#first of all i feel like i caught the end of a cold

[rafesangelita]

…BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB AU

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🪵♡

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who owns a small construction company alongside jj and pope. he wakes up for work at four in the morning and doesn’t come back home until the sun is setting, all of the guys sharing a cold twelve pack of beer back at his place afterwards. he’s absolutely jacked, the years of heavy lifting and hard labor clearly showing in his physique. john b sold the chateau and decided to use the money to start up his business, the rest of his funds going towards his own mobile home, gas, and cigarettes. “you need a woman’s touch in here.” pope would walk into john b’s living room, the walls barren, the only furniture being a singular recliner and a small table in which his outdated television sat on. as much as john b wanted to explore that part of his freedom as a single man, he figured his rough and rugged exterior just made him damaged goods. and who would want that?

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who met you on the side of the road when you blew a tire and looked helpless as you tried to get cell service on the outskirts of the island. your pretty getup immediately caught his attention, the way your sundress clung tightly to your body had his tires coming to a screeching halt as you fanned yourself from the blazing heat of the sun. he cursed under his breath when your eyes fell on him, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “hey, there..” he greeted you awkwardly, a teasing smile adorning your lips as you saw the way he fiddled with the tool belt on his waist. “need some help?” in no time, john b had managed to change your tire, his swiftness and ability to make the task look so easy had undoubtedly drawn you in. the way he effortlessly towered over you made your cheeks heat, john b finally gathering up the courage to ask you out on a date.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who got cleaned up real nice just for you. he called pope over to help him choose an outfit, the two of them ransacking his drawers and closet for something decent. “john, all you have is fifty year old jeans, work boots, and raggedy t-shirts..” pope sat back and scanned the wardrobe of what looked like a true hardworking man— maybe a little too hardworking considering there wasn’t not one dress shirt in sight. after settling on a bass pro shop t-shirt, worn out jeans, and well— his work boots, he was quickly making his way over to pick you up from your place. you had still lived with your parents, your mother smiling over at john b as he walked you over to his dingy work truck. ‘mama, go inside!’ you whispered, your cheeks hot as she giggled, watching the way john b opened and closed the door for you. “she’s in good hands!” he reassured her before driving off.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who soon realized he was nervous for nothing once you two made it to the small bar on the cut. your eyes sparkled everytime you gazed up at him, that beautiful smile of yours making his heart skip a beat in his chest. a few beers later and he was looking at you with that knowing look in his eye, sending butterflies to flutter in your tummy as he reached for your hand, softly stroking your skin with his thumb. john b couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like this. truthfully, neither of you wanted the night to end, a feigned gasp leaving your lips when he proposed you should come back home with him. “what kind of girl do you take me for, john?” he was quick to apologize, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose for suggesting such a thing on the first date. you laughed. “i thought you’d never ask..” john b’s head immediately shot up at your words, both of you scrambling out of the bar.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who’s so strong he fucks you standing up, slamming his hips into your own as you grow more and more delirious with each thrust. he’s reaching a depth that you’ve never felt before, your nails raking down his skin as he leaves a sloppy trail of kisses across your chest. you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, his grunts and groans bouncing off of his bedroom walls. it isn’t until you’re slipping out of his grip that he pins you down to his bed, your fingers working through his curly hair as he hooks your legs to his waist. orgasm after orgasm, you lose count of the amount of times he has made you come undone. it isn’t until his hips are stuttering and you’re moaning out a ‘please cum inside me!’ that you feel him spilling into you, both of you desperately clinging onto each other as he empties himself into your needy cunt. after that night, for the first time ever, john b woke up to a full lunchbox packed and ready for him for the day.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"i just wanted to tell you incase you forgot... 'i love you',, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: the ways in which you tell sylus "i love you" and ways in which he reciprocates contains: lnds sylus x mc?reader (fem in mind but she/her is used like once or twice) ,fluff! ,kitten/sweetie used as pet names ,domestic!sylus feel ,cuddling ,playful banter ,baker sylus ,incorrect evol use but its wholesome ,sylus chases u around ,twins feature ,not much to say other than soft!sylus being in love w u / both of u being lovesick for e/o + twins shenanigans at the end (i think thats it) note: (mostly edited ,will check back later) added this track last minute but immediately knew who i wanted to write it for. first fic of the event woooo~ :x

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

or at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who was above everyone else and the most sought-after criminal, wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands...

someone like that didn't know love, surely.

but oh, how wrong you were.

you were the only one that knew, under all of that tough exterior, the true tenderness that lied beneath it.

and you were the sole subject to it, from the very beginning.

-

you woke unceremoniously in a bed that was not your own, surrounded in a blanket of warmth but not solely due to the comforter surrounding your plush body:

it was mainly due to the otherworldly individual beneath you, who you were using as your personal body pillow of sorts.

you stir, letting out a small groan before peeking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the man before you.

the big, bad leader of onychinus, sleeping soundly in bed next to you, arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your head comfortably planted on his chest— your favorite makeshift pillow.

you can't help but to smile at the sight.

feeling a touch mischievous, you begin trailing your fingers, touch featherlight, up from his waist towards his chest and back down, slowly shifting to drawing mindless shapes in the expanse of exposed skin.

he doesn't react to your touches, still deep in sleep, so you change your tactic.

you drag a single index finger up, up, up past his slender waist, then his slowly rising and falling chest, his pretty neck then up towards his sharp jawline to poke at his cheek.

he grunts in his sleep, but nothing more.

you let out a huff, lifting your head up and staring at the serene expression on his face— even lost in the land of dreams, you couldn't help but to admire every feature of his visage.

a couple of minutes pass by just like this until you decide you're feeling a little bored again.

so you repeat your earlier action, dragging your finger up slowly, slowly, just about to poke his cheek again—

when your wrist is swiftly caught by a warm hand before you reach it.

"it seems my dream of a kitten mistaking me for a toy wasn't a dream after all."

sylus' crimson eyes crack open to look directly into your bright (albeit still slightly-sleepy) ones, heart full at the little playful smile you're sporting.

"she seems bored," he muses, thumb from the hand still gripping your wrist gently caressing your knuckles back and forth— a subconscious habit whenever his hands hold yours.

"should i entertain her?"

his question goes unanswered as he shifts over on his side while letting your hand go at the same time, causing you to slip from your spot on top of him to behind him, facing his back.

"—or leave her to her own devices?"

"sylus!"

your laughs are airy, quickly enveloping the spacious bedroom, and sylus finds himself smiling at the sound.

you don't leave him alone for long, quickly pressing against him and hugging his large frame from behind.

sylus releases a playful scoff. "is this a new attack of yours?"

"yeah, you can't escape, i'm going to stick to you like this forever and ever!"

"how touching," his voice is filled with amusement. "i think i can get used to this..." he trails off, smile evident in his words.

you stay that way for awhile when you decide to repeat your earlier actions in the new space, retracting a hand as you begin to draw shapes into his back this time. at the same time, sylus begins to hum whatever song is on his mind, eyes shut as he revels in your touches, neither one of you in a rush to get up from this sacred space for two.

"what are you drawing, kitten?"

your finger dances across the bare canvas of his back.

"guess," you answer simply as you continue.

he lets out a huff of a laugh. "not going to make it easy for me, are you?"

you hum in response, dragging your fingers to create imaginary lines over the muscles.

"is this... a kitten?" you can almost hear the raise of his eyebrow and see the funny yet curious expression on his face.

"oooh, i didn't think you'd get that one. how about..."

your finger traces several lines again, taking your time before you stop and wait for his answer.

"hmmm..." the way he's concentrating trying to figure it out fills you with amusement like no other.

"a... plane?"

"wrong, it was mephisto!"

"..it was close."

"are you calling mephisto a plane..?"

"..let's move on to the next one."

a hearty laugh rings out as you pretend to erase the image.

"wait until i tell him~"

"you wouldn't dare," he jokingly threats, causing you to only giggle back in response.

you decide on something much simpler this time.

your movements are slowed as you start near the center, drawing a tilted line outward and up before curving it inward and mimicking the same on the opposite side, connecting them to form a heart.

i love you.

a short, amused laugh leaves him, immediately recognizing the shape, but shaping a question instead of an answer.

"i'm not too sure, sweetie. might have to try that one again," he says, voice soft and tender, a hint of a smile within it.

say it once more.

so you do.

you repeat your action, slower, drawing another imaginary heart on his bare skin and within it, your unspoken promise of devotion towards him.

i love you.

this time, he turns around to face you, pulling you flush against him. you let out a short laugh before its devoured by his lips on yours, caught in a dance of love and devotion, giggles bubbling out of you between the breaks as you try to catch your breath while he needily chases your lips.

and the message he wishes to convey is clear as day.

i love you, too.

-

someone like him was the last person you thought you'd ever associate sweets with.

but after the time spent together, you find it hard to imagine anyone else cautiously reading the instructions, mixing the ingredients precisely, and carefully readying the icing for the fresh cupcakes that have come out of the oven and are left cooling nearby, except for him.

you tiptoe into the kitchen, watching him prepare a piping bag for the freshly-made icing he's made while he hums (when you asked him why he goes through the trouble of making it from scratch, he countered by asking "doesn't it taste better when you put in the work for something?" and despite playfully scoffing at the little smirk he offered, you couldn't help but to agree with him).

you smile at his focused expression, reading glasses perched on his nose, some remnants of ingredients spotting his clothes as he decides on which icing tip to use for these particular cupcakes (the last time he made them, they resembled simple flowers. based on the icing tip he was inspecting now, it seemed he was going to try for roses this time).

now just a step away from his back, you reach out both hands, index fingers out as you poke both sides of his lower back at the same time.

he jolts at the sensation, small gasp emitting from his lips and shock washing over him as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch your satisfied smile.

"another sneak attack, kitten?"

"i couldn't resist."

you step up beside him, taking a peek into the bowl filled with icing.

"red this time? i would've never guessed."

he scoffs, smiling.

"am i that predictable to you?"

"well, after spending so much time together, its only natural, right?"

"its bad if an enemy learns to read you so easily; who knows what trap will be set in the future."

"you're right," your words trail off as you step back, causing the sly crow before you to raise a brow.

"they can plan an attack when you're vulnerable, like—"

behind him again, you jump forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"this!"

his hearty chuckle rings through the kitchen.

even if he saw your intention from the start, he made no move to stop you. he'd surrender to you if you so much as asked.

"so? what will you do with me now that i'm caught?"

"hmmm..."

you hum in thought, noticing sylus has picked up the piping bag and was inserting the icing tip into it, getting ready to fill the bag with the red icing.

he's waiting for your answer when one of your hands reaches forward, dipping your finger into the icing bowl and quickly withdrawing your arms, swiftly turning around—

when you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

you let out a surprised squeal, giggling as you thrash around in the hold of sylus' evol, said man's attention still on the icing bag as he scoops a dallop of red into it.

"such a naughty kitten," he says, evol pulling your suspended body over to him slowly as you laugh the entire way.

"and naughty kittens deserve a punishment," as he speaks, he dips his own finger into the bowl of icing, red now gathered onto the tip before looking up at you through the rims of his glasses.

realizing what he's planning, you thrash around to no avail within the confines of his evol, trying to create distance between you two.

"nooooo! im sorry! please- aha, hahaha! sylus!"

your attempt is futile, sly smirk curling on sylus' lips as his finger moves closer and closer to your smiling face that's trying to inch further and further away, pressing his finger right onto your nose, painting it in red.

"noooooo!" you whine, sylus chuckling in amusement.

"how cute," he muses. "maybe this will teach you to behave in the kitchen."

he finally lets you down with his evol, eyeing you as you're standing upright and before him once again.

"now, go and wait till i'm finished, i'll even let you have the first taste," he bargains, turning his back to you and walking back towards the icing bowl.

despite this, a smirk plasters itself onto your face as you creep your way up behind him once again, red icing still staining your finger from moments ago stretched out, ready to paint his cheek—

"i thought i told you to behave."

despite the countless attempts to catch him by surprise attacks, he knows what you're saying through them:

i love you.

your wrist is easily caught in his grasp, stopping your attack before it can hit his cheek, a displeased groan emitting from your throat.

he brings your icing-covered finger close to his lips, lapping at the red. you watch as it momentarily stains his lips before his tongue licks them clean, humming at the flavor.

"it seems.. better this time, don't you think?" he turns, looking down at you.

you huff out a breath, trying to hide your embarrassment at his little action.

"be patient, kitten, i'll be done soon enough..." he trails off, hand unraveling from your wrist. "or do i have to restrain you?"

"i'm going, i'm going!"

with that, you scurry out of the kitchen to wait in the living room, sylus' amused chuckle surrounding the kitchen soon replaced by his soft, mindless humming once again.

i love you more.

-

a man of his caliber having a playful side seemed like a far-fetched idea.

until you experienced it for yourself.

and since the very first time, you're convinced he may be the most playful person on the entire planet.

to be fair, you kind of expected this, after all, its not like it was the first time.

but when you snatched a cupcake when his back was turned and took a bite, you didn't expect him to notice— at least, not right away.

but he did, and when he began counting, you instinctually bolted out of the kitchen, cupcake still in hand, giggles trailing behind you, determined to not be caught by him.

you dashed past the living area, two crow masks peeking up from their spot on the sofa and shifting to another figure— their boss— who was trailing behind you, watching until your figures disappeared down the long corridor of the hall.

"i give her five minutes," kieran pipes up, turning towards his brother.

"i give her three!"

"you're on!"

. . .

even as you dash down the halls, careful not to hit anything and running in scattered directions, it doesn't take long for sylus to close in on you.

you make it to a lounging area, movements slowed from the amount you've ran in the past couple of minutes, beginning to catch your breath after not sensing him around when you feel a weight on your shoulders.

"caught you."

"...!"

he's equally out of breath, taking a few moments to even his breathing, leaning against you more and more before pushing your body down onto the sofa. you fall back on the cushions with a short oof! still in the midst of catching your breath before sylus lays what feels like his entire weight right on top of you.

"sylus!"

you push against his broad chest, completely crushed by his beautiful build of a body, laughter ringing through the living space at your futile struggle against the smirking man above you.

"it seems a little kitten is stuck," he heaves a couple of breaths. "what are you going... to do about it?"

"get... off!" you laugh.

"i'm tired after all of that chasing... not to mention this is comfortable for me," he takes a couple more breaths, looking down at your slightly-sweaty face. "so i'd rather not."

"you're heavy, sylus!"

you weakly hit at his chest when he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep on top of you.

"sylus!"

slowly, he lifts himself up with his arms, hands planted flat on either side of your head.

"attacking me after making me chase you? how very cruel of you, sweetie."

your breaths are mostly even now, watching for sylus' next move.

he slowly begins moving his head down, and your eyes naturally flutter closed, expecting a kiss.

he takes this opportunity to plant his knees into the sofa, shifting his weight onto them as he leans down, breath fanning your lips.

"you trust me, sweetie?" he whispers against your lips.

"always," you whisper back.

he suddenly lifts his head, arms lifting at the same time before his fingers immediately begin dancing over your midriff.

your eyes shoot open in shock and betrayal, laughs immediately ripped from your throat as you thrash beneath him, trying your best to get away despite being caged into the sofa.

"s-sy-sy- ahahah! sto-o-p! s-stop! hahaha!"

his fingers continue their brutal attack on your sensitive skin, bubbling laughter infectious as sylus joins you, pleased smile adorning his face at your current state.

he relents shortly after, allowing you to catch your breath again as he looks down at you in a daze, reaching out to straighten your hair.

"kiss..." your voice is breathless, but he catches it.

"hm?"

"you still owe me... a kiss...." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly. "from earlier."

"ah, of course."

he leans down, capturing your lips with his, hovering over your body as your arms snake around his neck, pouring your hearts into the action. you both kiss with equal fervor, chasing each others lips, never able to get your fill of the other.

i love you.

he pulls away slowly, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close in fear of him leaving you all of a sudden. the look in his eyes says i'm not going anywhere, his forehead touching yours as you both breathe each other in before he tucks his head into your shoulder.

"lets stay like this... just for a bit," his quiet, husky breath hits your ear and you shiver at the sensation.

"okay," you smile, hands petting through his silver locks.

i love you, most.

and you stay together, just like that, losing track of time in the world reserved for two, heartbeats syncing up as you meld against one another, both with the shared sentiment of never letting go.

(only at your insistence of taking a shower and slipping into some fresh clothes when you think he's dozed off does he relent, slowly getting up and scooping you into his arms, making his way down the hall towards his room).

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who seemed to be above everyone else, the most sought-after criminal wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands—

the same hands that cradled your face, caressed your hair any chance he got, tickled you when you least expected it, carried you so lovingly at your beck-and-call, hugging you close to his chest, close enough that you could feel his beating heart—

the heart of a man who loved so wholly and completely, devoting his entire being to you.

so, despite what anyone else may think, may also assume at first glance, you knew the truth:

despite the odds, sylus was someone that knew love the best.

-

epilogue:

"so... who won?" luke turns to his brother under the crow mask.

"i did, obviously," kieran is all-too confident.

"what?!? nuh-uh, she was definitely caught in less than five minutes!"

"did we watch the same thing? that was maybe six!"

"are you.... stupid?"

"rude!"

"i didn't think you'd try to lie your way to win," luke crosses his arms over his chest.

"i am not lying!"

"are too!"

the bickering continues for a couple more minutes until luke pipes up again.

"wait, what was the prize for whoever won the bet?"

"......"

kieran is the first to speak up again.

"you know what, since you won, you can be the one to tell boss the reason so many cupcakes are missing."

"WHAT???"

later, the cameras in mephisto's eyes would relay the twins chasing each other around— just amongst the footage of them scarfing down the freshly-made rose-icing cupcakes.

-

a/n: spreading the soft sylus agenda... this is inspired by a number of domestic art/tweets ive seen if i find them ill add but.. he's so soft..... i adore him

-

[elryuse]

My Toxic Exes

Genre : Smut

Idol : Yeji, Giselle & Julie

Tags : Ex Gf Yeji, Giselle & Julie, Dirty Talking, Secret Sex, Cheating, Lots of Kissing, Sweaty Sex,

Word : 8,838 Word

Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.

That’s what you tell yourself as you stare at the ceiling, your body sinking into the mattress, numb. Your room is dark except for the faint glow of your phone screen, the only source of light illuminating the night.

Her last message still lingers on the screen.

"You’re overthinking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are still there. Her texts to someone else. The photo of them together. The way she denied it so easily, as if your feelings meant nothing.

Yeji.

The first girl you ever truly loved. The first girl who shattered you.

The first time you see her, she’s standing on a stage, dressed in a sharp black blazer and a white button-up shirt, her long, sleek hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She’s in the middle of a debate, her voice unwavering, her gaze sharp.

She’s stunning—not just in appearance, but in presence. She owns the room without even trying, commanding respect with every word she speaks.

You’re not supposed to be here. You only came because your friend begged you to watch their team compete, but now, all you can focus on is her.

When the debate ends, she wins—of course she does. You expect her to be cold and distant, but when she walks past you, she’s laughing with her teammates, her confidence melting into something warm and inviting.

And then, she notices you.

"Hey," she says, stopping in front of you. "Enjoy the debate?"

You blink. For a second, you think she’s talking to someone else. But no—her sharp brown eyes are locked onto yours, waiting.

"Uh, yeah," you stammer, caught off guard. "You were… really good."

She smirks, tilting her head slightly. "Thanks. I try."

And just like that, she walks away, leaving you standing there, completely entranced.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the beginning of something that will change you forever.

Getting to know Yeji is like getting close to a wildfire—intoxicating, thrilling, and impossible to control.

She’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. She’s driven, passionate, and fiercely independent. She doesn’t need anyone, but somehow, she chooses you.

You start seeing her more often. First, it’s casual—study sessions, late-night talks about life and ambitions. Then, it becomes something more.

One night, after a long day of studying, you walk her home. It’s late, the streets nearly empty, and the cool night air makes your breath visible.

"You’re different," she says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance at her. "Different how?"

She shrugs, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. "Most guys I meet try too hard to impress me. But you… you’re just yourself."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

She stops walking and turns to face you, her eyes searching yours. Then, without warning, she steps closer, closing the distance between you.

"It is," she murmurs.

And before you can process what’s happening, she kisses you.

It’s soft, hesitant at first, but then it deepens, her fingers curling into your hoodie as if she doesn’t want to let go.

When she finally pulls away, she grins.

"Let’s do this," she says. "Let’s see where this goes."

And just like that, you’re hers.

Being with Yeji is exhilarating. She challenges you, pushes you to be better, makes you feel like you can conquer anything.

She takes you to places you’ve never been, introduces you to people who admire her just as much as you do. She’s everything you never knew you needed—strong, fearless, and completely captivating.

But then, the cracks start to show.

It begins with small things. She gets easily frustrated when you don’t immediately understand something. She makes little comments about how you could "try harder" or "be more ambitious."

"You should be more confident," she tells you one day when you hesitate to speak in a group setting. "I can’t keep carrying the conversation for you."

It stings, but you brush it off. Maybe she just wants you to improve. Maybe she’s right.

Then, she starts getting distant.

She cancels plans more often, says she’s busy, but you start noticing the way she’s always on her phone, texting someone. You tell yourself it’s nothing. She’s popular, she has a lot of friends.

But then, one night, everything changes.

You don’t mean to see it. You’re just grabbing her phone to check the time while she’s in the shower. But the moment you pick it up, a notification pops up.

A message from someone you don’t recognize.

"Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again."

Your chest tightens.

You open the conversation. There are pictures—her with another guy, laughing, leaning into him the way she used to lean into you. The texts are flirty, intimate.

Your hands shake as you set the phone back down. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you just saw.

When she comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, she notices your expression immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asks.

You swallow hard. "Who is he?"

She freezes for a split second—just a moment, but it’s enough.

"Who?" she asks, too casually.

"You know who," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the messages, Yeji."

Silence.

Then, she exhales, rolling her eyes. "You’re overthinking."

Your heart cracks.

"Yeji, I saw the photos," you say, your voice trembling. "Just… tell me the truth."

She stares at you, and for the first time, you see something cold in her eyes—something detached.

"There’s nothing to tell," she says simply.

No apology. No remorse. Just a flat-out denial, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.

That’s when you realize—you could argue, you could beg for the truth, but it wouldn’t matter. She’s already decided to pretend like nothing happened.

And suddenly, you feel exhausted.

You thought love was supposed to be about trust, about believing in each other. But standing here, looking at her, you realize—this isn’t love. This is a game you’re never going to win.

So you do the only thing you can.

You leave.

You don’t cry that night. You just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.

A part of you wants to believe she’ll call, that she’ll apologize, that she’ll tell you she made a mistake.

But deep down, you know she won’t.

Yeji never looks back.

And neither should you.

Moving on from Yeji isn’t easy.

Even after weeks pass, her absence lingers like a dull ache in your chest. You try distracting yourself—focusing on school, picking up new hobbies—but nothing fully silences the thoughts. The "what ifs" still creep in late at night, and the scars she left still sting when you least expect them.

But then, you meet Giselle.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something different.

You don’t know much about her at first. You’ve seen her in passing, heard whispers of her name in hallways and classrooms. Giselle is popular—effortlessly so. She has that kind of energy that makes people gravitate toward her, a mix of confidence and playfulness that keeps her at the center of every social circle.

She’s the kind of girl you never thought you’d talk to, let alone date.

But fate has other plans.

It starts at a party—a rare event for you. Your friends practically drag you there, insisting you need to "get out more" after the whole Yeji situation. You don’t expect much. Just a few hours of music, drinks, and pretending to have fun.

But then, you see her.

Giselle is surrounded by people, laughing at something someone said, her presence magnetic. She’s wearing a sleek black dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She looks… untouchable, like she exists in a different world.

And yet, somehow, her eyes find yours.

For a split second, your breath catches. You expect her to look away, to move on.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she smirks. Then, before you can react, she makes her way through the crowd and stops right in front of you.

"You look bored," she says, tilting her head. "Not a fan of parties?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Not really my scene."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"My friends dragged me."

Her lips curve into a smile. "Mine too."

And just like that, a conversation starts.

It’s easy with her. She’s witty, teasing, but not in a mean way. She asks questions that catch you off guard, making you laugh, making you forget—if only for a moment—about everything else.

By the end of the night, you’re surprised to find yourself enjoying her company. And when she casually hands you her phone, telling you to put your number in, You don’t hesitate.

For the first time in months, something stirs in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

Dating Giselle is like stepping into a dream.

Everything moves fast. One moment, you’re just getting to know her, and the next, you’re in the whirlwind of her world—late-night drives, spontaneous trips to the beach, secret rendezvous between classes.

She makes you feel special in a way you never have before.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," she says one evening, tapping your nose playfully.

You groan. "I’m not flustered."

She laughs, leaning closer. "You totally are."

She always knows how to make you smile, how to pull you out of your shell. And for a while, you think this might actually work.

But then, the cracks begin to show.

It starts with little things.

She gets irritated when you don’t answer her texts fast enough, even if you’re busy.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asks one day, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

"I’m not," you reply, confused. "I was in class."

She pouts. "You could’ve at least texted me back during the break."

You brush it off, thinking she just likes attention. But then, it escalates.

She starts getting jealous—of your friends, of your time, of anything that isn’t her.

"Do you really have to hang out with them?" she asks one evening when you mention plans with an old friend.

"They’re my friends, Giselle."

She crosses her arms. "I just don’t get why you need to spend time with them when you have me."

It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first. Maybe she just really likes you, you tell yourself. Maybe she just wants to feel secure.

But then, one night, everything changes.

It happens after a small argument.

You don’t even remember how it starts—something about you not paying enough attention to her, about her feeling like you don’t care.

"You don’t put in enough effort," she snaps.

You blink. "Giselle, I do my best—"

"It’s not enough!" she interrupts, her voice rising.

You’re taken aback. "What do you want from me?"

She glares at you, her jaw clenched. Then, suddenly, she throws your phone across the room.

It crashes against the wall.

You freeze.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then, her expression shifts. The anger melts away, replaced by something else—something almost… remorseful.

"I…" She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t mean to do that."

But she did.

And you both know it.

Still, she steps forward, reaching for your hands. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I just… I love you so much, and I hate feeling like I’m not enough for you."

Her voice is soft, almost pleading. And for a second, your heart wavers.

But then you look at the broken phone on the floor.

And suddenly, you realize—you’ve been here before.

This isn’t love. This is control.

And you can’t do this again.

Leaving Giselle is harder than leaving Yeji.

Because she doesn’t let you go easily.

She texts, she calls, she shows up unannounced. She cries, begs, says she’ll change.

But you know better now.

And so, no matter how much it hurts, you walk away.

You think you’re done with love.

You think you’ll never let yourself fall again.

But then, you meet Julie.

And this time, you believe—just for a moment—that things will be different.

You tell yourself you won’t fall for anyone again.

Not after Yeji’s betrayal. Not after Giselle’s suffocating love. You’re tired of love—tired of opening your heart just to watch it be torn apart.

But then, Julie enters your life.

And for the first time in a long while, you start to believe again.

It happens unexpectedly, on a cold evening in a quiet café.

You’re sitting alone, scrolling through your phone, when she approaches.

"Mind if I sit here?"

You glance up, surprised. Julie is beautiful in an effortless way—long, silky hair, sharp eyes that seem to read you instantly. There’s an air of elegance about her, from the way she carries herself to the designer coat draped over her shoulders.

You hesitate. The café isn’t full; there are plenty of empty tables.

But something in her gaze tells you she’s here for a reason.

"Sure," you say.

She sits across from you, her perfume light but intoxicating.

"I’ve seen you here before," she says casually, stirring her coffee. "You always sit by yourself."

You chuckle. "I like the quiet."

She tilts her head. "Or maybe you just don’t like people?"

You blink, caught off guard. Most girls would be shy or polite, but Julie? She’s bold. Direct.

You smirk. "Maybe a little of both."

She laughs, and just like that, a conversation begins.

It’s easy with her. Too easy

She’s different from Yeji, from Giselle. She doesn’t play games, doesn’t test you. She listens. Really listens.

And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel like you have to prove yourself.

With Julie, you can just be.

Dating Julie feels like a dream.

She’s rich—not just well-off, but the kind of wealthy that makes life effortless. Expensive dinners, surprise gifts, spontaneous weekend getaways—she showers you with things you never thought you’d have.

At first, it feels strange.

"I don’t need all this," you tell her one day when she buys you an expensive watch.

She just smiles, pressing it into your palm. "I know. That’s why I like spoiling you."

And you believe her.

Because Julie isn’t just rich—she’s caring. Understanding. She never gets jealous when you hang out with friends, never accuses you of not loving her enough.

She trusts you.

She makes you feel safe.

And after everything you’ve been through, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

So, for the first time in forever, you let your guard down.

You let yourself love again.

And that’s when everything falls apart.

It starts with whispers.

Little things you hear in passing.

"Julie’s always hanging out with that guy."

"Did you see her at the bar last night? She was all over him."

You brush it off. Gossip means nothing. You trust her.

But then, the doubts creep in.

She cancels dates last minute.

She starts texting less, calling less.

And then, one night, you see it with your own eyes.

Julie, standing too close to another guy. Laughing. Letting him touch her waist. Acting like you don’t exist.

Your heart clenches, but you tell yourself to stay calm.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe there’s an explanation.

So you wait until you’re alone with her.

And you ask.

"Who was he?"

She raises an eyebrow, sipping her wine. "Who?"

"At the bar. The guy you were with."

She sighs, setting her glass down. "Just a friend."

"A friend who touches your waist?"

Her expression hardens. "Are you seriously jealous right now?"

You hesitate. "Julie, I just—"

"God, I can’t believe this," she mutters, standing up. "You’re just like every other guy. So insecure."

Your stomach twists. "I’m not—"

"Yes, you are." Her voice is sharp, cold. "I give you everything, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me?"

You feel like you’ve been punched.

"Julie," you whisper. "I just wanted the truth."

She scoffs, grabbing her coat. "The truth? Fine. Maybe I like the attention. Maybe I like feeling wanted. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

Her words hit harder than they should.

Because deep down, you know—love shouldn’t feel like this.

You take a shaky breath. "I can’t do this."

She stares at you. "What?"

"I can’t be with someone who makes me feel like I’m not enough."

For a moment, something flickers in her eyes. A flash of regret, maybe.

But it vanishes just as quickly.

She exhales, shaking her head. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

And just like that, she walks away.

No tears. No apologies.

Just… nothing.

Like you never meant anything at all.

You tell yourself you won’t cry.

But that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything crashes down on you.

Yeji. Giselle. Julie.

Three girls. Three heartbreaks.

You’ve given love everything you had. And every time, it’s been thrown back in your face.

So, you make a decision.

You’re done.

Done chasing love. Done trusting. Done believing in fairy tales.

From now on, you’ll be alone.

Because at least then, you won’t get hurt.

But then, you meet Yuna.

And suddenly, your heart isn’t so sure anymore.

You don’t believe in love anymore.

Not after Yeji, who shattered your trust.

Not after Giselle, who suffocated you with her possessiveness.

Not after Julie, who made you feel like you were nothing.

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. And most of all, you’re done.

You don’t chase love. You don’t wait for it.

Because you know, in the end, it always leaves you broken.

But then, you meet her.

And for the first time in a long while, something inside you stirs.

Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

It happens on a rainy afternoon.

You’re in a bookstore, flipping through pages of a novel you don’t plan on buying. The rain outside taps against the windows, a soft rhythm that matches the quietness of the shop.

You like it here. It’s peaceful. A place where no one knows you.

Or so you think.

"You like that author?"

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

You glance up.

And that’s when you see her.

She stands a few feet away, holding a book against her chest. She’s dressed simply—sweater, jeans, sneakers—but there’s something effortlessly beautiful about her.

Her eyes, warm and curious, meet yours.

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

You clear your throat. "Uh… yeah. I guess."

She smiles. "You don’t sound so sure."

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. "I’ve never read their books before. Just browsing."

She nods, stepping closer. "It’s a good one. Kind of sad, though."

You raise an eyebrow. "You like sad books?"

She tilts her head. "I think sad stories are more honest."

You don’t know why, but that answer lingers in your mind.

She turns the book in her hands, then looks at you again.

"I’m Yuna, by the way."

You hesitate.

But then, for the first time in months, you say it.

You tell her your name.

And just like that, something begins.

Yuna is different.

She doesn’t demand your attention. She doesn’t try to change you.

She simply exists in your life, slowly weaving herself into the empty spaces you never realized were there.

You start seeing her more often—at the bookstore, at the café nearby, in the quiet corners of the world where you feel most at ease.

She never pushes. Never asks too many questions.

But she listens.

And somehow, that’s enough.

One evening, as you walk together under the glow of streetlights, she asks, "Have you ever been in love?"

You stiffen. The memories of Yeji, Giselle, Julie—all of them flood back at once.

You exhale. "I thought I was."

She doesn’t say anything right away. She just walks beside you, her presence steady, unshaken.

Then, after a moment, she murmurs, "It must’ve hurt a lot."

You stop in your tracks.

Because no one—not Yeji, not Giselle, not Julie—ever acknowledged your pain like that.

Your chest tightens. "Yeah," you admit quietly. "It did."

Yuna doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask for details.

She simply reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours in the most delicate way.

You don’t pull away.

And maybe—just maybe—you start to wonder.

Could love be something else?

Could love, for once, not destroy you?

But love has never been kind to you.

And just when you think you’re ready to move on, the past comes knocking.

Because one day, you receive a message.

From Yeji.

From Giselle.

From Julie.

They miss you.

And suddenly, everything you’ve tried to bury comes rushing back.

Ghosts of the Past

You think you’ve finally moved on.

Yuna is here. She’s warm, kind, and unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

She doesn’t lie to you like Yeji.

She doesn’t hurt you like Giselle.

She doesn’t betray you like Julie.

With Yuna, love feels different. Safer. Real.

But love has never been kind to you.

And the past refuses to stay buried.

It starts with a message.

"I miss you."

You stare at the screen, your heart tightening.

Yeji’s name glows on your phone, the same name that once made your chest ache with love.

Now, all it brings is pain.

You turn off your phone. You don’t respond.

But the past isn’t done with you yet.

Because the next day, Giselle calls.

You let it ring. You don’t pick up.

Then, Julie sends a message.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

You delete it without reading the rest.

But no matter how much you ignore them, they don’t stop.

The texts become more frequent.

The calls become more desperate.

And slowly, they start creeping back into your life.

At first, you think it’s just them trying to soothe their own regrets.

But then, they start interfering.

And that’s when everything starts to fall apart.

The first time it happens, you and Yuna are at a small café, sharing quiet laughter over coffee.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

It’s Yeji.

Calling.

Again.

You let out a slow breath, ignoring it.

Yuna notices. "You okay?"

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just spam calls."

But your hands feel cold.

Because it’s not just one call.

It’s three.

One after another.

And the moment you step out of the café, Yeji’s voice fills the air.

"You’re ignoring me."

You freeze.

She’s here.

Standing across the street, arms crossed, staring at you like she has the right to be angry.

You don’t know what to say.

"You think you can just block me out?" she continues, stepping closer. "After everything we had?"

Yuna glances between you both, her brows furrowing. "Who is she?"

Yeji smirks, her eyes flickering toward Yuna. "So this is why you’ve been ignoring me."

Your stomach twists. "Yeji, don’t—"

"Did you tell her about us?" Yeji interrupts, her voice dripping with something dangerous. "Did you tell her how much you used to love me?"

You clench your jaw. "We’re done. You need to leave."

Yeji laughs—soft, bitter. "You say that, but I know you still think about me."

She takes another step forward, lowering her voice.

"You used to be mine," she whispers. "And you will be again."

Then, she turns and walks away.

Leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

Yuna touches your arm. "What was that about?"

You force yourself to breathe. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing.

Because Yeji isn’t the only one who won’t let go.

And soon, things get worse.

It’s Giselle next.

She doesn’t just send messages.

She shows up.

At your work. At your apartment.

Always finding an excuse to see you, to talk to you.

And every time, she asks the same thing.

"Do you ever think about me?"

You want to say no.

You want to erase every painful memory of her.

But Giselle has always known how to push your buttons.

"You were my everything," she whispers one night, standing in front of your door. "I know I made mistakes. But you… you were different."

You grip the doorframe. "Giselle, go home."

She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don’t have a home without you."

You swallow hard.

And that’s when you realize—she doesn’t just want you back.

She wants to ruin you.

And the moment she realizes she can’t, she tries something worse.

She finds Yuna.

She talks to her.

She tells her things—half-truths, twisted stories.

And one day, Yuna asks, "Did she really hurt you that badly?"

Your stomach drops.

Because you know exactly where this is coming from.

You reach for her hand. "Yuna, don’t listen to them."

She bites her lip. "I trust you. But I don’t trust them."

And you know—Giselle won’t stop.

Because if she can’t have you, she’ll make sure no one else does.

But the worst is Julie.

Because Julie doesn’t just want to win.

She wants to make you suffer.

One night, she sends you a message.

"Come see me. Just once."

You don’t reply.

Then another text comes.

"I won’t stop until you do."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

Maybe if you go, she’ll stop. Maybe she’ll finally let go.

So, against your better judgment, you go.

You find her in a high-end bar, swirling a glass of wine in her hand.

She looks up, smiling like she’s already won.

"I knew you’d come," she murmurs.

You sit across from her, exhaling sharply. "What do you want?"

She leans forward, her perfume familiar and suffocating.

"Are you happy?" she asks.

You frown. "What?"

"With her," Julie says smoothly. "With Yuna."

You glare. "Yes."

She tilts her head. "That’s a shame."

Something about her tone makes your skin crawl.

Then, she smirks. "Because I don’t think she’ll be around for long."

A chill runs down your spine. "What did you do?"

Julie sips her wine. "Nothing. Yet."

You push your chair back, standing. "Stay away from her."

Julie just laughs. "You should know by now, baby. I don’t like losing."

You leave without another word.

But dread settles in your stomach.

Because you know this isn’t over.

Not even close.

And the worst part?

You don’t know if Yuna will stay by your side when the storm hits.

Trapped in the Past.

You’ve been trying to move on.

You tell yourself that Yuna is different. That she’s the one good thing in your life. That your past no longer has control over you.

But the past has other plans.

And today, it comes crashing back—harder than ever.

It’s just another day at work.

Your office is quiet, the usual hum of keyboards and murmured conversations filling the space. You’re buried in your work, trying to focus, when you hear it—

Gasps. Whispered voices. A sudden shift in the atmosphere.

You glance up, confused.

And then, you see them.

Yeji.

Giselle.

Julie.

Standing at the entrance of your office, looking like they walked straight out of a dream—or, in your case, a nightmare.

Your heart stops.

They shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here.

But they are.

And they look even more breathtaking than you remember.

Yeji stands tall, her confidence radiating through the room, a small smirk playing on her lips. She wears a fitted blazer over a sleek black dress, her hair pulled back in a way that makes her look both elegant and untouchable.

Giselle, on the other hand, is effortlessly stunning, dressed in a casual yet expensive-looking ensemble—like she just threw something on and still managed to turn heads. She’s scanning the room, her eyes sharp, predatory.

Julie, as expected, looks perfect. A designer outfit, flawless makeup, an aura of quiet dominance. She’s not here to plead. She’s here to claim.

The entire office is watching, mesmerized.

Because how often do three goddesses show up unannounced, asking for the same man?

And then it happens.

"Where’s Y/n?" Yeji asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You freeze.

Your coworkers look around, confused. Some exchange glances before one of them hesitantly points in your direction.

And just like that, the three of them turn to you.

And they grin.

Because Yuna isn’t here.

Because this is their chance.

Because they know—deep down, they still have power over you.

And they plan to use it.

Before you can react, they’re walking toward you.

Your heart pounds as they reach your desk, their presence overwhelming.

"Y/n," Yeji purrs, leaning against your desk like she belongs there. "You’ve been ignoring us."

Giselle tilts her head, feigning innocence. "That’s not very nice, you know. We just wanted to see you."

Julie sighs, a soft, disappointed sound. "You really thought we’d just let you go?"

You swallow hard. "You shouldn’t be here."

Yeji raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

You glance around. Your coworkers are still watching, whispering amongst themselves.

You grit your teeth. "Because I don’t want to see you."

Giselle laughs. "Liar."

Julie smirks. "If that were true, why do you look so nervous?"

Because they know what they’re doing.

They know exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you uncomfortable.

And worst of all…

They’re winning.

Because a part of you—no matter how small—remembers.

Remembers Yeji’s strength. The way she used to make you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you.

Remembers Giselle’s charm. The way she made you feel special, like you were the only one who mattered.

Remembers Julie’s care. The way she spoiled you, made you feel like you were worth something.

And now, they’re standing in front of you, looking more beautiful than ever, acting like they still care.

And Yuna isn’t here.

Yeji leans in, her voice low. "Let’s go somewhere private."

Giselle rests a hand on your shoulder, her nails lightly scraping your skin. "Just for a little bit."

Julie exhales softly, her perfume intoxicating. "Come on, Y/n. Don’t make us beg."

Your hands tighten into fists.

Because this is exactly how it starts.

How you get pulled back in.

How you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, they’ve changed.

But you know better now.

You have to know better.

You step back. "No."

Yeji’s eyes darken. "Excuse me?"

You exhale sharply. "I said no."

Giselle blinks, her smile faltering. "You’re joking, right?"

Julie’s expression turns cold. "You’re really going to push us away like this?"

You nod. "I’ve moved on."

Yeji scoffs. "With that girl? Yuna?"

You clench your jaw. "Yes."

There’s a long pause.

And then, Giselle laughs.

A slow, mocking laugh.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmurs. "You really think she’s better than us?"

Julie tilts her head. "You think she can love you like we did?"

Yeji crosses her arms. "Do you really believe she’ll stay?"

Something in their words sends a chill down your spine.

Because you know what they’re implying.

Yuna doesn’t play games like they do.

Yuna isn’t manipulative.

Yuna isn’t them.

And that’s exactly why they want to destroy her.

Before you can respond, Yeji steps closer, her voice a whisper.

"If you’re not ours," she murmurs, "then you’re not hers either."

Your blood runs cold.

Because now, this isn’t just about you.

It’s about Yuna.

And you know—this war isn’t over.

It’s only just beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed softly, a faint hum that matched the rhythm of my typing. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—5:47 PM. Just a little longer, and I could head home. Home, where Yuna would be waiting. The thought of her brought a small smile to my lips. Yuna, unlike the others, was different. She was kind, patient, and she listened. She didn’t play games, didn’t twist words, didn’t leave me second-guessing every interaction. She was… healing.

But that healing was fragile. Like a wound that had just begun to scab over, it could be ripped open with the slightest touch. And the last people I wanted touching it were them.

The soft ding of the elevator down the hall made my fingers pause mid-sentence. I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as three familiar figures stepped out. Yeji, Giselle, and Julie.

Their heels clicked against the polished floor, a synchronized rhythm that felt like a drumroll before disaster. They were dressed to kill—Yeji in a form-fitting red blazer, Giselle in a sleek black dress, and Julie in a skirt that was far too short for the office setting. Each of them wore a smirk, their eyes locking onto me like predators circling prey.

“Well, well, look who’s still working late,” Yeji purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What are you three doing here?”

“Can’t we visit an old friend?” Giselle chimed in, her lips curving into a sly smile. She leaned against my desk, her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something far too intoxicating—washing over me.

“Friend?” I muttered, my voice low. “Is that what we are now?”

Julie chuckled, the sound grating against my ears. “Come on, don’t be like that. We missed you.”

Missed me. The words hit like a punch to the gut. Not because they were true—I knew better than to believe that—but because they were a reminder of all the times I’d fallen for their lies. All the times I’d let them hurt me, let them twist me into something I barely recognized.

“You don’t get to just show up here,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Not after everything.”

Yeji tilted her head, her smirk never wavering. “Everything? Oh, sweetheart, you act like we ruined you. If anything, we made you stronger.”

“Stronger?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You manipulated me. Toyed with me. Made me feel like I was nothing. That’s not strength. That’s just… cruelty.”

Giselle clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You always were so dramatic.”

“Seriously,” Julie added, her tone dripping with mockery. “We were just having fun. If you couldn’t handle it, that’s on you.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Fun. That’s what they called it. Playing with my emotions, stringing me along, making me feel like I was losing my mind. Fun.

“Get out,” I said through gritted teeth.

Yeji’s smirk widened, and she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Make us.”

The air between us grew thick, heavy with tension. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could smell her perfume, a mix of roses and something darker, something that made my head spin.

“You’re not the same without us, you know,” Giselle murmured, her voice soft, almost… gentle. “You’re boring. Safe. Is that what she wants? Someone safe?”

Julie laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Please. He was never boring with us.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that was settling over my thoughts. “You don’t get to do this. Not anymore.”

“Do what?” Yeji asked, her voice a low purr. “Remind you of what you’re missing?”

She was close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing against my cheek. I flinched, but I didn’t pull away. Why didn’t I pull away?

“You remember, don’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “The way it felt when we were together.”

My heart raced, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. Yes, I remember. I remembered the highs, the moments of bliss that made everything else fade away. But I also remembered the lows, the crushing weight of their words, the way they tore me apart piece by piece.

“We could have that again,” Giselle said, her voice a sultry whisper. “All of us. Just like old times.”

Julie stepped forward, her hand resting on my chest. “You know you want it.”

I did. God, I did. But I also wanted to be free, to move on, to finally be happy. And yet… here they were, pulling me back into their orbit, their gravity impossible to resist.

“Just one more night,” Yeji murmured, her lips brushing against my neck. “One more chance to make it right.”

I closed my eyes, my body trembling. One more night. It would be so easy to give in, to let myself fall back into their arms, their beds. But at what cost?

“I…” I started, my voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Yeji pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“It’s not the same,” I said, my voice firmer now. “I’m not the same.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Giselle laughed, the sound cold and dismissive. “You’re right. You’re not the same. You’re worse.”

Julie smirked, her hand trailing down my chest. “But maybe we can fix that.”

I shoved her hand away, my patience snapping. “I’m not something you can fix. I’m not a project, or a game, or… or…”

“A toy?” Yeji finished, her smirk returning. “Because that’s exactly what you were. And you loved it.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped, my voice rising. “I hated it. I hated you.”

“Liar,” Giselle said, her voice sharp. “You loved every second of it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I loved the idea of you. The fantasy. But the reality… the reality was hell.”

Yeji stepped back, her smirk fading. For a moment, she looked almost… hurt. “You’re really going to throw it all away? Everything we had?”

“We didn’t have anything,” I said, my voice steady now. “It was all in my head. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

There was a long pause, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then Julie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Be a bore. But don’t come crawling back when you realize you’re not cut out for… normal.”

They turned, their heels clicking against the floor as they walked away. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed behind them that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

But even as the tension left my body, the ache in my chest remained. Just one more night. The words echoed in my mind, taunting me. Because as much as I hated to admit it, part of me still wanted them. Still needed them.

And that scared me more than anything.

The office was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound as I tried to focus on the report in front of me. But my mind kept drifting back to the encounter earlier. Yeji, Giselle, Julie—their faces, their words, the way they’d looked at me like I was still theirs. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. They’re gone. They’re not a part of your life anymore.

But just as I was about to dive back into work, my phone buzzed. A text from Yeji: “Come outside. We’re waiting.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. No. Not again. I ignored it, setting the phone face down on the desk. But then it buzzed again. And again. And again. Finally, I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the next message: “Don’t make us come back up there. You know how much we love a scene.”

I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand over my face. Why can’t they just leave me alone? But deep down, I knew they wouldn’t. Not until they got what they wanted.

Reluctantly, I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator. The ride down felt like an eternity, my stomach twisting into knots. When the doors slid open, I saw them—Yeji leaning casually against the wall, Giselle scrolling through her phone, Julie with her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.

“There he is,” Yeji purred, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. “We were starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”

“I haven’t,” I said, my voice firm. “But I’m not doing this. Not again.”

Julie laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Oh, come on. You’re not fooling anyone. We know you still want us.” She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You always have.”

“I’ve moved on,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “I’m with Yuna now.”

“Yuna,” Giselle scoffed, finally looking up from her phone. “She’s sweet, yeah, but let’s be real—she’s not us.”

“She’s better than you,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “She actually cares about me. She respects me.”

Yeji tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Respect is overrated. What you need is someone who knows how to make you feel alive. And that’s us.”

Before I could respond, Julie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Enough talking. Let’s go.”

I tried to pull away, but they were already surrounding me, their presence overwhelming. They led me to a car parked just outside the building, and before I knew it, I was in the backseat, the three of them closing in around me.

The drive to their apartment was a blur, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. But every time I thought about making a move, one of them would touch me—a hand on my thigh, fingers brushing against my neck—and I’d feel that familiar pull, that dangerous allure that I’d spent so long trying to escape.

When we arrived, they practically dragged me inside the apartment, the door slamming shut behind us. Yeji was the first to make her move, pressing me against the wall and kissing me hard, her lips demanding and possessive. I wanted to push her away, to tell her to stop, but my body betrayed me, responding to her touch before I could think.

Giselle was next, her hands sliding under my shirt as she undressed me with practiced ease. Julie watched from a distance, a wicked grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained as Yeji moved her lips to my neck.

Julie didn’t answer, instead holding up her phone to show me the screen. She was calling Yuna. Panic surged through me, and I tried to pull away, but Yeji and Giselle held me in place, their hands roaming over my body.

“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice pleading.

“Oh, I would,” Julie said, her grin widening as the call connected. She put it on speaker, and I heard Yuna’s voice, soft and confused, on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Yuna,” Julie said, her tone sickly sweet. “Just wanted to let you know—your boyfriend’s here with us. And he’s very happy to see us.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “Yuna, it’s not what you think—”

But Yeji cut me off, her lips crashing into mine again as Giselle pulled down my pants. I could hear Yuna on the other end of the line, her voice trembling as she asked, “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Julie said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “We’re just giving him what he’s always wanted. What he’s always needed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I wanted to deny it, to tell Yuna the truth, but the words caught in my throat as Giselle dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth. I groaned, my body betraying me once again as pleasure surged through me.

Yeji pulled back, her lips curving into a wicked smile as she whispered in my ear, “He’s always wanted us. Not you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Yuna,” I managed to say, my voice strained. “Please—”

But Julie cut me off, holding the phone closer as Giselle worked her magic, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could hear Yuna’s sobs on the other end of the line, and guilt crashed over me like a wave. But even as I tried to fight it, I knew I was losing.

“You’ll never be enough for him,” Yeji said, her voice cold and cruel. “Not like we are.”

And then, as Giselle brought me to the brink, I heard Yuna hang up, the line going dead. I wanted to scream, to break free, but my body was too far gone, too lost in the sensations they were pulling from me.

Yeji laughed, a low, wicked sound, as she undressed, her eyes locked on mine. “Face it, baby. You’re ours. You always have been.”

And as they took turns with me, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, I knew she was right. No matter how much I tried to convince myself I’d moved on, I was still theirs. And I always would be.

Julie’s phone buzzed again, and she picked it up, her grin widening as she read the message. “Looks like your little Yuna isn’t taking this well,” she said, holding it up for me to see. It was a text from Yuna: “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart sank, but before I could respond, Giselle was on me again, her lips trailing down my chest as Yeji whispered in my ear, “See? We told you. You’re ours.”

And as they took me again, their bodies moving in sync with mine, I knew there was no escaping them. Not now. Not ever.

The room was a blur of sweat, heat, and tangled limbs. Yeji’s nails dug into my shoulders as she rode me, her hips grinding in slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her breath was hot against my ear, her voice low and sultry. “You’re ours,” she whispered, her words dripping with possessiveness. “You always have been. You always will be.”

Giselle’s laughter rang out as she kissed me, her lips soft but demanding. Her hands roamed my chest, tracing lines of fire across my skin. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze intense. “You thought you could escape us?” she taunted, her voice teasing. “You’re too weak, too addicted to the way we make you feel. Admit it... you’ve missed this.”

I wanted to deny it, to push them away and reclaim some shred of dignity, but my body betrayed me. My hips moved of their own accord, thrusting deeper into Yeji as she moaned in approval. My hands reached for Giselle, pulling her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair as our lips crashed together. And then there was Julie, her tongue tracing a wet path down my neck, her hands gripping my thighs as she positioned herself to take her turn.

“You’re pathetic,” Julie purred, her voice a mix of cruelty and seduction. “But we love you anyway. Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead straddling me and sinking down onto me with a gasp. Her movements were frenzied, desperate, as if she couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t help but respond, my hands gripping her hips as I thrust up to meet her.

The room filled with the sound of their moans, their laughter, their whispers. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and I felt myself slipping further and further into their web. “You’re ours,” Yeji repeated, her voice a sultry chant. “Say it. Say you’re ours.”

I tried to resist, to hold onto some fragment of myself, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice choked with need. “I’m yours.”

The trio exchanged triumphant smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good boy,” Giselle cooed, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Now let’s remind you why you belong to us.”

They took turns, their bodies moving over mine in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. Yeji’s lips claimed mine, her kisses deep and hungry, while Giselle’s hands explored every inch of me, igniting fires wherever she touched. Julie’s voice whispered in my ear, her words a mix of encouragement and command, urging me to give in completely.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the room. My mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, desire and despair. I wanted to hate them, to push them away and reclaim my life, but my body craved them in a way I couldn’t deny.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered again, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

As if to emphasize her words, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Giselle’s hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements as she took her turn, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. Julie’s teeth grazed my neck, her breath hot against my skin as she moaned in pleasure.

The room seemed to spin, the boundaries between us blurring as we became a tangled mess of limbs and desires. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were one, connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

My hands roamed their bodies, my fingers memorizing every curve, every detail. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t resist the pull they had on me. It was as if they had cast a spell, one that I was powerless to break.

“You’re ours,” Julie repeated, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

The room was a blur of heat and desire, the boundaries between us blurring as we became one. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Julie whispered, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built again, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

[buniwrite]

am i making you flustered ?

unintentionally making you flustered with tobio kageyama and akaashi keiji.

notes: fem!reader, fluff, established relationships, all during high school, around 300 words per character. akaashi knew what he was doing: that wasn't unintentional. english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. hope you like it! <3

tobio kageyama ⭑.ᐟ

the sun was long gone, and the freezing air of the night danced around you, making you shiver with cold. you were waiting outside the school's gym after finishing with your own club activities. your boyfriend should be stepping out soon with the rest of his teammates.

you entertained yourself looking at your phone, checking messages and the new things your friends posted. your uncovered hands out of your pockets so that you could hold the screen comfortably.

"hey" a well-known voice suddenly greeted you.

"tobio, hi ! i was just waiting for you, i didn't hear you step out sorry" you apologize, being too caught up in your own world and having missed your boyfriend making his way to you.

"it's okay", he nodded his head "let's go?".

putting your phone in your pocket you nodded with a smile. out of the school gates you parted ways with his teammates and started walking towards your house. a comfortable silence settled between the both of you, and suddenly you had the urge to take his hand. without thinking twice you reached out for it making his steps cease.

"y/n your hand is freezing !" he exclaimed with slightly bigger eyes "come here".

he stood in front of you and took both your hands in his warmer ones. he then started to move them quickly against yours in an effort to make them warmer, finishing by raising your hands to his lips and giving them a soft peck.

he said nothing more, letting go one of your hands and intertwining the other with his own, putting them inside his coat's pocket as he started to pick up the pace again.

you weren't able to say a thing, too stunned by his sudden sweet action. the whole way to your house, you kept stealing glances of his face, your cheeks bright pink and a your heart loudly beating.

safe to say you didn't feel cold anymore.

akaashi keiji ⭑.ᐟ

"ouch ! hot" you let out as you put down the cup filled with the hot tea that made you squeal in pain.

akaashi looked up to you with a concerned face, settling aside the book he was reading "too hot? sorry i should've warned you" he softly apologized, raising his hands to your face, cupping it gently "whatever shall i do to make it up to you".

giggling at the dramatics of his voice you told him not to worry, he was forgiven. his hands left your face after landing a peck on your forehead, opening his book again "okay then, be careful".

thirty minutes later he reached out for the teapot to refill his cup only to find it empty. standing up to head towards the kitchen, he directed his voice to you "i'm gonna make more tea, which one do you want?", no response "sweetheart?". he turned around and found you sleeping over your homework. letting out a chuckle he put the teapot back to its place and leaned down to you, getting the strands of hair off your face to observe your sleepy features better.

slowly, you awoke due to his soft touch. "keiji?" he hummed, acknowledging you. "sorry i must've fallen asleep".

"you must be tired, staying up all night studying" he comforted you "let's go take a nap, hm?" he concluded and picked you up in his arms, walking to his bed and laying you on it.

you turned to your side, looking at him as his fingers grabbed the end of his shirt and threw it up his head, abandoning it somewhere in his room. "it's hot", he excused.

he laid down by your side, sneaking an arm under your waist to pull you towards him. his unoccupied hand softly grabbed your jaw and lifted your face towards his, leaning in for a soft kiss. "get some rest ".

you couldn't sleep for the first twenty minutes, your face hot against his bare chest and your heart beating hard against your ribcage. the smell of him filled your senses and one of his hands had sneaked under your shirt to softly caress your skin. once you calmed your beating heart you were able to fall asleep and dream by his side.

if only he knew the effect he still has on you after all this time.

masterlist | about me | request rules

[beomiracles]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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[mommyslittlebird]

As The Summer Ends

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

As the summer comes to a close, you and your girlfriends celebrate with one more day in the sun.

CW: Pure fluff, R calls WandaNat Mama/Daddy but only like once.

Word Count: 1.3k(ish)

A/N: Happy last day of summer everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful season, and you’re all excited to see what wonders the fall brings.

It was your first year ever attending Pepper Potts’ yearly “end of the summer” pool party: the celebration she had every year the day before it was time to cover the pool for the winter. You’d been invited as Wanda and Natasha’s plus one, as you still didn’t really know Pepper, or anyone else in attendance.

Much to your dismay, none of the other women seemed too eager to actually be in the pool. In fact, aside from you, Natasha was the only other person in the water. And she wasn’t even swimming. She was leaned up against the side of the pool talking to Maria.

Sure it was a little cold, as it was late September and there was a growing chill in the air, but you never got to go swimming. You did so love the water.

Wanda’s heart swelled with affection as she watched you from a beach chair, flopping around the water like a fish. Your child-like nature knew no bounds. You didn’t seem to have a care in a world about what the adults around you were doing, despite being one yourself. You swam laps around the pool, did handstands in the water, dove off the side and swam to the bottom of the deep end. You seemed to be keeping yourself entertained well.

However, as time wore on, Wanda could see you getting restless. You tried to join Natasha and Maria’s conversation, but they didn’t seem interested. Wanda frowned as she watched you try to talk, only to be ignored and talked over by her wife and her friend. Your joyful disposition cracked into one of isolation as you slowly began to feel like an outsider in this group of people.

She huffed, tempted to go over and have a word with Natasha about ignoring you. But, as she remembered how much you had had playing in the water, she got a better idea. She sat down on the lip of the pool, putting her feet into the cool water.

“Honey!” she shouted, making you turn your head as you popped up out of the water. She curled her fingers, beckoning you towards her. Obediently, you stopped everything you were doing to join her on the edge of the pool, laying your head on your hands next to her to avoid getting her wet.

“Yes?” you asked, innocently looking up at her from the water.

She lifted your head and bent over to whisper in your ear. “If you can knock Tasha over in the water, I’ll get you ice cream on the way home.”

You nervously turned around to find Natasha where she’d been this whole time, talking to Maria by the side of the pool. Her top half was completely out of the water. She hadn’t even gotten her hair wet. “But she’s talking to Maria. It would be impolite to-” you attempted to explain.

She cut you off with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, little love. I’m sure their conversation is drier than a sack of flour anyway. Go make your daddy actually have some fun.” She winked, lightly pinching your cheek.

A smile slowly grew across your face as you turned away from Wanda. You planned your approach carefully, deciding to launch yourself off the side wall and throw yourself into the back of her knees as hard as you possibly could.

Natasha stumbled as you knocked against her, immediately annoyed. “What the-” She glanced down at you in the water, then up at Wanda, smirking smugly by the side of the pool. She rolled her eyes and picked you up out of the water.

You squealed as you were caught, disappointed but not surprised that your first attempt had failed.

“Hold on, Maria,” Natasha joked. “I gotta teach this little punk a lesson.” You tried to squirm out of her grasp, but you were quickly thrown ass over head into the deep end of the pool.

You squealed again with excited delight. Wanda smiled, watching as you quickly turned tailed to go for Natasha’s feet again. Once again, you were dragged out of the water and tossed back into the deep end. Natasha had no difficulty dexterously dodging your attempts to knock her down, but you didn’t even really care to be losing the bet. It was reward enough to finally have somebody to play with, even if you were devastatingly out matched.

You were getting out of breath after a few rounds of fighting Natasha just to be effortlessly tossed back into the water again. You grabbed at the side of the pool, breathing heavy. Natasha was laughing now too, enjoying your frazzled and breathless face. She was glad that Wanda could at least pick a game that took way more energy out of you than her.

You turned around, ready to make another pass at Natasha. You didn’t actually think you'd ever be able to knock her down, but you liked it when she threw you into the water. You grabbed at her legs again. However, this time, before she could grab you and pull you out of the water, you saw two scarlet tendrils wrap around her ankles. She shouted before she was quickly pulled under the water.

You stood up, a little dazed, to find Natasha coming out of the water as well, completely and utterly soaked. Her nicely curled hair was now flat and wet against her head.

“You got her!” Wanda laughed.

“Oh it’s on,” Natasha challenged, quickly making her way to the end of the pool, where Wanda sat. Before she could reach her, though, she was wrapped with more scarlet tendrils that hoisted her out of the water, carried her to the deep end of the pool, and dropped her in.

You shrieked with joyous surprise, making your way back to Wanda as well. She let you approach, knowing that, unlike Natasha, you would never dream of pulling her into the water. “Mama, can you throw me next?”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You want me to throw you in the water like Tasha?”

You nodded eagerly.

She wrapped you up in her magic, pulling you from the water and carrying you across the pool. You giggled as the magic disappeared and you were dropped into the water.

Natasha climbed out of the water, grabbing a towel and drying herself off before sitting down next to Wanda. She laughed as you eagerly swam all the way back to them, looking up at Wanda expectantly.

“Again?” Wanda chuckled.

You nodded, laughing uncontrollably as she picked you again and threw you into the water. She went a bit higher this time, not dropping you until you were a good ten feet above the water.

She threw you a few more times, changing her tactics a little every time. Sometimes she dropped you in upside down. Other times she would hold you still above the water while you waited in anxious anticipation to be dropped. You were roaring with excitement and laughter the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you were completely and utterly spent, physically exhausted from all the swimming. Natasha stood next to the steps, a fluffy towel in her outspread arms. You breathlessly climbed up into her arms, allowing yourself to be dried off.

Wanda made a space for you to sit in between her legs. You happily sat down, putting your feet back into the water as she pulled you so your back was flush to her front. You cuddled into her tiredly.

Somebody tapped your shoulder from behind. You turned your head to find Pepper, holding a waffle cone with chocolate ice cream. “I heard ice cream was on the line. And it looks like you won the bet.”

You smiled and took the ice cream, eagerly licking at it before it could melt in the sun. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

“Of course, kiddo,” she said, playfully ruffling your hair.

Wanda laughed as you proceeded to get the ice cream all over your face. She periodically wiped it away with a towel.

You would miss days like this as the air grew colder. There would be no more pool days, no more opportunities to comfortably spend the days outside in the sun. But fall brought new excitement of its own.

You could only hope you’d be tucked between these same arms by the fireplace come winter.

[vigilxntesht]

𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤-𝙚𝙪𝙡 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 — “let me take care of you.”

ִ𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang no-eul (guard) x female reader (player)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — this is my first fanfic ever and english isn’t my first language so please forgive me if isn’t perfect

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 2k

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

she’s been watching you—observing you. she’s intrigued by you, drawn to you. and now, she’s ready to make you hers.

you sit on your bunk bed silently. the soft, warm glow of the lights only makes the harsh reality of what you just witnessed feel more surreal. the deadly game of ‘red light, green light’ still echoes through your mind—the brutal violence of each person caught moving, shot right on the spot. you are alive only because a man called gi-hun had guided you, giving you instructions that helped you stay still. apparently, he has played these games before. despite the help, you’re deeply shocked. you have no idea what to do. how on earth had you ended up here?

you stare at the dry, hard sandwich in front of you, the nausea twisting your stomach so tightly that taking a bite feels impossible. your tracksuit was covered in a few spatters of blood here and there, each drop a cruel reminder of everything that just happened.

you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but instead, the faces of countless innocent lives lost only hours ago invade your mind. after a while, you give up, settling on the edge of the bed, the silence heavy and suffocating. you wait for the night to crawl by and for the next brutal game to begin.

the other players around you begin to quiet down, drifting into an uneasy sleep. some, like you, remain awake. your gaze catches the man from earlier. what was his name again? oh, right—gi-hun. he meets your eyes and offers a smile, but the smile is hollow, full of terror. you give a slight smile in return, then quickly redirect your attention, focusing on the cold, hard floor instead. you can’t afford to get attached in here. not with the dangers lurking around you.

two hours of heavy silence strike by. most of the others, including gi-hun, have drifted off into a restless sleep, but not you. you’re exhausted, sure, but sleep refuses to come. that’s when you suddenly feel it—someone’s watching you. you turn around instinctively, but there’s no one there. a cold shiver runs down your spine, an eerie feeling begins to settle in your chest. what if someone’s sizing you up, thinking you’re an easy target? you frown and shake off the thought. it’s nothing. probably.

still, that feeling lingers, creeping under your skin. it’s as if someone’s eyes are boring into you, watching your every move. you turn around, but—again—there’s no one in sight. just as you’re about to brush it off, a deep, cold voice cuts through the silence.

“eat. you need the strength.”

your heart stops. the words hang in the air, making your breath catch in your throat.

immediately, you turn around, scrambling to the far side of the bed when you spot the pink guard standing at the foot of it. what the hell?

“who the fuck are you?” you snap, voice thick with defiance. “what do you want from me?”

the guard seems unbothered. she doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t react at all, actually. she just stands there, cold and silent. her silence feels heavier than any threat you’ve felt in here.

you frown, frustration bubbling up, before you remember the question she asked before.

“….im not hungry.” you mutter, your voice tight.

“too bad,” she replies, her tone sharp and demanding. “i wasn’t asking.”

you don’t know why she came up to you, but given the fact she’s the one holding a gun, you reluctantly take a bite of the sandwich and swallow it. you look at the guard, your lips twitching slightly as you feel your stomach already starting to reject the food.

“happy now?”

she doesn’t answer, walking away without a word, returning to her position by the door. but your impulsive thoughts take over, and you call out, stopping her.

“hey, wait!”

her fast pace slows to a stop, but she doesn’t turn to face you.

“the guards are not allowed to talk to the players.” she says flatly.

you frown, the words sparking up more curiousity in you.

“then why did you come up to me?”

there’s a flicker— a barely noticeable flinch— and for a moment, she’s silent, the weight of her hesitation hanging in the air. finally, she speaks, her voice cool and neutral.

“…because you seemed lost.”

the words catch you off guard. she doesn’t say anything else as she turns away and walks back to her position, leaving you with a knot in your chest and a dozen questions you’re not sure you want the answers to. you’re left in the silence, trying to make sense of it, but she doesn’t seem like she’s about to come back and explain.

with a sigh, you follow her advice and finish the sandwich. you finally manage to close your eyes, drifting into an anxious, uneasy sleep.

the next morning, as soon as you wake up, you’re eyes dart around the room, searching for the mysterious guard from last night—but she’s nowhere to be found. before you can dwell on it, a sudden need to pee takes over. you head to the women’s bathroom, knowing the guards don’t let anyone in outside of bathroom hours. so when your knocks go unanswered, you’re not surprised.

just as turn your head back to your bunk, a soft click breaks the silence. the door behind you unlocks.

“player 241. come in.”

as you turn around, the strange sensation from last night washes over you again. you can’t see her face, but somehow, you just know—it’s her. the guard.

without a word, you step inside the bathroom, offering a subtle nod as a thanks. she says nothing. the silence affects you more than it should.

after finishing your business, you walk over to the sink to wash your hands, but the moment the door clicks shut and locks, your body freezes. slowly, you glance to the side. she’s standing by the door, watching you.

your pulse quickens. a lump forms in your throat.

“what do you want from me?” your voice wavers. “please… don’t kill me.”

she scoffs, a quiet, almost amused sound, before taking a step closer.

“kill you?” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “now, why would i want to do that?”

confusion swirls you. who is she? why won’t she leave you alone?

the woman steps closer, backing you into a corner. you search for an escape, but there’s nowhere to go—and nothing to say. she extends her hand, offering yet another dry, unappetizing sandwich. you sigh out in frustration.

“i don’t want this! i’m not hungry and they’re disgusting—”

“there’s a clue for the next game inside.” she interrupts dryly.

you fall silent and your breath catches.

“eat it,” she continues, unwavering. “you’ll find a slip of paper hidden inside. you can thank me later.”

you stare at the sandwich, your mind racing. a clue? the guard turns to leave again, but this time, you’re faster. you step in front of her, blocking her way.

“no, wait! you don’t just get to walk away. i want answers.”

your voice is firm, but there’s a tremble beneath it—partly from irritation, partly from the submachine gun slung across her chest.

she stops, tilting her head slightly. “answers, about what?” her tone is flat, unreadable.

“about… this. about why you’re helping me. about who you are.”

silence stretches between you. for a moment, you think she won’t answer. then, without warning, her hand moves to her mask.

she pulls it off.

deep brown eyes meet yours—sharp, intense. pale skin, dusted with freckles, is flawed by a fresh cut along her cheek. her lips are cracked and swollen, as if she’s been biting them too much. despite everything, she’s… beautiful. breathtaking, even. she exhales, running a hand through her damp, sweat-matted hair. then, locking eyes with you, she speaks.

“kang no-eul.” she says boldly.

“what?” you’re still struggling to process everything happening right now.

she sighs in slight irritation. “my name. you asked for my name. it’s kang no-eul.”

to your embarrassment, the sound of her low, steady voice sends a warm blush creeping up your cheeks.

“oh. um, my name is—”

“i know.” she cuts you off smoothly, a small smirk playing on her lips. “i know who you are. i’ve been observing you.”

you take a hesitant step back. “…observing me?”

her expression doesn’t change. “the way you shut yourself off from others. the way you always seem to be lost in thoughts. the way you‘re constantly one step ahead of the other players. you’re intelligent, aren’t you?”

there’s something unnerving about her tone—half admiration, half something else. something colder.

“but.. you’re a guard.”

you meet her gaze, and instantly regret it when you feel your cheeks flaming up again. god, get it together!

a barely-there chuckle escapes her lips. “good observation.” she doesn’t look away. her eyes, dark and mysterious, shimmer with something you can’t quite place.

you lean against the cold bathroom wall, burying your face in your hands.

“what the hell is going on..” you whisper to yourself.

the guard—kang no-eul—takes a step closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. her expression remains neutral, but there’s something in her eyes. a glimmer of something almost… affectionate?

“hey. don’t be like that. you’re underestimating yourself.”

you lift your head, shooting her a glare. “you don’t even know me.”

she laughs. it’s not the reaction you expect, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. it’s confident. unbothered. she’s not intimidated by you in the slightest.

“maybe,” she says, smirking. “but i do know this—you should stop whining and get it together. because no matter how smart you are, crying won’t get you anywhere.” her words sting more than they should. you slap her hand off your shoulder, your anger taking over.

“leave me alone.”

within seconds, she grabs your wrists again, tighter this time. not just firmly, but demanding.

“listen to me,” she hisses, her voice sharp and low. “i’m risking my life to help you. so you better do as i say before i end up scraping your corpse off the game room floor.”

you freeze. her grip is solid, her words slicing through the air like a blade. for the first time, real fear creeps in.

she notices. the tension in her hands shifts, and just as suddenly as she grabbed you, she releases your wrists. slowly, her fingers trail up to your face, brushing against your cheek. it’s a stark contrast—gentle, almost.. tender.

you don’t understand what’s happening. you don’t understand her. but the second her touch meets your skin, something stirs deep inside your stomach. butterflies.

your gaze flickers to hers. your eyes linger on the fresh cut along her cheek. how did she get that?

“do you think you can do that?” she asks, voice softer now. “listen to me?”

you hesitate, unsure. her hand moves again, this time gripping your chin, tilting your head until your eyes lock onto hers. her hold is firm.

“i’m talking to you.”

you swallow hard and nod.

“use your words.”

you don’t know why you’re listening to her, why you’re obeying so easily— but you do. something about her presence, her voice, leaves no room for resistance.

after a brief pause, you whisper: “yes. i’ll listen to you, kang no-eul.”

she smiles, slow and satisfied. “good girl.”

you shiver as she speaks those words. you barely know her, yet something about her pulls you in, an invisible force you can’t resist. it’s dangerous. it’s intoxicating.

but she doesn’t give you time to process it.

before you can react, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours— soft at first, almost teasing. but then the kiss deepens, growing more urgent, more possessive with each passing second. at first, you’re too stunned to move, frozen under her touch. but then, instinct takes over. you melt into her, kissing her back passionately, your hands finding their way to her arms, her shoulders.

she hums softly against your lips, her slim fingers threading through your hair as if she’s known you forever. as if you already belong to her.

“just like that, darling.” she murmurs, her voice a breathy promise.

“let me take care of you.”

[suunani]

remembrance ( johnny suh )

▍ it’s been weeks since johnny last saw you, and he can’t wait to see you again.

content : 2.1k words, male reader, established relationship, lot of memories (written in italics), angst, hurt / comfort, soft & domestic moments, requested here!

johnny adjusted the bouquet of white tulips in his hands, his fingers curling slightly around the stems as he walked, his pace slow but steady.

the cold air nipped at his cheeks, but he barely noticed. he was focused on the flowers, their delicate petals soft beneath his touch. he wanted them to be perfect. it was the least he could do, even if it didn’t feel like enough.

the past month had been a blur — rehearsals, travel, late-night recordings, a schedule that seemed to have no end. johnny hated it. he hated how time slipped away from him, how the days seemed to vanish before he could catch his breath.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks. the guilt gnawed at him, gnawing at his insides like a constant reminder that he hadn’t been there for you the way he wanted to. the last time he had held you, kissed you, told you he loved you, it felt like a lifetime ago. too long.

johnny glanced at the tulips in his hands again. you had always loved white tulips — peace and remembrance, you’d said.

he didn’t know why he remembered that now, but the thought of it made him pause for a moment. he could almost hear your voice, your gentle laugh when you’d first told him, the way you’d talked about flowers like they had their own language.

you had always had a way with words.

“if you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

johnny chuckled, rolling over to face you on the couch. the two of you were curled up in a blanket, just passing the time in a comfortable silence.

you’d tilted your head, an eyebrow arched as you glanced at him. “come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“of course i’ve thought about it,” he replied, laughing. “but if i’m being honest, i don’t know what i’d pick. maybe… invisibility? i could sneak up on you and surprise you when you least expect it.”

you smiled and shook your head, clearly not impressed. “that’s just sneaky.”

“exactly,” johnny grinned. “and you know how much i love surprising you.”

you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “i’m still not sure how i feel about being sneaked up on all the time.”

“well, too bad,” johnny teased, leaning closer. “now that i’ve got invisibility, you’re stuck with me.”

you didn’t resist, instead reaching over to tug him closer with a quiet laugh.

“what about you?” johnny asked after a beat, gently squeezing your hand. “what would you pick?”

you didn’t hesitate.

“i’d want to time travel,” you said, eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper. “imagine all the places i could go, the things i could see. i could relive moments i’ve missed, change little mistakes. i could even meet people from the past and see how they lived.”

johnny smiled softly at your enthusiasm. “what would you do with all that power?”

you paused for a moment, looking almost wistful.

“i don’t know. maybe i’d go back to my favorite days. or forward… to see the future.” your voice softened. “maybe i’d even go back to when you and i first met. i’d want to remember it all over again.”

johnny’s breath caught in his throat as he walked, the weight of your words settling on him. the memory of that conversation, of your excitement about the idea of time travel, was more vivid than he’d expected.

he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing.

what if he could really go back? what if he could relive those early days, hold onto every moment and never let go? but time didn’t work that way.

time kept moving, never stopping for anyone. it moved without care, without mercy.

his hand tightened around the tulips.

the ache in his chest grew. he wished he could just freeze everything, stay in those moments where you laughed with him, where things were simple, where you were right next to him.

“babe, i swear to god, if you fall—”

“i won’t fall,” johnny called down, balancing precariously on a barstool as he attempted to hang the fairy lights you had insisted would make the apartment feel cozier.

from your spot on the floor, arms crossed, you gave him a deeply skeptical look. “i don’t trust you.”

johnny scoffed, reaching up to secure another hook on the wall. “wow. where’s the faith?”

“you lost it when you fell off the couch last week trying to change a lightbulb.”

“that was different.”

“how?”

“…it just was.”

you raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “huh. just finish hanging them up before i have to call 911.”

johnny smirked, eyes still on his task. “relax baby. i got this.”

and then, right on cue, the stool wobbled.

before he could react, gravity took over. his arms flailed, the fairy lights tangling in his hands as he went down with a loud thud.

silence. then—

“…baby, i think i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

you stood over him, biting your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress your laughter. johnny groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the floor with the lights draped over him like some kind of tangled christmas decoration.

“don’t laugh. this is a serious injury.”

“you landed on a pillow.”

“it hurts.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. instead, you sank down beside him, resting your head on his chest. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing slowing as the initial shock faded.

“you’re an idiot,” you murmured fondly.

johnny grinned, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer. “mhh, but you love me anyway.”

you sighed, your voice softer now. “yeah… i do.”

johnny’s throat tightened as he walked, the memory wrapping around him like a familiar embrace.

it had been one of those ordinary moments, one of those insignificant nights that didn’t feel all that important at the time. but now, it was everything.

it was funny, how memories worked.

the big milestones, the grand gestures. those faded first. but the little things? the teasing, the stolen glances, the way you fit so perfectly against him when you curled into his side. those were the ones that stayed.

the ones that haunted him.

he let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep moving.

it had started as a joke, just a silly moment.

you’d stolen one of johnny’s rings, slipping it onto your own finger with a dramatic flourish, holding out your hand like a queen expecting her crown.

“i think this suits me, don’t you?” you’d teased, tilting your head as you admired the way the bright metal caught the light.

johnny had rolled his eyes, laughter bubbling up from deep within him. “i think you just want to marry me.”

you smiled. “maybe i do.”

the playful banter had made him laugh then, but later, when the apartment had quieted and the lights had dimmed, he found himself lying awake beside you, staring at your hand.

the ring still sat on your finger, loose but not falling off, the sight of it stirring something deep in his chest.

he had thought about it before, in passing. marriage. forever. but something about that night made the idea feel real, tangible.

he could see it so clearly — standing in front of you, his heart pounding as he slipped a real ring onto your finger. he could hear your breath hitch, picture the way your eyes would widen before softening into that smile that always undid him.

it was terrifying.

it was exhilarating.

it was just another dream that would never come true.

a dream that had once felt so close, so real, like something he could reach out and grasp if only he tried hard enough.

but now, it was just a cruel mirage, something that taunted him in his sleep and left him gasping for air when he woke up alone.

johnny looked up, and his heart clenched.

he was here.

the cemetery stretched before him, vast and still, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful but suffocating. the kind of silence that pressed down on his chest, making it harder to breathe with each step forward.

his legs felt like lead as he took those final, dreaded steps toward your grave. he didn’t need to look for it — his body already knew the way. muscle memory had betrayed him, guiding him here like a path he had walked a thousand times before.

he hated this.

he hated how familiar this walk had become, how routine it was now to bring you flowers instead of taking you out to dinner. hated how, instead of texting you to say i’m on my way, he was standing here, staring down at your name etched into cold, unfeeling stone.

it wasn’t fair. none of this was fair.

his fingers trembled slightly as he knelt down, carefully placing the white tulips at the base of the headstone. he smoothed his palm over the petals, as if trying to fix something, as if trying to make them perfect — because that was the least he could do for you now.

then, slowly, his hand reached for the stone. his fingertips traced over the carved letters of your name, and the moment they made contact, a fresh wave of grief crashed over him. his vision blurred, but he refused to close his eyes. if he did, he’d see you too clearly.

and right now, he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“hello, my love,” he whispered, his voice barely more than breath. “i couldn’t come earlier. i’m truly sorry.”

the wind rustled the trees above him, a soft, almost gentle sound — the only response to his words.

a quiet, bitter laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “i brought you flowers again.”

a single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it, landing on the cold stone below. he wiped at his face with the back of his hand, but it didn’t matter.

there would always be more tears.

“i know you’d tell me not to cry,” he murmured. his voice cracked, uneven. “that it’s okay. that you’d wait for me, no matter how long it took.”

his hands curled into fists on his lap. he let out a shaky breath, his chest tight, his throat burning.

“but it’s not fair,” he whispered. “it’s not okay. i was supposed to have more time with you.”

more mornings waking up next to you, sunlight spilling through the curtains as you sleepily reached for him. more lazy afternoons spent curled up on the couch, talking about nothing and everything all at once. more laughter, more kisses, more nights tangled up in each other under the covers.

more everything.

but instead, all he had were memories that felt more like ghosts, lingering in the corners of his mind, haunting him in ways he never thought possible.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “i still don’t know how to do this without you.”

johnny sat there for a long time, his fingers resting against the stone, his heart heavy in his chest. the world kept moving around him, but he stayed still, unwilling to leave just yet.

eventually, he sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. the clouds had shifted, revealing a sliver of blue. it was a small thing, barely noticeable. but it was something.

maybe you were up there somewhere, watching him, waiting for him. maybe you were still with him, in ways he couldn’t understand.

he wanted to believe that.

he needed to believe that.

johnny pressed a soft kiss to his fingers before touching them to your name.

“i love you,” he whispered. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

he stood slowly, his legs unsteady beneath him, his body reluctant to leave but his heart knowing he had to.

with one last glance, he turned and walked away.

it was a long walk back home, but it would be the only place he’d ever feel your presence again.

[meadowfics]

doomed by the narrative

kang sae-byeok x f!reader

this is a prequel to this fic I have written for sae-byeok

warnings: comforting prequel.

you and sae byeok were a team.

always had been. always would be.

two shadows slipping through seoul, stealing just enough to keep yourselves afloat, just enough to survive another day.

neither of you were proud of it, but pride didn't keep the heat on or food in your stomachs.

survival came first.

sae byeok was the strategist. she knew the streets, the markets, and the blind spots in convenience stores for someone who has not lived here for long.

she timed everything to the second, knew when the shopkeepers got distracted and when the security cameras turned away.

you were the distraction, the one with the quick hands and quicker tongue.

she hated when you made yourself the center of attention, but she never stopped you.

"you're going to get yourself killed one day,"

she'd mutter after you slipped a wallet from someone's coat and passed it to her as you walked.

"not as long as you're around,"

you'd reply, bumping your shoulder against hers.

she'd roll her eyes, but you caught the flicker of amusement in them.

nights were spent roaming the city together, dodging police, avoiding the places where debt collectors lingered.

when the cold got unbearable, you'd sneak into subway stations and sit on the farthest benches, hands tucked into each other's sleeves for warmth.

"we should go somewhere warm one day,"

you murmured once, watching people step onto a train you couldn't afford.

"somewhere far,"

sae byeok agreed.

every few days, she'd visit cheol.

you never went inside with her, never got too close, but you always walked her there.

always stood across the street, hands stuffed in your pockets, waiting while she sat with her little brother by the park that the orphanage owned.

sae byeok's face was soft with cheol in a way you never saw anywhere else.

sometimes, she’d come back to you, eyes shining like she was holding back tears.

"he’s getting bigger,"

she'd say, and you'd squeeze her fingers between yours.

"he’s safe,"

you always reminded her.

the debt was always there, hanging over your heads, but sae byeok had a way of making it feel small.

she promised you that things would be fine, that you'd figure it out.

so you believed her. as long as she was beside you, you believed anything.

"you’re all i need,"

you whispered to her once, late at night, on the rooftop of an abandoned building where you both sometimes hid.

"don’t be stupid,"

she said, but her fingers curled tighter around yours.

the last time you saw her before everything changed, you were walking her home.

the streets were quieter than usual, the buzz of the city muted under flickering streetlights.

sae byeok’s shoulders were tense, like they always were when she thought too much about the future.

"you staying?"

she asked when you reached her building.

you hesitated. you always stayed with sae byeok each night.

tonight, you had somewhere else to be.

"I can't tonight.. I have to see my family since its my sister's birthday,"

you said, shifting on your feet.

sae byeok nodded, but there was something in her expression.. something unreadable.

"don’t take too long," she said finally.

"wouldn’t dream of it."

after a kiss goodbye, you walked away, hands deep in your pockets, already counting down the hours until you'd be back by her side.

then, in the subway, he found you.

the man in the suit.

the game.

the card.

the beginning of the end.

you never made it back to her apartment. you never got the chance.

you did not see sae-byeok again until the start of the games, inside of the hellhole that would ruin anything good you've ever had.

the second part to this fic

[darbonime]

problems in paradise

contains: angst, arguing, difficult relationships, bit of fluff i suppose.

word count: 2.8k

Your eyes follow him leaving the house to have a smoke again, his white undershirt is crumpled, body stiff, making muscles more prominent, the golden chain glistens faintly and hair is slicked back but doesn’t seem to have the first freshness. Today is amazingly gloomy day, previous few days were sunny, and when you woke up, you caught by surprise with cloudy sky, and weather forecast woman said there is rain possible in the second half of the day. Not that you minded, you have no mood anyway.

It was only morning and before breakfast was ready, he already swallowed three cigarettes in himself, passing back and forth between the living room and the porch. He feels off and you never were good with making a first move, usually you keep silent while your soul eaten alive – unhealthy habit of yours. Alex no better, he prefers to be silent as a grave and suffer away from anyone.

You play with the last piece of scrambled egg on your plate, scraping plate with fork, irksome sound mixes with news channel on the TV, coffee was cold long ago. Overthinking is contagion, you try to get rid of, you are doing good until it’s him. With him you always care too much. With him every argument feels like it’s the end. Always waiting you are, it’s around the corner you believe. You look on the door through which he left few minutes ago, you see him outside in the window – he is smoking hollowly staring ahead of him.

The silent treatment, sudden and not expected, as usual, appeared three days ago. He got snappy and avoidant, avoidant not in his Alex’s way, when he tried to keep everything with a train of mystery, but in a way of stopping looking into your eyes and in way of going to bed much later than you, what already made you lose quite hours of sleep.

The problem is that you instantly start to think that you did something wrong, and if you did, you should fix it, but he is speechless as a fish. Making him talk is like making a corpse talk, especially if it is about something that bothers him. That sudden silence started happening often, too often for your own liking. Countless times, you told him to speak with you, but you can’t make a person trust you until the person itself starts want to trust you, can you?

Exhausting it is, with all love you have for him, you involuntarily started to think of the talk. The breakup talk. There’s always buts and stops. You are stuck in a dead point of uncertainty and hesitancy.

Thickly sighing, you pick up the last piece of food, shoving it in the mouth, not truly wanting to eat it. When you get up to pour out cold coffee, that lost any alluring taste to you, in the sink, he comes back, bringing all familiar bitter smell of cigarette smoke and palpable tension. You search on his face, for distant answers that his face could possibly give you, on all the questions you have. Alex plumps down on a chair that creaks under his weight unpleasingly, with blunt gaze looking at the screen of working television.

“You’re alright?” Gather up with courage you. Your voice is soaked with tremble, no matter how you try to hide it every time you mess it up.

“What d’ you mean?” His voice is rough; accent is tangible but in a bad way, not in the way when he is almost asleep, not in the way he’s drunk and all pent up with want for you, not in the way when he’s lazy and cuddly.

You inhale sharply.

“You are all silent. Smoke a lot.” Composed, but boiling and anxious at the same time inside. Lump blocks proper breathing, only short phrases born from your mouth, you don’t want to stumble upon the words. He knows himself nothing is smooth, you even made first step to him, he should meet you halfway, that’s how relationship works. Normal ones work that way, you are pretty damn sure.

His fingers running through his tousled hair with a heavy sigh, as if you aren’t his girlfriend but an annoying puppy jumping around him. Your patience running thin, his detached behavior makes you on edge, more than you’d like to admit.

“Jus’ no mood.” With a dull, he says.

That’s what he always says. A disguised reason. He tells you anything but not what actually feels. Never vulnerable or never vulnerable with you?

Crack.

“Alex, are you fucking serious?” You slam a cup on the counter, your voice, angry, mad and offended, like thunder crossing the sky, rings along kitchen, finally making him shoot his eyes at you, with sharp pure confusion.

Being too sensitive emotionally always brings problems in your life. You cry too much over romantic comedies, and flare with rage with a snap of fingers over any little and not little thing.

“I worry! You don’t speak, and I’m here just wondering what happened to you. Again!”

Deep down you know.

He is frightened to accept it, you are frightened to accept it even more, but two years of relationships were not from big love.

You love him and he patches up a hole inside of him by you, a band-aid, and a band-aid always gets thrown away eventually. There was nothing real. Never. Not for him. It got too far, that’s what happens when you decide to date your friend solely to have someone warm in your bed. The constant buzzing thought that he must love you because you cherish him leaves his mind for no second, haunts him constantly but ghostly. He likes to be loved by you, it’s a raw truth. The cost of loving and being loved. He should leave, but won’t, not by his choice. Your love is the forbidden fruit he shouldn’t have reached for, but it looked too appealing not to reach.

“What the hell ‘s this ‘bout?” His voice now raised too, furrowed brows still show fake turmoil and clear defensive mindset, fists clenched under the table, hiding there to keep himself calm with you as long as possible. It’s a rare sight for him to yell or raise voice even for a bit. Alex is bad with arguments, like a bird in a cage, he can’t escape, and he hates to have no choice, that’s how every argument feels with you, “Can’t I be jus’ silent?” Just silent. You let out a hysterical laugh, loud and humorless.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Alex? We both feel something is up!” Never his short nickname in the arguments. You scoff, shake your head, you attempt to regain control, but it only gets worse. “Why can’t you just speak? Use words for once!”

“Maybe, I jus’ need some bloody time alone, and there’s too much of ya, huh, babe?” He spits the last word more distinctly. Your eyes widen slightly in quick wave of shock, you can clearly feel your heart leaps down into toes with hurt and disappointment, “Leave me alone, for god’s sake, and mind your own business.” With a cold snap, he gets up sharply, nearly dropping the poor chair, that in a rough atmosphere has strange fragility to it. You can clearly hear him mumbling “bloody woman” as he strides to the living room trying to deal with fury tremble in a whole body, escaping the escalating heat of the argument.

Choking feeling envelops you from what he just said. Tears seem to find way in your eyes, stinging with pain and wrath, urging you to blink them away. Never he said things to you like that. Your stomach turns with an urge to break and shout, an urge to answer him with the same coin he did.

Alex tries to build a concrete wall between you too, push you away, hurt you that much, that you didn’t even want to get close to him. Push you away that much, hear curses from your mouth, make you hate him, make you leave yourself. If he wants to spit harsh words at you, both can play that game.

Curling with the wind, leaves on the trees tossing chaotically, as trunks bend with force of flow. Sky got even darker and somber than before. The rain is about to start pattering, the door to the porch forced to slam with gust, but neither of you winces because of it. The atmosphere thickened, rooms in the house acquired the bleak view of them. The world seems to fade away and lose color, blending into a mix of grey tones and the colorful filter replaced with noir one.

“Leave you alone?” You follow him immediately after with a ready to fight face, almost no trace of tears, only redness in eyes, “Last time I known you barely can exist on your own without someone else!” You hit right in the sour spot with sarcastic cruelty. His back is facing you, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling the anger flowing from him as steam emerges from the pot, his arms on his sides, hard and strained. Attractive, even now that thought rests in your mind.

“Alex, you push away everyone when people try to help you, but the only ways you deal with your own concerns— “ Words are punctured and straight, inexcusable.

“Don’t—” He grits through the teeth. He hates to hear how messed up his ways of solving problems are. No need to remind what he’s gotten himself into.

You don’t halt, crossing his words. “The only ways you deal with your own goddamn concerns are drinking to the full oblivion or smoking it all away!” You yell, raspiness scratches your throat, pointing your finger at him accusingly, trying to bruise him hard as possible.

Contention comes to a stop as he turns to face you, but briefly, only casts you an irritated defeated gaze and falls with a heaviness of stone on the couch. Now both of you pissed off and wounded. The pair of you did a great job, silence stuck between you two, and both your breaths aviating in the dense air.

His hand runs down his furrowed enraged face. Alex is aware that you are right, the instant you’d left, he would end up not in the best state of mind and soul. Even not loving you, by being near you calm him, keep him sane, don’t let him ruin himself completely.

He’s obsessed with the surface, he creates an image to follow, gets caught in his own trap, which makes him feel once again like a fool. Most of his life he tries to appear the person he is not, ending up feeling worse than before, hilarious clown in his own eyes. You are not an exception, to your unfortunate, even with you he tries to prove something indistinguishable. Something he isn’t quite sure of himself.

One day he came to a conclusion, that there’s nothing to maintain, everything inside of him got rotten to the extent when even the image he created, the one he needs he assures himself, ceased to look perfect.

You wait for him to say at least anything, just anything. But he keeps soundless. The argument made no sense in the very beginning, you understand that both of you are merely worn out to be connected to each other, but none of you risks quitting whatever you and him have gotten into. Tears get harder to hold back, air seems to stop finding way in the lungs and breathing becomes too hard to be an essential thing. It grips your throat to the ache, as you try to keep the tears to yourself, ears preventing any sound leaving only suffocating drone in them. You sit down near him, but yet far away, exhausted and given up.

He looks down at his own hands, to acknowledge that he is indeed here, to catch a breath for a second. Guilt crawls from behind over his back spiderly, straight to the mind together with realization, the words he said to you minutes ago, were not words you have common life with him for, not the words he supposed to tell as a loving partner. He knows it, he knew it even then, but let them slip anyway.

Alex looks up and catches a trace of your eyes glistening, getting glassy, his own eyes get foggy with full awareness. Ace in your sleeve, every argument is won by you when you start crying. He crumbles, feeling the immediate desire to hold you, to actually give you something real out of all his fake facade.

“No, c’mon, darlin’…” He sorrowfully gulps, “Come ‘ere. Come ‘ere. Jus’ don’t cry, you know I hate it.” Guilt and remorse, replacing his snake-like rude voice from before, he beckons you with his hand, straightening on the couch.

You break into quiet sniffs that grow into sobs as you climb on his lap like a beaten cat. He wraps his arms around you tightly, his clothes familiarly smoked, and embrace is warm. Sobs pierce right through his heart, pained and hopeless, breath catches in your throat, and you seem to lose it gasping for it, your cheeks red and stained with salt tropes. Alex hands brushing over your silky hair, soothing you, almost loving you. He mumbles quiet reassurances in your ear. Your head against his chest, hearing his heart beating so fast, is proof to you, the most evident one, the loudest one, that whatever it is he has for you, is here. He might hide himself till the end of the day, but heart always will tell the truth. You want to believe that.

Thump-Thump-Thump. Fast and worried.Knocking against the ribs.

Your sobs get quieter but still there, another minute there won’t be any of them. He doesn’t watch you, caresses your head, gives you time. His caresses apologizing for him as Ales keeps his eyes lifted and empty, he knows you hate to be watched when you are crying, but simply he feels ashamed. Ashamed of being the cause of your misery.

“Me a dickhead, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, feathering tiny kiss on the lobe of it, urging you to chuckle quietly through the tears, smile tugs the corner of his lips, “See? Ya laugh already… Wha’ a sunshine you are.” He pokes your tear-stained cheek. Gentleness is a bitter aftertaste in mouth.

Alex genuinely thinks that way. You are a ray of sunshine for him. The one he doesn’t really deserve.

Years ago, you couldn’t understand how a person could forgive rude words in the heat of the moment. Adamant and revolutionary, you refused to accept any apology. Love for him changed it entirely. Changed you. From rough on the edges to pliable. You would forgive him in a second after apology, would forgive him if he committed a crime, would forgive him even when he confesses that you are nothing but temporary replacement. He has that look in his eyes that speaks with shame and embarrassment, repentance and despondency. His eyes are showing a lot, that’s why he’s wearing shades practically all the time, you learned it in these two years.

Life with him wasn’t bad. Not minding, lack of feelings from him, he tried his best to appear the best man for you. Didn’t seem to cheat, at least you don’t know about it, and you avoided any thoughts about it, it would crash you. He kissed you, hugged you, fucked you. Suspicions that he doesn’t seem to love you were from the beginning, but he assured you and himself in different. You could see how he tries to find attraction for you. Kindness and beauty are you; Alex knows it, Alex loves it but not you.

You wipe tears, breath is still shuddering, his palm is warm and balmy, touch is soft and lulls you to sleep. You wouldn’t refuse a nap with him after that little scandal. That is what you both are going to do probably. Leave it for the next time. Outside it starts to pour, drops drumming against the windows demandingly, and you wait for him to tell a stupid joke of his. Most of them are so lame, but you find yourself laughing like a fool with your full heart.

“Oi, our arguments shake the weather, ya see?” He turns your face to the window, his fingers hold chin carefully, and you chuckle stupidly as you always do.

Lying your head back on his chest you close your eyes, odd intimacy leaks into the moment. His heart slows down, but you still feel his teeth clamped together and lips in a thin line. Your fingers hesitantly reach his chain, fidgeting with it, counting every link in it to yourself, trying to bring peacefulness through it, getting distracted by doing random thing. Alex sighs. Loudly and tiredly. His hands find your head again, stroking it, as if saying “It will end soon. Just wait.” You wait for the end, but it seems to come slower than you expected.

a/n: can't say i like this one very much, and can't say it has the ripping-heart-of-chest atmosphere, but i tried my best. it supposed to be an argument with a fluffy fluff in the end, and then idea of fake love came to my mind and couldnt leave it.

[bougiebutchbinch]

STILL ROTATING. horrid little xiao jiu is a) horrid little xiao jiu and b) fiercely pretending to not be a slave (but still very much thinks of himself as such and is just waiting to be discovered and punished) and c) wants something to hold over bingge to ensure that he will have at least one ally.

obviously the answer is to steal Luo Bingge's jade guanyin (why does he even carry it around? it's obviously fake!) and hide it somewhere, telling bingge he can have it back if he helps him find blackmail material on shen yuan and luo bingmei.

It's genius! If they get caught, he can blame everything on Bingge, and Bingge can't defend himself or he won't get his guanyin. And if they get away with it... even when Shen Yuan and Luon Bingmei find out that Xiao Jiu is a nasty fraud and a slave and a rotten thing who ruins everything he touches (which they will find out!! everyone finds out eventually.) they still won't be able to throw him off the Cang Qiong peaks!! Because he'll be able to threaten them!

Xiao Jiu won't be safe. He's never safe. But this is the closest to 'safe' he's ever known, and he'll fight like a cornered rat to keep it.

He fully expects Luo Bingge to beat him up. That's how his fellow disciple deals with most of his problems, it seems (and no, Xiao Jiu isn't jealous that Luo Bingge is so powerful, even though he's a year Xiao Jiu's junior). It's okay. Xiao Jiu's taken plenty of beatings before. He can handle it.

Just... when Luo Bingge has realised that Xiao Jiu can take all his punches and will still stare up at him from the floor, face bloody, with that same infuriatingly cold, aloof stare...

Xiao Jiu doesn't expect Luo Bingge to start crying and pleading for him to give the guanyin back, instead.

Xiao Jiu inches up, wincing, to sit. He stares at Luo Bingge, who prostrates himself in the bare dirt before him.

Shameless, is his first thought.

Ridiculous, his second.

How stupid is this kid? You only cry in front of pampered rich masters with the softest of hearts. In front of anyone else - especially a vicious little beast like Xiao Jiu... showing a creature like that your tears does nothing but paint a big bullseye around your weaknesses.

When Luo Bingge, tearful, exclaims 'I thought we were gonna be friends!' it just further proves that he's an idiot.

But perhaps, if he's such an idiot...

'If we're friends,' says Xiao Jiu slowly, 'then you'd help me find my... insurance on Shen-gege and Luo-gege without being forced. Wouldn't you?'

Luo Bingge pops up from his bow. He nods a million times, until Xiao Jiu thinks his head might come off.

Xiao Jiu contemplates his options. The guanyin clearly has sentimental value to Bingge; it's a trump card Xiao Jiu is loathe to give up. But this brainless promise of devotion... Well, Xiao Jiu can't help but be reminded of another boy. A boy would do anything Xiao Jiu said, let him get away with any lie or misdeed, so long as Xiao Jiu called him friend.

Of course, that boy got wise, in the end. He realised that Xiao Jiu was worth even less than that stupid fake jade, and left him.

One day, Luo Bingge will do the same. But until then... Xiao Jiu might as well capitalise on Bingge's stupidity.

'I'll think about it,' he says, just to keep Bingge guessing, and - ignoring the pull of fresh bruises and contusions under his robes - sweeps gracefully away. 'Feel free to keep looking by yourself,' he calls over his shoulder. 'But you'll never find it.'

Sure enough, though Luo Bingge scours the whole grove with increasing desperation, Xiao Jiu's words ring true. As it turns out though, Luo Bingge doesn't need to find his guanyin - because he awakens that night, in the little room he and Xiao Jiu share off the side of Shen-shizun and Luo-shifu's bamboo house, to quiet footsteps. He pretends to be asleep as the jade guanyin is softly placed on his pillow, right by his head.

'Idiot,' mutters Xiao Jiu, under his breath. The night is sleepy and silken, rippling with the sounds of their teachers' sleeping breaths from next door and the gentle rustle of wind through the bamboo. Everything smells of fresh linen and tea leaves. 'I better not regret this.'

Luo Bingge listens to him shuffle about on his own little pallet bed like he always does, turning around five times like a cat before he can be comfortable. And, clutching his mother's jade - the gift his new 'friend' stole then returned - he allows himself to smile.

Xiao Jiu is mean and cruel and Luo Bingge doesn't trust him in the slightest. But if he let Bingge's tears and trembling lips sway him to mercy... maybe he does have a heart, after all.

Bingge can work with that.

also DESPERATELY need something where, in the world of PIDW, original!Shen Jiu dies and original!Luo Binghe is Not Normal about it so he pulls off some ridiculous spell to give him and shizun a better chance at life -

and, in the alternate reality, shen yuan and luo bingge wake up one morning to find two very familiar dirty little gremlin children fighting viciously outside their house. Shen Yuan gains two new disciples, Luo Bingmei is his usual weird jealous self (affectionate and loving) and very suspicious of Luo Bingge (but gradually warms to him and maybe deals with some deep-seated self-loathing issues on the way?) and Luo Bingge and Shen Jiu have literally no idea what the fuck are going on -

But they know that 1) they don't trust this weird, nice new 'shizun' of theirs in the slightest (or his big scary boyfriend who may or may not but Luo Bingge's dad???)

and 2) they fucking hate each other

so why does the System keep insisting that Shen Yuan take on the role of Quest Giving NPC and send them off together on wife-plots????

[outfoxt]

i love :D being sick :D

[brofightiscancelled]

request from @hanaybuns to translate these pages from i believe "Matsuno Family Dependents Gallery"? sorry i didnt know how to approach the typesetting for this lol

all the quotes the boys are saying are from s1 episodes (right -> left):

oso 1 2 3

karamatsu 1 2 3

choromatsu 1 2 3

ichimatsu 1 2 3 (warning: ichimatsu incident)

jyushimatsu 1 2 3

todomatsu 1 2 3

[lem-argentum]

it took me until dt to change rudy's hairstyle, but i ACTUALLY think he would've cut it back in post-stb when he became a reaper. the trope of "character cuts hair to feel more in control of their life" is cliché but REAL. and also the visual of him cutting it with his scythe is fun

[swordmaid]

thalia is so growing on me i love my rich woman who has Problems.. i gave her ice powers for like. the elsa vibes.

[seranextdoor]

tw. dark content, brief gory descriptions, smut, size difference.

pairing. mr. crawling x fem! reader. 1k words.

- i wish there was more on blissful love life end route, wish i couldve fuck this cute little shyt until he blabberin' :p i love this gameeeeeee! sorry for suddenly writing about homicipher after months of ghosting u guys.. hehe...

The smell of death lingers in the air ever since you brought along the certain entity to the overworld. It's faint enough to let you know that he was watching.

Not that you mind, he practically latched onto you like a barnacle the first time he met you at that strange hallway. Mr. Crawling, despite the oddities that comes along his unique charms, was a pleasant companion. Maybe it's the fact that you'd noticed the dark figure, slouching at the corner of your room, or the fact that you'd woke up with him next to you, the high-pitched giggling causing you to stir awake at the darkest hour.

You wonder if Mr. Crawling gets bored at times. You can't blame him, the underworld where he is from an endless maze with sharp corners here and there, not to mention the occasional earthquakes that change the layout of the map. Comparing his world to your little apartment was laughable. Maybe that's why you started feeling his cold fingertips running underneath the thin fabric of your clothes. Not that you'd stop him, Not that you want him to anyway. You taught him a few things, mainly how humans express their love. It's nice to have someone dote on you for bringing them a bowl of fresh human flesh.

'It's better to be with Mr. Crawling,' you thought.

Being with a human means it'll increase the chance of you getting caught and you wouldn't be able to go on another killing spree. At least Mr. Crawling accepts you for who you are.

"You... like?" his croaky voice puts your running thoughts to the side as you tilt your head, your eyes looking at him before they avert down to his wandering hand. His fingers are abnormally slender with a grayish tint as he slowly brushed them on your stomach before they went lower and lower until his fingers practically hovered over your lower body. He gives you a look, "need you." he points down at your clothed pussy, your cheeks quickly warms up at his words.

"Can touch?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His fingers trembled the more he waited for your response like he itched to touch you. "Can." you give him a brief nod as his fingers slowly slipped under your shorts, spreading your folds before he pressed down on your clit causing your breath to hitches. You watched with staggered breathing as his hand moved in a circular motion, rubbing your clit slowly as your sopping hole clenched around nothing. "Good? Enjoyable?" he asked, giggling when you gasped and nodded at his words while he traced your slit, getting your juices all over his nimble digits.

His kisses are sloppy, and the metallic taste of blood from the flesh he consumed for dinner comes in as the aftertaste when you pull back for some air. Mr Crawling quickly chases after your lips, pressing his cracked and cold ones on yours as his tongue shamelessly swirls around yours. With enough juices coating his fingers, he easily slipped it into your entrance as it squelches, his other hand holding your thigh to keep your legs spreading. “Look down,” he pulled his fingers out with a small pop, proudly showing his wet and pruney fingers to you before he slipped them into his mouth. “heh, good. Me happy!” he giggled, moving on top of you as you rested your legs on each side of his body.

“Mr. Crawling...” you whined, watching him with blurry vision as he pulled the black clothing up, just enough for his cock to peek through. It's almost as if the entity wants you to see it, wants you to see how desperate he is. His pre-cum glistens and gather at the tip of his cock, bulging vein runs on the side of his shaft as your eyes shifts to the patch of dark hair on his pelvis. His knees dig into the mattress, his hand aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. “Me... go into you slow.” he gently prods your hole with the tip of his cock, shifting his eyes on your face and down to your pussy as he pushes his thick cock past the ring of muscles.

You wince, the girth of his cock is stretching you to the maximum. "Hurt? Pain? Desire me go out?" he asked, looking down at you before you shook your head at his question, "I'm glad." he smiled at your reaction. Your fingers holding onto his biceps as your nails left crescent marks on his skin. "Pat, pat." he rubs your head, cupping your cheek as his cock throbs inside of you when your velvety walls flutters to adjust to his size. "Pretty." he whispers, leaning down to peck your lips. He lets you roll your hips, slowly fucking yourself into his fat cock while he holds your hip. "Like this? Happy?" he asked, his hips stuttering as he thrust back into you, matching your slow rhythm.

"Like it..." you replied, breathless as he began to pick up his pace. He was consistent, the tip of his cock brushing against the spot that sends you seeing stars on your ceilings with every single thrust, your nails raking down on his back, leaving claw marks which heals up as quickly as it came. The sound of skin slapping reverberates around the walls as Mr. Crawling gasps and pants in your ear each time he desperately slammed his cock into you. His long, black locks falling over your face, tangling with your hair and sticking to your forehead and chest. “Like you... Like this..." he chants, sharp teeth nibbling on your neck and down to your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark bruises in his wake.

“Close... me close,” his thick cock throbs inside of you, rubbing furiously against your walls as he holds your hips. His breath brushing against your lips as he gasped, “Come? Need you come," he begged, slobbery tongue poking out to flicks your swollen lips as he coaxed you into cumming on his cock by sharply rutting his cock inside of you as the lewd squelches from taking his cock deeper and deeper increases.

He pushes his hips into you when you came all over his cock, he quickly pushes his cock as deep as he can before his hot seeds spill into your womb, spilling out of your whole when he pulled out to rest his cock on your pelvis. He's still cumming, spurting the strings of loads on your stomach as you panted, your chest heaving up and down as he lazily kisses your neck and up to your flushed face,

"...Pretty."