the smut) is coming out in a couple of days. i've decided to post pt1 here now to give you guys something while it's not out yet, and also because editing ~6k words right now - while i'm awake and alert - and then the rest later is easier than editing 14k+ all at once when i'm done

i'm so sorry for the wait and for making you guys wait even longer for the smut. but it was better that way

Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 1

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 2

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Fem!Reader

A/N: This work was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it started getting too long so it got turned into a two-parter. Next part's the smut!

Yeah, I'm showing exactly my weeb background in this one. If anyone has maid anime recs I'm all ears

Craig Tucker let out a deep contented sigh as he settled on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. Contentment that didn’t come only from the physical sensation of sitting down, but also the psychological freedom it represented. He had finally managed to catch up with the downright obscene amount of essays and projects his university course was hauling onto its students, his job was being somewhat easy on him, and his home had finally reached a state of cleanliness that satisfied him - this last one probably being the most surprising concept of all.

For the first time in a bunch of weeks, he was finally able to just relax and do absolutely nothing, without the overwhelming weight of adult responsibilities crushing his shoulders. It was all heading up to be a perfect Saturday.

Had it not been for Clyde Donovan barging through the door of their shared apartment, yelling before he even entered, his arms flailing everywhere as the energy built up in his body tried to find some escape.

“Craig, Craig! You’re not gonna believe this, dude! It’s genius!”

Words that famously preceded disasters.

There wasn’t a single day that Craig didn’t regret moving away with his best friend for university. He figured that, by putting some distance between himself and South Park, he’d at least break free from the bulk of his problems. Turns out, he brought the problems with him and now they just seemed to have gotten worse.

Clyde approached the couch with quick steps, extending his hand eagerly towards Craig, which finally allowed the black-haired man to see that his friend had brought something inside with him - what seemed to be a light pink leaflet for a place or event unknown.

“What’s this?” Craig asked as soon as the paper touched his fingers, still following Clyde with his eyes. Even if reading the information it contained would’ve only taken a couple of seconds, he decided it wasn’t worth the brain cells since his friend would probably just try and explain everything to him anyway; asking him straight up would be less time-consuming.

“It’s a flyer for that new maid café, dude!” Clyde dropped himself next to his friend on the couch, turning to him with pure excitement in his face.

“The new what now?”

“A maid café, dude!” Clyde repeated like the concept was obvious. “It’s a café where all the waitresses dress in those hot-ass maid outfits and treat you like a damn king!”

The brunet held such reverence to his explanation, it made it seem like what he was describing was simply the best thing to have ever graced the planet, a present given by the gods themselves to satisfy his mortal urges. It only made Craig want to know about it even less.

“I’m not going to that.” Craig placed the flyer on the coffee table carelessly, bringing his attention to his phone again.

His friend let out an almost comical gasp of surprise. “What? Why?”

The other male rolled his eyes. Clyde had known him since they were kids, yet he still always came to him with his stupid ideas expecting him to agree with them without another thought, despite knowing full well that Craig was a whole different animal from him. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Please, dude!” Clyde clasped his hands together, looking at his friend with wide pleading eyes. It was clear he was trying to give him the Puss In Boots face, which was terrifying. “I tried inviting the guys from uni, but they won’t come either!”

“Then go alone.” To Craig, it was an obvious solution to a problem that shouldn’t even exist - but he knew that his friend wouldn’t accept it, the ever needy fellow refusing to do anything by himself if he could avoid it.

“Fuck no!” Exactly the response Craig expected to receive. “Dude, I need you there! Can’t just go alone to a place like this, the chicks will think I’m a weirdo!”

“They already would. Because you are.” Apparently Craig’s phone had nothing of value to provide him, because he also threw it at the table, letting it land next to the leaflet.

Clyde pouted, flipping his friend off, and receiving the exact same move as a response. “Fuck you, Craig! You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

That display of irritation at his friend lasted very little, as immediately after he was clinging onto the sleeve of his hoodie, his begging reaching a breaking point. “Come on, dude! I’ll pay for both of us!”

Craig yanked his own arm out of the brunet’s grasp and scooted to the farthest end of the couch with an angry expression. “You said that shit the last four times!”

“I swear I’ll do it this time!” Clyde scrambled around with his hands for a moment, still trying to grab Craig, the movement mirroring the racing of his mind as he tried to figure out a way to make his friend comply with his request. “I’ll do all the dishes for a week!”

When the black-haired male stopped moving altogether, Clyde grinned, knowing he had him in the bag. 

If there was one thing Craig hated more than putting up with his friends’ bullshit, it was doing dishes. Nothing about it was pleasant: the feel of the soggy sponge and the soap on his bare hands, how his shirt would always get wet afterwards, having to touch the gross remnants of food on the plates, scrubbing the grease out of all the pots and pans… He let out a groan of disgust just thinking about it. And, weirdly for a bachelor pad where takeout was regular, he and his roommate seemed to go through an obnoxious amount of dishes all the time, which meant it was a constant task that needed doing and took so much out of his time that he could be using doing something actually productive.

“Two weeks.” Craig lifted two fingers to emphasize the number as he turned his face to the man beside him. “And you’re paying,” he then repeated, not wanting Clyde to forget his earlier promise. His friend nodded enthusiastically, the specifics of his side of the deal going through one ear and out the other as he focused solely on the fact that Craig had finally agreed.

With a grumpy huff, Craig rubbed his eyes with his palms and stood up from the couch, once again roped by a friend into another stupid idea that was sure to end up stressing him out. There went his peaceful moment.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Exactly like he thought he would, Craig wanted to spin around and leave as soon as he arrived at the place.

It was like he had been immediately engulfed in a tsunami of cute. The walls were pink with some pictures and drawings of different anime girls framed on them as well as some photos of adorable-looking desserts and drinks that Craig assumed were served there. Frill details had been painted high up on those walls, giving the impression that they hung from the ceiling line itself. The floor was white wood, and the young man would’ve been tempted to just stare at it the whole time and save himself from the assault on his eyeballs caused by everything else, yet he knew that would only provide him temporary relief. Every single piece of furniture that could have a bit of lace or a ribbon definitely got it; the centerpieces on the tables, the ceiling lights, even the backs of the admittedly very comfy-looking chairs. There was a set of shelves at the back, near the counter, which displayed various merchandise items - mugs, cold cups, t-shirts. Craig never understood the whole ‘coffee shops selling merch’ deal to begin with, and the fact that someone would willingly bring those things home to show that they had been to the place was just damn baffling.

He could not comprehend how someone in their right mind would want to spend money to be there once, let alone get a job at the place and have to see this every. single. day. He felt a tinge of sad empathy for the maids Clyde had spoken of earlier, but it was snuffed out of existence when one of those women approached them and opened her mouth to talk. She was every bit as obnoxious as the environment; speaking in a forced cutesy voice that sounded shrill to his ears, explaining every part of the café’s ‘rules’ - no touching the maids, no asking for personal information, no taking photos of the women, maids can only sit down with customers after payment of an extra fee - with way too much enthusiasm for his liking. The uniform she wore consisted of a baby pink dress with white details on the end of the puff sleeves and white frills at the end of the poofy skirt, right above the knee, and her legs were fully covered by a set of opaque white pantyhose. An equally white and frilly short pinafore apron went over the dress, with pockets on the front and a small pin at the bust that said the maid’s name, a piece of information that was forgotten by Craig right after he read it.

Craig tried to keep his cool as the woman escorted them to their table, sighing with relief when she finally let them be and said someone else would arrive shortly to pick up their orders. 

“Hell yeah, dude! Isn’t this great?” Clyde giddily said, taking in the environment one more time, stretching his neck to have a better look at one of the busy maids before turning back to his friend.

The freezing glare he received in response told the brunet all that he needed to know.

Taking note of the menus on the table, both men picked up one each and started scanning through it in broken silence, given Clyde’s continuous exclamations and gasps of apparent joy. As for Craig, it probably made everything worse. All the items available were ridiculously overpriced, and had dumb unnecessary names; it turned out that the visual pollution caused by the excessive pictures of the food was necessary, otherwise he’d never have figured out that a ‘Fuzzy Caramel’ was in fact supposed to be just your average frappuccino, or what on Earth a ‘Delightful Bubblegum Spring’ even was. If there was anything he’d be joyful about, it was the fact that Clyde had promised to foot the bill, and Craig had full intention of forcing his friend to go through with it this time. “Dude, it’s so hard to decide!” Clyde murmured, seeming slightly awestruck behind his menu. “Everything looks so good!”

Craig’s eyes focused a bit on the images all over the menu, unable to find a sarcastic retort to send his friend’s way - everything did, in fact, look pretty appetizing. “Pictures can’t tell you shit,” he settled for pointing out, “This stuff can still taste bad.”

“That’s bullshit,” Clyde shook his head. “If it looks good, then it’s gotta be great. Have you ever seen a hot chick that wasn’t great in bed?”

‘As a matter of fact… ‘, he thought, but decided that that was not an appropriate conversation to be having in that particular environment, settling instead for a small huff that Clyde either didn’t notice or didn’t care for, considering the smug smirk that tilted his lips with the satisfaction of ‘winning’ the argument.

They didn’t get much more time by themselves to really mull that over, though; A soft unknown voice brought attention to a third party that had shown up near the table, the background noise having covered its arrival. 

“Hello there, masters! I’ll be your maid for today! How may I help you this afternoon?”

Both men turned their faces to you, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Clyde basically gave himself whiplash with how quickly he turned, his whole upper body shifting to your direction as he beamed with joy. Craig, on the other hand, only turned out of basic respect, keeping a straight face and making no sound, a movement quite reminiscent of a robot’s.

“Oh, hey there! I’m Clyde and this is my friend Craig!” The enthusiasm his friend used on that greeting matched what you had on yours, and both had Craig cringing internally, while also taking note of the fact that he hadn’t even answered your question. Clyde always seemed to use more sentences in interactions than what they required.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. tapping lightly on the button in your apron as you responded. “I’m (Y/N)! It’s very nice to meet the masters, and welcome to the café!”

It was a very simple answer, obviously default to a server’s duty, but Clyde’s smile seemed to grow impossibly larger, which blared sirens in Craig’s head. Years of knowing his friend made him silently pray to any possible entity that the guy wouldn’t try and make a pass on you - he didn’t know how much attention the man sitting in front of him had paid to the list of rules that basically told them ‘Don’t Mess With The Maids’, and the embarrassment of getting kicked out of the place in front of every other patron didn’t appeal to him at all, no matter how much he didn’t want to be there.

“That’s such a cool name! Thanks a lot!” Oh, thank fuck. Clyde seemed to have brought a brain cell from home instead of mistaking basic politeness for romantic interest… again.

You made a little hum of approval to accompany your gentle smile, and tapped some things they couldn’t see on the - also very pink - tablet you were holding. “So, what’s it gonna be for the masters today? Have you gone through all of our options yet?”

“Ah, yeah, that!” The reminder made Clyde nod vigorously and turn his face to the menu again, scanning it for his choices. “Let’s see, where was it… Can I have a ‘Soft Maple Mix’, and the…”

Craig tuned out his friend’s speaking after that, making use of the time you spent distracted taking his order to fully size you up. You had a similar sweet and high-pitched tone of voice to the first maid, but he captured the difference straight away - yours was softer, more natural, like it came that way straight out of your vocal cords. The uniform dress was the same, but seemed to fit better in your body; take away the apron and he could’ve honestly mistook you for a client at the place instead of a worker, with the way you wore it so well. Instead of full pantyhose, you had striped knee-high socks on, white and pink in a slightly different shade to that of your maid uniform. Your facial features had their gentleness enhanced by a light layer of makeup, in which he appreciated the lack of bold colors or excessive details, the simple yet still impactful look making for a sight for sore eyes.

Even someone as nonchalant as him wouldn’t be able to deny that you looked adorable. Lovely and approachable, like something worth protecting, and had the setting been another, he’d have no qualms about mentally acknowledging your beauty and admiring it some more. Right there, though, already annoyed by the environment and the situation he was put in, he couldn’t help but wonder if any part of you was even true; everything cute in the place was dialed up to 11 to attract customers, and obviously, being a server, you’d be inclined to match the setting. Very likely, as soon as the shop closed for the day, you’d turn into something completely different - and  if there was one thing Craig disliked, it was fake fucking people. People who could shift their entire personalities around like it was nothing were the worst. Maybe that’s why he grew up to have few friends, but at least he knew he was able to trust the ones he had, considering no one could fake being that stupid.

When Clyde finally finished yapping away his ridiculous order and you turned your face to Craig again, he was quick to straighten his posture and pretend like nothing else had been going through his mind. “What about you, master? Do you wish to place your order already as well?” 

That term you used to refer to him again made him wince, but he just shook his head and didn’t mention it. ”Do y’all have just normal black coffee here?”

The slight frown that dipped your eyebrows showed him that this was not a question you were used to receiving. With such a long menu full of options, most people would’ve been drawn to the many extravagant drinks - but Craig would insist on his simpler choice if need be, even if it’d be irritating to do so. To him, this was the best way to find out if a place was decent or not. Fancier beverages can have damn near anything in them, all kinds of different ingredients and preparation methods that can force a false air of quality into something lackluster; but black coffee is straightforward, its taste speaking for itself, so if it’s bad, he knows to not waste any time trying anything else.

Luckily, despite your weirded-out expression, you didn’t question him. “We do, indeed,” you responded in the normal peppy tone, “Would that be it for our dear master?”

“Yeah, that,” he turned his eyes to the menu again and squinted briefly as he tried to make a last-minute pick among the huge array of food items, “And also a… Huh… This.” He just turned the menu to you and pointed at a picture of a cat-shaped grilled cheese.

“Oh, our Cheesy Kitten Warmth?” 

Craig just nodded once at your words while you noted it down on the tablet, choosing death over saying that name out loud. “Alright, a Cheesy Kitten Warmth it is! Well then, masters, I’ll be off for now, but if you need my assistance you can just call over to me anytime and I’ll be here as soon as I can! “

And just like that, you were off somewhere else with a pep in your step, both young men watching you leave until you disappeared through the kitchen door. When they faced each other again, it couldn’t have been more clear that their opinions on the situation vastly differed, like they did on all other points concerning their visit.

“Duuuuude.” Clyde drawled, turning to face Craig again, “What did I tell you? A-fucking-mazing.”

Now Craig doubted if his friend knew what that last word meant. “You really are a fucking weirdo.”

“Oh, come on, Craig,” Clyde’s smile didn’t falter even through the name-calling, “Don’t pretend like you’re not having fun.”

“I don’t have to pretend, I’m not.”

“Fuck right off with that,” the overeager friend insisted, “Did you even hear what she called us? ‘Masters’. I’ve never had a girl call me that before. It’s the best feeling in the world!”

That was the first time in years Clyde had managed to leave Craig speechless without it being from a sentence so stupid no retort could salvage it. His mention had brought back the memory of your voice calling them that, loud and clear as if you’d been doing it right in that moment - making him ashamed of how much he did like it. Despite knowing that it was yet another part of the job, meant to sway needy fellows just like his friend and fool them into thinking they were actually liked so that they’d come back and spend more money to get the high of feeling adored, he knew the trap had caught him too. His blood had run boiling hot every time that word rolled off your tongue in your honey-coated voice, and his leg had been shaking under the table the entire time, a small outlet for a surge of unfamiliar energy that coursed through him - excitement. Sexual, of course, but not just that. A sense of true power.

Had it been anyone else, they’d have called Craig out on his prolonged silence and his cover would’ve been blown. But luckily, this was Clyde; a man not notoriously known for his long attention span.

“Do you think if I send them my CV, I can get a job in the kitchen?”

And just like that, Craig found a way off the corner his friend had put him in, swiftly adopting his serious mindset again as he tried to dissuade the brunet from showing up with his lackluster resumé and nonexistent cooking abilities to beg for a job - both men finding a distraction as they waited for the food to arrive, not paying attention when you finally emerged out of the kitchen.

No one knew how it happened. Whether something had been on the floor near the table that caught your step, if it had been your own foot over the other, or if you had tripped over nothing at all. Either way, it didn’t matter. Because before anyone could react, your body was halfway to the floor already, the contents of your tray escaping your hands while you held onto the metal as if it could catch your fall, a loud squeal ripping through the background noise of conversation in the café.

Your face landed near Craig’s shoe, both his feet raising off the ground as the surprise made him recoil in his chair - a movement that, although it might’ve prevented you from seeing the creases on his sneakers, did little to save him from the barrage of food and drinks that landed square on his body. Both his and Clyde’s orders hit him square in the lap and chest, the coffee they had ordered making him roar loudly in pain as the extremely hot liquid seeped through the fabric of his shirt. Porcelain mugs and plates broke on the floor, their shards scattering everywhere.  

Almost all of the workers in the room stopped what they were doing immediately to assist both you and your patrons, one of them helping you off the floor and taking you out of view to preserve what remained of your dignity while the others apologized to the pair of clients and started fixing the chaos, picking up the broken dishes and cleaning up the food and drinks from the ground. Someone had shown up with a wet towel to assist Craig in wiping away the mess on his outfit, and he didn’t know what was more humiliating; to have that happen to him to begin with, or to be tended to like a messy child by one of those soft-spoken maids while still knowing that he’d have to go back home in dirty clothes, probably even stained from the coffee.

The owner of the place herself had decided to waive both of the guys’ bills for the day as an apology gift, saying they could order whatever they wanted for that visit, as well as gifting them a fifty percent discount coupon for a possible next time; a deal that personally didn’t interest Craig at all - why the fuck would he return to that place to spend money there when they already screwed him over the first time? - but that pleased Clyde greatly, as he accepted the coupon with a huge smile and was quick to usher his friend back to their table so they could continue eating. 

The pair was set up with another one of your maid colleagues, who was pulling all the stops to make sure the both of them were comfortable and happy in their stay, considering the earlier fiasco. But Craig’s mood was already soured beyond repair, irritated with the theatrical antics that accompanied the food and wanting to just be left alone to eat and go home in his silence. It didn’t help that he didn’t care for much of what he ordered, either - the new cup of coffee that was sent his way felt too sweet, even though he hadn’t put any sugar in it, and his Kitten Warmth Whatever had spent one too many seconds on the grill, the markings on the bread a bit too charred for his specific tastes.

The black-haired man endured what he could for a while, but when seeing that Clyde was on his third slice of cake with absolutely no intentions of ending his indulgence of the free cafe food and the maid’s attention, Craig decided to just call an Uber for himself and leave his oblivious friend to figure out how to get home alone later. 

Not wanting to spend much more time inside, he got up and left the establishment without another word, deciding to wait on the sidewalk for the car, finding the noisy city streets surprisingly much less overwhelming than the corny environment of the cafe. Seeing that the rideshare was a good bunch of minutes away, he leaned against the wall outside, scrolling through his socials absentmindedly as he waited.

His brain faintly registered the sound of the café’s tiny door chime ringing, but he didn’t care much for it, figuring it was just another patron leaving much like him. So he wasn’t aware that it was you who slowly went down the steps outside the door and walked towards him - he was only made aware of your presence once you put your hand on his shoulder, calling out to him softly. “Excuse me, sir? Can- Can I have a moment?”

His whole body instantly tensed in light of your touch, his jaw clenching and grip tightening on his phone - a sight that made you recoil with your hand as you gasped in a much more vocal demonstration of the same surprise Craig seemed to be feeling. It was made painfully obvious he wasn’t one for much physical contact, as he only relaxed once you took a step back.

“I don’t have a bill to pay. They cancelled it.” He said dryly once he noticed you were not close to him anymore, still focused on his phone. Because of you, he wanted to add, but found it best to not make himself part of another scene outside.

You nodded quickly, both your hands moving to clutch your apron nervously. “I know, I know, I just…” You started off meekly, and he did notice how you seemed a bit scared, even. “I just wanted to apologize personally, sir. For dropping your order and ruining your clothes.”

For a brief moment, Craig was taken aback, his face lifting up slightly. He didn’t expect you to chase him outside for something like this, to speak to him personally and face his complaints head-on where the other customers wouldn’t see a thing. However, just as it came, it went - this was all just part of your work protocol, down to the shy behaviour, he was sure of it. For all he knew, your boss might as well have told you to come outside herself, not wanting to lose a potential client and wondering if he could be buttered up with soft words.

“You already said that,” he grunted, looking back down again, suddenly acting really interested in a TikTok that had played about forty-five times on his screen already. “You can leave now.”

Another small nod. “I know I have, sir, but…” You averted your gaze to the street briefly, your hands tugging softly at the white fabric they clutched, “I wanted to come and say it myself. I really mean it, sir. I’m so sorry for causing so much trouble, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Craig finally stopped messing with his screen and turned his face to you, catching your gaze in his. You were quick to drop your eyes to the ground, bending your whole upper body forward in a short bow. He’d never seen such a display before - apologetic submission wasn’t something people usually directed at him, and he would die before admitting that it felt good to see you like that, but it also made him angrier to think it was all an act.

“Fucking stop that already,” his groan made you turn your face up immediately, just in time to catch what was probably the most annoyed eye roll you had ever seen.

“I- I’m sorry?” You stuttered as you asked, mouth slightly open in surprise.

He put his phone in the pocket of his jacket and made a gesture with his hand, as if encompassing all of your body - or rather, everything that had to do with you. “This… Thing, all of it,” he huffed, “Stop.”

Slowly, you straightened your posture, though your expression was still nothing short of confused. “I don’t think I understand…”

“Of course you do,” Craig insisted, “It’s part of your job, acting all cute and shit like that. You don’t need to do that out here.”

“It’s not about my job, sir, it’s-"

“Don’t call me ‘sir’. We’re about the same age. It’s weird.”

“Sorry, ahm…” You lowered your face again, and there was silence as you tried to think of something else to call him, your hands kneading at the apron anxiously as you put all of your brain into that thought.

Noticing your struggle, the man decided to speak up again. “My name is Craig,” he said, “Maybe start out with that.”

“Oh, okay… Mr. Craig.” The man scoffed at the honorific, but didn’t actively complain. “It’s not about my job. I’m really sorry. As a person, not as a maid…”

“Then why do you keep acting like that?” He asked, “You’re outside. You don’t have to pretend to be all meek and shy and shit. Just say what you have to say and go.”

“I’m not pretending!” Your voice went even higher in pitch, if that was even possible. “I’m being honest!”

“Ugh, stop making that voice!” Craig threw his head back and tugged at the strings of his hat, the only thing not soiled by your earlier mistake. “Just say it like normal!”

“I’m not making a voice! This is just how I am!”

At this point, a few people passing by the sidewalk had either stopped completely or slowed their speed to pay attention to your discussion, which Craig noticed. He was getting visibly stressed out. With a huff and a second sharp tug to the strings, he forced himself to calm down.

“Look, no offense, but it’s so annoying.” His deadpan tone had returned. “It’s so fake. Nobody wants to deal with fake shit. If you act like the real you, then maybe people will actually believe when you apologize to them.”

You sighed. “I’m acting like the real me,” you stated back gently, “I can’t be anything else.”

And for the first time, Craig found that he wanted to believe you. It had never crossed his mind that someone could be so kind, so sweet, so cute, straight out their heart. Just… Wake up and be that, like he woke up and acted like a jerk every day. But if you had those words to say, that conviction - even if it felt like it was wrapped in cotton candy -, maybe you both were really being true to your essences.

Before he was able to say anything, though, a black car stopped near the both of you - Craig’s Uber, which he had forgotten he had even asked for. The man didn’t take his eyes off you as he entered the car, but no other sentences were exchanged. The ride home was equally silent for him, bringing home the weight of your argument and the smell of coffee on his clothes, along with the faintest hint of strawberry on his shoulder.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Against his better judgement, Craig ended up visiting the café once more with Clyde, to take advantage of the discount coupon both of them got. That next time, his friend had convinced some other poor souls to tag along on the ‘adventure’, bringing back a bigger group, a concept that made Craig irked with the irony of it; he had not only managed to go back to the place he said he wouldn’t, but brought more paying customers with him.

You weren’t the assigned maid for his table that afternoon, but the black-haired guy still found himself chasing you with his eyes as you scurried around the café, serving your own clients. The extra people in his group meant he could just stay silent while they chatted among themselves, which gave him plenty of openings to sit alone with his thoughts and analyze your every movement, almost as if trying to catch a sign of weakness. No other accidents similar to his occurred during this next visit, so maybe he was just that unlucky, a concept that didn’t seem far-fetched to him. But still, something about you kept him on his toes. You felt more ‘real’ than the extremely fake version of the environment he had in his mind, and he wanted to know to which end that held true.

So began what could only be described as Craig Tucker’s insanity arc.The next time he went, and the one after that, and the others in sequence, he came in fully alone and of his own volition; there was no way he could make an excuse for going to the maid café. It started slow: Just showing up, getting a table in the corner away from everyone, ordering a black coffee like he would at any other establishment and sitting there saying nothing, refusing to play along with the maids’ over-the-top acts and leaving after a while. 

Until a day two weeks later where, by some wicked will of the gods, he managed to have you as his maid again - and it was very evident you were terrified of the ordeal, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress and approaching his table with your spine so straight you looked like you had a broom handle tied to it. Despite all that, you still managed to greet him with grace and politeness, as if his words from the previous exchange hadn’t fazed you at all. 

This brought to surface his curiosity again and led to his next crazy idea - asking to pay for the special fee that would make it so you’d sit with him at the table and engage in conversation with him. He’d seen other patrons doing so, considering them chumps for spending money on such a thing, but he wanted to figure out your deal, and maybe you’d be more comfortable with talking in your safe environment. Obviously you seemed surprised, but didn’t deny his request, adding the fee to his total on your tablet and taking the empty seat in front of him.

You talked for a while. As in, you talked. The first several minutes were spent in awkward silence, as they should considering the tense way you’d interacted the other day, but before you’d consider one of your usual icebreakers for shy clients, Craig did it for you by asking about the job. Not in a fascinated way like the other clients usually did when the subject came into play - which was something along the lines of ‘how does it feel to work in such a beautiful place every day?’ -, but in a more down-to-Earth vein, making it abundantly clear he wanted your true opinions. Which you gave to him. 

He sat in silence as you explained your thoughts, only stopping every now and then for him to order more coffee, a sandwich, or to renew the fee for your stay. The conversation naturally shifted into other topics, but as you babbled away in each of them, he was paying attention to your whole behaviour again; how even the more tense parts of the conversation didn’t seem to make you ‘break’ the ‘character’ he thought you had going on. When night had fallen and he finally left, he wasn’t exactly fully convinced, but he left the café already thinking of conversation starters for a next opportunity that would let him understand you better.

The owner, having noticed how that day went down, made the association that he was more prone to spending more time and ordering extra stuff if you were the one serving him, so she and the other maids began deliberately making sure to try and keep you available around the time where he usually showed up. And he was extremely punctual about his visits. So the next time, and the one after that, and the others, you were there - and, he was internally relieved to see, less nervous about his presence as well.

He never mentioned the first occurrence, and you obviously didn't either. The following meetings were much lighter in spirit, and although Craig didn’t behave as enthusiastically as all the other patrons did, he began sharing more about himself, letting himself engage with your questions rather than just asking you things. What’s more, he actually paid attention to the answers. Most clients were just keen on yapping away and didn’t remember much about the maid herself, since they weren’t going to return as often, but Craig showed up at least two times a week, always to hang out with you specifically, so it didn’t take long for an actual connection to form. 

Along with the vibes, what also changed was Craig’s appetite: he began taking your suggestions on specific dishes you liked from the menu, ordering them for himself and giving his sometimes too honest opinion. The plain black coffee made its appearance here and there, but it now competed with slices of cake and pie, different sandwiches, croissants, iced lattes, and even the occasional tea, all of them with long and cute names you pronounced with a naturality he still lacked.

There was one specific aspect of your interactions that he firmly held onto, though. He insisted that you not call him ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ during your conversations - the very first customer to actively ask to be called by name. The maid roster had waved it off to a need for a more personal interaction, which you complied to gladly. Yet, it was unmistakable how his head would snap in other directions whenever another maid was in one of the nearby tables, talking to her ‘Master’; like the word drew Craig in, even if he refused to have it used towards himself.

Never would he admit it, but those encounters eventually became the highlight of his days. You were a breath of fresh air from the tribulations of his stressful life. He didn’t have many things that could calm him down the way your gentle voice did, and soon it was all that he could hear in his mind during days of particular irritation - it grounded him, validating his feelings with bits and pieces of advice you did give during your talks, but merged into something much more personal, like you actually cared. It disconcerted him how his heart rate would increase whenever you directed him a question about his experiences, and he’d have to force himself to remember you were just making the conversation you were paid to.

And having your eyes on him for hours, being able to stare at your beautiful face without shame as you hung onto every word that came out of his mouth… He hadn’t realized how much he craved that sort of attention until you came into the picture. Being single was comfortable for him, he had enough problems on his own without having to deal with someone else’s. But he wanted to deal with yours. He wanted you to feel safe with him the way he did with you, to know you past the limits of the tiny table in the corner, to have those stocking-clad legs walking beside him and to hold the hands that kept on bringing him all different kinds of pastries. But he wasn’t a creep, he knew where his boundaries resided with you, and Craig Tucker wasn’t the type of man to let a line blur - he wouldn’t squander his moments of peace over a flicker of interest that might not even be reciprocated. Being your client was all he needed, should be all he needed.

Funnily enough, for a guy so observant, he never noticed how eventually that fee from your table hangouts wasn’t being charged from his credit card anymore. Along with the price of a slice of cake or two.

Dividers by @cafekitsune