#hehe hope yall enjoyed them still

[whiskers-my-beloved]

Happy Twenty-Fourth Of December

We reached the last day for the Tsum calender yal :DD And the last Tsum the join the tsum army is krauser tsum ! He is probably one of the more tougher tsums around here ! But for sure still a lil cutie! But I am not done for the day!

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Their Reaction to Your Spotify Wrapped

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in honor of wrapped day!!! this idea came when talking with @axel-skz one of my fave friendships made in 2024. i hope yall enjoy cuz it was hella fun making this.

Warnings: Slight suggestiveness, Slight cussing, mention of afab! reader (ovulation), mention of pornography (in a joking manner).

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Chan

The minute you pulled up your Spotify Wrapped, Chan was leaning over to be nosy.

"I bet it all Stray Kids." He said, as the animations started playing." You gave a small nervous laugh, knowing that it wasn't going to be them.

"And I was rig- Billie? Eilish?" His face froze. "Billie Eilish, Tyler, the Creator...Stray Kids. We're third?" His brows furrowed and the corners of his smile twitched downwards. "Oh..." His voice was defeated and he looked at you with unreadable eyes.

"Yeah! Isn't that great! You guys are in my top five!" You said pinching his cheek lightly, trying to brighten the look painted on his face.

But it was no use since he was already spiraling.

"So do you- well, is it our music? Do you not like it anymore? Is it too repetitive? Or is it my production? Should I switch things up- like should I make more ballad? Add more orchestral elements? Or maybe-"

"Chris-"

"-more collabs? Maybe Billie would be open to- are our lyrics not deep enough?"

"Christopher-"

"I think maybe we need less-"

"CHRISTOPHER BANG!" You shouted through a fit of laughter.

He pulled back in surprise and looked at you with eyes as wide as saucers.

You took your hands, placing them on either side of his face. "It's not you or the boys, baby."

"Then what was it? Why weren't we number one?" He asked with a pout.

"You're third because I live with you." You lips upturned and Chan searched your face. "I don't need Spotify to listen to Stray Kids. I've got the worlds best producer humming in my ear while we fold laundry and wash the dishes. Billie and Tyler don't do that."

His lips parted into a sheepish grin, a small "hehe" slipping out of his mouth as his face scrunched into a boyish excitement.

"You think I'm the best producer."

"Without a doubt." You replied, kissing his cheek softly. "So stop overthinking. What matters is that your my number one where it actually matters."

Chan's ears flushed pink when you said those words, and he surrendered, opting to cuddle next to you on the couch as you turned on the TV.

"Alright..." He said as you clicked on a random drama. "But I'm still going to add some features on our next album. Just for you."

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Minho

"Y/N. You're a virgin."

You sputtered on your tea, getting it on to the pages of your book. "And?! What does that have to do with anything-" You asked as you turned around to see your boyfriend dangling your phone like it was contaminated.

Your Spotify Wrapped illuminated the screen.

"Minnie-" You reached to snatch your phone but he held it out of arms reach, his eyebrows raised in mock incredulity.

"What the hell are your top five songs Y/N?! CupcakKe?! Unironically?!" He looked at your screen. "Deepthroat...Its Hard to Say I Love You, parentheses, while you're sitting on my face...Slob On My Knob- and another CupcakKe song, Y/N are you trying to manifest something?! Because this is not the way!" He said in horror.

You gave up trying to reach for your phone and crossed your arms and huffed. "As my friend always says- celibacy either leads to being asexual or a freak. Its a closed way of thinking but can be rather true sometimes..." You muttered, turning away to hide the blush creeping up your face.

"I'm shocked." He said, looking through the songs again.

"Why? It's art."

"Art. Art? Stray Kids is art, kitten. Wanting to eat dick but not wanting to fuck up your nails so - and I quote - 'i pick it up with chopsticks' is not art. Thats basically audio porn."

"More like audio smut."

"More like absolutely fucking terrfying." He said looking at the rest of your wrapped in morbid curiosity. "Where do you even listen to this freakiness? At the gym? While cooking? In public?"

"Sometimes..." You said shrugging and deciding to own it. "Its empowering."

Minho dramatically handed your phone back to you, giving you the longest and hardest side eye ever. "Your a completley different person. I've never been more afraid of you in my entire life. And I've seen you drive."

You took your phone, his words giving you and idea.

A devious smirk lit up your face.

Minho watched you in curiosity as you set your phone down. "Baby..." You started to laugh, heading to the living room. "What are you plotting-" Your eyes zoned in on the Alexa and Minho's eyes widened as he replayed his words.

"Alexa-"

"Baby no-"

"Play Drive by Stray Kids"

"Jagiya no-"

"Now playing Drive, by Bangchan and Lee Know-"

"Alexa no! Stop don't play that!"

"-feel the heat inside. Baby, baby we gon' do this day and night-"

"Enjoy your own art, baby!" You said kissing, him which in habit he leaned into before yelling at Alexa frantically.

"Alexa! Stop! Cancel- Delete Y/N's existence!"

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Changbin

"So..ITZY is your number one?" Changbin asked you, an unreadable look on his face as he stared at your phone. "Then NewJeans, TWICE, Blackpink, and aespa?"

"Yes..."

"And Stray Kids didn't even make it to your top five?"

"Yes...?"

There was a moment of silence, and Changbin looked up at you.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and your mouth felt dry. "Are...are you mad?"

Changbin set your phone face down and stepped towards you. "Mad? Mad?" He asked, his voice slightly elevated.

You opened your mouth to say something- to apologize or ask him to not be too angry but instead you were shocked when he trapped you in a hug and lifted you; spinning you around in a tight hug.

"I'M ECSTATIC!" He said, setting you down, and almost vibrating from happy energy. "Why would I have reason to be upset?"

"Because you weren't on my top five. Since your my boyfriend I thought that would make you-"

He shook his head, placing his hand out and closing his eyes. "Its a sign." He said in a philsophical whimsy.

"...What?"

He opened his eyes looking into the distance romantically. Then extending his arms in a dramatic flourish he painted the picture.

"You like girl groups. Meaning you're clearly meant to be with me."

You looked at him in a confused wonder.

"Think about it. I'm the ultimate baby girl. ITZY was number one. Who is close to ITZY? Me, Seo Changbin, your boyfriend. Subconciously, your soul has been telling you I'm the one for you all along." He said looking at you with a cheeky grin.

That made you laugh, your nerves leaving you.

"Binnie I think that has to be the most unhinged logic I have ever heard!"

"But it makes sense. The music reminds you of me. The energy scream 'Changbin'." You could almost imagine the sparkles around his name. "Cute, charismatic, adorable. The visuals- the duality. Me. Changbin." He looked at you with an exaggerated smolder.

He pushed you onto the couch gently, attacking you with tickles.

"Bin- you're- riDICuLOUS-" You squealed, as his fingers flew around you.

"No I'm not!"

"DelusionAL-"

"Never!"

He strengthened his attack until you could barely breathe you were laughing so loud- wondering why you thought someone like Changbin would be upset at something so meaningless.

"Even if I was, you would love me nonetheless!" He stopped his tickles, he blew a rapsberry on your neck and peppered you face with a few kisses. "And you'd have to deal with it 'cause your stuck with me forever."

"Forever?" You asked, a radiant smile on your face as the last of your giggles died out.

"Yes forever." Changbin replied, plopping down on top of you, planting one last firm kiss on your lips. "ITZY said so."

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Hyunjin

"Beethoven? BEETHOVEN?"

Hyunjin looked at you, his jaw nearly on the floor. When he asked you who your most listened to artist of the year was, he wasn't expecting to hear a classical composer leave you lips.

"Yes. Beethoven. Followed by you guys."

"N-n-n-n-no. No. Nope, no. Nnnnnn...nono." Hyunjin said shaking his head. "Run that back."

"Beethoven then-"

"Y/N-ah." He said with a serious look. "You mean to tell me...Beethoven- an old dead guy - was favorite over the band your loving, hard-working ALIVE and BREATHING boyfriend is a part of?!" His eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Well if you put it like that-"

He flopped dramtically onto the couch. "How am I supposed to tell the guys you chose a decomposing man who sits there- uh...metaphorically- and collects streams; over your boyfriend and his bandmates who work day and night, through blood, sweat and tears." He throws his hand over his forehead. "Its such a disgrace."

"Hyunnie, I think that Beethoven would have words for you if he was here." You say through a chuckle.

"Well he may have words for me, but I have no words for you." He said huffing dramatically, zoning in on Kkami who was sleeping peacefully. Hyunjin stands and scoops him up, burying his face in the poor, startled dog's fur.

"I can't believe you and your dramatics." You say walking up to him and putting your hand on the top of his head.

"C'mon Kkami. It's just me and you now buddy. We're boycotting Y/N-ie."

You rolled your eyes, letting out a snort. "You're a drama king, Hyunjin." You said, your eyes trailing to Kkami who looked between you and Hyunjin in an unconcerned sleepiness.

"Y/N clearly doesn't love us anymore."

Kkami looked at Hyunjin, then looked at you and then back at Hyunjin, then cocked his head; almost as if he understood the absurdity of the situation.

"You're insufferable." You flicked your boyfriend's nose, and stole the dog from his arms. "Beethoven is my study music. It helps me focus."

"So you're saying we're distracting?" Hyunjin takes Kkami out of your arms. "Don't talk to me or my dog ever again." He flips his hair and buries his face once more in the small dogs fur, the later shooting a look that seemed like an SOS.

"You're being so extra." You sat on the couch, patting the spot Hyunjin occupied only a minute ago.

"Oh, am I?" He asked, lowering himself next to you, a playful pout on his lips. Kkami immediately rushing towards the far end to resume his nap.

"Unbearably so." You whispered against his lips. "And for the record, Beethoven doesn't make songs that make me want to cry like 'Cover Me' or songs I want to scream at the top of lungs like 'God's Menu'."

"You really like Cover Me that much?"

"Mm. Obviously."

"Fine, fine. I forgive you. But only because I'm way to pretty to hold grudges."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that forms.

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Han

Han peered over your shoulder, his eyes widening as he looked at your Spotify Wrapped.

“Y/N... baby, angel, love of my life...this... this...is your Wrapped?” he asked, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice.

You glanced at him, not anticipating the reaction. “Yeah, it’s my Wrapped. What’s wrong with it?”

Han let out an exaggerated gasp.

"Jagiya...Taylor Swift? Olivia Rodrigo? Sabrina Carpenter?” He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re telling me I’m dating someone who has these as their top artists?” He blinks at you.

You blinked at him back incredulously. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” Han said, his voice playful but slightly elevated. “I thought you were cooler than this, Y/N! You’re too good for this mainstream pop stuff. You deserve better! To think you've never experienced more than that bubble...my heart is breaking."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his intense reaction. “I listen to your music as well! Besides...I like what I like? Why do you care so much?” You retorted.

“Because,” he said, suddenly serious, “I’m trying to help you, babe. Spotify Wrapped is like a doctor basically, it gives you a diagnosis. You’re... basic. Heartbreakingly basic. I'd be okay if you had at least one quirky artist but your last artist is Playboi Carti which knowing you, you played his music on repeat while you slept so your wrapped could seem at least a little cool."

You let your eyes land anywhere but him, knowing he clocked you on that one.

"I’m going to save you from this madness.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I really that boring?”

Han shook his head, his expression turning playful again. “No, no. Not boring, just undiscovered. You could be listening to something way cooler- something with depth! I’m dating someone who only listens to pop queens when you should be out here vibing to underground, avant-garde...I don’t know, maybe like, 90s rock or something? You seem like you could rock with that to be honest?”

“90s rock?” you echoed, trying not to burst out laughing.

“Yes! You need to broaden your horizons!” Han continued, clearly loving the moment. “I’m not mad that Stray Kids aren’t number one, I mean, that’s whatever, you literally can have a private show whenever you want. BUT I’m honestly a little teensy weensy upset I’m dating someone with such a copy and paste taste. Come on, babe! I expected better! Especially when you're dating a member of a band that has a wide range of talent. I mean you can literally ask me or any of the guys and you'd get a shit ton of different recs. You have an entire library of musical knowledge at your disposal. That's like having 100 flavors of icecream and choosing vanilla.”

You grinned, poking him lightly. “Okay, I get, I get it. But just so you know, you're still number one in my life, even if its not represented in my music choices."

Han’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in, ruffling your hair with a grin. “I’ll fix that, don’t worry. We’re going to go on a musical journey. I’m making you a new playlist. And I'll have the rest of the memebers make you playlists as well. You’re going to listen to some cool stuff, baby, and by next year’s Wrapped, you’ll be so hip that even I’ll be jealous.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” you said, laughing. “I kind of like my basic pop playlists.”

“Well, you will like my playlists,” Han said confidently, leaning back with a smug smile. “Trust me, love. I’ve got you covered. You’ll thank me later, once you realize just how much better music can be than the top 40."

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it a shot. But only if you don’t judge me when I still go back to my pop queen playlist sometimes.”

“I’ll never judge you,” Han said, giving you a sweet smile. “I’m just here to help you reach your full potential as a music lover. Open your world up a bit. Change your life.”

You poked his side playfully. “You’re so dramatic, but I love you.”

“I know you do,” he said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Now, get ready to say goodbye to those mainstream artists and hello to your new musical future.”

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Felix

Felix is sprawled on the living room floor, legs stretched out in front of him as he pulls up your Spotify Wrapped on his phone. His excitement is palpable- eyes glowing, lips curved into a soft smile.

That is, until he starts scrolling.

“Baby,” he says slowly, his voice gentle but undeniably concerned. “Why is ‘Meow Meow Meow Meow’ your number one song this year?”

You blink at him from your spot on the couch. “Because it’s a bop?”

“A bop?” he echoes in a strained tone, as if the words physically pained him. He turns the phone to you, the incriminating title glowing on the screen. “It’s literally just someone meowing to 'What Was I Made For'. Why not just listen to the original version?”

“Actually it's AI.” you reply, in a matter of fact tone. “And because it’s genius. I love cats, and I love Billie. Win-win."

He tilts his head, blinking at you like you’ve just confessed to a crime. “Um...okay. Maybe Minh-hyung would like it, I guess? ‘Skibidi Toilet, Minion version’? Why is that number two?”

You shrug, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s catchy.”

“Catchy?!” Felix’s mouth falls open as he sits up straighter, his freckled face a picture of disbelief. “Do you…do you listen to this unironically? Like...for your enjoyment rather than being funny?” His voice hold even more concern now, it wavering slightly.

“I guess you'll never know,” you reply smugly.

He groans, laying back down and holding your phone way above his face. “Let me guess, number three is-” He cuts himself off with a noise that’s somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “Ten hours of washing machine noises?”

Now you’re laughing, tears forming in your eyes as he glares at you. “It’s calming!” you explain between giggles.

“And who’s number four?” He face morphing with increasing horror. “Laufey…cat version?”

You shrug again, biting your lip to stifle your amusement. “It’s Laufey but, you know…with meows. It’s cute!”

Felix places the phone face down on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting a migraine.

“And finally, number five. Let’s see which masterpiece you deemed worthy to round out this absolutely deranged top five.”

The moment he reads it, he freezes. His expression morphs into something unreadable- equal parts betrayal and comedic disbelief.

“KSI,” he mutters, his voice flat. He sits up slowly and releases a breath. “Behind… the washing machine and cat Laufey.” He releases his words with a click of his tongue.

You can’t hold it in anymore, bursting into uncontrollable laughter as he stares at you like you’ve just kicked his puppy.

“You’re number six, though!” you manage between gasps, tears streaming down your face. As you joined him on the floor.

Felix clasps his chest, like your words physically hurt him. “Six?! Y/N, I’ve cooked for you. I’ve baked brownies. I’ve stayed up late listening to you rant about coworkers! And I’m sixth place? Under meme songs? I mean your entire wrapped in a compilation of memes. I'm surprised Symphony didn't make it on there.”

“It’s not personal,” you tease, wiping your eyes. “It’s just Spotify.”

“Just Spotify?” he repeats incredulously, propping himself up on his elbows. “I sing you to sleep on facetime, Y/N. I text you good morning and good night every single day. And you’re telling me I lost to Skibidi Toilet?”

You crawl onto the floor next to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Lix,” you coo, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe next year you’ll beat the washing machine.”

“Oh, I’m beating it,” he mutters, determination flickering behind his eyes. He grabs his phone, pulling up his notes app. “I’m writing a song that will sound good with Cat AI. With a bridge. And a rap section. And violins. There will be no way you won't like it."

You double over with laughter, and Felix can’t help but grin despite himself, his pout softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbles, pulling you into his lap.

“You’re my most listened to, most loved, and most wanted in real life, Lixxie.” you assure him, smiling up at him sweetly.

Felix sighs, but leans to kiss your forehead anyway. “Yeah, well, I know that.”

"Then why do you look so down, hmm?"

"Because I'm concerned, I might need to find you a therapist."

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Seungmin

You sat on Seungmin’s bed, tapping through your Spotify Wrapped with a satisfied grin.

Just how you thought it'd be. Predicatable, but represntative of how your musical year went.

You were minding your business, about to share your results to insta when Seungmin sat himself on the bed next to you, snatching the phone from your hands.

The moment he saw the screen, though, Seungmin let out a surprised huff.

"Ateez?" he said slowly, his voice tinged with amusement and a slight possessiveness. You knew how he was when you stanned other Kpop groups. You had been with him for a while, of course you knew. “Oh, I get it now. You’re one of those people."

You sat up and looked at him. "What do you mean one of those people?"

Seungmin shrugged. "Its okay, you can admit that you like bands that perform like they're auditioning for a Korean rendition of Magic Mike."

Your eyes widened, but before you could protest, he fell back on the bed, holding your phone up like a damning piece of evidence.

“Don’t even try to defend yourself, Y/N,” he continued, the smirk growing on his lips. “This Wrapped is telling me everything I need to know. It’s basically the modern-day Rorschach test you know; and what it’s screaming is that you’re letting your ovulation and hormonal spikes curate your playlists. I bet you’re one of those people who stream music videos on mute, too, aren’t you? Just vibing to the abs and body rolls in crop tops.” His eyebrows quirk in curiosity.

Your jaw dropped as you threw a pillow at him, but he dodged effortlessly, tossing your phone onto the bed carelessly.

He quickly got up, maneuvering himself so he was in front of you.

“Don’t act so scandalized.” He leaned closer, his dark eyes glinting with mischief, as you leaned back slightly. “You can admit it- you like watching them dance half-naked on stage, huh? I mean, who wouldn’t? Factually speaking they’re...talented.” he said, dragging the last word with exaggerated emphasis. “Really skilled performers. Without a doubt. But it’s cute. You’ve got a thing for guys showing a little skin. It’s very...telling.” He gave you a small, smirk.

You fell back on your elbows, your face warm from his teasing, but Seungmin wasn’t done. He shifted closer, hovering inches above you, the bed dipping under his weight as he planted one arm beside you, effectively caging you in. The other hand rested on your waist.

“But here’s the real question,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “If you’re so into that, what are you doing here with me? Fully clothed, tragically modest... just a genius who writes incredible music and doesn’t need to flash his abs to be appealing. What a shame for you, huh?”

The corner of his lips twitched upward as he leaned even closer, the air between you charged. “Tell me, Y/N,” he whispered, his breathe tickling the shell of your ear. “Do I need to take my shirt off to compete with them? Or should I just show you what real...talent looks like? Would you like that?”

"I..." Your heart was nearly leaping out your chest, a warmth overcoming your body as Seungmin spoke. You couldn't deny how flustered you were.

"Listened to them for 1000 minutes? How 'bout I double that. You'd enjoy every second."

Your breath hitched, you, nearly caving in; but before you could respond, Seungmin nipped your ear lightly and sat back with a sly grin, leaving you flustered.

“Ah, I was right. Hormones. But don't worry,” he said lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “I’ll forgive you for now. But only because I find it hilarious that my perfectly curated playlists are competing with your...uh,..primal needs?” He shot you a wink, his smugness on full display.

And just like that, he stood up, stretching leisurely as if he hadn’t just thrown you into emotional- and hormonal- chaos.

With that, he walked to the door, pausing to glance back with a knowing smirk. "If you ever get bored of half-naked performances let me know. I'm here, fully clothed yet still 10 times more attractive. I could teach you what good taste in music looks like. I’d hate for your Spotify Wrapped next year to be just as embarrassing.”

He winked again, blowing you a kiss, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you a flustered, blushing mess on his bed.

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Jeongin

You handed your phone to Jeongin, proud of your Spotify Wrapped results. “Look! Stray Kids is my number one artist.”

Jeongin barely glanced at the screen before freezing mid-scroll. His eyes darted back up to meet yours, wide with disbelief. “Wait... what?”

“Stray Kids is my number one! My boyfriend is my most listened to artist!” you repeated, grinning like it was the best news he could hear all day.

But Jeongin, to your utter confusion, looked horrified.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head as he sat back on the couch. “This...this is all wrong. Utter sacrilege.”

“Sacrilege?” you echoed, frowning. “You’re in the group. Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”

“Y/N-ah.” Jeongin said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were physically in pain. “Do you not see what you’ve done? Look at your other top artists!” He gestured wildly to the screen. “It’s TROT. Literal legends of trot music. Song Ga In, Jang Yoon Jeong, and Na Hoon-a!”

“Yeah?” you said hesitantly, unsure of where this was going. “What about them?”

“What about them? What about them!?” Jeongin’s jaw dropped like you’d just said the sky was green. “They should be above us! Above me! Above Stray Kids! This is trot. TROT.” He pronounced it with the reverence of someone naming a sacred art form.

“But I like Stray Kids,” you said, laughing nervously.

“That’s not the point!” Jeongin stood up, pacing back and forth like a professor about to give a lecture. “Trot is timeless. It’s emotional. It’s pure, unfiltered storytelling in music. And you’re telling me you put us- a bunch of chaotic twenty-somethings who write songs about cheese and screaming—above the actual foundation of Korean music?” He stared at you as if you had 6 heads growing from you.

“It’s not like I ranked it!” you protested. “Spotify Wrapped did that for me! Blame them!”

Jeongin spun back to you, pointing an accusing finger. “Don’t blame Spotify. This is your fault Y/N-ah. You’re clearly not listening to enough trot if us noisy Gen Z - minus Channie-hyung he's like an old grandpa- beat out legends like Na Hoon-a. Do you even know how much soul that man has? How many hearts he’s broken with his voice?” He looked at you in complete seriousness. "Countless." His eyes shone with admiration.

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain your laughter now. “Innie, are you seriously upset that I listen to Stray Kids more than trot music?”

“Yes!” he declared with absolute conviction. Then, after a pause, he added, “Well...no. I mean, I love that you like our music, because that means you love me and my dream but...this is trot! It’s a different category entirely!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I need to fix this.”

“Fix it? Jeongin I already listen to a lot of trot. You see it on my top artists.”

He nodded solemnly, sitting back down beside you and grabbing your phone. “But you don't listen to it enough. From now on, we’re having mandatory trot listening sessions. Every week. Twice a week, actually.”

“Twice a week?” you repeated incredulously.

“At least,” he said, scrolling through your Spotify, curating a new playlist on the spot. “You need to understand why this is a crime against music. Stray Kids shouldn’t even be in the same league as these legends. We’re fun, sure, but we don’t make people cry the way trot does. I mean, do you cry when you listen to ‘Thunderous’? No. But Jang Yoon Jeong’s ‘First Marriage’ could make a grown man bawl. I'm that grown man, Y/N. I'm that grown man." He said his voice dropping to a rueful whisper.

You couldn’t stop laughing as Jeongin grew more and more animated, his passion for trot completely overshadowing any pride he might’ve felt about his own group’s success.

Finally, he looked at you with a small, satisfied smile. “Don’t worry. By next year, I’ll make sure your Wrapped is perfect. Stray Kids can stay on the list, but trot will reign supreme. It’s the least I can do for your musical education.”

“And if I still prefer you guys?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongin huffed, pretending to think for a moment. “Then I guess I’ll forgive you...eventually. But we’re playing trot at our wedding, okay?”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Jeongin, are you seriously bashing your own group right now?”

“Yah, yah,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “They’ll understand. And if they don’t, they love me anyway. They literally wrote a whole song for me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shook your head, still laughing. “Unreal.”

Jeongin grinned, adding a song to your new playlist.

“What’s unreal is how lucky you are to have a boyfriend who’s the best of both worlds- trot connoisseur and K-pop icon. You’re welcome.”

*edit*: but why is trot actually good...??? like i listened to it while writing this and...MYTRO...gonna stan when they debut frfr

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[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: slow ass burn because the series will be extended indefinitelyyyy yall wanted this 😅, so much kissing, sexting, star wars reference, THIS YOONGI, cliffhanger hehe

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 6.7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 14, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist

You glance at the clock again and chew your bottom lip, heart ricocheting against your ribcage. When you sent Yoongi the text, you knew it was overdue. You were finally in a good place—and he was part of what was good.

You’ve known Yoongi for years, but it’s only in the past few months that you’ve really gotten to know him. At this point, you’ve spent hours with him in every context imaginable, from tantruming Haneul to Miss Rachel dance sessions, from boring afternoons to big milestones. But this feels… different.

He’s coming to your place. You haven’t seen him in weeks, not since you kissed in the rain, and he showed up in the hallway, not since everything fell apart and started to piece itself back together again.

You’d started in your pajamas—just a soft cotton set with peaches on them—but after one glance in the mirror, you decided against it. Too casual. Now you’re in a cream-colored cardigan with a camisole underneath and matching joggers. You dabbed on a little lip tint, brushed out your hair, spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. Now, you honestly look like you tried and while you don’t want to be too obvious, you remember he has been the one trying for months. It wouldn’t hurt if you showed him a little effort. And at least now you know you look cute.

The doorbell startles you, and you jolt forward causing a dull pain in your neck, which has been bothering you for days. You roll your shoulders back, in hopes to shake some of the tension away. You wipe your palms on your joggers and rush to the door, catching a quick glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look… fine. You hope.

When you pull the door open, there he is.

Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in your doorway, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans that sit just right on his hips, and New Balance slides—slides—despite the winter chill. His hair, slightly longer now, still looks as soft as when you ran your fingers throu—

“Hey,” he says, stalling your thoughts. His dark eyes meet yours, something in his expression making you a bit self-conscious. But boy did you miss him.

“Hi,” you manage, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat and gesture at his feet. “Slides? In this weather?”

Yoongi glances down, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I was in a rush.”

“Come in,” you say, motioning for him to enter. “When I texted you, I didn’t say it had to be tonight.”

“It had to be,” he says quietly. “For me.”

Your cheeks flush, and you quickly change the subject. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Iced americano?”

He smiles, seemingly glad that you recall his favorite. “Iced americano sounds good,” he says, settling onto the couch.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and coffee. When you return, you hand it to him, watching as he fumbles with the straw a bit. You forgot just how cute he is.

You sip your drink, glancing at him over the rim before deciding to fill the quiet. “So… first day at the daycare,” you start casually. “It went well.”

Yoongi leans back, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“It was… honestly, it was so great,” you say, the words tumbling out as you set your drink on the table. “The kids are adorable, and the space is beautiful. Everything’s so well set up.” You pause, the memory of the morning making your chest feel warm. “I forgot how much I missed doing that, you know? Like, preparing activities, seeing their little faces light up when they learn something new… it just—it feels good.”

Yoongi’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze steady on you. “You look happy talking about it.”

You nod, almost to yourself. “I am. I feel… lucky, I guess. That I get to do this again.”

His eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flutter. “I’m proud of you,” he says simply, his tone steady and sincere.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says simply, leaning back against the couch. “It’s not easy starting over. But you did it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi. I really appreciate that.” You pause, then add, “I’m proud of me too.”

He smiles at that, the kind that’s so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

You grin back, the memory of the morning still fresh. “Well, we also had a capybara mascot.”

Yoongi coughs. “Oh? A mascot? That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. “It seemed really into me. Kept shaking its ass in front of the kids, though, which… you know, questionable.”

“Shaking its ass?” Yoongi repeats, lips twitching.

“Weird, right?” you protest, though you can’t help but grin. “The thing was strangely enthusiastic.”

Yoongi shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds like a fun mascot.” 

But then, he’s not done, like he’s empathizing with the man in the suit. “And of course he would be enthusiastic, it’s your opening day. I mean they probably briefed him to be supportive of you and whatnot. And to be that energetic despite the tormenting heat of that costume, he’s seriously doing the lord’s work…”

Huh.

You blink at him, before you decide to test the theory out.

“Haneul kept calling it Appa,” you say with a straight face. “I told him there’s no way his appa is in a capybara suit.”

Yoongi chokes on his drink, coughing again.

“Are you okay?” you ask, patting his back.

“Fine,” he croaks, his voice raspier than usual. “Just… went down wrong.”

You eye him suspiciously but let it slide, suppressing a smile that’s threatening to slant your lips. 

He’s definitely the man in the suit. You’ll get him to admit it one day.

But for now, you brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have.

You set your phone down carefully, the action feeling weighted, like it’s tethered to the words you’re about to say. Your fingers twist nervously in the hem of your cardigan, and you glance at Yoongi, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… umm, I wanted to say  I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you sharply, his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your chest blooming uncomfortably. “I was in such a bad place mentally. I hated myself, I was dealing with so much unresolved shit that I hadn’t even begun to work through.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. Quiet eyes, just watching you, letting you process your emotions. So you continue.

“Just as you depended on me to care for Han, I started depending on you too. I wasn’t happy with my life, but when I was in your place, I felt detached from my misery. Felt wanted and needed which made me feel good. But then… when Sung Kyung showed up, it was like everything I was already struggling with just got amplified. I thought I was protecting myself, but instead, I just… pushed you away.”

He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the way he looks at you—tender and unguarded—makes your heart ache. His eyes are dark and steady, the kind that seem to see straight through you, but not in a way that feels invasive or harsh. 

“I felt very insecure and abandoned from so many things in my past. I have been working on it though, and I feel like I’m in a better place now.”

The faintest trace of a smile ghosts across his lips as he finally speaks. “I get it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been there too. Feeling like you have to be strong for others when inside you’re struggling.” He gnaws at his lip. “If I’m gonna be real, I thought you pushed me away because you wanted out. Honestly, if I were you, I’d dip too.”

“Oh Yoongi…” you start, but he shakes his head, so you let him carry on.

“It’s okay, I know my life is… complicated. Everything that happened in the last two months, hell, in the last year, threw me off, too. Like I just lost control of my life. Shit kept piling on and I didn’t know how to deal. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was to do right by Haneul, to make sure he was loved and safe. That was my focus.”

“You’re an amazing dad,” you say with sincerity. “And you’ve been an amazing friend to me, too. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t give up on me.”

His eyes soften further, and he shakes his head, brushing your gratitude away like it’s unnecessary. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice almost gentle.

“At first, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you admit quietly, glancing down at your hands. “I thought maybe you moved on. Or… that you’d rather I wasn’t in your life anymore.”

Yoongi leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he tilts his head to study you. “Peep the countless messages on Kakao that’s left hanging…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I read every single one. And there were many times that I thought about replying, but I needed to sort myself out. I’m a mess and I didn’t want to drag you down, or add into whatever’s on your plate. You did say your life is complicated.”

“Yeah, but I was just worried about you, because…” his eyes drop to his drink, pauses, then he shakes his head with a chuckle. His gaze meets yours again, his expression firm. “Just promise me something.”

You blink, your hands stilling in your lap. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” he says, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, no matter what’s going on.”

You nod before you can even think. “I promise.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and the sight of it tugs at something deep inside you. It’s such a small thing—a slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes—but it feels monumental. Like the bridge you’ve both been too scared to cross is finally, tentatively, being rebuilt.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You think about the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way his voice wraps around your name like it’s something precious. And so you think, maybe, just maybe, this could still be something.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey–what happened to your shoulder?” he asks suddenly, breaking the moment.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeats, nodding toward it. “You’ve been rolling it a little since I got here. Is it bothering you?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” you say, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s nothing, really. Just a strain from running, I think. I’ve been pushing myself a bit harder lately, trying to, you know, get my life together and shit.”

Yoongi frowns, his brows knitting together. “Running’s good, but you can’t overdo it. A shoulder strain’s no joke. If you don’t take care of it, it’ll just get worse.”

You smile faintly, appreciating the concern in his voice. “Okay, Dr. Min,” you tease lightly. “Any recommendations?”

He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t let it go. “I mean it. You have to be careful. My shoulder was busted for years, you know. I have a few tricks,” He pauses, glancing at your cardigan. “Can I…? I can take a look if you want. Only if you’re okay with it.”

You gulp. Loud. The neighbors probably heard it. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His expression is earnest, his hand already halfway lifted in a gesture of permission.

“Uh, sure,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. “That’d be… yeah, okay.” You shift in your seat, angling your shoulder for better access.

He waits for your nod before gently tugging at the edge of your cardigan. “May I?”

Your pulse quickens as you shrug it off your shoulder, leaving the strap of your camisole exposed. The cool air brushes your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands as they settle lightly on your shoulder.

His fingers press gently at first, testing the tension in your muscles before applying more pressure. You inhale sharply as he works through a particularly tight knot, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Here,” he murmurs, his tone soft but focused. “This is where it’s worst, right?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words as his hands move with ease, kneading the aches away. Each press of his fingers sends a mixture of relief and something else coursing through you, straight down towards your core.

“You’re really… good at this,” you manage to say, your voice a little breathless. Brain starting to turn into mush.

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Years of experience. Needed surgery to get my shoulder sorted out. That’s why I’m serious about this stuff. You need to be careful with it.”

His words linger in the air, and you find yourself focusing not just on the pleasure of his touch but on the deep timbre of his voice, and the way he’s always looking out for you even in the smallest ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. His hands still for a moment.

“Of course,” he says softly, licking his lips as you find his eyes going to yours.

Oh my god. You want to kiss him. Shit, you really do. You wonder if you should turn fully to face him. 

But then his hands slip away, leaving your skin feeling colder.

You adjust your cardigan, clearing your throat as you sit back, your mind spinning. The intimacy of the moment—of his hands on you, the quiet concern in his voice—has left your heart like it’s going into cardiac arrest. If he fancies himself as Dr. Min he better fix this.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Better. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Anytime,” he replies, with a small, almost shy smile.

He leans forward slightly, eyes searching yours, and you find yourself doing the same, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a second, you think he might kiss you—or maybe you’re the one who wants to close the distance. 

But then he stands.

“It’s pretty late, I should go,” he says softly, though his voice carries a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah,” you say, standing with him. Your legs feel unsteady as you walk him to the door.

As he steps out, you hesitate for a moment. “Thanks for coming over, at short notice.”

“Nah, I wanted to,” he says, pink dusting his cheeks before he admits. “Is it weird if I say I’ve been waiting for it?”

Before you chicken out, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Yoongi.”

He blinks, startled, then he’s rubbing his wrinkled nose with his index finger. “Goodnight.”

“Drive safe…”

You close the door and lean your back against it, pressing your hands to your cheeks as if that’ll somehow contain the giddy energy bubbling up inside you. It’s stupid, really, how much a simple night with Yoongi—his laugh, his voice, that damn massage—has you grinning like an idiot.

But you can’t help it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like your heart is beating again, a rhythm that feels almost foreign after the weeks of emptiness you’d carried around.

So, it’s been a week since Yoongi came over. 

Each morning at the daycare, Haneul’s nanny walks through the door with her usual warm smile, holding Haneul’s tiny hand as he toddles in. It’s what you’ve grown used to, so you’re not expecting anything different. But sometimes, when the door swings open, you hope that maybe this time, it’ll be Yoongi instead.

It never is.

You shake off the feeling quickly each time. He’s busy, of course. He has his music, his idol schedules. It makes sense that he’d leave the daycare routine to someone else.

But still.

The thought lingers, one you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you focus on the small joys: Haneul’s excited “Sarang!” when he sees you, his delighted giggles during circle time, the way he clutches Bora 2.0 during nap time.

And at night, when you’re settling into bed, your phone buzzes. That’s when Yoongi comes to you—not in person, but through his name on your screen.

Yoongi: How’s your shoulder? Dr. Min is still monitoring your progress. You: Much better, thanks. Might even survive the crossfit sesh Joon’s dragging me into. Yoongi: I just texted Namjoon. You’re off the hook. You: What? Yoongi: Can’t do crossfit with a bad shoulder. Doctor’s orders. You: Fine You: You know you’re not a real doctor right? Yoongi: 😑

Then another night:

Yoongi: Haneul wouldn’t stop saying sarang this, sarang that today. Like a little broken record. You: 🥺 My heart can’t handle this. Yoongi: I know.

And then the casual starts to shift:

Yoongi: Did I tell you Haneul fell asleep on my lap during my zoom meeting today? I couldnt move for like an hour and my arm died. You: No, but that sounds adorable. He probably misses u. Yoongi: Yeah. Shld probably cherish this while he’s still not embarrassed by me You: Definitely cherish but why would he be embarrassed by you? You’re such a good dad. Yoongi: I’m trying. But honestly? Sometimes it’s hard. I think about how much I’m giving him and I wonder if it’s enough

You pause at that text, staring at the screen for a long time.

Yoongi doesn’t open up often. When he does, it feels like he’s peeling back a layer, letting you see something raw, something vulnerable.

You: I think every parent feels like that sometimes. But from what I see, Han is such a happy kid. You’re raising him well and he’s so lucky to have you. Yoongi: I needed that. Thank you.

And then, late one night, the tone shifts entirely.

Yoongi: What are you doing right now? You: Bed. About to sleep. U? Yoongi: Same. Thinking about that night. You: Which night? Yoongi: When I came over. And you almost kissed me. 🙂

Oh, shit. Is he drunk?! You sit up, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Mind thinking nonsense, like if this is about to be a booty call, what panties are you changing into?

You: 💀Be for real. You were definitely leaning in more. Yoongi: Maybe. Yoongi: Would it have been so bad tho?

Your cheeks burn as you stare at the screen, unsure if your heart is racing because of his words or because of the way they make you feel. You start laughing in disbelief, and soon you're screaming into your pillow. What the hell?!

When you finally compose yourself, you decide you want to ask him if he’s being serious. But before you can even start to type, another message comes through.

Yoongi: Stop overthinking it, beautiful. Good night. 😉

It’s late afternoon, and the daycare is winding down. Kids are being picked up by the HYBE employee parents or the designated guardians. There’s only one kid left, and he just happens to be your favorite.

“Sarang!” Haneul’s little voice calls, his gummy smile wide as he wraps his tiny arms around your legs.

“Hi, baby!” you say warmly, scooping him up into your arms. His chubby cheeks press against yours as he nuzzles into your neck, and your heart melts a little. “Wonder where Nanny Mel is…”

Before you can fully bask in the moment, you hear another familiar voice.

“Ready to go, Haneul?”

Yoongi steps into the daycare, looking effortlessly casual (and annoyingly sexy) in his usual hoodie and slides. His hair is swept back today, and you have to mentally shake yourself out of staring, not just of how he looked, but because this is the first time he has ever picked up Haneul from your daycare.

The tiny tot, however, has other plans.

“No!” he says firmly, clutching onto you tighter.

Yoongi arches a brow, amused. “No? It’s time to go home, buddy.”

Haneul shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder. “Play more!”

You stifle a laugh, patting Haneul’s back gently. “He’s been having a good day,” you explain, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at Yoongi’s soft expression as he watches the two of you.

“Well, I can see that,” Yoongi says, his lips twitching in a small smile. He steps closer, holding out his hands. “Come on, Han. Let’s not bother Teacher Y/N anymore, okay?”

But Haneul just whines and clings to you like a little koala, refusing to budge.

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his soft hair. And you would probably have swooned if you didn’t have other pressing matters. “Aish, this kid…” Yoongi sighs.

You shift Haneul in your arms, trying to coax him down. “Sarang, your appa’s here to take you home. You’ll see me tomorrow, okay?”

But Haneul just shakes his head again, this time tightening his little fists around your sweater. “Noooo!”

Yoongi crosses his arms. “You know, I thought I’d gained a bit more brownie points in the past months, but clearly, you’re still his favorite person.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you tease, bouncing Haneul gently in your arms. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, but he adores you,” Yoongi counters, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile that makes your heart do a little somersault.

Finally, after a few more minutes of coaxing and promises that you’ll play together tomorrow, Haneul reluctantly lets go, sliding into Yoongi’s waiting arms.

As Yoongi adjusts Haneul on his hip, he glances at you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks for putting up with him.”

“It’s not putting up with him,” you reply easily, ruffling Haneul’s hair. “He’s a sweetheart. You’re doing a good job, Yoongi.”

Yoongi pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. “That… means a lot.”

Before you can respond, Haneul suddenly tugs on Yoongi’s hoodie, his little face scrunching up as he says in broken, hopeful words, “Sarang… come… home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it might burst.

Yoongi blinks at his son, his expression softening, before a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. He looks up at you, lips curling into that smirk. “I know, buddy. I’d take her home too if I could.”

Stfu?

The comment leaves you completely shook. Is he joking? Is he serious? 

As you try to process his words, Yoongi just winks at you, adjusting Haneul on his hip as he heads out the door.

You’re left standing there, stunned, as he calls back over his shoulder, voice smooth like butter, “See you tomorrow, sarang.” And with a bite of his lip, he’s gone. Taking the rest of your sanity with him.

The lights are dimmed, the daycare is quiet, and the faint smell of crayons and hand sanitizer lingers in the air as you finish locking up for the night. It’s been a long day, but instead of feeling tired, you’re restless. Yoongi’s words plague your mind. From the time he brought up the almost kiss over Kakao and that quip he dropped when he picked up Han the other day.

Now you’re sitting in a bus stop near HYBE, gripping your phone tightly, staring at Namjoon’s contact. You’ve already typed and deleted three texts. Why is this so hard? Finally, you force yourself to type something and hit send before you can overthink it again.

You: Are you with Yoongi right now?

A reply pings back almost immediately.

Namjoon: Nope, but why? 👀 

You groan. Of course, Namjoon would latch onto that. You can practically hear his teasing tone in your head.

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you press the call button. He picks up after two rings, and before he can get a word in, you rush to say, “Don’t. Just—don’t say anything stupid, Joon.”

“Yo?? Me? Stupid? Never,” Namjoon says, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “But fine, what’s up?”

You hesitate, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I need your help.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon responds, his voice laced with amusement. “Okay, what kind?”

“Not the kind where you get to tease me endlessly,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you. “Just… can you get me to Yoongi’s studio?”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and you almost think the call has dropped, but then he laughs. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hang up and never speak to him again.

“Joon!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wheezes, barely catching his breath. “My baby's all grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

“Stoppp,” you mutter, your face heating up. “I just… there's something I need to say to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced. “And this ‘something’ couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, Monday?”

“Namjoon!”

“Alright, alright,” he says, the teasing note in his voice softening. “I’ll text you the access code to his floor. Yoongi’s probably in there working himself into the ground anyway. He’ll be happy to see you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay…Thanks..”

“Use protection,” he says, his grin practically audible. “His kid’s still a baby.” 

“GOODBYE, Joon.” You hang up to the sound of his laughter. Such an ass.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of Genius Lab, Yoongi’s private sanctuary. The dimly lit hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Your eyes fall on the cat flipping you off on the doormat, bold letters reading: GO AWAY.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you should.

So you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. What are you doing? What’s the plan here?

You didn’t think this through. Not really. It feels reckless—like the day you went to his apartment and found Sung Kyung there with Haneul. You swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. You can’t think about that now.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

You start to think maybe you should leave. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Maybe you should turn around and—

The door swings open.

Yoongi stands there, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and exhausted. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves of one arm pushed up to his elbows. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Teacher Sarang,” he says slowly, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi,” you manage, gnawing on your bottom lip.

For a moment, neither of you moves. 

Yoongi glances past you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I know,” you say quickly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I– I just… I wanted to talk. If you’re not busy.”

He blinks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something. Then he steps aside, holding the door open wider. “No, yeah, come in.”

You take a tentative step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and faint traces of cologne washing over you. The studio is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors reflecting off sleek black walls. It’s minimalist but warm, the kind of space you’d expect from someone like him. There’s a quiet energy to it, one that feels a little intimidating.

Yoongi closes the door behind you, leaning against it. “So,” he says, his tone careful but not unkind. “What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, staring at your socks before you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “You.” 

“Oh…” His brows shoot up in surprise, but the smirk that tugs at his lips betrays him. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh?” you parrot as realization dawns on you. The look on his face? Like he has planned this all along. Like all the things he’s been saying and doing is part of an elaborate Jedi mind trick he played on you. And now you’re here—right where he wants you.

A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he lets you stew in your own nerves. He doesn’t move—just stands there, waiting, like he knows exactly what you’ll do next.

You take a step forward, then another, closing the distance until you’re toe-to-toe with him. The smirk growing on his face is both sexy and infuriating as shit. But okay, you remind yourself, he’s been the one waiting on you, chasing you… It’s time to put your big girl pants on.

“I wasn’t planning this,” you admit, letting your bag drop to the floor. “Your doormat’s rude by the way. But… Been thinking about what you texted. If it would have been so bad… if we…”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to follow your train of thought. He licks his lips, maybe subconsciously, but your eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

“Not just that. Don’t act all innocent. You’ve been planting all these little seeds in my head lowkey for weeks, Min Yoongi.”

His gummy grin widens. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Suspicious as fuck…” You huff, your fingers reaching for the drawstrings of his hoodie. You tug on them playfully, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “And saying that shit in front of your own kid?”

“Damn,” He full-on chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he looks up to avoid your accusatory gaze. 

After a while, he looks down. “And you came all the way here just to call me out?” He challenges, voice dropping dangerously lower. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Your pulse quickens as the distance between you shrinks, his presence so close it feels like it’s wrapping around you. You swallow hard. The thread holding your resolve together snaps.

And then it happens.

You close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s every bit as desperate as you’ve imagined it would be. There’s no hesitation with him, like he knows you are going to pounce and he is ready to be devoured. This mf–

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around your waist, steadying you against him. The way your lips move is fierce, breathless, like neither of you has the patience to take it slow. His tongue swipes against yours, curling in just the perfect way to turn your legs into jelly. Then, his grip tightens to spin you around and–shit–your back hits the door.

Hot and heavy, he breathes your name against the crook of your neck sending electric currents down to your fingertips. You’re easily coming undone with every graze of his soft lips, his wet tongue as it licks a stripe of skin from your neck towards the shell of your ear and the haze of lust is pulling you under slowly but surely.

But you’re not content to stay there. You push him forward, your lips locked again with his as you guide him toward the couch.

He follows easily. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sits heavily, pulling you down with him so you’re straddling his lap.

You open your eyes and you find him locked on you, dark and all-consuming. But then something else catches your eye from your periphery, like there’s another pair of orbs vying for your attention.

“GAHH! The fuck is that?!” you push yourself to a standing position, pointing towards…

The head of the capybara mascot.

Yoongi immediately turns crimson, his ears burning as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Knew it,” you say, staring at him in amusement. 

“Fuck.” He groans, slumping back against the couch as he covers his face with his hands. “This is literally the worst way you could have found out.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me there,” he mutters, peeking at you through his fingers. “I just… I wanted to support you. And obviously I wanted to see Han off on his first day so the costume was—” He pauses, clearly regretting his life choices. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Then it hits you—the exaggerated enthusiasm, the ass-shaking, the way Haneul kept calling the mascot Appa. You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

Yoongi groans again. “This is so embarrassing.”

You climb onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, and gently cup his puffy cheeks between your palms. “No, no, it’s cute.”

“You’re never going to let this shit go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” 

The laughter fizzles out, replaced by a quieter kind of warmth as you shift closer. His fingers tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you in a way that feels steady and sure.

“I wanted to be there for you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t know how to do it without… pushing too much.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you turn to face him, your gaze meeting his. “You didn’t have to do all that, Yoongi,” you say, your voice just as soft. “But it means a lot that you did.”

His lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When he lets out a quiet sigh, you get bolder, letting your lips trail down to the corner of his jaw and then just barely grazing his neck.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, hands twitching slightly where they rest on your back. “Y/N…”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “I like this look on you,” you tease, your thumb brushing over the faint pink blooming on his cheeks. “My shy little baby boy…”

He narrows his eyes on you, hands settling more firmly on your waist. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s no heat to his words, only fondness.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on his door.

“Yoongi-hyung…” the voice calls out. “You still alive in there?”

“Fuck off, Hobi. I’m busy.”

“There’s an extra pair of shoes out here. And I thiiiink I’ve seen it at the daycare.”

You meet Yoongi’s eyes and he’s barely suppressing a grin. He shrugs, as if to say, it’s up to you if you wanna soft launch this thing.

Eh, why not?

“Hello, Jeonghyeon’s appa,” you call out, confirming his suspicion.

You hear giggles and then a rap on the door. “Wow y’all really not gonna let me in, huh?”

“GOODBYE Hobi.” You and Yoongi say in unison, and then you burst out laughing.

“Bye, lovebirds.”

“Did he need you for anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Yoongi sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Been working on a track that’s due tonight. Actually it’s been due and this is my last extension.”

“Oh,” you pout.

“Don’t pout, pretty girl.” 

“I guess you’re gonna have to kick me out now.”

“Not because I want to. You're welcome to stay, but you might have better things to do.”

“S fine. I’ll go…” you stand up, planning to collect your bag where you dropped it when Yoongi pulls you back down by your belt loops, your full weight settling on him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he cages your body against his strong arms, leaning you both back so his chin can rest on your shoulder, the one without the strain.

“I am so happy you came,” he mumbles against the fabric of your top.

“I haven’t. But you better make me. Soon.”

His chest shakes against your back, “You’re horrible.”

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while, neither of you saying much, the silence warm and comfortable. But eventually, the moment comes when you know it’s time to leave. With a reluctant sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn to go—only to find Yoongi already on you, his lips capturing yours once more.

“Yoongi—mmmph…” you giggle, pushing him away lightly. “You're never gonna get work done.”

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He catches your wrist, pulling you back for one last kiss—this one softer, slower—before pushing the door open for you.

“Text me when you get home,” he says and you nod.

You leave the studio with your heart in overdrive, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. By the time you’re in the elevator, you’re grinning like crazy, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.

That night—

You: Are u still in the studio? Yoongi: Yeah :( You: Good luck with your track. I’m going to bed. Gnyt. Yoongi: But i miss you.……….. You: lol You: What do you want? Yoongi: What can you offer? 😇

You sit up on your bed, pulse kicking up again, the way it usually does when Yoongi is involved. Is he really asking for…? 

Fuck okay you’ll bite. 

You let the strap of your thin cami fall on your shoulders, angle your phone camera so it’s aimed at your cleavage. 

You compose the money shot: one hand softly grasps one of your breasts making it almost spill out of your top. Your other nipple, taut and perky, its outline faintly visible against the fabric. Just the perfect visual to tease and still leave a bit of mystery.

You get a few shots and send what you think is the best one. 

You: [image attached] Yoongi: fuck Yoongi: baby you’re so sexy You: I’m baby now? What happened to Teacher Sarang Yoongi: idk she definitely not the one sending nudes You: stfu Yoongi: Go away im busy now You: GOODBYE yoongi Yoongi: pick you up at 7? You: If you make it worth my while Yoongi: [image attached]

Oh you’re dead. It’s a shot of his very pink knuckles, his very veiny hands grasping his very hard cock against his dark grey sweats.

You: shit You: yes you may pick me up at 7

Your head is spinning when you cozy up under your blanket and bury your head in your pillows.

Not knowing that come morning your head will be spinning for an entirely different reason.

Dispatch Breaking News:  SUGA of BTS and Actress Lee Sung Kyung In A Relationship Congratulations to the couple.

Part 4.5 >

A/N: Ahhhhhhh 🥲 I was initially gonna end it in the part where Yoongi opens the door to his studio and you say Hi. 

But decided last minute to throw y’all a bone(r) and extend the scene a bit, in the spirit of Christmas. But that also meant getting to that awful last bit… another dun dun dun

Hope you all liked it still! See you at the comments. As per usual, tell me what you liked, hated, etc etc. Shout at me or whatever!

I always appreciate your feedback. And if you are able to, reblogs are also amazing. :)

Thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

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[astranva]

Instagram Live

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

Summary: Harry joins his girlfriend’s Instagram live.

..

There were a lot of labels that people never seemed to like.

There were relationship labels that people fought over, sexuality labels that every media outlet liked to plaster, and scandalous labels that could break a royal’s reputation.

However, your label as Harry’s girlfriend was one that you actually seemed to enjoy.

Harry’s normal girlfriend.

Sure, you were called “Harry Styles’ girlfriend” more times than you were called by your own name ever since you became public three years ago, but if there was anything you felt like you had bragging rights about, it would be that you managed to form a connection with his fans for being yourself, and especially on TikTok.

It came as a surprise to many and most when people caught up to the woman Harry seemed so infatuated with that he was grinning some more, directing sappy lyrics to on stage, and going shopping with at places that weren’t Gucci. You were relatable.

Your TikToks were international treasure, especially ones where you pranked Harry or participated in couple challenges with, so it was no surprise that even your Instagram harbored some following who were instantly excited and urgent to join once they had got the notification.

yourinstagram started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

Clad in a black Pleasing crewneck, hair up in a microfiber towel, your legs were pushed up slightly against your chest as you painted your nails, peaking to see you already had 14,374 viewers.

“Helloooo,” you dragged, smiling once you saw the excited comments coming through.

user1: OMG HEY BESTIE

user2: PLEASING

user3: NO WAY YOU’RE LIVE

user4: hey, y/n! how are you doing?

“I’m doing okay,” you answered, sighing a little, “Just taking a quick break from studying and thought we could have a chat.”

user5: you’re still studying?

user6: OMG SAY HI ANGELA PLS

user7: @/user she’s getting a master’s degree where have u been

user8: do you miss harry?

“Hi Angela,” you smiled, “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s degree. Guys, I literally forgot how awful exams and assignments were because I graduated like, four years ago, so I don’t miss it,” you said, “Do I miss Harry? No, of course not. I don’t know who that is.”

user9: STOP DID THEY BREAK UP?

user10: I hope you’re joking

user11: NOT YALL BELIEVING HER ALKJWKJFH

You chuckled, “Some of you are new here, huh?”

user9: Y/N HARRY IS WATCHING

user12: HARRY

user8: HARRY IS WATCHING WEIFWEFH

harrystyles: Boo. You miss me.

user13: NO FUCKING WAYYYYY

You laughed, “You’re going to break them.”

user2: I CAN’T BREATHE

harrystyles: Oops.

harrystyles: Have you eaten?

user14: PLSSSS I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SEEING THIS

“Yeah, I-Oh my God, H, I made one the best salads ever. It had chicken, like grilled chicken, and I had bell peppers, corn, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red beans, onions,” you counted on your fingers, “Then I made this creamy avocado dressing. It was so fucking good.”

user4: share the recipe bestie

harrystyles: Yum. Can’t wait to try it when I see you.

harrystyles: Breakfast?

“Yeah, I had breakfast, too,” you nodded, “Butter toasts and those olives we got from Italy,” you said, “What about you? Are you eating well?”

user5: I can’t believe we’re witnessing this

user15: it’s like they’re on the phone together

user16: I want to sit on a highway

harrystyles: We had tacos! 🌮

You gasped jokingly, “Did you actually eat tacos because I was telling you about how much I’ve been craving them yesterday?”

paulithepsm: Y/NNNNNNN

user7: PAULI IS HERE

harrystyles: Yes. Hehe.

“Pauli!” You grinned, “I missed you too much!” You were beaming before pointing a finger at the screen, “Same doesn’t go for you though, H. I can’t believe you ate tacos without me.”

harrystyles: PAULI

user8: KEHFKWJE CRYING

paulithepsm: HARRY

paulithepsm: I miss my best friend 😭😭

user18: PLS

harrystyles: I’m sorry. I’ll make you tacos when you get here. Promise.

harrystyles: Show me your nails.

You showed your freshly painted nails to the screen, “Some Citrico Vibrante Cremoso greens,” you showed them off, “Buy Pleasing,” you teased, “Or find more affordable dupes, babes.”

user6: PLSSSS SHE’S SO REAL FOR THAT

harrystyles: I’ll match with you.

“You can wait until I come. I’ll paint them for you,” you said.

harrystyles: OKAY ❤

user3: HE’S SO CUTE

user10: THE EMOJIS HE'S SO REAL

jeffazoff: Come get your man. He’s a pain.

You laughed, “Aw come on, Jeff. He’s not too bad. You just need to cuddle him and feed him.”

harrystyles: Agreed.

harrystyles: Jeff, don’t cuddle me.

user19: KEUDUEWFKHJ PLS

jeffazoff: I wasn’t planning on it 🙄 I’m waiting for Y/N to come and do that

“I leave you for two weeks and now you’re about to kill each other,” you sighed, “Hey, before I forget, can you tell Lamby that I’ve been trying to send him my final thoughts about the outfit but it won’t get to him for some reason?”

harry_lambert: My phone’s been acting up, babe. Send it on email! 🖤

user20: I just want to be her

harrystyles: I love your outfit.

“Okay, Lamby, will do,” you said before giggling, standing up and backing away a little to show the Pleasing crewneck and the baggy green sweatpants you were wearing, “Oh yeah? What do you think?” You put a hand to your hip before pretending to flick back your hair, “My boyfriend got me that sweatshirt,” you pointed at it, “And these are his sweatpants,” you pointed again, “Hair by me, nails by me but using my boyfriend’s nail polish,” you said, wiggling your fingers before approaching your phone again, “He’s kind of a big deal.”

user6: PLSS WHY IS THIS SO CUTE

user7: she’s so cute

harrystyles: He’s so fucking lucky.

You giggled, cupping your hand around your mouth, “Harry Styles just cursed on live,” you whispered.

user18: LMFAOOOOO

user21: “he’s so fucking lucky” I DIED BYE

jeffazoff: Scandalous

harrystyles: OH FUCK

harrystyles: 😎

You laughed, “This is some content your fans will absolutely go feral over,” you said, “I need to go now.”

harrystyles: Call me?

user20: I’m not okay

You nodded, “I’ll call you right after I end that thing. Bye, guys! Talk to you later!”

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[siennaditbot]

Sethos x Reader: Sun & Moon

Hehe, look at me actually finishing it lol. Been ages since I've written x Reader stuff but I hope yall like it. Sethos needs more love <3

Female reader but I hope yall can still enjoy it lol :>

Sethos was a people person. He could talk to everyone and make them forget that they hadn't just met him, seamlessly integrating into any group he wished.

He had a good facial memory, so he could strike up a familiar conversation with most of the citizens.

But there was someone in Sumeru City that he had never properly caught for a chat. A humble cleaner girl, who seemed to hate him for some reason.

Whenever he tried to start a casual conversation with her, she focused on anything but him, her body language telling him she did not want to talk. Her replies were curt and he had to try hard to keep the conversation from dying.

He was pushy, yeah, but he knew not to push his luck. She was practically holding a weapon she could smack him with, after all. An everyman’s polearm - a broom.

So, he stopped approaching her. They just coexisted, him passing by her sweeping the streets sometimes, offering a polite wave as he jogged past her.

Then, on one rainy day, Sethos was caught enjoying the shower between his errands. He stood in the middle of the empty street, eyes closed and face lifted skyward as if to hug the rainfall.

But the rain suddenly stopped.

He opened his eyes in surprise and briefly met hers, before she handed her umbrella to him and dashed off. He was left there, staring at her disappearing form and the splatters of water as she ran.

He was confused, but shrugged the absurd encounter off with an amused smile.

“Heh, guess she doesn't hate me, after all. Interesting.”

Sethos loved being in the city. It was full of fascinating people, especially within the Akademiya. He loved learning about them, their stories, ideas and passions.

And now the curt sweeper girl had caught his interest.

He still politely greeted her when he passed by, and her responses were curt as ever, usually simply nodding and letting him pass. But now he read her behavior as shy and awkward instead of hateful.

His polite smile became a bit more genuine when he understood.

He kept noticing her in other places after that, too. She was often found sitting in random spots, holding a notebook she was very focused on, not paying attention to anyone who wondered what her deal was.

Sethos was one of them. He curiously eyed her every time he saw her, but she never lifted her face from her notebook.

One day she was sitting on a box behind Lambad’s Tavern, hand going wild as she worked on the notebook in her lap. Sethos noticed her, and decided to approach her for once.

She jumped when his voice cut through her concentration, having broken into her bubble.

“Soo. What’cha working on there?”

She immediately shut the notebook and looked away, clutching it to her chest.

“Heh, you were really into it. Sorry for spooking you.”

She didn't reply, no idea what to say, so she literally waved it off. He got the message, leaning against the railing next to her.

“You're a funny one, you know. I can never expect where you'll be sitting with that secret tome of yours. I’ve heard people call you a local cryptid because of it.”

That made her snort, and she immediately threw a hand up to cover her mouth.

His smile widened, proud of drawing a new reaction out of her.

“It's true, though. I've seen you on several branches of the Divine Tree, on a roof or two, and I swear I caught you behind a bush once. What's up with that?”

She scratched her cheek shyly, not expecting anyone to pay attention to her.

“...Inspiration”, she finally managed.

“Inspiration, eh? What's so inspiring about sitting behind a bush?”

She chuckled lightly in response.

“I just like switching spots. Different angles.”

"Riight, right, that makes sense. What do you need that inspiration for, then? Writing, drawing, homework?”

She turned the cover of the notebook towards him. It had ‘sketchbook’ written on it in fancy letters.

“Ohhh, an artist, I see. That's cool. You got the whole ‘vibe’ down too, now that I think about it.”

She drew the sketchbook back to herself again, shrugging with a small, amused hum.

“Quiet and mysterious. Who knows what's going on inside those covers”, he explained with a playful grin.

She was still curt, but her small smile gave him confirmation that she definitely didn't hate him.

“I’ll let you continue, then. Can't stop an artist when inspiration hits, after all.”

After seeing her nod and timidly wave at him, he stood back up with a satisfied smile. He waved in response and walked off, arms stretched behind his head as he went to continue on with his day.

From there on, he stopped to bother her for a moment or two whenever and wherever he caught her. She didn't seem willing to talk about art or her secret sketchbook, so he kept the conversation alive, talking about whatever. She was still curt and shy, but her snorts and amused huffs became a more common occurrence as days passed.

One day, after he was done telling one of his stories, she seemed particularly thoughtful.

“What's up? Remind you of something? Oh, oh, did I give you inspiration?” he grinned excitedly, pointing at her.

She took a moment to formulate her reply.

“..How do you always have something to talk about?”

He didn't expect that. She didn't seem annoyed, though..

“Heh, I’ve just seen and heard many interesting things. I like sharing mine, and learning more from the people I meet.”

“That simple?”

He shrugged casually.

“I’m a people person. I like talking and listening.”

Her face formed a strained smile as she looked away.

“My brain always goes blank when there's people around. It's like there's not a single thought in there.”

That seemed to confirm his assumption of her treatment of him before. She was just shy. Or socially anxious.

“Ah. More of an introvert, then?”

“...No, I want to be around people. I just… short circuit. Not very interesting company.”

“I think you're plenty interesting”, he stated matter-of-factly, “you've got me curious.”

That surprised her, and she turned to look in the general direction of his face, but still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re curious? About me?”

“Sure am. There's the sitting in random spots thing, your mystery book, how you're so focused you don't react to people gawking and talking about you right next to you…”

He counted with his fingers, amused but genuine.

“There's obviously a lot going on in there. I’m curious about what sorts of ideas you have. Art isn't exactly the biggest thing around the city, after all.”

She had to take a moment to take in his words.

“It's nothing special, really. Just stories, imaginary situations and encounters.”

“A bit of fantasy added to the ordinary, eh? That's fun. Care to give me an example?”

A bit nosy, maybe, but he was interested.

She looked away for a moment, not sure if she should or whether she even could produce an example for him. He seemed genuinely curious though, so she tried, and inspiration hit when she gazed down at the docks.

“Um, like, a long-awaited reunion happening down there. A tearful embrace…”

She suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“..That's dumb, isn't it? I can-”

“No, no, no, don't worry. I can see it. A bit of a romantic, aren't you?”

She blushed a little, but shrugged with a noncommittal chuckle.

“Comes with the whole art thing, I think.”

“Heh, makes sense. I like it.”

A moment of silence. It was comfortable to him, but she felt the need to fill it.

“U-um, thanks, for, you know, always talking to me.”

He wasn't expecting that, either, and hummed in question, grinning curiously.

“...I like talking to people. It's just..difficult”, she continued, wanting her thanks to reach him properly.

“Well, I’m always down for a chat. I'll keep stopping by to bother you, then?”

“You aren't bothering me. But yeah. I'd like that. Maybe I’ll learn some tips and tricks from the master of social skills”, she joked with a soft smile.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And so they continued their occasional chats. He often ended up stopping people to talk with them, anyway, but it was nice to have confirmation that he actually wasn't bothering her.

His company gradually helped her relax and learn to imitate some of his social techniques, like asking questions and using more open body language.

Eye contact was still an issue for her, though. And to Sethos’ surprise, it bugged him a little.

He was straightforward and social, so eye contact came naturally to him. Not everyone he talked with looked back into his, so he knew it wasn't easy for everyone. And, to be fair, his eyes were kind of intense, which was a blessing and a curse sometimes.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't shake the thought of wanting to meet her eyes. She was always looking somewhere else when they talked. Usually her sketchbook.

Still, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he did his best so she could relax when they chatted. He wouldn't push her, make her feel like she had to do it.

He had only met her eyes once, by accident that time she handed him her umbrella. They were bright and curious, almost striking in the muddiness of the downpour.

He remembered them clearly.

So, instead, he focused on learning more about her and her ideas and visions, and loved telling her his stories since they seemed to inspire her to some extent.

He learned to pick up on the change in her expression when she moved from listening to him to formulating an idea.

It was cute.

He thought positively about people, appreciated their qualities, both inside and out, but it wasn't often that he considered a person cute.

That thought lingered in his mind, too.

Her reactions made her even more cute to him. She blushed at times, yes, but she was playful in return, smacking him with her pencil or broom or rolling her eyes with that amused smile of hers. And she gladly showed him her work now.

He didn't think it affected how he interacted with her, but he unconsciously became a bit more friendly, almost flirty at times. He often grinned when they talked, initiated playful physical contact - like poking or gently kicking her - and couldn't help but give her tons of honest compliments, especially on her art.

One time after their brief chat when she was working, he was left with a single thought in his mind:

“Heh, shucks. I like her.”

It wasn't a world changing revelation, just made him connect the dots and realize how much his way of interacting with her had changed.

…And he was pretty sure she liked him too.

He kept interacting with her like usual, honestly just enjoying what they had. A comfortable friendship with banter, intrigue and plenty of laughter.

But it would be a lie to say that he wasn't also gauging more on what she could be feeling.

He picked his best stories, told them with a bit more flair, and gave her more casual compliments.

And, well, if their knees happened to touch when they were talking, or his playful pokes lingered on her skin a moment too long to be read as platonic, he didn't make a big deal out of it.

One day Sethos caught her sketching on a sturdy branch of the Divine Tree, easily accessible but not immediately visible to the townsfolk.

He chuckled and approached her, nimbly making his way to her in the tree.

“You're an enigma, you know that?” he grinned as he sat down next to her.

“It’s simple, really. The view is great from here. So many people to see, so much inspiration to gather.”

He looked down. The citizens were enjoying their evening activities; entering and exiting the tavern, boats docking, adventurers returning to get their rewards for their daily commissions.

It was interesting. He preferred to be mingling down there with them, but stepping back and watching the hustle and bustle from a different angle made him appreciate it in a new way.

He might not have lived in the city for long, but watching all those people do their thing made him realize how lucky he was to be around so many people nowadays. He grew up in the desert, with only the people of the temple as his company, after all.

He was gazing down with a gentle and slightly solemn expression, happy to be where he was now. He had friends, connections, and now… her, too.

He turned to look at her, about to share his appreciation for the view too, but to his surprise, he met her eyes. She had been watching him, curious about how quiet he went and what he was thinking of.

Her eyes held a hint of worry, but enough affection to make him stumble with his words. This time it was Sethos who broke eye contact, turning to look back down.

“Y-yeah. I get it. All those people have their own lives and stories to tell.”

“Exactly!” she chuckled and pointed the end of her pencil at him. “A gold mine of inspiration and ideas.”

They both loved getting ideas from people, huh? Their ways were different, sure, but maybe they were pretty similar, after all.

Stories, curiosity, ideas and inspiration. They worked well together.

That train of thought suddenly made him feel the need to communicate his feelings to her. Like his soul was calling out, wanting to connect with this girl whose company he had been enjoying more and more.

“You know, you remind me of the Moon sometimes”, he started, fittingly artistic for what he was about to do.

“Sounds fun and poetic. Care to elaborate?”

“You're always present, I just gotta know where to look. Mysterious, but mesmerizing.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

She smiled, but didn't seem to catch the full meaning of his words, so he continued.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. You draw my attention in a way no one else does.”

Well that definitely caught her attention.

Their eyes met again, and he nodded, not ashamed or embarrassed, but ever so slightly nervous.

“You do?”

She cleared her throat to answer him.

“...I always thought you were like the Sun. You're warm, fun, and easily draw people to you.”

She wasn't as calm as he was, but hoped her indirect poetic message reached him too.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” he couldn't help but ask, a hopeful grin on his face.

She moved her gaze down and nodded.

“I-I like you too. I feel like I can relax around you.”

Both sat in silence, soft and giddy grins on their faces, taking in the big words hanging in the air.

They turned to look back down at the citizens buzzing around the streets, the shy mood eventually becoming comfortable again, and moved on into imagining what kinds of adventures the people below them had experienced today.

Their fingers soon found each other and intertwined slightly as they sat together.

[jaehyunsprincesspeach]

hi! hope you’re doing well and staying healthy 🩵

I was wondering if I could request a wayv reaction to their s/o out of nowhere smothering them with kisses please? hehe that’ll be all

thanks! <3

omg i literally love this my heart is sparkling !!

hope you enjoy !!

all the love ~ lunar

WayV Reactions: smothering them with kisses

Kun

initially he is going to be shocked, but like he would just kinda freeze where he is and process what is happening

once he finally understands that you are showing your love and affection, he swoops you into the warmest embrace

even if he tried, the smile etched on his lips is not going away any time soon

he would do one of those hugs where he picks you up and spins you around (a dream truly)

once he sets you back on the ground, he gladly returns the affection, making you flustered too

now the two of you are a blushing giggling mess but like its the cutest thing in the world

with Kun, there’s something about it that’s almost like …. domestic

like the two of you never really get out of the honeymoon phase cause yall are just so excited when you get to see each other

and things like this never fail to show that

rest of members below the cut

Ten

oh goodness ….

at first he might question whats happening

like whats with the sudden rush of affection (not that hes complaining)

would first ask if you’re okay

and then this man is going to tease you relentlessly

“you miss me baby?” “i know, you want me so bad”

low key his teasing might ruin the moment

however !! he never fails to bring it back

like if u smother him with affection, and he starts teasing you, and you give him the side eye, hes gonna grab you and wrap you up in his arms and start leaving smooches all over your neck

slight chance it could turn into something steamyyy ;)

Winwin

genuinely would not know what to do

like he would turn into a sim (iykyk)

and would become an absolute blushing mess

once you’re done, he would just smile, and kiss your cheek

but honestly he would be too stunned to speak, like he would just be there blushing and giggling to himself

i think he has a little bit of a hard time in the sense that he always wants to make others happy, but when someone like compliments him, or when his partner shows him affection, he might freeze a little

but once he becomes more comfortable with the spontaneous smooches, hes more than happy to return them !!

honestly i think he would have an easier time showing affection to his partner

but he still would freeze up when the affection is a surprise like this

loves it regardless !!

Xiaojun

sweet baby angel is so shocked…

like he initially is worried that you’re upset about something, or that he hasn’t given you enough attention

starts asking if you are okay, or if something is wrong

once he finds out you’re okay, he smiles and pulls you in for a hug

he’s so sweet, but the embrace is low key a cover for the tickles that hes about to shock you with

will literally stand there tickling you, not to be mean or anything like that, just because he enjoys hearing your laugh

when hes done with the tickles, he smooches your lips a few times before pulling you back into a hug

will probably pull you to the couch and just hold you for a little bit too

simply wants to enjoy your presence, but he wont be able to hide the blush from your previous kisses

Hendery

i love this man with my entire being omg

Hendery will stand there as if he is processing what just happened

in reality, hes planning something else

hes really looking around and making sure the area is safe before he tackles you to the ground so that you dont actually get hurt

an affectionate tackle, that leads to an affectionate tickle fight, that leads to you literally crying from laughing so hard

yes he is blushing, but now you look like a tomato after he is done with his tickle fight

“Hendery, i just wanted to kiss you!! why did you tickle me?” “because i’m literally in love with you”

after you catch your breath, still pinned on the ground, he places the softest yet most passionate kiss on your lips

as if you werent already breathless before ….

“you know, you didnt kiss my lips once… you kissed everywhere but my lips actually…”

the playful smirk never leaving his face as he teases you

omg i’m getting carried away…..

Yangyang

omg Yangyang is literally so cute about it

initially he will be a little surprised, but once your kiss attack has ended, its his turn

as soon as you stop smothering him in kisses, he starts smothering you in kisses

genuinely, i could see this continuing for a while too

like just back and forth attacking each other with affection

as it keeps going, he keeps getting closer and closer to your lips, till you two are locked in a passionate kiss

by the end of it, both of you are blushing like crazy, and giggling like you’ve gone mad

hes absolutely pulling you into his lap, and simply staring at you as if there is nothing more beautiful in the world (hes not wrong)

keeps you in his lap the rest of the night

genuinely will pout if you try to leave

like “you just smothered me with affection, and now you have the audacity to sit anywhere but my lap???”

refuses to let you go (unless he absolutely has to)

hes just so happy that you are his and he loves when you show him affection !!

[ambrosialdesire]

OMG i would like to request yandere bertolt x paradis reader.you can pick whatever part of the timeline you want, maybe he managed to survive to take her to marly, or maybe she just tried to escape on marly or paradis, or maybe he just kidnapped her I don't really care

Thank you

desiderate

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 bertolt x fem!reader word count: 9.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, some explicit sexual content, s4 bertolt au, implied non-con, violence, kidnapping mention, stalking, forced kissing (kinda dubcon), slight groping, kinda masochistic bertolt, cigarette usage/smoking, blood kink, knife kink, slight voyeurism, male masturbation mention, panty jerking off mention (?), slight body mutilation, scarification implications, all characters are 18+ synopsis: they've brought you here on this foreign land, a land that was once believed to be completely overrun with monsters. you've been living pretty easy with this new life of yours but it's hard to forget about what he's done to your old home. this singular man, capable of complete destruction despite his nervous demeanor. there may be humans here but the true monster still remained, watching your every move until he was ready to strike. a/n: IM NGL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST BERTOLT LMFAO i made bro a creep cause i feel like between bertie and reiner, bertie definitely has the tendency to be lurking and stalking behind corners and constantly following you and finding to opportunity to snatch your underwear to jerk off into LOL the reference that i used for s4 bertolt is this fanart that was used in a tiktok edit but i have no idea who made the art and it's making me scream bc it's definitely how i imagine what he looks like (but with thicker chin stubble) and i want to give the right creds (if you look up s4 bertolt/bertholdt fanart on google and see a tiktok image of him smoking, that's what i'm talking about but i want to give actual creds to the artist) also mb on the smoking scenes idk how it feels to smoke but i do sorta know the distinct smell of it this is also in no way connected to the cacoëthes series just to let yall know hehe i hope you enjoy this anon! thank sm for your request!! and sorry for the wait LOL note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"Call off your damn hound Reiner, I'm getting sick of his shit."

Pushing past the blond as you entered his home, you made your way to his dining table. You huffed as you sat down, leaning back against the chair as your boot-covered legs kicked up on the wooden table. Reiner rolled his eyes, pushing them back down to the ground with a heavy thud. He crossed his arms, leaning on the wall adjacent from where you sat.

"A hello first would suffice. What's Bertolt getting himself into again?"

"My business!" Exasperated, you threw your hands over your face. "He keeps fucking following me and it's starting to freak me out. You guys know I'm not suspicious anymore, there's no way for me to be able to contact Paradis Island at all."

Saying your old home's name had started to feel foreign on your tongue unfortunately. It's been over four years since you've been whisked away by these two assholes and living here has been nothing but a thorn on your side. You worked under the Warrior Unit, mostly a simple soldier for both Bertolt and Reiner to boss around for basic things. It's nothing different from your time as a scout but it's frustrating working for them instead of with them.

You don't know why they took you away with them instead of breaking out their other accomplice, Annie, but after a handful of screaming, punching, kicking, and biting from you, they managed to drag you off to the boat. You stayed there for an estimated week or so with random strangers coming and going, poking and prodding at you as if you were one of Hange's experiments on Eren and randomly caught Titans.

The two of them finally came back one random night unconscious, battered and beaten to the point where their Titan healing powers couldn't even help them fast enough. You needed them alive — how else were you going to manage escaping this unknown place of theirs — so you helped tend to their wounds, staying at their sides until they were finally awake.

Once they were conscious enough, you punched Reiner square on the nose, spinning around to smash your knuckles right into Bertolt's cheek. Your hand was throbbing in pain but the burning fury you felt was stronger. By the time they woke up, the boat already was leaving the docks, and now you were most likely already miles away from home.

"You fucking assholes."

Blood was dripping down his nose, while a cut just barely formed on the bruised skin of the other. It was in vain however. Steam was steadily coming out of the two of them, meaning that the healing was back in working condition.

"FUCK! I didn't even say anything yet!" Reiner scowled as he placed his hands around his nose, snapping it back in place with a nauseating crack.

Bertolt laid there quietly however, lanky fingers brushing against the welt on his face but he was unable to meet your stare. Tears started streaming down your face, your body crumpling to the floor. You were completely hurt, you trusted these two like they were family, especially Bertolt. Was he really who you thought he was? How could they do this to you? To everyone back in Paradis?

"Why? Why me?"

The two of them fell even more silent, Reiner looking up at the ceiling while Bertolt closed his eyes shut as if he was the one that was currently going through it.

"Well say something goddamnit! Why am I here?" You were beyond angry, voice crackling from how loud you were screaming at them. "Tell me!"

Bertolt finally opened his eyes, pale green staring into yours. You couldn't see him. There was only the Colossal Titan looking down at you as if you were nothing but an insignificant speck on the wall. He opened his mouth, uttering remorselessly one phrase that made you even more resentful of their entire beings.

"I'm sorry."

Now you were here after long months of being processed and interviewed over and over by many Marleyan higher-ups, eventually and finally gaining their trust. You knew they still didn't like you but who really gives a shit, they left you alive and that's all you could be grateful for.

Since you directly worked underneath the two Titan shifters, they were able to get you housing and some basic supplies for you to be able to function properly in their society, as well as a good amount of pocket money to buy whatever you needed. You didn't go out of the house for a month though, still horribly and rightfully angry at them. You were also afraid of the idea that you'd get mobbed immediately once you stepped out and killed on sight by the locals.

Bertolt was the one that finally knocked on your door, tired and baggy eyes focused on the peephole. Part of you wanted to keep the door closed and ignore his presence, but he might report you or something stupidly petty. When you opened it up, the faint waft of bitter tobacco invaded your senses, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar smell.

As you looked up at him, he felt and looked even more like a stranger than a past friend. It's only been a month but it looked like he had gotten broader at the shoulders and taller. He was wearing a beige uniform, a white undershirt and black tie peeking out of the chest of the long, belted trench coat. His black hair was partially pushed back with gel, slightly being more grown out from the last time you saw him. The way he held himself now in Marley was completely different from Paradis, an eerie calmness surrounding his person. He used to hunch into himself when he was a trainee and a soldier, but now his back was rigid and straight, arms hidden neatly behind his back. The posture reminded you of the utmost dedicated soldiers in the Scout Regiment.

"You haven't been going to work." He softly spoke, his head slightly tilting to the side.

"So?"

"Failure to comply means termination. Termination means you'll get kicked out of Marley. Getting kicked out of Marley means death." Alright, straight to the point. Even the way he was speaking sounded different, as if he had suddenly gained a newfound confidence that was only present here in his homeland.

"You guys really thought I was able to function properly in a new continent where everything is different in a few months? Not to mention, I'm still pissed off at the two of you but fine. I'll come in tomorrow. Goodbye." You proceeded to close the door on him but he stopped it with his boot. Groaning under your breath, you tried pushing at the door so he could back off, but it was to no avail.

His hand grabbed the side of the door and heaved it open with little struggle, letting himself in as you toppled back into the ground from the force.

"You haven't been going out at all. When's the last time you bought groceries?" You flinched, avoiding his judging gaze. How did he know?

"Last month." You muttered as you got up from the ground, brushing yourself off.

Bertolt sighed, glancing off to the side. "Okay. I'll wait here for 15 minutes. Go get dressed and get your money, I'll help you navigate the markets."

You didn't want to but food was definitely running low, and you don't know how long the canned meat in your pantry was going to last in your anger-riddled protest. You made your way upstairs, rummaging through the closet and grabbing the cleanest clothes you were able to find and put on within the time limit he gave. Making your way back down, you found him in the exact same spot, his eyes glancing around the living room.

"Alright. Let's go and we're going to make it quick. I don't think I can stomach standing next to you for this long." You bitterly grumbled, moodily pulling the door open. Bertolt followed after, closing the door for you and taking the lead. What sucked even more was how quickly you had to dash after him, his steps being too large for you to have a steady pace next to him. Maybe him being a near giant compared to a normal person — you noticed as the two of you walked through crowds of people — was thanks to the Titan DNA.

Each passerby gave you a look as you walked on through but never spared a second glance, which was good. You knew that you were an unfamiliar being, a foreigner that was never supposed to be here in the first place. The farmer's market was still open, vegetables and fruits neatly lined up in each stall. He did most of the talking, being able to haggle easier due to his status and the blaring armband that wrapped around his upper arm. You didn't like having to be publicly labeled, it felt like you were merely a product rather than a person.

You were focusing on a stall with jars of honey and jams when some person suddenly shoved you aside with their shoulder, body suddenly losing its balance due to the amount of groceries you were holding on one arm. You prepared for the impact of the cobbled ground but never felt it, instead feeling a firm hand snug in-between your curve of your side and another on your shoulder.

"Careful now." You opened your eyes, meeting his in shock once he steadied you back on your feet. Bertolt's face soon turned to a bright red, his hands quickly leaving you, and his gaze glancing away. Perhaps there really is still some semblance of the man you knew in your homeland.

"Th-thanks..." Adjusting the bag stiffly back up your arms, you proceeded forwards without him, leaving him behind at the stall. It became a usual thing eventually, he'd come over every two weeks to make sure you were fine and the two of you would go out buying your necessities for an hour or two. It didn't erase the fact that you still hated them, but at least he was helping you get comfortable in this strange new world.

You finally started going to work as promised, wearing an awkward and stuffy white uniform that made even the tangling straps of the cadet uniform pale in comparison. According to the paper that came with the uniform, you were to report to Reiner and Bertolt in one of the headquarters' rooms. However, the details were so vague that you were completely lost in the beginning, roaming the hallways without a clue where you were heading.

"Soldier. Face me."

You stiffened, turning around and straightening up. The tall man was vaguely familiar, a full blond beard lining his face and round spectacles hiding his eyes. His right hand raised up as if he was saying hello and you quickly returned the gesture, somewhat remembering that it was their version of a salute.

"Name and ranking?"

"Y/N L/N, er... I'm not sure of my ranking sir. I just know I'm assigned to work for the Vice Captain and one of the Warriors?" You shuffled your feet awkwardly and he nodded, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. He started scratching his ear as he walked, as if he was in thought. To you, he really felt familiar but you couldn't quite place where the feeling belonged.

"Ah yes," His eyes glanced at you, the blue color peeking out from behind the glasses. "Now I remember. You're Reiner and Bertolt's human souvenir from the devil island, aren't you?"

Is that what they called you? And how dare he call your home a devil island! A bubble of anger was rising within you, but you didn't want to take it out on the older man that was helping you find your way. He had to be a higher-up based on his demeanor and you'd rather not get in more trouble.

"...Yes sir, I am."

"You were supposed to be here a month ago." You cringed internally but nodded slowly.

"It's my fault sir. I've only been here for a few months and everything is too... new. I hope my absence didn't affect anything." The man simply hummed, stopping at a door with the words 'WARRIORS UNIT' neatly carved into the wood. You pulled the door for him, letting him saunter in before you entered.

"I found your little pet, you two." His hand pressed against the small of your back, pushing you forwards towards a table where the two of them sat. They looked completely exhausted and were partially bandaged up, quietly sparing a glance at you with a short wave.

You settled yourself in-between them, about to thank the man for helping you but he was already stepping away, going outside to light up a cigarette.

"Don't mind Zeke, he's just... eccentric like that. Hope he didn't offend you." Reiner pushed a pile of papers towards you to sort once you turned back to them, saying something about piling them from who sent them; the important files being from the commander and the Marleyan superiors and the unimportant files being from other soldiers. It slowly dawned on you that you became some sort of assistant to them, a glorified secretary for their war schemes.

"It's nothing too difficult, you're lucky to get this kind of work compared to us and the other Eldian soldiers." Bertolt slightly smiled, continuing to read a paper in his hands and you sighed quietly, beginning to sort. Part of you was grateful you didn't have to face war anymore, but the other part didn't want to be treated differently. Maybe the Marleyans thought that you'd defect once you were on the field or kill as many as you can with a weapon in your hands, going out in a blaze of glory. You never held a gun before though and it was most likely that everyone in this military could shoot you down before you could aim it at one person.

An hour or two passed by and you finished up the sorting, neatly tapping them together. It really wasn't a difficult task at all, were they going to make you do something else for today? You quietly waited for any orders, the two focused on their own thing until Reiner suddenly got up.

"I'll go get lunch for us. Y/N, you can relax for now, there's nothing else we need from you today. Good work." He ruffled the top of your head playfully, just like he did before after a training session in the corps. The blond soon left the room, leaving only Bertolt and you alone.

The two of you sat in silence, your hands fiddling with the seams of your uniform. Was sorting the only thing you're going to be doing during your time here? You'd quit within the month if that was the case but if not, maybe in due time you'll save enough money to open up your own shop. You've always wanted to sell clothing back in Paradis, just like your mother and father.

"You look good in the uniform." Bertolt finally mumbled out, the sound of a paper flipping over barely making it audible. You slightly flushed at the comment, diverting your attention to the closest wall in sight.

"Really? I feel like a wet cotton ball, it's so uncomfortable. The scouts uniform is way better." You grumbled, tugging at the cloth around your legs.

He slightly laughed at that, shaking his head. "No way. The scouts uniform was too tight, not to mention the straps were always so difficult to put on."

"Maybe it's cause you're a literal giant compared to everyone there. I just know they had to customize a whole other set for your ass." He snorted and started laughing, dropping the paper in his hand. You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well, crossing your arms together. The two of you bantered for a little bit longer and just for a second, it felt like you were right back home in the training corps canteen.

Everything fuzzed out in your hearing and you soon found yourself comparing home to here. The smells were different, not quite fresh as the countryside air and had a more smoky tone with every breath you took. The sights were different, more machinery was seen rather than grassy fields and trees. The people were different, there was no one recognizable to chat with besides your kidnappers. Everything here had entirely evolved and you were being forced to adapt to it. The realization made you feel a drop in your stomach, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Bertolt."

"Hm?"

"I want to go back home." Your voice was meek, heavy droplets falling down and staining the white fabric beneath you. His body stiffened and he got up from his chair, almost slamming it into the table when he pushed it in.

"This is your home." He responded coldly, a singe of irritation trailing off his words as he left the room, slamming the heavy door shut. You started to sob quietly, tightly holding onto the sides of your sleeved arms.

No it wasn't, and Bertolt knew it too.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Your work schedule was simple: Monday to Wednesday from 9:30 am to 6 pm, you served the Warrior Unit. Every other day, you could do whatever you wanted and that was that. The pay was pretty good for a livable wage, but nothing special. No task you were given from Reiner or Zeke was too difficult either, it was usually just sending out letters to their superiors or sorting anything they wanted you to sort. To be honest, it felt like they were just tolerating you since the Marley government didn't want to deal with you anymore. It sucked but it's better than being belly-up in the ocean.

You haven't tried to make amends with Bertolt after that day because one, it was his fault so why would you apologize anyways and two, he hasn't been around that often in the office space. Reiner explained to you that there will be days, sometimes weeks or months where some or none of them will be here. Apparently when they came back with the failure to retrieve the Founding Titan, the loss of Annie and her Titan, and the inability to capture Eren's special Titan, some nations came together and declared war on Marley.

"Hopefully it won't be so often that we're going to be gone for long. Wouldn't want to have you sit at home and do nothing." Reiner teased with a slight nudge against your arm before downing his glass of liquor.

"I do nothing even when working. Maybe I'll pick up some new hobbies when you guys are gone, like knitting or cross-stitching."

Maybe you can give the creations to your neighbors since you were just doing it for fun. One of them is an expectant mother and since you had moved in, she had been nothing but kind to you. It would be nice to give something to her in return.

"Alright grandma." You elbowed his side hard, rolling your eyes. He grunted and started rubbing the affected area, grumbling under his breath about your temper.

"Where's Bertolt? Aren't you guys inseparable?" He suddenly cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Back in the training corps and the short time in the Survey Corps, you've rarely seen the two separated. Wherever Reiner went, Bertolt followed suit.

"Probably caught up in something. He'll be here soon, he never cancels without notice." He waved his hand dismissively and you thought none the wiser, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

"Already missing him?" You suddenly choked on the liquor, throat burning at the sensation. No way. No way in hell, you'd ever miss him. He could get swallowed up by another Pure Titan and you wouldn't even bat an eye. You'd laugh instead, basking in the blood that would gush out of his torn corpse.

Before you could even say anything back, a soft voice popped into the conversation. "Missing who?"

The two of you turned and there stood Marley's behemoth, still dressed to the nines in his uniform. Reiner greeted him happily, ignoring the question completely, turning towards the bartender and ordering another scotch for his friend. Bertolt settled right next to you, taking the glass in his hand and drinking up the entire thing in one go, some liquid spilling out of the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it up with his thumb, his tongue peeking out and licking the remnants away. His cold green eyes glanced down at you suddenly, catching you staring at him.

A flush of heat went through your skin, quickly looking away to stare into your partially-full glass. The drinks kept on coming, the haze of alcohol filling everyone's systems. You were the least intoxicated, slowly taking in the new attitudes and information from your drunk companions. It wasn't much but they became more chatty, opening up about their lives before Paradis.

"I joined because of my mother." Reiner moved his glass towards the bartender, his head leaned up against his arm as he watched the brown liquid fill up his cup.

"Oh yeah?" He nodded, taking a sip from the newly refilled glass before speaking once more.

"She had high hopes that our family would've been whole again. Me, her, and my father. He's, uh—" He cleared his throat, turning his attention towards you. A faint dust of pink rested on his cheeks, a cheeky smile growing. "He's a Marley-blooded man, so y'know... I'm not really supposed to..."

"Exist." You muttered as you finished his sentence and he let out a soft laugh, nodding lightly before downing his drink again.

"Harsh, but more or less, you could say that's it. Compared to me though," The black-haired man closed his eyes, huffing softly. "Bertolt here is more tragic."

Curious but puzzled, you turned your attention towards him, his hand running through his gelled locks and he mumbled something under his breath before taking a shot. You did wonder a bit about how this man turned out to be the worst attacker on Paradis Island's humanity, it felt sickening thinking about a sweet little boy being trained into a horrid monster.

"You know I hate talking about it Reiner." The blond snorted, turning on his chair and leaning back on the bar's counter.

"C'mon. Let her in on your situation, after all—" He stood up, walking over to him and placing his hand over his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear that you almost barely caught what he said.

"You owe her that much."

Reiner made his way to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone once more together. The thought of trying to decipher what he meant flew past your inebriated mind and so you sat in silence, instead thinking that you might as well make your way home now. It was probably already past midnight, and you were sure that you were waking up late with a massive headache. As you finalized your decision, turning in your stool and towards the door without a goodbye, the thump of glass hitting wood snapped you out of it.

"I was raised only by my dad." Bertolt started and you slowly turned back towards the counter, your full attention on him.

"Don't know what happened to my mom, he never really told me and I was never curious enough to ask. It was just the two of us for as long as I knew but even as a kid that could barely read, I knew that he wasn't... okay." His fists clenched together and you could hear the cracks of his joints from how tightly he was gripping.

"When you're born an Eldian and live in the farthest parts of the internment camps, medicine is hard to get by and treatment is even more difficult to obtain. The minute I became eligible to join, I took the opportunity." You don't know what compelled you in the moment, but you placed a hand on one of his fists. He started relaxing once he realized that you were touching him, still stiff as he reminisced further.

"Did they give him the meds?" Bertolt nodded, taking in a shallow breath.

"A few days right after I inherited the Colossal, they started giving him everything they promised and he was getting better day by day. It wasn't until I left for our mission in Paradis that his condition evolved into something worse." You swallowed nervously, slipping your fingers into his and holding his massive hand gently. His head turned towards you, his eyes soft as he looked into your gaze.

You've never seen or heard him be so vulnerable before, guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. For him, he was fighting a one-sided war against your home, all because he wanted to take care of his dad. Yet in return, he caused the displacement of so many from their families, ripping them apart with a few kicks into the walls.

"When Zeke came on Paradis and we finally met up, I asked him about my dad and he told me that despite all the medicine and treatment that he's been getting, he wasn't getting any better. I had to see him again, no matter if I had failed the original mission or not. I couldn't die on that island without being able to see him again and I just barely made it. Sometimes the way we escaped made me wonder how I even made it out of there. It was only for a few months that I got to spend with him once we came back, but he passed away in his sleep last month."

His hand tightened around yours, though not enough to break it. No wonder he started to look more disheveled and exhausted recently, his whole reason for getting where he is was now gone. You pitied him but that didn't excuse the murders of thousands he did in your homeland. At the same time, it didn't mean that you should bring that major fact up, not when he was currently grieving.

"I'm sorry Bertolt."

"It's alright, you don't have to pity me. I have more to be sorry about towards you and the others. I'll never be able to properly make it up, nothing I'll ever do will be enough to wash away the blood on my hands."

The two of you sat there in silence, a warm hand around one cold hand. You really should leave now, before Reiner comes back and you'll be stuck drinking even more than you wanted to. You attempted to finally slide off the wooden seat, but he clenched your hand gently and tugged you towards him instead. Your eyes fluttered in both confusion and tiredness as you stood in front of his sitting frame. Blinking once, his face appeared right in front of yours. His free hand slid behind and rested against the nape of your neck, feeling thin but calloused fingertips tenderly brush against the skin as he pulled you even closer.

Okay... this was getting a little too weird for your liking. Beginning to open your mouth to verbalize your annoyance and trying to move back, he then took the opportunity to press his lips against yours.

You could taste the alcohol that the three of you had been previously been consuming intertwine with the tobacco's bitterness of the cigarettes he used, a vagueness of something sweet brushing up against your tongue as he tried to coax you into returning the action. His stubble was rough against your skin the more he moved, digging deeper as he pressed further into your mouth.

You had half the mind to bite that damn muscle of his, but the warmth of both the alcohol and him was stupefying, hypnotizing. It felt like you were melting against him, a warmth pooling in your stomach and in-between your thighs. Slowly, you convinced yourself to return the kiss, gravitating into his embrace. It was stupid of you to do considering you hate the guy but hey, who doesn't do stupid shit every now and then? Fuck, you even started wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders.

There wasn't much people in the bar anyways, either too drunk off their minds to care or simply ignoring the disgusting couple intertwining themselves in the public space. The bartender was off chatting with another patron, most likely used to the sight of a couple making their passion uncomfortably known to others. It's the Colossal Titan user, who on Marley dared tried to say something about it?

The hand that once was holding yours, grabbed at the crook of your back to draw you even more impossibly near him, then sliding down towards the curve of your ass. To your utmost surprise, he clutched and squeezed at the flesh firmly, feeling you up with this sudden confidence that you would never thought of him having before.

"Annie."

Sobriety hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing onto you once you heard her name slip through his swollen lips, taking no time to immediately shove the man right off of you. He just told you his story, that his dad had just died last month, and here he was, kissing and groping you and then suddenly calling out Annie's name. You were breathing hard, eyes wide as saucers as you stared down at him in shock.

"What the fuck? What the fuck!?"

Bertolt's hand reached out to you, as if he was trying to make you lift him back up. You've never felt so nauseated to hear those very words come out of his lips as a valid apology, like it was no big deal.

"I love you."

You ran.

You ran out of the bar, into the blackened sea of night, never once looking back. If you did, you were afraid of what you might see in his eyes or if he was chasing after you. With tears lingering in the corners of your eyes, one single thought remained.

Out of everyone in the squadron, why did it have to be him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

For a month and a half the day after what happened, you never saw Bertolt in the office or around the internment zone.

It was probably the first time him and Reiner were ever separated for this long, the blond telling you that it was his own decision to be sent off into the battlefield alone. You wondered if he told him what he did to you after he came back from the bathroom, or excused why he was on the floor and why you were gone. Reiner never said anything about the incident, so it soon faded in the back of your mind into obscurity.

He wasn't your first kiss anyways, some now-dead nobody trainee back in the day was, and the two of you were drunk, stupid shit happens. Part of you also somewhat knew about Bertolt's fondness for the Female Titan user, originally not knowing about how close they were previously, but damn it. For a heated moment to be ruined like that left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but hate him even more for it.

"He's back."

"Who?" Reiner's fist came down on the top of your head playfully, catching your attention from the paperwork.

"Y'know who. Better talk to him now before he passes out from exhaustion from the looks of it. Also, because I know you miss him~" He teased and you swatted his fist off of you, watching him as he walked off towards the main room laughing, leaving you with a pit in your stomach. You really didn't want to talk to him, even if a month had passed on by, but legally, he was your superior. Professionalism before personal feelings unfortunately.

You finally got up, walking slowly to the destination before taking in a deep breath and entering the medical unit. Bertolt was near an open window, a lit cigarette lazily nestled in-between his fingers as he stared out of it. He was the only person there and you swore that every time you saw him, he started to look more unrecognizable from his previous cadet days. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, falling at the front of his eyes; in fact, you thought it might've grown out a little more from the last time you saw him. The Titan marks were still prominent on his face, like he had just transformed not long ago.

Wiping your clammy hands on your puffy uniform, you approached him, pulling up a chair nearby the bed and sitting down stiffly.

"Welcome back sir."

His head turned towards you and you swore that you felt the room grow colder as he gazed into you through the black strands of his messy hair. Maybe you were the only one that noticed, but his eyes were dead, hollow but still held some sharpness in those pale green irises. This was no longer the Bertolt you knew, this was a numbed man that got mentally thrown and torn apart in the arms of the constant war, the constant transforming, and the constant murder of many.

"Hit me."

"E-excuse me?" He must’ve gotten faster because you didn't realize how quickly he grabbed you until he pushed the palm against his healing skin. It was burning to the touch, as if you were right next to a blazing bonfire. Instinctively, you started to try and wiggle out of his grip but he held steady.

"Hit. Me." Bertolt's grip grew stronger around your wrist, fear creeping in through every cell in your body as you watched the surrounding skin pale from how hard he was holding. "That's an order."

You swallowed but nodded quickly in agreement, just so he can let go of you before any bones shatter. He immediately released you straight away, the action as fast as he previously took ahold of you and took a hit of the nearly burnt out stick. You had to hype yourself up for it, thinking back on every rotten memory you’ve had with him, balling up your fist and striking him as hard as possible where he originally placed your hand. The force made his head swing the other way, the cigarette butt dropping on the ground as your knuckles throbbed in agony. It was like directly punching a stony wall, not like the previous time you punched him on the boat to Marley.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, straightening back up as you held onto your wounded hand. "And how do you feel, Bertolt?"

Bertolt’s body didn’t move, but his hand began to slowly trailing up to the injury, pressing his fingers against the forming bruise. You flinched as he pushed his hair back to where you could finally see his eyes, exhaling the smoke that he previously took in through his nostrils. He glanced over in your direction and let out a soft chuckle, although you noticed that it didn't quite reach those dull eyes of his. There was one thought that lingered in your mind as you stared back into his gaze, that he must've gone crazy fighting in the frontlines.

"Good hit, make me bleed next time." ...What? "Though, I'm surprised that you decided to visit after... what we did the last time we saw each other."

Recovering quickly from trying to process what he just said at first, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms. "The Vice Captain requested me to visit his right hand man, who am I to refuse his wishes?"

He simply hummed in response, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket and his lighter. Placing the unlit stick at the side of his mouth, his eyes caught yours once more, a slight smirk forming. "When'd you start talking like the soldiers? You forget the years we've spent together already since I've been gone, or did you finally get in trouble for treating us like equals?"

You scoffed, pulling your lips in a thin line. "You're the one that gave me an order earlier, and I've had a recent revelation that I had to start acting like a subordinate rather your friend or buddy or whatever the fuck we are, so yeah, I guess it's the latter."

"Ahh, better watch your language then or I'll have to report you for profanity against a superior." Bertolt was of course joking, the mocking tone intertwining with his words. As you felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance, the sound of lighter clicked and ignited, your eyes watching him pull the flame near.

"Y'know..." He started as he took in a drag, leaning his head back towards the ceiling and soon exhaling the smoke out slowly. "I've been thinking about you the entire time I was gone."

A heaviness plopped itself back on your shoulders, and you wanted nothing more but to excuse yourself out of his premises. You were about to say something to leave him alone, but he kept on talking, droning on and on about how he was counting down the days when he could finally see your face again. Bertolt mentioned that you were the only reason he kept on fighting, why he kept on killing so his commanders could see that he was doing such a swell job as their loyal Titan holder and let him leave early. What a horrible ideology, most of those people could've been innocents.

"And another thing, I kept thinking back on the kiss we shared that month ago." All the color drained from your face, turning and taking a step back to try and run, but felt his hand grasp onto the fabric right against your back. His voice had the same disdainfulness as before, a demandingness that you didn't even know he had in himself to project.

"Don't leave and turn back around. That is an order."

You grit your teeth, finally turning back around once he let go of your uniform and find him standing, his tall stature hovering over you. Nervousness crawled up your spine, flinching once you felt his cold fingers reach over to caress your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, inspecting your features quietly before taking another drag of his cigarette. He then neared your face and press his lips against yours.

Recoiling at the abrupt kiss, you tried to push him away but the grip on your face was painfully tight, almost akin to the hold on your wrist earlier. You could do nothing but endure this assault, a slight whimper slipping out as the soreness of your face grew.

Bertolt's tongue brushed against your lips, trying to coax you into opening them. You might as well obey, just to get this over with and the fact that you were running out of oxygen at an alarming rate. Once you did, he pushed the smoke in your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the burn in your lungs and in your throat getting worse. In a panic, you bit down as hard as possible to free yourself, the taste of iron combining with the bitter nicotine. You quickly doubled over and started coughing, watching in tears as vague smoke came out of your mouth with every heave and breath.

"Ah." You peered up at Bertolt from within your teary vision, the tips of his fingers on his lips and pressing against the wound you inflicted. It was deep from what you're able to see, but already started to heal itself. Yet, that's not what at all made you run out the room in distress, almost vomiting into the bushes once you stepped foot out of the building.

You watched in mortified horror as he smeared the crimson around his lips and chin, a seemingly euphoric and satisfied expression reflecting on those pale green eyes of his. He looked down at your frozen form, crouching down and reaching over to your face with his bloodied fingers. A small whimper slipped out as he smeared the substance on your mouth, a hungry grin forming.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight? My blood on your lips, I wonder if I can make you bleed for me soon." It felt like he wasn't supposed to say it aloud, but maybe he wanted you to hear, to have a taste of what his true self was like. That thought alone made you run out, leaving him on the ground once again.

This time, you had to make sure you'd never see the sick fuck ever again.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

And this brings you back to the beginning, in Reiner's home completely agitated and frightened for your life.

The past few months, Bertolt resumed his normal duties along Reiner and you; although you limited your interactions with one another, you can’t help but notice that he was following you everywhere. Not just at work, but the times where you were on your breaks, going out to eat, shopping for groceries or clothes, even in your own home; you saw him. You barely caught him sometimes, he'd disappear in a blink once you tried to get in a second glance to confirm who you saw.

He lingered behind corners, staring at you with such a frightening glimmer in those dull eyes of his. He was usually expressionless as he stared into your very soul, not a single crooked smile or the usual slight upwards curve of his eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the strangest part was that he never said a word, just... stared. Sometimes he just stood there right in the public's view, crowds of people passing besides him without a single glance towards the weirdo in their way.

There was nothing you could do about it, he wasn't technically bothering anyone and due to the internment zone being rather small, they already knew that he was associated with you. How unfair it was. You wished you could live like them, ignorant and dismissive of the monster that stood right next to them.

Him being right outside of your window was your final straw, the lamplight just barely highlighting his features as he stood in your backyard. You screamed and backed up into your dining room table once you realized that he was right against your window, pressing his hand against the glass as his breath began to fog it up. His eyes were crazed, the first time you ever saw anything in them after weeks of ignoring him. You flung the drapes over the window — as if it could do anything to protect you — before running upstairs and hiding in your closet for the rest of the night.

If he was able to sneak up on you, to be that close without you noticing… what else has he done?

"He's being a fucking creep, Reiner. If it's not him trying to figure out that I'm some kind of double-crosser, it's him being some kind of perverted stalker." He snorted at your remark and you could tell that he was not entirely convinced. You took in a shaky breath, finally putting down your foot.

"Then I would like to request that I leave the Warriors unit and work somewhere else. I don't care where and if I have to move, all I want is to never see Bertolt ever again." Reiner's expression suddenly hardened and he pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the table opposite of you. You've never seen him quite as serious until now, unease filling your stomach.

"You do realize that we cannot protect you once you leave the unit, right? The only reason you're alive still is because of us, Y/N. Anywhere else in the other units, the generals and commanders will watch you like hawks for any mistake you make, minor or not. They would use any excuse to have your head." His hand rested on your shoulder and squeezed it firmly, checking his surroundings before leaning close into your ear.

"Look. I know about Bertolt's strange behavior, trust me, I've already noticed he's been off ever since he came back from that recent excursion. I don't know if I can convince him to stop doing this to you, but I mean it when I say that you're better off staying in our unit." He then leaned back and lightly smiled for more reassurance; a part of you felt that it was the scout in him that was talking and that made you feel a little better.

"We're all you got in this world and your best chance for living. C'mon, just give him one more shot." This wouldn't be happening in the first place if you left me back in Paradis, you thought bitterly but hesitantly nodded your head.

"Okay, fine. But you better get it in his head that I don’t want him stalking me anymore or I’ll report him to General Magath and leave the unit, no matter what the consequences are." You got up and headed towards the exit, turning your head to see him slowly push in your seat. He noticed that you didn't leave yet and lifted his hand up, almost waving goodbye.

"No promises," Reiner held up his pinky, slightly wiggling it. "But I'll do my best."

You scoffed, but smiled regardless.

"Then whatever happens, it'll be on you."

The next day continued on as usual, something normal for once as both Reiner and Bertolt weren't in today. You thought that they must've gotten deployed to another war since you hadn't seen any of the other Warriors either, but you continued work as usual for your shift. Even if you weren't required to, you might as well lighten the load for you the next time around.

By the time you were done with half of the stack, you finally called it quits, seeing that the sun had began to slowly set behind the towering buildings right outside of the windows. Clocking out, you slung your satchel over your shoulder and pushed past the doors, quietly walking back to your home. Now that you started to think further during your trek, it's strange that you didn't get any notification from Reiner about their sudden leave. He'd always gave you some kind of heads-up even if you didn't ask, either through a note or in person.

Was this something so serious that not even you can know about? That would make more sense, you're technically just an underling to them, you didn't need to know more confidential information from the Marleyans as a Paradisian; not like you wanted it or had any use for it anyways. The orange glow of the sun began to fade, the sky slowly turning darker by the minute as lamplights started to flicker on right on cue.

You were so close to home that you started to pick up the pace, a feeling of anticipation running through you. It's not like you felt scared, no. This was the first time in days that you finally felt like you didn't have to look over your shoulder, the first time in months where you didn't feel like you were being watched.

In a matter of minutes, you finally reached the front door of your home. You rummaged through your bag for the keys, taking your time as you pushed through the unfortunately crowded mess. There was no need to rush anymore, not until they come back, and hopefully Reiner was able to talk Bertolt out of his abhorrent, unprofessional behavior. Letting out a happy hum as you finally found what you were looking for, you pushed in the key and turned it open, only to be greeted with a gut feeling that caused goosebumps to immediately form on your skin.

Something was wrong. Despite everything being in their right and respective places, there was something... off. Standing still at the entrance way, you scanned the environment slowly, a lump forming in your throat as they darted to-and-fro nervously. The windows were locked, you knew they were, and none of the drapes seemed to be moved or altered from their original places. There was only one entrance and to get to the backyard, you would have to take the side fence door at the outside of the resident. You almost were tempted to back out of your own house, the one place where you've considered as the safest haven from the outside. This feeling, it had to just be that you were unused to being finally left alone... right?

You finally took a step inwards, the wood creaking underneath your boot. Mentally, it felt like excruciatingly long hours had just passed by for you to get another step, internally praying that your mind won't play tricks on you from the various sounds that were occurring in the considerably old home. There's nothing or no one here, you're just being a paranoid baby.

Exhaling slowly, you finally shut and locked the front door behind you. Repeating the phrase over and over gave you confidence to continue forwards, determination in your eyes. You'd be damned if Bertolt thinks he could scare you out of your own home, you'd rather go to prison than try to stay at his home for temporary shelter.

You lost your appetite to prepare a simple dinner, now knowing that you'd prefer not to try cooking something when you've just arrived in fear for your life. However, you carefully made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the wooden block. The sound of the metal sliding out of its sheath may have been the loudest thing you've been currently hearing. You gripped onto the handle tightly, turning towards the stairs.

You knew you weren't alone here, the house may settle now and then, but this felt different. This was different. No matter what your brain was telling you, your gut was telling you otherwise.

Crrreeeaaakkkk...

You froze, feeling suddenly out of breath as you stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. The sound came from your room, there was no doubt about it. A memory of Bertolt trying to secretly make breakfast for you flashed into view, the sounds of pans clashing below waking you up. You should've questioned how he gotten in the house in the first place during the earlier stages of this thing of his, but you were far too hungry and tired to even notice until now.

In meticulous steps, you made your way to the staircase, trying to make sure you didn't step on the wrong board and alert the intruder of your presence. Hell, he might've already known since you unlocked the door. The hallway never felt longer than it was before as you approached the room, the moonlight shining down on you and the weapon held in your dominant hand. There was more creaking the more you came towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest in the rhythm of a thousand Abnormals sprinting towards their next delectable meal.

The door was slightly ajar, alarms ringing in your head. You never have left the doors in your room open in your life, especially when sleeping and even when you left the premises. Someone is in there and you know who it is. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned in gradually towards the crack in the door, trying to control the trembling in your hands as you peeked through.

The stench of blood first hit your nose, then the sight within nearly made you scream in horror. Bertolt was in your room, sitting on the middle edge of your bed, all bloodied from head-to-toe what you were able to tell from the street's lamps dully illuminating the surrounding room. Though that was stomach-churning in itself, the action he was performing on your bed made everything even more heinously depraved.

The bastard was fucking his fist with your panties wrapped around his cock, his pelvis erratically jutting into the tight hold he put around it. His lips were slightly parted, almost barely audible groans slipping out with every stroke. Even worse, you could hear just the cusp of your name with it, your own face growing warm.

You had to report this to General Magath, now. Burn your bed and used underwear once you got the chance to second on the list. Reiner failed, maybe even never went up to him, and now you had to take the drastic way out of this. He finally took things way too far; if not your underwear, it might’ve been you.

You took a step backwards, immediately paling as the floorboard behind you squeaked loudly under the weight. The movement from within your room paused abruptly, anxiety and dread crawling up your veins with every passing moment. The sound of the bed springs being relieved of any weight on them immediately alerted you that you needed to start running or hide until he leaves. It was too late, the door opening with a grinding, crackling noise.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

Bertolt lunged at you, instincts kicking in as you swung the knife, aiming for his throat. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, you’ve seen Mikasa do it years ago and he healed without any trace of the injury left, but it would give you enough time to get to Magath’s residence. At least, that’s what you tried to do, but he moved last minute, the blade only digging into the side of his face towards his mouth.

He was stunned by it at first, a nauseating feeling permeating within your stomach as you watched the skin and muscle separate as he opened his mouth, blood streaming down his jawline in thick streams. Then he started chuckling, pressing his hand against the wound roughly and almost pulling it apart. This was no time to stay shocked however. You took this final opportunity to run, carefully trying not to cut yourself as you made your way down the stairs.

"Y/N!!!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. You reached the entrance, turning the lock and pulling it open, the cold air of the night blasting in your face. Freedom was right there in your grasp — just right there — before a thickly drenched hand from behind grabbed ahold of you from the mouth and pulled you back inside.

You couldn’t scream as his bloodied palm held firmly down onto your mouth, tears streaming down your face as he lodged himself right between your legs. He was crazed, his pupils dilated with excitement as he stared down at your quivering form. You could the hardness straining against your uniform pants, a sob stuck in your throat. The inflicted wound on his face was obviously starting to heal, steam coming off of it.

"Good try, too bad you aren’t strong enough to even try to finish the job." He took the knife out of your hold, his blood still staining the edges. Bertolt neared it towards your throat, your body fighting back as it approached closer and closer.

"Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving like that." He scolded, as if he wasn’t the one with the weapon, the cold blade right against your jugular. You froze on cue, taking in sharp breaths with your nose to try and not to panic even more.

"You weren’t meant to see me uh—" His face flushed pink, scratching his uninjured cheek with his pointer bashfully. This bitch was acting like he didn’t just break in your home, committed a perverse act on your bed, and about cut your throat open. Bertolt slightly adjusted himself, rubbing his still-hard cock against you. "But it was pretty exciting, how long were you watching? Did you get excited?"

You wanted to shake your head, only flinching as you felt him unbuckle the belt, nimble fingers unbuttoning and zipping down your pants. You had no choice but to feel him slip his dirtied hand into your underwear, his fingertips pressing against your hole. A proud smile grew on his face, a vast contrast to your horrified expression as the two of you made the same realization. You’re wet.

Bertolt pulled the knife away from your neck, short relief coming out of you in waves, but he didn’t drop it or throw it aside. No. He used it to tear your uniform shirt open, a muffled yelp escaping you as the cool air made contact with your bare skin.

"We’re going to have some fun together, okay?" You felt like throwing up in his hand, hoping that you’d asphyxiate from it. Your heart stopped as you realized that he was nearing the tip of the blade on your lower stomach, right below your belly button.

"Right after I carve my name into you."

[joelsdagger]

let it flow || one shot

frankie morales x reader

masterlist | ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3

super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath. 

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills. 

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate. 

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone. 

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests. 

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly. 

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, ���Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face. 

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says. 

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. 

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again. 

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue. 

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door. 

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better. 

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern. 

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble. 

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen. 

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face. 

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject. 

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny. 

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs. 

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband. 

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen. 

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.  

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.  

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.” His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off. 

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his. 

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed. 

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.  

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.   

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly,  his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any. 

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands. 

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable. 

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath. 

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him. 

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple. 

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target. 

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple. 

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud. 

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-” 

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“Really?” you ask softly. 

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise. 

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel. 

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm. 

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers. 

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard. 

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls. 

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing. 

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast. 

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?” 

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him. 

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible. 

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick. 

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him.  “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress. 

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you. 

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears. 

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud. 

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth. 

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste. 

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand.  He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again. 

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth. 

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom. 

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit. 

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you. 

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit. 

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze. 

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock. 

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room. 

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly. 

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach. 

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.” 

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.  

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen. 

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste. 

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear. 

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.  

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness. 

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.  

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

[sickeddyville]

In Your Arms

Pair: zayne x reader

Prompt: you moved into a new city, but everything is a reminder of him

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Comfort

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: strong emotional scene, physical intimacy (slight making out), zayne's evol slightly getting out of hand.

Note: sorry yall (not srry) its still angst (hehe), but trust they will meet again🙂‍↕️. This is my first time posting stories, ty guys for reading it!! I hope u guys enjoyed this series 🩵🩵

Part 1 | Part 2

You stepped off the train, your heart still pounding in your chest as you adjusted to the steady atmosphere of the terminal. You had done what you thought was necessary. What you believed was the best for the both of you.

The bright lights of the terminal and the busy sounds of people moving around you felt like they were in a different world, one that didn't quite match what you were feeling. You had told yourself that you'd be free here, But every corner, every step forward only made you feel more distant from yourself.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You had hoped for peace, to breathe without thinking about what had happened—what you'd left behind. But there was no escape from reality. Zayne's name flashed on the screen, and with a shaky breath, you ignored it.

But it didn't stop. The messages kept coming, and the little pinging sound seemed to echo in your mind, gnawing at your thoughts like a constant reminder of him. He wasn't letting go.

♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡

It had been a week since I left, I had changed everything–my phone number, my socials– everything that could possibly lead Zayne back to me. I even talked to Tara, just in case he asks her about my whereabouts. I couldn't bear the thought of him finding me. It was better this way.

Winter had finally come and the streets are blanketed in snow and ice.

I stepped into the warm cafe, hoping the warmth of a hot chocolate might just be the one to distract me, even for a little while. As I browsed the menu, a young couple caught my attention. They stood a few feet away, their laughter soft and carefree.

"What do you think we should get?" the girl asked, her eyes scanning the display.

The guy leaned in, his gaze settling on the colorful tray of macarons. "The macarons look tasty," he said with a grin.

My chest tightened, the words striking a nerve I didn't expect. Zayne loves macarons, always eyeing them whenever we passed by a bakery. He'd get a box and insist we share, though he'd always end up eating most of them. I shook my head, forcing myself to move on.

As I stepped out of the cafe, I took a sip of my drink, but it did little to nothing in comforting me against the biting chill of the air.

Ahead of me, a little boy tugged on his mother's coat, his tiny voice cutting through the cold air.

"Mom, can I have a popsicle? Please?" His mother stopped in her tracks, turning to him with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "A popsicle? Are you serious? It's freezing out here!" she scolded.

The boy pouted, crossing his arms. "But I really want one," he muttered under his breath, "Not a chance," his mother replied firmly, taking his hand and pulling him along. "We'll get something warm when we're home."

I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips, as I continued walking, the cold biting harder with every step. My thoughts swirled with the past I was desperately trying to leave behind, the memories I couldn't seem to shake. I tugged my scarf tighter around my neck, quickening my pace towards my apartment.

Macarons, Popsicle, Snow, Ice, Zayne— I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But when I looked again, there he was. Standing by the gate of my small apartment, hands shoved in his coat pockets

My heart stopped, and panic surged through me like fire in my veins. He noticed me and I marched toward him, with each step heavy and cold.

"What are you doing here?" My voice shaking with frustration and something else-something I couldn't quite place.

"Shall we go inside?" he asked gently, like he hadn't just ruined everything I'd worked so hard to build over the past week.

I didn't want him here. Not now. I needed him to leave. So I repeated, "You're not supposed to be here."

He ignored my words completely, as if they didn't matter to him. He let himself in and held the gate for me. Knowing this is a battle I can't win, I lead the way in defeat.

I opened the door and let him in, the air between us growing thick. As he sank into the couch, I stood my ground, keeping my distance. My face remained unreadable, hiding any trace of emotion.

"Come back home with me" he said his voice gentle but firm.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "Leave," I said, trying to sound firm, but it cracked as I spoke, betraying the fear and pain I had been holding inside. "Please..."

He didn't even acknowledge what I said. His eyes were full of that familiar, unwavering determination, and he stood up and took another step closer. "Should I help you pack or...?"

"Zayne" I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper, as I backed away, but he just closed the distance instantly, reaching out to touch my arm.

I shoved him with all my frustration going forward, "Why are you doing this to me?" He caught my wrists easily, pulling me against his chest.

"Why don't you listen to me?" I cried, trashing against him, yet his hands held firm and steady, as if my struggle meant nothing to him.

"Just. Leave. Me. Be!" Each word came with a punch, my fists colliding with his chest in desperate defiance. But his hold only tightened, encircling me with a grip that left me no room to escape.

I'm exhausted, my knees giving up, and the tears start streaming, hot and fast, burning down my cheeks. I stopped fighting. I was unable to hold it together anymore. It all came crashing down.

He held me tightly, not letting go, as if he was trying to keep me from breaking any further.

"I dont care about what has happened or what's about to come." "But I need you, Y/N. My life does not serve a single purpose without you in it." he whispered, his voice full of raw emotion. In that moment, all I could do was cry.

I didn't know how to say what was in my heart. I didn't know how to tell him that this was never about not wanting him, but about wanting him too much.

He held me gently but insistent, like he was grounding me, holding me together. And for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay.

"I'm not going anywhere," Zayne murmured softly, his breath warm against my hair. "No matter what you think, I'm not leaving, not without you."

I'm crying uncontrollably against him. I couldn't help it anymore. I realized that nothing had changed. We were still stuck in this tangled mess of fate, the curse looming over us, and the future uncertain.

Yet in that moment, in his arms, I felt as though I could hold onto him forever—as if it made the world pause, and I might never have to let him go.

♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡

Zayne moved around the apartment like it was his home, adjusting things here and there as though trying to make it feel like it wasn't just a place I had escaped into. He was patient with me, never pushing for answers I wasn't ready to give.

He seemed to understand the space I needed, but I knew, deep down, he was waiting for me to speak, to finally say what was in my heart.

Later that night, as we sat together on the couch, the silence was finally broken. Zayne turned to me, his gaze soft yet serious, his voice low.

"We'll figure this out," Zayne added, his voice thick with emotion. "Together."

"If you're scared I'm going to run away again... I won't." I chuckled softly, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "Probably not anymore," I said, my attempt at humor faltering slightly as I added, "I mean, there's no point. You'll find me anyway."

Zayne didn't laugh. Instead, his expression softened, and he placed his hands gently over mine. "I'm serious, Y/N. No more games. Stay with me. Please." His voice was so sincere, so filled with emotion, that it broke something inside me.

I inched closer, my breath catching in my throat. His eyes searched mine, a quiet plea in them. Slowly, I cupped his face, my thumb brushing across his cheeks.

He leaned into my touch, his breath hitching. And then, as if the world around us had melted away, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine. As he suddenly shifted forward, making me lie back on the couch beneath him, his hands moved to the back of my head, cushioning it. His weight settled on top of me, his body pressing into mine.

I kissed him back, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to merge our bodies into one.

The kiss wasn't gentle–no, it was urgent, as though he couldn't wait any longer to feel me, to know I was still here, still with him. His lips were insistent, demanding, but there was softness too, a silent confession of the love he holds for me.

I weave my hands into his hair as I pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and it felt like every part of me was drawn to him, as if this kiss was the only thing that could fill the empty space between us.

We pulled away for a second, our foreheads barely apart. Quickly, our lips found each other again– It was more than just a need, it was instinct; clinging to the connection that felt as vital as air we breath.

Suddenly, Zayne pulled away. We're both panting for air, and that's when I saw it–the snowflakes drifting softly around us. His evol...

"Zayne, are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft but urgent.

His eyes met mine, still flickering with an icy storm, but he shook his head slightly. "I'm fine," he said, his voice low and strained. "Did I hurt you?"

I frowned, I sat up, my hands gripping his shoulders tighter. "No, But your evol-"

"Don't worry," he said quickly, brushing off my concern as if it were nothing. "It'll be fine in a few moments"

I shifted closer, our knees brushing, I cupped his face and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, his breath uneven as he tried to steady himself. I gave his hands a gentle squeeze before standing and reaching for him. "Come on," I said softly, tugging him toward me. "Let's go to bed, Zayne. You need to rest."

As we lay down, his arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close.

"Goodnight, Zayne," I murmured, my head resting against his chest, "Goodnight, my love" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

The snowflakes drifts slower and slower until they vanished entirely, dissolving into thin air like a fleeting memory. His body slowly warming up and his breath becoming steady.

As the night settled into quiet stillness, Zayne, always so aware, still held me close, his arms around me tight, as if fearing I would slip away if he let go. His grip was firm, yet tender, and it was the kind of hold that spoke of both reassurance and fear.

I lay there, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His breathing slowed, the tension in his body easing as he drifted off, but his arms remained securely wrapped around me, unwilling to let me go. It was almost as if, in his sleep, he was making sure that I was truly there and safe.

I tried to move, to adjust the pillow beneath me, but his hold only tightened. A quiet, soft murmur escaped his lips, something like a plea in whisper, but the words were too faint to make out. His body was warm against mine, and I felt the weight of the night settle around us, a heavy comfort I never wanted to leave.

I didn't protest, didn't try to pull away, knowing that his need for closeness–his silent need for security–was just as real as mine.

Slowly, sleep began to claim me as well, but before I fully surrendered, I pressed my hand gently over his, letting him know I was still there, still holding on.

In the quiet darkness, we found peace, bound together by something far stronger than any past, any curse, or any fear.

[tickly-trashcan]

Transformers: One Tickle Headcanons!

A/N: look away LOOK AWAY im still obsessed with these silly little robots and i cannot get them out of my head so i wrote this while avoiding my other responsibilities LOL i hope the few transformers fans on my blog enjoy and if you're not a transformers fan read anyway and join the fandom i promise its so fun!!! (ps i might do headcanons for the other continuities as i watch more... tfp fans unite)

Orion Pax

this stupid little guy i love him to bits

he is really ticklish and he is so silly about it

hes such a switch like. he doesnt mind being tickled at all i bet he probs loves the attention LOL but he LOVES tickling other bots like d-16 hehe

he's veeery tickly under his arms ESPECIALLY if you get the seams that connect his arm to his torso that will make him scream. get him there

hes ticklish in most of the normal cybertronian tickle spots as well (dont ask me what those are. they are up to interpretation!) but i think hes also got a pretty sensitive chassis (tummy...) and if you get the little seams that go across his chassis he will be GONEE

hes got a really loud laugh i think... one of those rapid fire squealy laughs yup yup

he squeaks! and gasps! and makes other funny noises! but only if you catch him off guard otherwise he's just laughing lol

he will put up a fight if someone tickles him!!! he will go down kicking and actually has a good shot at turning the tables LOL

d-16 has had those tables turned on him so fast but he never learns! poor dee

like i said before hes pretty chill about getting tickled but he thinks hes literally The tickler of all time

hes very confident about his ler skills bc d-16 is so ticklish its actually not fair but if you put him up against elita he would fold so fast

wiggles his digits at d-16 every fucking chance he gets somebody stop his ass before he kills dee

i think he and d-16 tickle each other a lot without it escalating to a tickle fight or full-on murder (orion is the murderer.)

like they poke each other! all the time!

they're good about not doing it on shift (most of the time... side eyes orion again) but as soon as they clock out its a free for all

orion is pretty teasy but not overly so if that makes sense? hes more taunty than teasy HAHA like he'll say to d-16 "lol why do i keep forgetting how ticklish you are" and dee is screaming

he does not tickle elita. ever. she scares him.

also he tried to tickle her once and she wrecked his ass so bad he could hardly stand up. d-16 never let him hear the end of it either

d-16 will still randomly bring it up like "hey pax remember when you tried to tickle elita haha that was so- AUGH!!" and then orion jumps him

D-16

DEE MY BELOVED GAAAAH

he is ridiculously ticklish because i said so. I don't make the rules. also im right d-16 is the biggest lee on this list

hes also a switch but hes so ticklish its hard to get away with tickling other bots like orion because one poke and the tables are turned!! orion is nice to him sometimes tho and lets him get in a few tickles mwahaha

im pushing my d-16 hip agenda. are yall seeing a pattern with me giving my favs ticklish hips ITS BECAUSE HIS HIPS ARE RIGHT THERE!!! anyways. d-16 has the most grabbable and tickleable hips and his hips should be grabbed and tickled until he screams

hes also tickly on his thighs! and his chassis (more tummy!!)

d-16 is one of those people who will try to keep his laugh in but he literally lasts two seconds before hes giggling. two seconds is actually a generous estimate tbh!

his LAUGH i feel it in my bones hes got massive giggles and its kind of high pitched and hes so embarrassed but its adorable and im so upset about it

like once hes laughing its a much deeper laugh but initially since hes trying to keep himself from laughing he just giggles frantically and its so cute bc its so pitchy

HE SNORTS

he snorts and he hates it but it is literally The best thing in the world and orion loves to tickle him until he snorts

for a week after orion learned what the word "speedrun" meant he tried different speedrun challenges with d-16 (how fast can i make him mention megatronus prime, etc.) and one of the days was "how fast can i make d-16 snort"

the answer is 1 minute and 34 seconds in earth time i aint doing the cybertronian equivalent. google is right there.

when he tickles other bots its crazy tho he can be MEANNN if he gets the chance

like he will taunt worse than orion and hes also a really good tickler methinks.. knows how and when to be more rough and when to be more gentle so he can really drive someone up the wall

once he got orion pinned face down and just. shoved his servos under orion's arms. had him screaming and begging but tbh orion probs deserved it!

d-16 has never tried to tickle elita and does not plan to. he will make fun of orion's attempt but he knows better

i think d-16 was also the first one of the gang to give bee a little tickle!!! got him giggling and actually got him to stop yapping a lil bit hehe but it was fun for everyone

B-127

I will tolerate absolutely ZERO bee slander alright if you beef with him you beef with me get off my blog

bee is almost as ticklish as d-16 but had absolutely no idea until he met orion, d-16, and elita. zero clue.

he knew what tickling was! he had tried to tickle himself before after seeing some bots in a tickle fight but hes never been tickled until d-16 poked at him a bit and he jumped 10 feet in the air

d-16 is really nice about tickling bee.... gives him soft tickles bc he knows hes not used to it and tickles him just enough to get him giggling IM SO UPSET

orion is also pretty nice about it but hes too teasy and bee gets embarrassed (also hes learning abt teases from orion. more on that later!)

i think he's really tickly on his chassis!!! most tickly spot for him definitely... all over too not just tummy part but his sides and hes also got tickly knees! watch out tho bc this dude kicks LOL

he has one of those cackly laughs but also has really sweet giggles and he DEF squeaks i dont make the rules

hes pretty shy about tickling others at first but because hes just not used to being around other bots!! hes been told before that hes too much so hes worried that tickling other bots is going to cause other bots to shut him down... BUT HE LEARNS ITS OK TO BE SILLY!!!

he sees orion tickling d-16 and starts yapping about how hes never been tickled and d-16 and orion tickle him a bit and its really sweet but he does NOT know how to react

"WHY AM I LAUGHING WHAT" "we're tickling you bee thats what happens" "OH THATS AWESOME HAHA IT FEELS FUNNY"

bee definitely likes being tickled but he also loves tickling the other bots... id say more lee in general but will tickle when he feels like its okay to!

hes normally yapping about something completely unrelated when hes tickling someone which is really funny but he learned from orion (BAD INFLUENCE!!!) how to tease people

so! now when he tickles other bots he does the really evil teasy stuff... it hasnt come back to bite orion yet but d-16 is suffering!

Elita-1

ahem... women... women women I LOVE ELITA

okay i think shes pretty tickly but not nearly as much as the rest of them... she can take a few pokes and barely smile but also can you even get a few pokes in before shes wrecking ur ass? not really!

shes 90% ler and 10% lee and yes i would definitely piss her off so she would tickle me who said that not me. i love women.

shes tickly on her knees and under her arms!! good luck getting her tho she is very squirmy if you manage to get her and even then she will fight BACK

she has a really bright and bubbly laugh if she gets got really good and it is so lovely and GAAAAH

she doesnt actually tickle other bots that often its mostly if people piss her off or try to tickle her that she goes after them mwahaha

which is why orion is such a frequent victim of her attacks

she is also one of those people who is either silent when shes tickling someone or is the MEANEST teaser on planet earth and bots like orion have experienced both and he cannot decide which option is worse

she has tickled d-16 and bee before but not nearly as bad as orion... he pisses her off so bad LOL i love their dynamic

shes actually so sweet with bee compared to d-16 and orion like okay elita we get it you have a favorite (hes my fav too i totally understand)

i want to talk more about her as a lee tho bc i feel like... she actually wouldnt mind being tickled that much its mostly reflex and its also cuz she feels like shes gotta be tough and being soft kinda goes against that orz

she keeps this mostly to herself but she does occasionally let bee tickle her more than she would let another bot because she knows hes just a Guy and is too busy yapping about other stuff while he tickles her to be like "wait why are you letting me tickle you rn"

her soft spot for bee... makes me so ill...

she also shows clear favoritism for bee when shes tickling him the teases are so much sillier and shes not as evil in general. for orion pax it is on sight

[sunshinereddie]

so lots of people seemed to enjoy my firefighter eddie/paramedic richie au which is super fun for me, because it's also a fav of mine hehe...... and i just couldn't help but write a little something something about it.

this is not going to turn into a full fic, i see yall asking and i hear ya, however unfortunately i do not have the time or energy to start a whole new actual fic (sorry....), but i just couldn't stop thinking about these losers so i had to write a little thing for them<3 if anyone enjoys this maybe i'll use this au as writing practice/warmup and just make little ficlets about it lol.

anyways, firefighter eddie/paramedic richie drabble under the cut! (also it's been a long time since i last wrote reddie, and really have done any writing in general, so pls excuse & forgive me if my writing is a little rusty T^T)

Not to brag or anything, but Richie was a superhero.

Well, at least... that's what he told the kid in the ambulance.

The kid couldn't have been older than seven, crying so hard that his Spiderman pyjamas were wet with tears and snot from using his shirt to wipe his face. He was screaming so loud that Richie couldn't get a word in sideways, and even when he did speak, he doubted the kid could hear him.

Not that Richie could blame him, of course. After all, the kid had been woken up to his bedroom in flames, the sound of screaming in his house, and a stranger climbing in through his window to pull him out. Not to mention... he was still the only one who had gotten out so far. Hell, if Richie was in his shoes, he'd be screaming as well.

But Richie wasn't in his shoes. Richie was a paramedic, he was here to save lives- he had to be the strong one, and he was going to do everything in his power to help this kid. And judging by the Spiderman pyjamas the kid was wearing and the Batman plushie he'd been holding tightly onto when he was rescued, Richie had a pretty good idea of something that might help.

"Hey, kid, no need to cry!" he said, putting on a brave, confident voice. "I'm... Super Richie, and I'm here to save you!"

Just as Richie had hoped, his words caught the kid's attention just enough to stop the screaming, enough for him to look up at Richie through watery eyes. "You... are you a su-superhero?"

Richie nodded, placing his fists on his hips and puffing his chest out. "You bet I am! And guess what?" He turned slightly, stretching his arm out to gesture at the rest of the paramedics and the firefighters rushing around the scene. "They're all superheroes too!"

The kid sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe his nose. "Really?"

Richie nodded. "Yup! We're all here to help you and your family, okay? But right now, I'm going to need you to help me as well, do you think you can do that?"

The kid was silent for a moment, thinking, before he sat up a little straighter, and Richie couldn't help but think that he was trying to mimic the superhero stance that Richie had taken. The kid nodded, and Richie smiled wider. "Awesome," he said. "Now, I'm going to ask you to take some big deep breaths for me, okay? Slow breath in, slow breath out- that's it! Okay, you keep doing that, and I'm just going to take a look at you and make sure that none of that nasty fire got to you, alright?"

With the kid having calmed down significantly, Richie got to work. He checked for burns or any other wounds, and thankfully found none. The kid had been extremely lucky to have gotten rescued quite early on, but Richie still thoroughly made sure that he hadn't suffered any injuries. As he was checking the kid's breathing, listening for any signs of difficulty due to smoke inhalation, the kid spoke up for the first time since he'd stopped crying.

"Are my mommy and daddy okay?"

Richie's heart sunk. The firefighter who had pulled the kid out had brought him to the ambulance furthest away from the fire- so he wouldn't be able to see his house going up in flames... or anybody getting pulled out. It had been a while since emergency services had arrived on the scene, and Richie didn't want to make any assumptions... but he'd been to his fair share of fires to know that there was a time limit to getting people out.

He was lost for words, not knowing how to respond to the kid without lying, without breaking his heart... but thankfully, he didn't have to. Because right then, a loud cry cut through the night, and Richie turned to see a man and a woman running and full speed towards them. Both of them were disheveled, their faces and clothes dark with ash and grime, the man's shirt practically burned off, but they were alive. They were being followed by Mike, one of Richie's fellow paramedics, who was politely urging them not to run, to please return to the ambulance, but neither the man nor woman seemed to be listening- they had their sights set on the kid in the ambulance, and they didn't slow until they had pushed past Richie and were holding their little boy in their arms.

Richie had basically been finished with his checkup, so he took a step back and allowed the family reunion. When Mike caught up to them, Richie gave him a look that said Give them a minute, and Mike nodded, standing by Richie has he caught his breath.

Richie was watching the woman check her son all over for any injuries, as if he wasn't currently sitting in an ambulance with a paramedic right there, when he heard footsteps approaching, and then the sound of someone clearing their throat. Then, there came a polite "Excuse me", and Richie's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice.

Everyone- the family, Richie, and Mike- turned around at the voice, to see one of the firefighters approaching them. He must have been on the crew that had gone into the house for the rescue, for his uniform was darkened from the fire, and he still wore the protective mask and helmet that covered his face. Richie was confused for a moment as to why he was here when, you know, there was a fire to be put out... until he held his arms out, and cradled in them was a small, ash-covered kitten- trembling, but meowing fiercely.

The little boy gasped and jumped out of the ambulance, running over to the firefighter and taking the cat from him. "You saved Mittens!" he exclaimed, as the cat immediately became more comfortable in his owner's arms, curling up and nuzzling its face against the boy's. The kid looked up at the firefighter, his eyes once again filled with tears, but this time, with a big smile on his face. "Thank you, superhero!"

The firefighter reached out and gave the kid a gentle clap on the shoulder, then stepped out of the way as Mike began to guide the family back to the other ambulance- leaving Richie and the firefighter standing there together.

Richie barely had the chance to open his mouth before the firefighter was ripping his helmet off and turning on Richie, sending him a glare so cold it could have single-handedly put out the fire.

"Not. A. Word," Eddie Kaspbrak snapped.

Richie raised an eyebrow, bringing his hand up to place it on his chest. "What ever do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, Tozier," Eddie replied.

"I'm not! I was just going to congratulate you on another life saved- I mean, just think about it- how many cats is that you've rescued throughout your career now? Ten? And this one you saved from an actual fire, not just from a tree or a rooftop! My, my, the city should give you an award for this."

Eddie glared at him, and Richie's grin grew larger. "I also pulled that kid from the house," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Isn't that your whole job, Mr. Fireman?"

"I swear, one day I'm going to-"

"Kaspbrak!" The booming voice came so quickly, so loudly, that it made both Richie and Eddie flinch, turning simultaneously to see the Fire Captain walking past a few feet behind them. "I sent you over here to get checked out, not to chat!" he barked. "Get to it!"

Eddie nodded as the Fire Captain walked past, all while mumbling something under his breath that Richie couldn't quite catch, but was sure wasn't anything nice. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head in question as he looked back at Eddie. "What was that about?" he asked.

Eddie refused to meet his eyes as he let out an irritated sigh. "Captain noticed that my... my air tank was broken when I came out of the fire," he said, his voice softer, though still distinctly annoyed. "Broken latch, or something- it wasn't secured. There's a good chance I was breathing in smoke the entire time I was in there."

At no point did Eddie ask for Richie's help, but Richie knew that Eddie would rather run back into a burning building than ask Richie for help, so Richie didn't wait. His smile remained on his face, though most of the smugness was replaced with the care he showed to all his patients, as he removed his plastic gloves to switch them out for a clean pair.

"Come on," he said, nodding towards the open ambulance doors. "Take a seat. Go on, Eds, doctor's orders."

"Don't call me that. And you're not a doctor."

"Ouch- spitting fire there, Eds. Not very heroic of you."

"Bite me."

[justcallmesakira]

HIII OMG I haven’t had a good laugh in a while until i came across your fyodor’s sis dating dazai hcs IT GOT ME ROLLING ON THE FLOOR 😭 can i request for dazai’s sister dating fyodor if you’re up for it? fluff crack make it silly if you want i’ll enjoy anything from you for sure!!

"Dazai with a sister dating Fyodor!"

Sypnosis: Uh oh! Looks like Dazais one and only sister he grew up with is dating a rat who the entirety of yokohama is after!

Genre: crack, suggestive? (idk sth is wrong with me)

Warning: More blasting, bombing, terrorrist, rizz,

A/N: AHHH I AM SO HAPPY U ENJOYED IT- AND I AM MORE THEN HAPPY BCS I MADE YOU LAUGH !!! >.<

nahhh like brother like sister :/

NO BCS i feel like fyodor just wanted to temper dazai by using his ugly breedable charms on you

But it backfired terribly! (like his posture)

Though you were his one and oNlY eNeMyS blood relative he just couldnt help but flirt with you and perhaps ykyk do those romantic stuff ppl do

This is so ooc rn ;skull emoji 69x;

However you were extremly LIKE extremly careful to not let your brother know

You literly sneaked off the house as if you were sneaking inthe kitchen to cook a whole buffet at 3am!!

Except you were sneaking off to EAT a whole buffet😏😏

Even the rat himself helped you to sneak to his rusty ahh apartment

Wow! The first thing he actually did for others!!!!!

Honestly dazai would be chill though-

Like oh his sister is dating someone? welp sure! i have exes all around the city hope its not one of them though hehe...HeHe

FUCKING SLU--

You took the risk of rizzing fyodor up infront of him though like:

"I am crime, I am punishment" you: "I know something else you can punish :3"

Dazai woke back from the dead with em bones fish eye when u said that

AYYY DAZAI IN HIS MELANIE MARTINEZ "PORTALS" ERA!!!!1😍

When he find out though.....oh god hes going to give you that light skin stare, with his eyes turning into nothing but a pitch black void

like my soul-- OKAY THIS IS THE LAST ONE I PROMISE--

One day you met up with fyodor and you were so excited that you nearly threw his anemic ass to the ground

"Yaaaah fedya,!! we finally met! dont give me that face do u know how hard it is to come and meet you when my lazy ahh brother puts trackers on me!" "Malyshka, please calm down---''

All of a sudden u could hear shuffling which instantly cautions the both of you only for your eyes to be meeted with your brothers eye turning into nothing but pitch black like the face he gave when he saw mori

your getting grounded <3

"Out of all people...out of 8 billion people, sister😀" "I-i-i-i i can explain"

he then looked at fyodor with the ugliest angry face ever "YOU FUCKING RAT HOW DARE YOU WOO MY SISTER WITH FEHUYOUR UGFLY AHH RATUTILLIE NO RIZZ MANIUPULATION I AM GONNA BLAST YO-"

damn.. dazai become eminem

the shift mood between to u then to fyodor was so funny

LIKE YALL SAW THE ADVICE FYODOR GAVE TO DAZAI IN THEIR CELLS? THATS A BIT--- UM YANDERE??????!!

"BROTHER CALM DOWN I WAS NOT MANIUPULATED TF-" "THAT WONT STOP ME FROM MY MANSLAUGHTER ARC" "WHAT?--"

#siblinggoalsfr

fyodor honestly only glared at him with a smile that said "If they annoy you, go for their sibling"

dazai YANKED Your arm taking you back to you apartment and just stared at you as if you got a B in maths

uh oh...

So YEAH after hours of not being able to calm him down he finally accepted!

Dazai gifted fyodor a dead rat in a helicopter after he accepted you guys😍😍😍

No bcz i think u and nikolai would have matching energy--

Nikolai: "Dos-kun bites his nails!" You: "Real except he bites my neck!"

one day ranpo jolted up from his seat with fisheye and slowly turned to you as if you ate his (dead)mother

"Dazai Y/N, you did not..." "Oh yes yes i just did :3"

everybody was so confused like did you steal his snacks or sth???

"like brother like sister i guess...." -ranpo after finding out his bestie is doing unholy things to his enemy

JKJK-

Dazai acted so overdramatic omg- ugh hes so babygirl

"I still cant believe it... MY OWN SISTER DATING-DAT-DATING A STINKY RAT! Wait- WHAT IF YOU GET MARRIED???????!!!!! WILL YOUR NAME BE D-D-D-DOS-DOE RATVESKY?? sis you better let him take your name WAIT NO I WILL NOT SHARE MY NAME WITH HIM UGFYDUTYFE"

dramatic gossip girlie fr

like its literly like

"I took your victory😈" "I took your sisters viriginty😈😈😈"

i am so sorry-WAHHHHHHHHHH- *gets shot in the head by reader for being so dirty*

during gatherings, they just smile at each other protesting in their minds who can take care of u better while your in a chair rollin around and going :3

kuro kuro kuro kuroooo kuro kuro kuro kuro ding luro kuro ding~

until your silly ahh falls! :D

And its just a second of time to see who can cath you first-

Dazais going to turn your wedding into an arson commitment!

"Breaking news!, Depressed man who half the fandom slanders burns down his sisters wdding venue with soy sauce!"

Well... its a funky ride! but hey its fyodor

A/N: i know its short but i tried okay- ENJOY!! i love doing crack if i cant laugh or be happy i will make others happy!! <33

Divider crds: @nikolaismasquerade

tags! @silverbladexyz @riiwrites @chuuyasboner @heartsfourdazai @atlasnessie @atsquie @tojifile @biscuits-lovely-corner @darling--angst

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Panic filled tears and comforting embraces

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1420

A/n: hehe hope yall have fun. i didnt post this part earlier because i was waiting for someone to comment and ask me to post this part lol so when i got an ask about it yesterday i was like. mm yeah im posting this today.

(the next part is almost done so... if someone comments i might just pot it on monday 🤭)

anyways, enjoy!🤭😏

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It had been mere hours since Y/n had arrived home. It was close to midnight when Y/n put Adelaide in her crib before making herself a cup of chamomile tea.

Y/n knew sleep was nowhere near her eyes because of the way her mind kept going back to Grayson and his words.

Did he really mean that? And if he did, was she making a mistake not believing him?

Did the fact that he hurt her matter more than her daughter’s happiness?

Y/n knew these thoughts were going to keep her up at night. She was not going to get even a wink of sleep, hence the chamomile tea. She’d found that out of all the things that were good for sleep, chamomile worked the best for her.

Little did she know that not even chamomile would help her tonight.

Just as she had finished rinsing her cup and placing it on the rack to dry, the loud jingling of one of Adelaide’s toys startled Y/n. She whipped around, her eyes searching around to see if something had fallen off by a wind she did not feel.

But no, this certain sound was from a toy that usually Adelaide held while sleeping, a little stick with bells attached to the end. And it came from the bedroom.

Did Adelaide wake up?

Y/n knew i was normal, but as she made her way to the bedroom where Adelade slept, she tried to push her loudly beating heart back in her chest. Alas, it seemed to be stuck in her throat.

Pushing the door open as her body continued growing colder, Y/n stepped up to Adelaide’s crib.

And what she saw had tears of panic dripping down her chin.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Grayson’s pov.

Grayson decided to get to the lounge and rest for a while, since he had more than enough time to spare. He wasn’t really hungry, so he walked over to one of the very inviting looking individual sofas and settled down, tugging his bag next to him.

He’d had nothing else to do, so he had decided that passing time at the airport would be better than staring at the ceiling of his hotel bedroom, wondering about Y/n and his daughter. The urge to go look at her one last time was too unbearable, and he knew if he stayed there for even a minute longer, he would give in.

His daughter.

A part of him still could not believe he was a father. It was so surreal. He had grown up with two younger brothers, and even thinking about it now, he could not comprehend how fast time passed. It felt like yesterday he had been holding a newborn Xander and today, Xander held Grayson’s daughter.

It was like a dream. A dream that felt too good to be true but you wanted to continue watching it nonetheless.

Expelling a breath, Grayson leaned back, his gaze drawing to the fluorescent lights that lightened the entire place. It was barely a moment after he laid down, still getting comfortable, when his phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pant’s pocket, nonchalantly staring at the screen. But then he did a double take.

Y/n.

He picked up quickly, his heart rate picking up when the crying from the other end stopped him from speaking. He remained paralyzed for a moment, then he called out his friend’s name.

"Gray-" hic "Grayson, I- I don’t-"

"Y/n? What happened?"

"Adelaide- she was turning blue when I came to check up on her, like- like she couldn’t breathe, and now-" she stopped, gasping, "she won’t stop crying. I didn’t know who to call I’m sorry-"

"I’m coming."

The shocked, questioning faces of the officials were priceless as Grayson demanded to be let out of the airport.

One particularly haughty officer had him telling them that his daughter was not well and he needed to go and so hurry the fuck up-

He drove like never before as soon as he had left the airport, deciding to shoot a text to Zabrowski as he had been the one to arrange for his car. It seemed like he was going to need the car for longer than expected.

He could not think about anything but reaching Y/n and his daughter on time. He was so focused on getting to them that he decided to just run up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Grayson panted as he banged on the door to her home, feeling like it was impossible to take in a breath without his lungs burning up. But he didn’t have to wait too long as the tear streaked face of Y/n came into view and she handed him a screaming Adelaide without a word.

She moved away to let him in, sniffling. Her eyes were red, her skin flushed as she stared helplessly.

"I don’t know what to do I-"

Grayson shushed her. "It’s okay, I’m here now." He thought for a moment, then- "Sit down, Y/n."

She shook her head, a new wave of tears rising in her eyes. "I can’t."

Grayson stared at her for a moment, then nodded, turning his focus back to the crying babe in his hands. He needed to be calm because babies, Grayson had noticed, were very sensitive to negative emotions. He had seen his brothers laugh even when they had hurt themselves just because others were.

It took an hour, but eventually, Adelaide settled down, nuzzling her head into Grayson’s chest and staring up at him with big, watery eyes. Eyes that were his own.

He offered her a small smile, cooing. "There you go. You scared mama. You scared me too. But don’t tell your uncles that, they will bully me, okay?"

Grayson watched as one side of her lips ticked up in a sleepy smile, and then she drifted off, her breathing evening out.

The whole time, Y/n refused to sit and relax, constantly running into the kitchen, then the bedroom, trying to see if anything could calm Adelaide down. Bringing out her milk, then her blanket, then her toys. She kept moving, as if she slowed down for a moment, she would lose her mind.

Grayson knew the feeling well, not being able to stop moving because then he would feel helpless, but he understood how much worse this situation felt like to Y/n.

She was a mother, and not all mothers were like his own. They cared, they loved, and when they did, they did it with their whole soul.

When Grayson decided that Adelaide was really asleep, he set her back into her crib, then turned to Y/n. She stood at the entrance of the bedroom, her figure hunched, timid. Her eyes refused to move from the sleeping figure of her daughter.

She looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something much worse. In this case, her daughter’s discomfort. Her oversized sweater covered her palms as she raised them to wipe at her eyes futilely, sniffling. Her legging clad legs carried her closer to Grayson, and she stared down at the crib before meeting his eyes.

"Thank you-"

Before she could say more, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into his chest.

She remained still for a moment. And then all hell broke loose as she put her arms around him and clutched at him, her fingers tight around the fabric of his shirt in her fist as if she would drown if she let go.

They stood there, her sobbing into his chest and him whispering words of comfort.

Eventually, she sagged in his arms, still whimpering from time to time as he picked her up and carried her to her bed. When he moved back, her hand shot out, tears still pooled in her eyes.

"Please, stay."

He nodded, clasping the hand at his collar and kissing the inside of her wrist.

"I am going nowhere, sweetheart. I will sit outside. Rest for now."

She shook her head stubbornly, pouting. "Stay here." at the uncertainty that was clearly visible to her, she patted the space next to her. "I won’t mind, Gray."

Finally, he obeyed and climbed in after discarding his jacket, leaving him in his white button up shirt and grey pants.

As Y/n’s eyes fluttered, Grayson reached out to card his fingers through her hair.

"Sleep. We’ll discuss this in the morning."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams @bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @thena101 @imaseabear

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

[matcha3mochi]

wanted

cowboy toji fushiguro x reader

author note: i've been seeing sooo many jjk cowboy edits on tiktok and decided to write this LOL hope yall enjoy hehe

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・

The warm breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers and fresh grass, a stark contrast to the tension building in the air. You had been out in the fields, gathering herbs and wild plants for your remedies, a peaceful escape from the bustling little town nearby. But lately, the peace had been shattered. Rumors of an increase in crime had swept through the community like wildfire. The sheriff had been overwhelmed, and frightened townsfolk whispered about the dangers lurking in the shadows.

The billboards lining the main road into town were plastered with wanted posters, their edges frayed and fluttering in the wind. You had seen them earlier that week—dark ink scrawled across the paper, a rough sketch of a man with wild dark hair and piercing eyes. Toji Fushiguro was the name scrawled beneath the picture, accompanied by the chilling warning that he was considered armed and dangerous. A reward of one million dollars for his capture loomed like a specter over your thoughts.

Despite the fear gripping your small town, you still felt a pull toward the wilds outside, needing the calm of nature to balance the anxiety swirling around you. This day was no different; you ventured out to gather herbs, hoping to find solace amidst the chaos.

But that solace was shattered by the sound of galloping hooves and angry shouts. My heart raced as I ducked behind a cluster of tall sunflowers, their vibrant yellow petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. The sweet scent of the blossoms was a stark contrast to the tension building in the air. Peeking out from my hiding spot, I caught sight of a figure on horseback—a man with dark hair, wild and untamed, his expression a mix of fear and determination.

He rode like the wind, his silhouette a striking contrast against the golden fields, the sun glinting off the sweat glistening on his brow. The horse beneath him galloped fiercely, muscles rippling as it propelled him forward, a powerful creature responding to its rider's urgency. My breath caught in my throat as I realized he was being chased by three rough-looking men, their horses pounding the earth with menacing intensity.

They were close behind, their faces twisted with anger, and I could see the glint of metal in their hands—guns, drawn and ready. “Get him!” one of them shouted, his voice rough and full of rage, echoing across the open landscape like a thunderclap. My heart sank as I felt the weight of the situation settle in; this was not just a simple chase; it was a life-or-death struggle unfolding before me.

The man on the horse glanced back, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes locked. I could see the intensity in his green gaze, a flicker of desperation that made my pulse quicken. There was something primal about the scene, the adrenaline pulsing through me as I witnessed the chase, feeling the urgency in the air as it wrapped around me like a storm.

As the men behind him shouted and urged their horses on, I could see the fear etched on the stranger’s face, mingling with determination. He leaned forward, urging his horse to go faster, the animal responding with a burst of speed that took it further into the field. Dust kicked up around him, swirling in the afternoon light, creating a haze that obscured my view of the impending danger.

The three men were relentless, their laughter dark and chilling as they closed the gap. They were hunting him, fueled by greed and a thirst for revenge, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had stumbled into something far beyond my understanding. A knot twisted in my stomach as I realized the danger he was in, and my instincts screamed at me to act.

I glanced around, trying to assess my surroundings, but the wide-open fields offered little cover. With a final glance at the scene unfolding before me, I made a split-second decision. I couldn't just stand by and watch; I had to do something.

As the chase continued, the distance between them grew smaller, and I could hear the shouts growing louder, the urgency of the men’s pursuit fueling my resolve. I had no idea who this man was, but in that moment, all I saw was a person in desperate need of help—a stranger trapped in a perilous situation.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I took a deep breath and sprinted toward the scene, determined to intervene before it was too late. 

The sound of pounding hooves grew louder, and I could see the dark-haired man pushing his horse to its limits, desperately trying to escape the men who were hot on his trail. My heart raced as I realized just how close they were—if I didn’t act quickly, they would catch him.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice rising above the clamor of hooves and angry shouts. It felt almost foolish to think I could deter them, but something inside me urged me forward. The man on the horse glanced in my direction, and for a brief moment, our eyes locked, his expression a mix of gratitude and confusion.

The men chasing him were still shouting, their voices thick with menace. “Get him!” one of them shouted, his voice rough and full of rage, echoing across the open landscape like a thunderclap. My heart sank as I felt the weight of the situation settle in; this was not just a simple chase; it was a life-or-death struggle unfolding before me.

The man on the horse glanced back, and I could see the fear etched across his features, mingling with determination. He leaned forward, urging his horse to go faster, the animal responding with a burst of speed that took it further into the field. Dust kicked up around him, swirling in the afternoon light, creating a haze that obscured my view of the impending danger.

As the three men grew closer, their shouts grew more frantic. “He’s getting away! Don’t let him escape!” One of them aimed his gun, and my stomach dropped at the thought of the chaos that might ensue.

“Get down!” I yelled again, my voice sharper this time as I darted toward the nearest sunflower patch, hoping to provide some semblance of cover. It was a desperate plan, but I was running out of time. As I reached the edge of the sunflowers, I dropped to the ground, peeking out just in time to see the man veer sharply to the left, heading toward a cluster of trees that marked the edge of the field.

“Come on, come on!” I whispered to myself, my heart pounding in sync with the hooves thundering across the dirt. I could see the man’s muscles straining as he urged his horse to push forward, but the three men were relentless. Their shouts grew more frenzied, and I could hear the sound of gunfire rippling through the air, each shot sending a shiver down my spine.

I crouched low, my eyes wide as I watched the scene unfold. One of the men fired a shot that missed the rider but struck the ground nearby, sending dirt and grass flying into the air. The man on the horse flinched but didn’t falter; he kept pushing forward, the distance between him and his pursuers growing slightly but not enough. The gunfire was only adding to the chaos, and I knew I had to make a choice.

With a deep breath, I summoned every ounce of courage within me and sprang into action. I dashed from the cover of the sunflowers, waving my arms frantically to get the man’s attention. “This way!” I shouted, hoping he would see me and realize I was trying to help.

He caught sight of my movement and quickly adjusted his course, veering toward my direction. As he galloped closer, I could see the determination etched across his features. He was a striking figure, even in the midst of danger—muscles tense, eyes sharp, and a look of fierce resolve that sent a thrill of fear and admiration coursing through me.

“Over here!” I called again, pointing toward the grove of trees, where the dense foliage offered a chance for concealment. “We can hide there!”

With a nod, he leaned low over his horse, urging it toward the trees. My heart raced as we both dashed for cover, the sounds of the men shouting and their horses thundering behind us growing louder. I felt a rush of wind as he galloped past, his dark hair trailing behind him like a flag in the wind.

Once we reached the grove, I darted behind the thick trunk of a tree, my breath coming in quick gasps. The man slid off his horse, landing on his feet with a grace that belied the urgency of the situation.

“Are you okay?” I asked, looking closely at him, noting the blood that stained his shirt, dark and ominous.

“I will be if we can just—” he started, but his words were cut off by the sounds of the men crashing through the underbrush, their voices growing more furious as they searched for him.

“They’re coming!” I whispered, pressing myself against the tree, my heart racing with fear. He looked at me, his green eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something deeper that I couldn’t quite place.

“Stay quiet,” he instructed, his voice low and firm.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I strained to hear the sounds of the men approaching. My pulse thudded in my ears as I tried to calm my racing heart, hoping that the trees would provide enough cover.

The men burst into the grove, their faces twisted in anger and frustration as they searched for their prey. “He can’t have gone far!” one of them barked, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. “Split up and find him!”

He and I exchanged a quick glance, and in that moment, I knew we had to stay still and silent, praying they wouldn’t discover us. The tension hung thick in the air as we held our breath, the forest around us eerily quiet except for the shouts of the men.

“What now?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves.

He glanced at me, determination flickering in his eyes as he assessed our options. “We wait for them to leave, then we need to get out of here. I can’t go back to town.”

“Why not?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Let’s just say I have a few enemies who wouldn’t think twice about taking me in for the reward.”

My stomach dropped at the implication. The one million-dollar bounty I had seen on the wanted posters suddenly felt far too real. 

“Follow me,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. I led him deeper into the grove, navigating through the thick trees until we reached the edge of my family’s property, a small farmhouse nestled among the rolling hills of the Midwest. It felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos, and I hoped it could provide the shelter he needed.

Once we reached the back door of the house, I quickly glanced around to ensure no one was watching before ushering him inside. The familiar scent of home enveloped me, a mixture of warm bread and the faint aroma of wildflowers from the garden. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have a moment of safety.

“Here,” I said, motioning for him to sit on the worn wooden chair in the kitchen. “Let me see your injuries.”

He winced as he sat down, the movement clearly causing him discomfort. I could see the blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt, staining it a dark crimson. My heart raced as I rummaged through the drawers, my mind racing with the urgency of the situation. I needed supplies—bandages, antiseptic, anything that could help.

As I carefully peeled back the fabric of his shirt, I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks. The sight of his well-defined muscles was unexpected, but it was the deep gash on his side that pulled my attention. It was jagged and angry, the blood oozing from the wound, a stark reminder of the danger he had just faced.

“Hold still,” I said, my voice steady despite the racing thoughts in my head. I cleaned the wound with antiseptic wipes, the sting causing him to hiss through his teeth. “I know it hurts, but I need to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

He gritted his teeth, trying to remain stoic as I worked. “You’re surprisingly good at this,” he remarked, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Have you done this before?”

“Not really,” I admitted, my focus shifting back to his injury. “But I’ve patched up my younger brother a few times. He’s always getting into trouble.” I chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room, but my smile faded when I looked up to see the pain etched across his face.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I owe you.”

I shook my head, not wanting to think about the gravity of what he was saying. “Let’s just get you cleaned up for now.” I wrapped a clean bandage around his wound, securing it tightly but not too tight. The gentle brush of my fingers against his skin felt electric, and I fought to keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

As I stepped back to admire my handiwork, my eyes roamed over his appearance for the first time: He looked rugged, embodying the very essence of a cowboy—raw and unrefined, yet undeniably striking.

His dark hair was tousled and slightly unkempt, falling in tousled waves that framed his angular face. The moonlight caught the edges of his strong jawline, accentuating the slight stubble that dusted his chin. His skin was sun-kissed, a warm tan that suggested long days spent under the open sky.

His eyes, a captivating shade of green, held a fierce intensity that was both alluring and intimidating. They seemed to pierce through the darkness.

He wore a weathered brown leather jacket, the kind that had seen countless miles of travel and had its share of scuffs and scratches. Underneath, a faded flannel shirt clung to his muscular frame, the fabric slightly torn at the sleeves, revealing the strength in his forearms. The shirt was rolled up, exposing the tanned skin beneath, and I noticed the way his muscles tensed slightly as he shifted.

His denim jeans hugged his form, rugged and practical, worn to the point of being comfortable, but still showing signs of a hard life. The fabric was dusted with dirt, and there were patches at the knees. His boots were scuffed but sturdy, the kind that had trekked through rough terrain and toughened his resolve.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You saved my life.”

As he stepped outside, the cool night air rushing in behind him, I felt a mixture of disappointment and dread. I stood in the doorway, watching him go, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders.

Then, just as he was about to disappear into the shadows, my eyes caught the glint of the moonlight reflecting off the wanted poster hanging on the wall outside. My breath hitched as I recognized the face—the same dark hair, the same sharp features, the same intense green eyes.

It was him. The man I had helped was Toji Fushiguro, the wanted fugitive. The gravity of the realization crashed over me:

I had just helped a criminal.

Toji paused momentarily, glancing back at me, and in that fleeting moment, I saw a hint of vulnerability beneath his bravado. The playful spark that usually danced in his eyes was replaced by a somber understanding of the situation.

“I’ll see you again, you know,” he said, his voice low but filled with a promise that hung in the air between us.

The words sent a jolt through me, a mix of hope and uncertainty. “You will?” I asked, my heart racing at the possibility.

“Count on it,” he said, a playful glint in his eye, before he stepped into the night, leaving me standing in the doorway, breathless and bewildered.

Toji Fushiguro was dangerous, no doubt about that. But as much as I knew I should stay away, something in me hoped that our paths would cross again. Even if it meant trouble, even if it meant putting myself at risk, I couldn’t deny the strange thrill that had come with our encounter.