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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

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icemankazansky · 4 months ago

Text

A Simple Guide to Not Being Afraid to Write Comments to Fic You Read

I've seen a lot of posts about the current state of fanfiction comments. Writers, especially writers who have been in fandom for a decade or more, are frustrated by the lack of comments, and have noticed a definite decline in comments (and all other forms of reader interaction) in the past ten years or so. Many readers feel daunted by the expectation of leaving comments, afraid they'll do something wrong. As a fandom old maid, the latter confused me for a while, until I realized that most of the people who feel that way probably have not been taught this form of communication.

But your loving fandom elders are here for you. Come along as your auntie tumblr user icemankazansky makes this shit easy.

The easiest way to think of fanfiction comment etiquette is to compare it to something you likely already know: Gift Receiving Etiquette.

Fanfiction began as largely a gift economy. And a lot of it still is! You'll see authors participate in exchanges like Yuletide and Id Pro Quo; those are ficswaps in which authors write for a specific person to specific prompts. And even outside that, fanfiction is not written for money; authors write and post it simply for the joy of creation and community with fellow fans. Fic is posted free for anyone to enjoy. Is that not a gift?

So. When you as a reader finish the chapter or story you're reading and you are faced with the comment box, try to follow the same etiquette you would when receiving a gift. (And even if you didn't love this gift and it's not your favorite gift ever, we already know that it's more useful than the products from your cousin's MLM that they're passing off as gifts, because you read the story. At the very least, it entertained you for the time you took to read it.)

The big rule of gift receiving etiquette is not to insult the person who gave you the gift, either directly or indirectly. That's it. Full stop.

I've been seeing a lot of comments lately that are just along the lines of, "Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us." A+, top of the class, full marks, you're doing amazing. If you don't feel comfortable commenting on the story itself, that is perfect feedback. And that's the most basic way you respond to a gift, yes? Thank you for the gift. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for sharing.

Does this rule mean that you cannot say anything at all that might be negative about anything? No, absolutely not. What you want to avoid is saying something that is, at its core, a negative evaluation of the author or their work. Let's do some examples.

Character A's obliviousness about Character B's MASSIVE crush on them made me so frustrated! I was tearing my hair out internally screaming, "JUST LET HIM LOVE YOU."

✔️ Excellent comment! You're allowed to have all sorts of feelings about things that happen in the story, and in fact authors LOVE to hear about any emotions they made you feel. Yes, frustration is not a positive emotion, but the thing you are expressing frustration about is not the author themselves or their shortcomings.

Contrast that to:

I was really frustrated that it took you so long to post this chapter. The cliffhanger at the end of the previous chapter had me tearing my hair out, and then you just left us hanging FOREVER!

❌ Nope! Here what you are expressing is frustration with the author and how fast they come out with new chapters. Imagine your sister buys you a gift for your birthday, but she isn't able to give it to you until the next week, and you respond with: "What took you so long?" I think Emily Post would frown on that.

Reframing

The way you say something and the point of view from which you give feedback can have a HUGE impact on the message you're sending. Let's take the last comment (the one about wanting an update) and see what happens when we reframe the same sentiment as a positive:

I was SO EXCITED to see that you updated this story! I have really been looking forward to seeing what happened after the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

✔️ Now it's not an insult. The author will be happy to know that you are happy to see new work from them.

This idea extends beyond the story itself: to the fandom, the characters, the pairing, the tropes, etc. Let's do some examples.

I looooove reading about these sexy boys SO IN LOVE even though the movie you're writing about is SOOOOO problematic.

❌ Nope! Assume that the author enjoys the canon, characters, pairing, etc. in the stories they write. This comment is insulting to the author because it basically says, "That thing you love is not great, and you should probably feel bad for liking it." Imagine your aunt gifts you a sweater from a popular retailer, and you respond with, "This is so cute, I love it! It's a shame that it was made in a sweatshop." Do you have a valid point about the canon or the retailer's business practices? You very well might. Is this the proper time and place to talk about it? Absolutely not.

Let's do a reframing exercise. You should be very careful about how you approach commenting negatively on anything in the story that appears in the tags list, but you can make it a compliment and good feedback if you have the right perspective. See the difference with these two approaches:

I kind of think frottage is disgusting, but I liked it in this story.

❌ Nope! You just told the author you think their kink is disgusting. That's like telling your poor aunt who is just trying to keep you warm this winter that she has awful taste in knitwear. Try again.

Frottage normally isn't my kink, but I love your other stories with this pairing, so I decided to give it a try, and I'm SOOOOO GLAD that I did! This story was 🔥🔥🔥

✔️ "This normally isn't my thing, but you made me expand my horizons!" Authors love to hear that. That's like telling your aunt, "I never thought this color looked good on me, but I look so cute in this sweater! I'm so glad you helped me step outside my comfort zone, because I'm the better for it."

thank u, next

The last thing I want to address is this new trend I've seen in commenting lately: placing an order. If your mom surprises you with new headphones, you don't respond with, "I wanted the white ones 🙁," or, "You should get me a new phone, too." It's easy to see why that isn't appropriate in a gifting situation, and it's also not appropriate when commenting on fanfiction.

Let's do some examples:

This fic was soooo cute, but it would have been a million times better if Character A had been with Character C instead of Character B.

❌ There are a few things going on here. Number one, you're telling your mom you wanted the white headphones, not the ones she actually bought you. You're also disparaging the A/B pairing that the author chose to write about, and as we discussed, we can assume that the author wrote the pairing because they liked it. Even if it's not their favorite and/or they also write A/C, they made a choice for this story to be A/B, and the comments section of a fic is not the place to question choices the author made in their own work.

You should write a story where Character Z who is not even in this story does [thing that is vaguely referenced in the B plot].

❌ "You should get me a new phone, too."

I want a sequel. 😞

❌ "Thank you, next!"

You can reframe this kind of sentiment if you are careful about it, and it's not all you say.

I really loved this story. I would be so interested to see these ideas explored further if you ever decide to write more in this universe.

✔️ Not "gimme." Not "more." This is, "If you build it, I will come." It is a HUGE difference.

You already know how to do this. You know how to graciously accept a gift; just use that same etiquette, and boom! Now you know how to fearlessly write a comment to fic you read. You're doing amazing. Go forth and comment.

#fandom #fanfiction #commenting #fanfiction etiquette #emily post please help me express my feelings about this yaoi

2K notes · View notes

jensthwa · 4 months ago

Text

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before.

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much.

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions.

The main one being: What the fuck did you do?

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess.

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears.

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it.

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back.

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions.

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal:

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worned out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn.

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him.

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool.

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back.

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out.

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you.

Yeah, you'll figure it out.

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you.

You are fucked.

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon.

“Mingi is driving you, right?”

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation.

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.”

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?”

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?”

“R-right.”

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink.

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath.

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.”

“You made it, dear.”

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!”

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face.

Maybe not the smartest option.

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you.

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love?

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well.

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization.

The casual texting annoys you.

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either!

Oh, maybe that's why.

But it ticks you off either way.

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today?

It doesn't make any sense.

You hit send.

> gi: aaaaand? > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed.

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf > gi: my butt is all bruised. > gi: kiss it better?

Oh.

Not casual texting. At. All.

Or maybe it is?

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer.

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late.

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being.

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday.

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way.

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day.

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget.

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's.

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue.

God damnit, Y/N, get it together.

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door.

“You do know how to change a tire, son?”

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile.

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.”

“And make sure to—”

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?”

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even.

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning.

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it.

“I was just making sure that he—”

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well.

“Alright. Love you, take care!”

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval.

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief.

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?”

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.”

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door.

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now.

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.”

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.”

“You can help me with that.”

“Can I now?”

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.”

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation.

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.”

A bit of silence passes within the both of you.

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place.

Nothing has changed.

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into an hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing.

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door.

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in.

“You made it!”

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.”

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?”

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.”

If Seonghwa caughts the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—”

“Mingi!”

What the hell is she doing here?

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe?

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men.

Right now? She's your worst nightmare.

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away.

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid.

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised.

“Well fuck me, am I right?”

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on you shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.”

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away.

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.”

“You can't possibly know that.”

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.”

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same.

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.”

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri.

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.”

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting.

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.”

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh.

“We're just friends now!”

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—”

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him.

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening.

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend.

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you.

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts.

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before.

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you?

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there.

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!”

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!”

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask.

“Who is sh—”

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?”

Huh?!

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped.

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—”

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.”

Great, that didn't work either.

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.”

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.”

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.”

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this.

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh.

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool.

“Sure thing.”

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move.

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi.

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out.

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe.

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs.

When your tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you.

“What the fuck, Mingi?”

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror.

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?”

“People usually knock!”

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax.

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so.

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back.

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck.

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.”

You let out a sigh.

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?”

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.”

“Cool.”

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror.

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.”

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance.

“I’m sure you did, buddy.”

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising.

“What's so amusing?”

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?”

He's such a guy sometimes.

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—”

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.”

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.”

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance.

He keeps his mouth shut.

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—”

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.”

“Mingi, don't say that!”

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason.

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!”

“You don't even know her name, love.”

“That's not the fucking point!”

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words.

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy.

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense.

You hate it.

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment.

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings.

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you.

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight.

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.”

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs.

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing.

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—”

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.”

“Did something happen or…?”

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks.

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away.

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means.

“Ye—”

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.”

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder.

Immature. Petty. Rude.

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset.

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again.

As he should be.

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street.

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is.

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step.

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.”

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head.

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating.

He's angry. Shit.

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it.

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff.

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road.

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment.

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything.

“You shouldn't have bothered.”

“I am bothered. You bothered me.”

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?”

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!”

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.”

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support.

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car.

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance.

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation.

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.”

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short.

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.”

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.”

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up.

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line.

“Well, she's a friendly girl!”

“She didn't even say hi to me!”

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!”

What?

“W-what?”

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!”

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.”

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.”

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi.

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you.

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back.

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—”

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it.

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you.

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right.

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it.

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself.

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…”

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.”

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.”

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.”

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?”

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—”

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later.

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold.

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving.

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop.

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for.

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made.

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again.

“This goddamn dress, love.”

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?”

“Been thinking about it all day…”

“It worked, by the way.”

“Woo?”

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.”

“And Jongho?”

“Probably plotting against me right now.”

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.”

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick.

“Worked on you, too.”

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.”

“Oh?”

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience.

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.”

This is it.

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again.

“I love you, Mingi.”

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if its too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too.

You kiss him until it hurts.

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more.

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time.

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands.

And then it doesn't.

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way.

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist.

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and let his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms.

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so.

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?”

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit.

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again.

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question.

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?”

“Fuck, Mingi…”

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right.

“Y-yes.”

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.”

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away.

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?”

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.”

“Mingi…”

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—”

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—”

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.”

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips.

What a tease.

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease.

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit.

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second.

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high.

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close.

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth.

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does.

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly.

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?”

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.”

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?”

“You don't have to, love.”

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.”

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods.

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it.

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting.

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it.

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car.

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.”

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier.

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again.

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick to touch being your hand.

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor.

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable.

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth.

“Condom. Now.”

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.”

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!”

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…”

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously.

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…”

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago.

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling.

“Baby… Harder.”

“Yeah?”

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break.

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours.

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge.

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well.

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple.

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns.

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.”

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does.

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there.

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you.

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?”

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?”

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.”

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.”

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.”

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.”

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.”

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't saw it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.”

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended.

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out.

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents.

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason.

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you.

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways.

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions.

But everyone seems unaffected by it.

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.”

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on.

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff.

“And no one told us?!”

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust.

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.”

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.”

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile.

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh?

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?”

“I’m sure Mingi did—”

“Wooyoung!”

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all.

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.”

“Am not!”

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops.

There's some story there you don't know.

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.”

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts.

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter.

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away.

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.”

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night.

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis.

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him.

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all.

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes.

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.”

You smile “Well, she's right.”

“Nuh-uh!”

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off.

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth.

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips.

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!”

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

#ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi #song mingi x reader #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours #AAAAAAAAAAAA i don't think this is as good as the first part was but i hope you enjoy it ! let me know #askbox is open as usual <3 thanks!#fic; s&t

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imsobadatnicknames2 · 7 months ago

Note

How can you consider yourself any sort of leftist when you defend AI art bullshit? You literally simp for AI techbros and have the gall to pretend you're against big corporations?? Get fucked

I don't "defend" AI art. I think a particular old post of mine that a lot of people tend to read in bad faith must be making the rounds again lmao.

Took me a good while to reply to this because you know what? I decided to make something positive out of this and use this as an opportunity to outline what I ACTUALLY believe about AI art. If anyone seeing this decides to read it in good or bad faith... Welp, your choice I guess.

I have several criticisms of the way the proliferation of AI art generators and LLMs is making a lot of things worse. Some of these are things I have voiced in the past, some of these are things I haven't until now:

Most image and text AI generators are fine-tuned to produce nothing but the most agreeable, generically pretty content slop, pretty much immediately squandering their potential to be used as genuinely interesting artistic tools with anything to offer in terms of a unique aesthetic experience (AI video still manages to look bizarre and interesting but it's getting there too)

In the entertainment industry and a lot of other fields, AI image generation is getting incorporated into production pipelines in ways that lead to the immiseration of working artists, being used to justify either lower wages or straight-up layoffs, and this is something that needs to be fought against. That's why I unconditionally supported the SAG-AFTRA strikes last year and will unconditionally support any collective action to address AI art as a concrete labor issue

In most fields where it's being integrated, AI art is vastly inferior to human artists in any use case where you need anything other than to make a superficially pretty picture really fast. If you need to do anything like ask for revisions or minor corrections, give very specific descriptions of how objects and people are interacting with each other, or just like. generate several pictures of the same thing and have them stay consistent with each other, you NEED human artists and it's preposterous to think they can be replaced by AI.

There is a lot of art on the internet that consists of the most generically pretty, cookie-cutter anime waifu-adjacent slop that has zero artistic or emotional value to either the people seeing it or the person churning it out, and while this certainly was A Thing before the advent of AI art generators, generative AI has made it extremely easy to become the kind of person who churns it out and floods online art spaces with it.

Similarly, LLMs make it extremely easy to generate massive volumes of texts, pages, articles, listicles and what have you that are generic vapid SEO-friendly pap at best and bizzarre nonsense misinformation at worst, drowning useful information in a sea of vapid noise and rendering internet searches increasingly useless.

The way LLMs are being incorporated into customer service and similar services not only, again, encourages further immiseration of customer service workers, but it's also completely useless for most customers.

A very annoyingly vocal part the population of AI art enthusiasts, fanatics and promoters do tend to talk about it in a way that directly or indirectly demeans the merit and skill of human artists and implies that they think of anyone who sees anything worthwile in the process of creation itself rather than the end product as stupid or deluded.

So you can probably tell by now that I don't hold AI art or writing in very high regard. However (and here's the part that'll get me called an AI techbro, or get people telling me that I'm just jealous of REAL artists because I lack the drive to create art of my own, or whatever else) I do have some criticisms of the way people have been responding to it, and have voiced such criticisms in the past.

I think a lot of the opposition to AI art has critstallized around unexamined gut reactions, whipping up a moral panic, and pressure to outwardly display an acceptable level of disdain for it. And in particular I think this climate has made a lot of people very prone to either uncritically entertain and adopt regressive ideas about Intellectual Propety, OR reveal previously held regressive ideas about Intellectual Property that are now suddenly more socially acceptable to express:

(I wanna preface this section by stating that I'm a staunch intellectual property abolitionist for the same reason I'm a private property abolitionist. If you think the existence of intellectual property is a good thing, a lot of my ideas about a lot of stuff are gonna be unpalatable to you. Not much I can do about it.)

A lot of people are suddenly throwing their support behind any proposal that promises stricter copyright regulations to combat AI art, when a lot of these also have the potential to severely udnermine fair use laws and fuck over a lot of independent artist for the benefit of big companies.

It was very worrying to see a lot of fanfic authors in particular clap for the George R R Martin OpenAI lawsuit because well... a lot of them don't realize that fanfic is a hobby that's in a position that's VERY legally precarious at best, that legally speaking using someone else's characters in your fanfic is as much of a violation of copyright law as straight up stealing entire passages, and that any regulation that can be used against the latter can be extended against the former.

Similarly, a lot of artists were cheering for the lawsuit against AI art models trained to mimic the style of specific artists. Which I agree is an extremely scummy thing to do (just like a human artist making a living from ripping off someone else's work is also extremely scummy), but I don't think every scummy act necessarily needs to be punishable by law, and some of them would in fact leave people worse off if they were. All this to say: If you are an artist, and ESPECIALLY a fan artist, trust me. You DON'T wanna live in a world where there's precedent for people's artstyles to be considered intellectual property in any legally enforceable way. I know you wanna hurt AI art people but this is one avenue that's not worth it.

Especially worrying to me as an indie musician has been to see people mention the strict copyright laws of the music industry as a positive thing that they wanna emulate. "this would never happen in the music industry because they value their artists copyright" idk maybe this is a the grass is greener type of situation but I'm telling you, you DON'T wanna live in a world where copyright law in the visual arts world works the way it does in the music industry. It's not worth it.

I've seen at least one person compare AI art model training to music sampling and say "there's a reason why they cracked down on sampling" as if the death of sampling due to stricter copyright laws was a good thing and not literally one of the worst things to happen in the history of music which nearly destroyed several primarily black music genres. Of course this is anecdotal because it's just One Guy I Saw Once, but you can see what I mean about how uncritical support for copyright law as a tool against AI can lead people to adopt increasingly regressive ideas about copyright.

Similarly, I've seen at least one person go "you know what? Collages should be considered art theft too, fuck you" over an argument where someone else compared AI art to collages. Again, same point as above.

Similarly, I take issue with the way a lot of people seem EXTREMELY personally invested in proving AI art is Not Real Art. I not only find this discussion unproductive, but also similarly dangerously prone to validating very reactionary ideas about The Nature Of Art that shouldn't really be entertained. Also it's a discussion rife with intellectual dishonesty and unevenly applied definition and standards.

When a lot of people present the argument of AI art not being art because the definition of art is this and that, they try to pretend that this is the definition of art the've always operated under and believed in, even when a lot of the time it's blatantly obvious that they're constructing their definition on the spot and deliberately trying to do so in such a way that it doesn't include AI art.

They never succeed at it, btw. I've seen several dozen different "AI art isn't art because art is [definition]". I've seen exactly zero of those where trying to seriously apply that definition in any context outside of trying to prove AI art isn't art doesn't end up in it accidentally excluding one or more non-AI artforms, usually reflecting the author's blindspots with regard to the different forms of artistic expression.

(However, this is moot because, again, these are rarely definitions that these people actually believe in or adhere to outside of trying to win "Is AI art real art?" discussions.)

Especially worrying when the definition they construct is built around stuff like Effort or Skill or Dedication or The Divine Human Spirit. You would not be happy about the kinds of art that have traditionally been excluded from Real Art using similar definitions.

Seriously when everyone was celebrating that the Catholic Church came out to say AI art isn't real art and sharing it as if it was validating and not Extremely Worrying that the arguments they'd been using against AI art sounded nearly identical to things TradCaths believe I was like. Well alright :T You can make all the "I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with a catholic" legolas and gimli memes you want, but it won't change the fact that the argument being made by the catholic church was a profoundly conservative one and nearly identical to arguments used to dismiss the artistic merit of certain forms of "degenerate" art and everyone was just uncritically sharing it, completely unconcerned with what kind of worldview they were lending validity to by sharing it.

Remember when the discourse about the Gay Sex cats pic was going on? One of the things I remember the most from that time was when someone went "Tell me a definition of art that excludes this picture without also excluding Fountain by Duchamp" and how just. Literally no one was able to do it. A LOT of people tried to argue some variation of "Well, Fountain is art and this image isn't because what turns fountain into art is Intent. Duchamp's choice to show a urinal at an art gallery as if it was art confers it an element of artistic intent that this image lacks" when like. Didn't by that same logic OP's choice to post the image on tumblr as if it was art also confer it artistic intent in the same way? Didn't that argument actually kinda end up accidentally validating the artistic status of every piece of AI art ever posted on social media? That moment it clicked for me that a lot of these definitions require applying certain concepts extremely selectively in order to make sense for the people using them.

A lot of people also try to argue it isn't Real Art based on the fact that most AI art is vapid but like. If being vapid definitionally excludes something from being art you're going to have to exclude a whooole lot of stuff along with it. AI art is vapid. A lot of art is too, I don't think this argument works either.

Like, look, I'm not really invested in trying to argue in favor of The Artistic Merits of AI art but I also find it extremely hard to ignore how trying to categorically define AI art as Not Real Art not only is unproductive but also requires either a) applying certain parts of your definition of art extremely selectively, b) constructing a definition of art so convoluted and full of weird caveats as to be functionally useless, or c) validating extremely reactionary conservative ideas about what Real Art is.

Some stray thoughts that don't fit any of the above sections.

I've occassionally seen people respond to AI art being used for shitposts like "A lot of people have affordable commissions, you could have paid someone like $30 to draw this for you instead of using the plagiarism algorithm and exploiting the work of real artists" and sorry but if you consider paying an artist a rate that amounts to like $5 for several hours of work a LESS exploitative alternative I think you've got something fucked up going on with your priorities.

Also it's kinda funny when people comment on the aforementioned shitposts with some variation of "see, the usage of AI art robs it of all humor because the thing that makes shitposts funny is when you consider the fact that someone would spend so much time and effort in something so stupid" because like. Yeah that is part of the humor SOMETIMES but also people share and laugh at low effort shitposts all the time. Again you're constructing a definition that you don't actually believe in anywhere outside of this type of conversations. Just say you don't like that it's AI art because you think it's morally wrong and stop being disingenuous.

So yeah, this is pretty much everything I believe about the topic.

I don't "defend" AI art, but my opposition to it is firmly rooted in my principles, and that means I refuse to uncritically accept any anti-AI art argument that goes against those same principles.

If you think not accepting and parroting every Anti-AI art argument I encounter because some of them are ideologically rooted in things I disagree with makes me indistinguishable from "AI techbros" you're working under a fucked up dichotomy.

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cressidagrey · 14 days ago

Text

It's a Love Story - Chapter 5

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

“Where’s Az?” Mor asked as Nesta and Cassian entered the dining room at the River House.

“Busy,” Cassian said with a shrug, as he pulled out the chair for his mate, greeting the rest of their family with a smile.

Mor cocked her head, a small frown appearing on her face. "Busy?" she repeated, a note of curiosity in her voice. "What's he up to?"

Busy. That had been Azriel’s answer to nearly everything after Koshei. Busy.

Even quieter than usual. Keeping away from all of them…and Cassian still heard that one sentence echo in his head. Better me than you. Like somehow Cassians life was worth more than Azriel’s.

Azriel was just being noble and self-sacrificing as usual, right? Cassian knew that his brother didn't really think that way, didn't really believe that his life was worth less than anyone else's. But still, the words haunted him. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, he had let Azriel down. That he hadn't been there when his brother had needed him the most.

Maybe he should have tried to talk to him...when it all went down… but then he hadn't realised what exactly was even going on, until Nesta had flatly laid it out for him one evening. Azriel had gotten over Mor only to fall in love with Elain...and that hadn't ended in his favour either.

Cassian grimaced just thinking about it. Azriel deserved to be happy. Azriel deserved a mate that loved him, a female that fucking adored him…and instead his brother had fallen not just for one, but two unavailable females.

And Azriel hadn’t complained. Not once. He had never let it show.

He always kept his emotions hidden under that stoic mask of his, like he was afraid of letting anyone see how much he was hurting. Cassian knew that Azriel would never ask for help, that he would never admit that he needed someone to talk to. But that didn't mean that he didn't need it.

Cassian just wished that he could find a way to get Azriel to open up, to let him in…that wouldn’t involve beating him to a bloody pulp.

Azriel acted like everything was fine. Azriel acted like he didn't care. Cassian knew that it was a mask, knew that it wasn't the truth...but Azriel liked to pretend it was...and maybe it was better to let him pretend.

It wasn't like he was hurting anybody with it, right? He was doing his work just as well as he always did...and if he wanted to spend his free time reading Sellyn Drake books, maybe they should just let him do that…maybe it made him feel better.

"Maybe he's seeing his secret girlfriend," Cassian drawled.

Mor snorted at that suggestion. "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "As if Azriel would ever have time for a girlfriend, let alone a secret one."

"You would be surprised," Cassian muttered under his breath. Apparently Azriel had time for reading Sellyn Drake novels while locked into his room, after all.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mor wondered. "He has been...distant lately," she said with a pout.

Cassian could only stare at her. Mor couldn't be serious right now, could she?

Of course, Azriel was distant to her. Mor had fucking broken his heart and trampled on it to top it off. And Cassian had helped her with through the years. He probably owed Azriel an apology for that as well.

And still, Azriel hadn’t complained. Azriel hadn’t called them out. Azriel had taken it silently. Had even congratulated Mor when her Mating Bond with Emerie had snapped. Had been painfully polite, making painfully sure that he didn’t cross any lines, didn’t make Emerie uncomfortable in any way.

"Just leave him be," Cassian said with a shrug. "He's reading Sellyn Drake novels, he'll be fine,” he waved her off.

Rhys nearly spit his wine over the table and instead started coughing violently. "Azriel is reading Sellyn Drake novels?!" he asked Cassian with an incredious stare.

"Apparently he has trust in Nesta's taste of literature," Cassian answered easily.

Mor raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Sellyn Drake novels?" she repeated, eyeing Cassian like he had gone mad. "Since when does Azriel read those kinds of books? He's not exactly the...romantic type."

Or maybe there just never had been a single person that had appreciated that side of his brother. Who knew what Azriel actually was into.

Elain and Mor weren’t similar in the slightest after all.

Cassian shrugged. "Maybe he's expanding his horizons," he said with a grin. "Or maybe he just wants to see what the fuss is all about. After all, Sellyn Drake is...surprisingly good. Or so I've heard, anyway." He gave a sidelong glance to Nesta, who simply rolled her eyes at him.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhys play absentmindedly with the stem of the wine glass. There was something there...between Rhys and Azriel that Cassian couldn't quite put his finger on. Some kind of tension...some kind of...something.

But lately, it had seemed like that tension had only been getting worse. Like they were both holding something back, like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop. Cassian couldn't help wondering what would happen when that tension finally snapped.

***

"Winnowing or flying?" Azriel asked Sky as they stepped out into the icy early winter air.

"I...I can't...fly?" Sky answered haltingly, looking at him with these devastating blue eyes. They were beautiful. Not a light blue, not a teal, not bordering on violet…just beautiful near cobalt blue. She probably would match his siphons, he reflected weakly.

"I'll fly, I'll carry you," he gave back with a chuckle. She stared at him like he was insane, her cheeks reddening.

"I...I...you...can...can't carry me. I am too...heavy," she mumbled. Now it was his turn to stare at her.

Azriel couldn't help but scoff at that. "Too heavy?" he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm an Illyrian warrior,” he told her drily. “I could carry a full-grown male into battle if I had to,and I have dragged full-grown males off the battlefield…I can carry you.”

Azriel couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Was she...was she seriously trying to tell him that she was too heavy for him to carry? She just so reached the middle of his chest! She definitely wasn't thin...her body was covered with soft flesh and lush curves, every inch of it soft and inviting...but even if she weighed twice her weight, he would easily be able to carry her. She would probably weigh next to nothing to him.

And yet, he could sense the insecurity in her voice, the way she didn't quite believe that he could carry her.

He stepped closer to her, placing his hand gently under her chin and tilting her head up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "You are beautiful," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. "And I don't care how much you weigh, I can carry you. I want to carry you. Because you are mine and I will always protect you, no matter what."

Her breath hitched at that, and he could see the warmth spreading through her cheeks as her heart began to race. She looked up at him with those stunning blue eyes of hers, her lips parted slightly in surprise and wonder. "You...you really mean that?" she whispered, her voice soft and shaky. "You...you don't mind how big I am?"

Azriel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, sweetheart, I don't mind," he said gently. "I think you are absolutely perfect just the way you are. And if I have to carry you to prove it, then that is what I will do." And without another word, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as easily.

She squeaked as they shot up in the sky and then she laughed, the sound bright and beautiful

They soared through the sky together, the wind blowing through their hair and clothes as they flew. The City of Starlight sprawled out beneath them, a beautiful tapestry of color and light. Azriel held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with his own. He knew that he could never tire of this feeling, of having her in his arms like this.

Sky looked up at him with a smile, her eyes shining with happiness and excitement. "I love this," she breathed.

How very fitting it was for the female that called herself Sky to love flying.

"Good," Azriel said softly, his voice full of warmth. "Because we can do this anytime you want, sweetheart."

They soared higher and higher, until the city below them was nothing but a sparkling sea of lights. Azriel was in his element up here, his wings powerful and graceful as they sliced through the air. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, the cold night air stinging his skin. But he didn't mind, not with her in his arms. In fact, he felt more alive than he had in months. Years, even.

He flew a loping circle over Velaris, towards the Lake House the shadows had purchased and he thanked them mentally for their foresight. He couldn't very well bring Sky home to the House of Wind...but here...he could take her. It was private and safe...and if the expression of her face was anything to go by, she loved it.

He angled his body towards the Lake House, gliding towards it with expert precision. As they approached, Azriel saw the soft glow of the lights in the windows, the gentle sway of the curtains in the breeze. The lake glittered in the moonlight, the surface of the water undisturbed and serene. It was the perfect place to bring her, a place that he felt she would love just as much as he did.

"You live here?" she wondered, wonder in her voice as she took in the sight.

Azriel felt a warm swell of pride in his chest as he landed smoothly on the deck of the house. "Yes," he said simply, his eyes fixed on her face, watching as she marveled at the house. "I wanted a private place," he admitted. "Somewhere quiet and peaceful, where I could escape from the chaos of my life for a little while.I haven't been there long though, it’s still a work in progress…" he warned her. More like 2 hours before he had met her. "But I love it."

He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he stepped back. "Come on," he said softly, holding out his hand to her. "Let me show you inside."

The shadows skittered inside as soon as he opened the door, like a bunch of little busybodies, rightening the curtains there, fluffing pillows on the couch...It seemed to amuse Sky though. "You must ne...never have to deal with a mes...messy kitchen," she teased him

Azriel chuckled at that. "No, the shadows don't like when things are out of place,” he admitted.

It wasn't a lie. But then he didn't like it either.

Like a moth pulled to the flame, Sky was pulled towards his bookcases, fingertips tripping over the spines as she hungrily read the titles.

Azriel suddenly hoped that the shadows had put something other than Sellyn Drake novels in the bookcase, because otherwise he was going to look like a fucking stalker.

He watched with a mix of amusement and apprehension as she examined the bookshelves, his heart pounding in his chest. *Please,* he silently pleaded to the shadows, *please tell me you didn't leave those Sellyn Drake novels on the shelf.* Because if she saw those, it would be disastrous.

The shadows seemed weirdly frozen in place.

"You read Sel...Sellyn Drake?" Sky asked him, sounding delighted and shocked at the same time.

Azriel groaned inwardly, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. "I...yes, I do," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I...There is...I...I need to tell you something."

"Te...Tell me som...something?" Sky asked, turning towards him, these big beautiful eyes staring at him.

"I...It wasn't a coincidence that I was in that bar tonight," he told her, watching as she stared at him. "The shadows told me to go."

"The...The shad...shadows?" she asked him, looking utterly shocked.

"I...I told them...a few weeks ago...to...find me somebody that....that I could love...somebody that I could make happy. A wife," Azriel admitted. "You were the one they picked."

She stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. Azriel braced himself for her reaction, not sure what to expect. Would she be angry? Scandalized? Horrified that he had sent his shadows to find him a wife?

She stared at him wide-eyed. "You...You as…asked yo…your sha..shadows to fi…find you a wi…wife?!" she asked him, repeating his words back at him.

He could feel his cheeks reddening but nodded nonetheless. "...are you angry?" he asked her weakly.

Sky stared at him for a moment, but then she shook her head. "No, No...no, I'm not," she repeated again, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm...I'm flat…flattered, actually...Though...though I am cu..curious what it…what it was about me that...made…made them pick me," she admitted.

For the first time in his life, his shadows talked to somebody other than Azriel. *We thought you would treat Master like you treat your cat,* the shadows told her brightly.

She blinked at the bunch of shadows that had gathered in front of her.

"You...You...You want me to...treat Az..Azriel like...like a cat?" she asked them incrediously.

Azriel spluttered, his cheeks burning with mortification. He hadn't expected the shadows to be so blunt, and the idea of her treating him like a cat was...well, it was absurd, to say the least. He wanted her to be his mate, his equal, not to treat him as if he were some kind of pet.

"No, no," he quickly interjected, trying to salvage the situation. "They...they don't mean it like that, Sky. The shadows have their own...unique way of looking at things. Please just...just forget they ever said that."

Sky fixed him with a look. "What do you mean?" she asked the shadows.

*You love your cat,* the shadows said quickly. *You buy him ridiculous overpriced Tuna, and you let him sleep in your bed and you scratch him behind the ears. You even knitted him a sweater!*

Azriel winced, feeling his embarrassment and mortification rising even further.

"That...thats not important," he mumbled, feeling like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting from embarrassment. "The shadows...they have a habit of exaggerating things. Just...please, don't take them too seriously. I'm not expecting you to treat me like a cat, I swear."

Sky looked at him, then at the Shadows, then at Azriel again. She seemed to be lost in thought, clearly trying to decipher what the shadows meant.

"You..You want your mas…master to be tre…treated...well?" Sky finally asked the shadows, her tone of voice serious. "You pick…picked me because I...be..because I was nice to my cat?" she asked them curiously.

*You are so kind,* the shadows said softly. And so pretty. And we knew you would treat Master well and wouldn't judge him.*

Sky blushed at the compliment.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as the conversation shifted away from the whole "cat" thing. He had to admit, the shadows were right. Sky had been nothing but kind and considerate towards him since they met, and he was grateful for that. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

"Look...I apologize for the shadows' behavior," he said to Sky, his voice soft. "They can be a bit...blunt, sometimes."

"I…I un…understand where they are com…coming from," she said nearly thoughtfully. "They just...want to see you hap…happy?" she said carefully and he nodded.

"Yes."

"Though they…they don't seem to have much of a sense of boun…boundaries," Sky said with a laugh. "You hid in my apartment didn't you?" she asked the shadows.

Azriel cringed as the shadows seemed to twirl in agreement. He had hoped that particular detail would have gone unnoticed, but he should have known better. Sky was too observant for her own good.

"Yes, they did," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry about that. They...they have a tendency to go where they please."

Sky still mustered the shadows that were twitching in front of her

"I…I prom…promise to t…treat your ma…master well." Sky said seriously. "He's my mate."

Azriel felt his heart skip a beat at her words. The sound of that word coming from her lips made his knees weak.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and taking her hands in his. "And I promise to treat you well too," he swore fervently.

"And I'll…I’ll even knit him a swea…sweater," Sky continued, looking at the shadows.. "I…I don't know if he likes Tu…tuna, but I'll…buy him some… sweets."

He couldn’t help but laugh at her words, feeling a surge of affection for her that was almost overwhelming. "Sky," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to do any of that for me. Just being with you is more than I could ever ask for.But...if you are willing to knit me a sweater, I surely won't say no to it," he added with a laugh. "And maybe you could try scratching me behind the ears too, just in case the shadows are right."

He meant it as a joke, but there was a part of him that was secretly delighted by the idea of her spoiling and doting on him. Maybe, just maybe, the shadows were onto something after all.

"And...who knows, maybe I'll develop a taste for Tuna," he added, grinning playfully. "As long as it's the fancy kind, that is."

He kissed her forehead gently, holding her close for a moment longer before finally pulling away. "But Sky…you don’t have to do all of that…Just being with you is enough."

She smiled up at him, beautiful and blinding and he couldn't help but kiss her.

As his lips met hers, Azriel felt a wave of warmth and tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the shadows, not the world outside, nothing but her.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

"You…You can absolutely sleep in my bed with me," she whispered. "Or I'll sleep in yours," she offered, a grin on her face... and that was all he needed to hear, as he picked her up again.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #It's a Love Story

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cho-aaacho · 9 months ago

Text

Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.

Gojo Satoru

He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.

However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.

What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.

You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.

That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.

He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was.

"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."

You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.

This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.

"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."

Geto Suguru

At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.

However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.

And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"

and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."

also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."

It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.

That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.

He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"

He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"

He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."

Nanami Kento

A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial.

He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.

No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man.

However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you.

Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."

and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"

From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.

Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him.

He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them.

And that man is not me.

"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you."

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence.

When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.

He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.

He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.

His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.

It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?

You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.

Yet, Megumi is Megumi.

"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."

Choso

Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes.

He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.

However...

It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head.

Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.

The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic.

How could God put love in his heart?

He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun.

But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?

"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #choso x reader #choso x you #choso jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

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neil-gaiman · 11 months ago

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Hello Mr Neil Gaiman, I write to say you have ruined me; again. Four times in my life I have been utterly and hopelessly rotted and ruined and consumed by your work. First was when I was 4 and first watched Coraline, I didn't even know who you were and couldn't conceive it either way back then; but I remember watching the movie so much until the disc scratched, and making my mum buy me a coraline doll and lalaloopsy dolls that reminded me of it. Then when I was 12, when season one of good omens came out, and I immediately found out it was a book (WHAT?? IT'S A BOOK?? I NEED TO READ IT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-)(I read it), and it was all I could find myself speaking about for months. This year when season 2 came out, I was absolutely heartbroken, and this altered my brain in a way I had never even dreamed possible; everything clicked that the common denominator in making me go insane was *you*, so I followed you on tumblr and everywhere I could and I made it my life's mission to read more of your books. First, as soon as I could, I read The Neil Gaiman Reader in two days and it was SO GOOD (and returned it to the library as soon as I finished), and I knew instantly I had to get The Ocean At The End Of The Lane. Only trouble is, where I live has basically no books, of anyone's, ever, so I searched probably five different bookshops until I found it and I immediately got it. I wasn't allowed to read it till Christmas though. Then Christmas day came, the day I had hyped up in my head for so long, simply because I got to read this book, so in one sitting on Christmas, I read the ocean at the end of the lane. I think I have found a new obsession to occupy my brain. How do you write all of these things? How do you inspire these feelings? I feel like you have a kind of magic to you. I have spent basically the whole day since googling everything I can about this novel (and hoping, wishing and praying that the play will return and come to Western Australia some day), but now I have the VERY URGENT request of answering my questions please please please pretty please. 1) What are some things you wish people knew about The Ocean At The End Of The Lane that they don't know already? 2)What are questions that you want people to ask about it, but haven't yet? 3) Where did you get all of the magic and emotion and EVERYTHING encapsulated those pages? - Yours sincerely, an extremely obsessed high school senior.

Dear E.O.H.S.S.

I'm really happy it had that effect on you. Now we both have to hope that the National Theatre adaptation of The Ocean at the End of the Lane gets revived and makes it to Australia, because most of your questions are sort of answered in the play.

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pin-k-ink · 4 months ago

Text

precious // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ hoshina being an overprotective hubby, mentions of complications during childbirth, mentions of injuries, unplanned pregnancy, lactation kink, nipple play, fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, semi public sex, squirting

wc ⇢ 6.8k

Your breath hitched in your throat as Hoshina crowded you against the bedroom door, his powerful frame bracketing you in with sinewy arms planted on either side of your head in an inescapable cage.

"Ya sure about this, baby girl?" he rasped, leaning down to ghost his lips across the thundering pulse at your throat. "Goin' back out into the field so soon after..."

He trailed off, throat bobbing with a convulsive swallow as he fought to keep the emotions off his face. You knew what he struggled not to voice - the reminder that it had been barely over a year since your last combat deployment...when you spent those endless, agonizing hours birthing his child in the medical ward.

Raising one hand, you traced the hard line of Hoshina’s jaw until he finally tilted his stare back to meet yours fully. The look of naked worry shining through those indigo depths made your chest constrict sharply. This was the man who had nearly torn the entire base apart searching for you that fateful night, convinced something catastrophic had unfolded after the readings from your suit went haywire.

Only to find you safely secured behind lockdown, laboring to bring his daughter into the world despite the field medics' best efforts to whisk you away at the first sign of complication. You still remembered the haunted awe etched across Hoshina’s chiseled features when he finally burst through, coated in sand and viscera but somehow the most beautiful sight you'd ever laid eyes on.

With Setsuko bundled in one arm, he had dropped to his knees at your bedside and gathered you both against his heaving chest in a rib-creaking embrace, lips mapping every inch of exposed skin between ragged apologies and feverish gratitude. As if you were both incredibly precious gemstones he'd nearly lost to the relentless hunger of this world's darkness before reclaiming at the last possible second.

You would never forget that moment as long as you lived - the reminder of just how easy it could all be snatched away in the blink of an eye. Which was precisely why you were so adamant about cutting the suffocating, overprotective tethers Hoshina had woven around you both in the aftermath and reclaiming your duties as a combat officer.

"Soshiro..." you murmured, palming his cheek firmly to hold his gaze as your other hand drifted down to press over the soft plane of your abdomen. "My body is healed, and Setsu is thriving. You can't keep us locked away forever out of some misguided sense of duty."

A muscle ticked in Hoshina’s jaw, the stark truth of your words resonating through that stubborn cavern of protective instincts still screaming to shield his family at any cost. You could practically see the battle raging across his features as he grappled with acknowledging your self-determination versus the compulsive need to snap you both back behind reinforced barriers until the end of days if he had his way.

"I almost lost ya," he gritted out at last, the hushed rasp of anguish bleeding through more vulnerability than Hoshina would ever dare allow any soul besides you to witness. "Sittin' there helpless while yer vital signs went haywire, wonderin' if I'd get to hold ya one last time before—"

You cut off the words with a decisive shake of your head, fingers slanting across his lips to halt the destructive path he would undoubtedly travel down given half the chance. "But you didn't lose me," you stated with steely certainty. "And I'll be damned if you or anyone else tries to treat me like a porcelain doll now that—"

"I don't think ya understand exactly what that night did to me," Hoshina interjected, a sudden ferocity burning behind his eyes as he trapped your wrist with one massive hand.

In the same motion, he hauled you flush against the rigid wall of his chest, tangling his free hand into your hair to cant your head back at an angle that bared your throat completely to his roving stare. You couldn't help the trembling full-body shudder that rippled through you as he leaned down to brush parted lips across your overheated skin.

"Do you have any idea how close ya came to bleedin' out 'fore I got there?" he rumbled against your thundering pulse in a tone made of smoke and sin. "What seein' ya like that, hearing the panic in the medics' voices about 'fadin' vitals' and possible hemor—"

His words fractured into a raw, wounded keen stifled against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wove your hands through his soft ink-dark locks, cradling him close as the powerful frame you adored more than life itself trembled with the force of his anguished recollections for several drawn-out beats.

When Hoshina finally regained some semblance of his renowned composure, you felt an undisguised press of wetness smear across your scorching skin. He drew back just enough to bore straight into your eyes, his own glassy and ringed with reddened fatigue no amount of bluster could fully mask.

"Ya don't get it, [Y/N]..." Hoshina growled in a wrecked rasp that seemed torn from the very depths of his psyche. "In that moment, there was nothin' - not the kaijiu threat, not the entire fuckin' war...not a damn thing that could have stopped me from slaughterin' anyone or anything to reach yer side when—"

His throat convulsed sharply as he visibly wrestled the rest of his confession into viselike submission. When he continued, it was in a lower, rawer octave that sent tingles of primal awareness skittering across your nerves.

"You and Setsuko are my entire universe, baby girl. My reason to keep endurin' this hell and clawin' my way back home to you both time after time. So you'll damn well forgive me for doing everythin' possible to keep my precious treasures safe and untarnished..."

With that, Hoshina yanked you forward again until you were once more plastered flush against that furnace of sinewy power and virile strength. This time he buried his face against the fragrant spill of your hair, drawing in heady lungfuls of your familiar scent as if drowning.

"I'm not ready to lose ya, sweetheart..." he rasped in a desperate, muffled whisper. "Even if it pisses ya off, even if ya hate me for it...I'll still do everythin' in my power to keep ya both sheltered from harm. It's the only way I can keep breathin'."

The raw agony and stark vulnerability driving those hushed words lanced straight through you. Without hesitation, you curved your arms around Hoshina’s torso in a grounding embrace and nuzzled your face against his heaving chest. Beneath your cheek you could feel the jackhammer cadence of his heart pounding, the visceral echo of just how profoundly this entire situation had shaken his foundations.

For long stretches, you simply swayed in concert while murmuring wordless reassurances and nonsense endearments into the charged stillness. The lulling rise and fall of your joined bodies gradually lulled Hoshina back from whatever haunted precipice his mind had been teetering over.

At last you felt the rigid tension slowly begin to unspool from his corded muscles, the fractures of his trademark ease and command settling back into place like tectonic faultlines. Hoshina let out a quavering sigh, warm breath stirring the fine hairs along your nape just before his lips found your crown in a lingering caress.

"I know," he rumbled at last, hoarse rasp reverberated against your sensitive whorls. "Pretty big fuckin' ask for a hardass like me to just rip those protective shackles off so easily."

You couldn't help the helpless little giggle that slipped free at his self-deprecating gruffness. Tilting your head back, you slanted your mouth across Hoshina’s in a deep, searching kiss that quickly stole both your breaths in its heated wake.

When you finally resurfaced, it was to find his indigo irises hooded to thin slivers of banked intensity - black fire flickering hungrily beneath those fanned lashes as he drank in your glazed expression and slick, swollen lips.

"Just promise me one thing, baby girl..." Hoshiro practically purred in a deliciously sinful cadence far removed from the impassioned pleas just moments ago. His tongue swept out to capture the tang of your lipgloss with delicate, purposeful relish. "Keep yer proximity protocols limited to long range fire support and recon sweeps only. I get even a whisper ya tried pulling some heroine bullshit out on the front lines..."

His grip on your jaw tightened fractionally, fingertips imprinting delicious brands of possession that made you squirm with visceral awareness. "And I'll make absolutely certain ya spend our next reunion face down and ass up over my knee. Understood?"

You could only whimper a breathless, mewling assent that seemed to stroke those banked flames behind Hoshina’s eyes into twin pillars of searing azure.

"Good girl..." he growled in blatant satisfaction before slanting his mouth over yours once more, all silken heat and scorching dominance.

Hoshina’s deep, rumbling laughter echoed through the spacious nursery as he tickled Setsuko's tummy, drinking in her tinkling peals of delight. The simple act of playing with his precious daughter was one of the few reprieves that could completely untether him from the relentless shadows of combat for however brief the respite.

"Again, Daddy! More tickles!" she squealed breathlessly between giggles, violet eyes sparking with unrestrained mirth.

Unable to resist those imploring looks - so reminiscent of her mother's own persuasive stares - Hoshina obliged with another flurry of gentle raspberries blown against Setsuko's downy soft skin. Her chubby features scrunched up in fresh mirth, tiny fists swatting at him playfully as she squirmed in his lap.

For those fleeting moments, the rest of the war-torn world beyond these secure walls faded into blessed white noise. There was only the simplicity of his baby girl's joy, her infectious laughter coaxing matching rumbles of contentment from Hoshina’s depths. A reprieve from the endless grind of violence and ugliness he willingly shouldered to safeguard these infinitely precious moments.

As Setsuko finally began winding down to breathless hiccups and intermittent giggles, Hoshina felt his attention drifting despite his best efforts. Suddenly his mind began replaying those last images of you suiting up for deployment earlier. The way your suit had molded to every lush, feminine curve like a second skin, practically searing the outlines of your form into his mind.

He remembered the intoxicating scent of your floral shampoo caressing his senses as you passed by for final munitions check. How your fingers had trailed along the chiseled ridges of his arm and shoulder in an unconscious caress, sending tendrils of scorching need licking through his veins. Most of all, Hoshina recollected the look of quiet determination blazing behind those luminous irises - the promise that you would indeed uphold his conditions out in the field this time.

With some difficulty, he managed to wrestle his thoughts back to the present as Setsuko twisted in his embrace, nosing insistently at the window. "Daddy, look! Trucks coming! Mommy's home now?"

Her words lanced straight through the heated reverie clouding Hoshina’s consciousness like a splash of ice water. Immediately, every paternal instinct snapped into laserlike vigil, gaze narrowing at the unmistakable rumble of armored transports entering the compound.

Carefully, he untangled Setsuko from his lap and rose in a single smooth motion to cross the nursery. "C'mon, kiddo, let's get ya settled with Miss Tomi again for a bit, 'kay? I'll bring Mommy up to say goodnight once she's finished her debrief."

It was only after ensuring his daughter was transferred into her caretaker's custody that Hoshina allowed his brisk strides to eat up the hallway distances towards the arrival hangar. Despite his lingering reservations and misgivings, you were still a consummate soldier and enforcer of duty. Which meant protocol dictated you would report directly to Captain Ashiro upon returning rather than seeking him out first.

As expected, the residential wing corridors were vacant, nothing but the baseline echoes of the facility's equipment and climate control systems. No sign of you just yet, likely still undergoing post-mission triage and data offloading. With a grunt, Hoshina altered course towards the Operation Room where he was certain to find you eventually.

Sure enough, as the familiar open atrium came into view, Hoshiro picked up the unmistakable form of Okonogi already stationed by the monitor. She seemed...twitchy, if the constant fidgeting and shifting of her weight was any indication. More than once, her gaze flicked nervously towards the double-wide access doors as another incoming group filtered inside, only to snap back with clear avoidance when she spotted Hoshina’s looming silhouette.

Curiosity rapidly morphing into heightened suspicion, Hoshina angled his approach to intercept the young operations leader before she could make any hasty retreats. "Okonogi-chan," he said in greeting as she started guiltily. "Everythin' okay?"

Her cheeks flushed an even darker umber shade as she swallowed hard, clearly striving to regain some composure under Hoshina’s hard stare. "V-Vice Captain Hoshina! I was just, um, waiting for the debriefing t-to...that is, I mean..."

Trailing off pathetically, Okonogi shot one more wild-eyed glance over her shoulder, as if praying another distraction might materialize to spirit her away from this interrogation. No such salvation came, however, so she slumped with a tiny sigh before pivoting to fully face him.

"The truth is...Platoon Leader [L/N]— uh, Hoshina experienced a medical incident during today's mission," she managed to rasp out without quite meeting Hoshina’s gaze squarely. "She...collapsed in the middle of the kaiju engagement before her platoon could neutralize the threat."

For one suspended beat, all the ambient systems noise and distant voices faded into hollow static around Hoshina’s consciousness. Then a roaring, lancing pressure began expanding inside his skull as the implications took root and sprouted into a torrent of nightmare visions.

You collapsing amidst rubble and viscera, camera feed whiting out with nothing but bursts of interference...hissing emergency channels shouting about unstable vitals and internal hemorrhaging...the empty, agonizing silence that would follow if he lost the other half of his reason for living...

By the time Hoshina regained control over his body and lungs, Okonogi had already instinctively staggered back several paces with eyes widened in trepidation. Whether it was the rictus glare he leveled in her direction or the barely sublimated snarl reverberated through his chest, she clearly realized just how deeply the news gored his core.

"What. Happened," he grated out in a tone made of jagged obsidian and gritted glass. Each syllable seemed to flay away another shred of Okonogi's composure, leaving her bobbing in visible terror under his stormy scrutiny.

"She—she didn't sustain any injuries as far as the readings from her suit indicate," the girl managed in a breathless tumble of words, eyes still averted deferentially. "Platoon Leader Hoshina's condition was stabilized en route, and she regained consciousness before the transport returned to—"

A dismissive snarl ripped free from Hoshina’s chest before he realized it, sending Okonogi physically flinching with a whimper. He didn't have the patience or wherewithal to deconstruct her clinical details - not with a million shrieking demons howling in his mind all painting the same chilling canvas.

You lying motionless and bloodied, skin waxen beneath your combat suit...those vibrant eyes dimmed to soulless pits staring back at him in vacant accusation. All because he allowed himself to indulge your foolish, self-destructive whims by easing his protection despite every primal instinct lighting up like solar flares.

Barely cognizant of his actions, Hoshina pivoted sharply and began stalking towards the medbay with ground-eating strides. He needed to see you whole and breathing with his own two eyes, hear your voice lance through the maelstrom of torment roiling through his thoughts. Nothing else would ever be enough to exorcise the demons until he could physically inhere every detail to memory once more.

"V-Vice Captain!" Okonogi called out faintly behind him, voice wavering between obligation and self-preservation. "I have to insist you wait until Captain—"

"I don't take orders from you," Hoshina snarled over his shoulder without breaking stride, every fiber of his being now a missile locked onto its solitary target.

Finding you, holding you, ensuring your wellbeing with his own senses...this was the only imperative that registered anymore. If anyone tried barring his path, they would simply become another obstacle to be neutralized without mercy or hesitation.

With the medical ward’s towering threshold now looming ahead, Hoshina braced inwardly for whatever maelstrom of emotions awaited him just beyond that point. Either he was about to eclipse into divine rapture at finding you still whole and resilient in defiance of the odds...

Or he was descending irrevocably into a personal hell from which there could be no climbing back this time.

Hoshina burst through the medical wing's reinforced hatches like a vengeful hurricane unleashed. Several staffers in white lab coats startled and backpedaled at his sudden, explosive arrival, eyes widening at the thunderous expression twisting his features.

"Where is she? My wife! Platoon Leader Hoshina. Where is she?!" he snarled without preamble, stalking further into the sterile chamber with forearms already coiled for confrontation. "If any of ya valued yer lives, you'd tell me where—"

The venomous threat fractured in the back of his throat as a familiar, melodious giggle drifted through the air - your giggle, distinct and infinitely precious. Hoshina’s chest seized with such force he nearly staggered, every previous thought and raging instinct funneling to that single point where the gentle peal had originated from.

Whipping his head around with near-violent intensity, his gaze finally locked upon your form seated atop one of the beds. You were framed in profile, backlit by the crisp fluorescents and laughing at something the attending medic hovered beside you had said. To Hoshina, you may as well have been haloed by celestial radiance itself.

Before conscious thought could fully reassert itself, his legs were already carryining him forward in a smooth, prowling gait - a wolf homing in on the mate it had scented from miles away. He reached your side just as your giggles tapered off into sporadic chuckles, mouth still curved in that radiant smile he had convinced himself mere moments ago may never grace his world again.

Then you noticed his presence at your side, eyes widening fractionally before crinkling at the corners as a fresh smile bloomed across your features. "Well hey there, big—oof!"

The attempted greeting dissolved into a breathless exhalation as Hoshina enveloped you in his arms, crushing your frame against his chest so tightly it stole all remaining oxygen. Not that he could bring himself to loosen his grip in the slightest at feeling your solid warmth, the unrelenting cadence of your heartbeat thumping against his sternum in vivid tandem with his own thundering pulses.

"Idiot..." he rasped out in a devastated keen muffled against the crown of your head, throat convulsing with stifled emotion. Emotion that thrashed and roiled within like a snarling tempest barely bound, demanding cathartic release in any way he could physically pour himself into you. "You beautiful, infuriatin', ridiculous idiot..."

He could feel the perplexed quirk of your brow against the fevered skin of his neck as you craned your head back slightly, attempting to put distance between you so he could drink in the full force of your searching stare. Hoshina didn't allow it - couldn't bear the thought of a single inch separating your bodies even for an instant after nearly being rent asunder by loss.

So instead, he gathered you even closer into the protective, unyielding circle of his embrace with a minute adjustment, until you were practically molded into the solid ridges and hard planes of his body down to the last degree. With his nose buried in your fragrant hair, Hoshina simply stood there quaking for several agonizing moments, drinking in every infinitesimal detail like a dying man gulping at a desert oasis while he could.

Until finally you stirred again and his name emerged in that soothing alto lullaby he adored, now ribboned through layers of fond exasperation and confusion. "Shiro...? Hey now, I'm alright, see? No need for my big bad soldier to fly off the handle on some poor doc who was only—"

You broke off into a muffled squeak as Hoshina abruptly yanked you even tighter, until the bones in your ribcage creaked ominously under the colossal forces binding you to him. "Shut up," he growled in a voice made of smoke, gravel, and something deeper...something fracturing along the hairline faultlines of his legendary restraint with each fresh recollection. "Just shut yer perfect mouth for one goddamn minute and let me..."

The gruff demand trailed off into stark silence as the white-knuckled intensity gripping Hoshina momentarily stole even his ability to verbalize his most primal needs. You seemed to sense the magnitude of his internal tides, though. Because rather than bristle at the brusque order, you simply relaxed your tense posture by increments and nestled closer into his sheltering bulk.

Long minutes were spent with you both swaying in minute shifts, simply existing within the shared space of respiration and mollified thunders slowing echoing against the medical pod's walls. Hoshina drowned in the familiar bouquet of your shampoo and bodily effluvium, savoring the unmistakable evidence that you were indeed whole, present, and gloriously undamaged in his embrace.

If you thought the way he had gathered you close before was intense, it was nothing compared to the scorching brand that ignited and seared straight through your core as he slanted his mouth over yours in a profound claim. Hoshina’s kiss was branded possession, smelted forges of banked heat contained behind that carefully metered exterior he always presented finally detonating in savage release.

Stars spun dizzily in your vision as his tongue swept past the seam of your lips in ferocious demand, pillaging everything in its path. Just as you were teetering towards delirium from the frenzied onslaught, feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal begin pooling between your thighs, a pointed ‘ahem’ broke the tension.

You both broke apart with audible gasps, Hoshina’s grip somehow tightening even further around your waist in a clear warning not to allow any space to linger. Together you pivoted towards the interruption to find one of the senior medics surveying you both in exasperated resignation. The woman's no-nonsense demeanor and arched brow brokered no argument as her mouth opened to deliver the verdict.

"Apologies for the, ah...delay , but I wanted to ensure we had a finalized diagnosis before debriefing Platoon Leader Hoshina's status," she intoned with a degree of deference that only applied to Hoshina’s rank rather than his outburst just moments ago.

The Vice Captain inclined his head a bare fraction, silently prompting the medic to continue now that she had his undivided focus. With another clipped sigh, she tapped her pen against data-tablet once before she held it out for the both of you.

You immediately recognized the anatomical schematic as your own physiology. And there, nestled and highlighted in diffusing aurora refractions...

You felt the breath stall in your lungs as you took in the undeniable second life signature nestled in pulsating tandem with your own heartbeat. Beside you, you sensed more than saw Hoshina go utterly motionless with the sole exception of his jugular hammering with steadily mounting intensity.

"It appears Platoon Leader Hoshina's loss of consciousness was induced by a combination of factors typical for approximately 8-12 week human gestation," the medic stated in clipped, clinical tones. "Increased hormone production, depleted plasma levels, intermittent vascular compliance...all of which manifested rather acutely while exerting continual strain."

She turned the anatomical display to reveal a progression of imaging scans highlighting your uterine area. Sure enough, cradled within the diffusing nebulae and heat-maps...an unmistakable fetal form beginning to take shape.

"Essentially, your physical ordeal seems to have triggered an extreme response which resulted in your body's rather dramatic effort to preserve the prenatal incubation environment amidst perceived duress conditions. A natural biological adaptation, if highly disruptive in this particular instance."

The explanation filtered only peripherally through the twin shock waves engulfing your reeling psyche. All you could see was the tiny, unmistakable shape huddled securely within those layers as if in silent defiance of your ignorance.

Pregnant. You were pregnant...with Hoshina’s child all over again.

Unconsciously, you felt your hand drifting towards the suddenly fraught terrain of your lower abdomen, fingers splaying over the subtle yet taut swell with quiet reverence. How had you missed something so monumentally life-altering? Beside you, Hoshina remained eerily statue-still save for the ragged hurricane of his breathing steadily intensifying until it thundered from his flared nostrils like a war drum cadence.

Then, without preamble or warning, your entire world shifted on its axis once more as he scooped you up crushingly close in a bizarre echo of his initial greeting. This time, however, there was none of the wild mania or single-minded desperation motivating his motions. Only a sort of quiet and profoundly stunned devotion rendering his powerful form inert as his broad palms mapped the slight swell of your abdomen almost reverently.

"Soshiro..." you breathed out around a throat thickened with emotion too visceral to articulate. "Are you...?"

"Hush now, pretty girl..." his words were a rolling rumble of molten gravel, smoky with naked awe. "No more talkin', not until yer husband has had his moment, yeah?"

With that gentle reverence, Hoshina tilted his brow against yours and simply...existed in rapt communion with the newly revealed secret you now cradled between your parallel stances. No protocols, no urgencies or crises beyond this singular miracle holding the whole of his universe in rapturous thrall.

Just he and you...plus the most precious addition of all.

Hoshina kept you cradled against his powerfully muscled frame even as he strode out of the medbay, one arm banded securely beneath your knees while the other splayed possessively above the brand-new swell of your abdomen. You watched the myriad expressions flicker across his chiseled features - naked awe, blazing possession, softening to tender reverence at each minuscule caress against the taut feminine swell...

"Should we go get Setsu?" you murmured at one point, already imagining the delight that would spark your daughter's face upon learning of her imminent promotion to big sisterhood. "I know she'll be thrilled to—"

"Already taken care of, baby girl," Hoshina interjected in a low, rumbling rasp without breaking stride. His indigo stare remained transfixed upon your midsection as if hypnotized. "Soon as I heard the news, my first call was ensurin' our girl would be looked after through the night."

You opened your mouth to question his meaning, only to go slack-jawed as realization sank in with molten intensity. ‘Through the night?’ Did Hoshina actually intend to...

The answering heat blazing in those indigo depths as he drank in your dawning comprehension was enough to scorch away any lingering doubts. You felt your breath hitch sharply, entire body flushing hot beneath Hoshina’s scorching stare. Suddenly you were arousingly, viscerally aware of the slight stretching heaviness confined beneath your taut bodysuit - your breasts tingling with new sensitivity, the unmistakable proof of life blossoming inside weighing you down with the most intoxicating sense of feminine appeal.

A flicker of Hoshina’s tongue swiping across his lower lip made your newly hypersensitive nerves throb in yearning. You squirmed instinctively against his embrace, thighs clenching in an unconscious attempt to alleviate the steadily mounting ache already pulsing in delirious demand between them.

Without needing to be prompted further, Hoshina sank into an easy crouch and deposited you on the nearest flat surface - a long, reinforced table usually reserved for tactical planning and readiness evaluation. The cool, sterile metal beneath your back made you gasp, suddenly arousal-ripened nipples peaking against the thin material in helpless reaction. But any feeble protests withered on your tongue as Hoshina’s calloused hands began roaming with unhurried, passionate focus every lush new curve and dimpled expanse his heated stare hungrily mapped out.

"Look how utterly sexy you've already gotten carryin' my child..." he rasped in a voice gone gravel-rough and honeyed with undisguised sin. One palm drifted up to knead and caress the generous swell of your breasts in tactile rapture. "So damn soft and absolutely made for givin' life..."

Despite the scorching frisson of need steadily mounting throughout your core, you somehow found the presence of mind to mouth a half-hearted objection. "Sh-Shiro, the door...we shouldn't—"

"Shh, shh...let me take care of my sweet girl," he husked out in that deep, resonant timbre that liquefied your bones. With his free hand splaying burning possession across your lower belly, Hoshina dipped his mouth to trail open, openmouthed kisses down the long elegant column of your throat. "Wouldn't want to waste a single second now that I've got ya all wet and riled up..."

His voice dropped into an octave of pure sin on that last word, every syllable seeming to lash synapses into feverish overdrive. You whimpered at the brand of his teeth scoring your thundering pulse, back arching instinctively into the delicious friction building between your bodies.

Not needing further encouragement, Hoshina set about divesting you of every last stitch of material separating his roving mouth and ravenous gaze from the delicious new swell of your figure. Within moments you were splayed in nude abandon, quivering with arousal and utterly hypnotized by the look of naked hunger blazing from his features.

"That's my good girl..." he purred in molten gravel against the hollow of your collarbone, free hand smoothing possessive claim down the newly defined curve of your hips and thighs. "Just lay back and let Daddy take his fill of this gorgeous little body...been far too long since I got to taste yer milk…or anythin' else for that matter."

The way his tongue slicked out to trace your areola in teasing, featherlight circles sent your brain into a tailspin. All thoughts of protest or resistance disintegrated into molten, visceral need. Especially as his mouth latched around your aching nipple and began suckling in languid, thorough draws, tongue flicking the straining peak in rhythmic pulses.

It was as if a floodgate of sensation had been unlocked by the sheer intimacy of his actions. Suddenly the pressure mounting between your thighs became unbearable, hips rocking forward instinctively to grind against Hoshina in an attempt to slake that growing, insatiable fire.

"So greedy for my mouth, aren't ya, baby girl..." he growled around a mouthful of breast, teeth grazing your swollen flesh as his free hand began kneading your neglected globe in firm, massaging motions. "Daddy's got plenty to give, no need to rush now..."

With a final lingering pull, Hoshina released your nipple with a sinful pop and leaned back just enough to admire the fresh evidence of his attentions. You felt your cheeks flood with molten heat as you watched him drink in the engorged, glistening state of your breasts, nipples puckered and aching in desperate need.

"Gorgeous..." he purred in a silken rasp of praise, free hand drifting lower to caress the sensitive hollows of your inner thigh. "Yer so fuckin' beautiful to me, mama, no wonder ya had my poor heart stopped earlier."

You were still attempting to process the heady mixture of arousal and raw emotion roiling through you when Hoshina leaned down to lap at the opposite breast. The sudden contact of his tongue circling the straining bud made your spine arch off the table in a breathless arc, fingers clawing for purchase against his muscled shoulders.

"Fuck! Shiro, please, I can't—!"

Your desperate pleas fractured into a mewling cry as he sealed his lips around your nipple and suckled hard. At the same moment, his free hand groped a handful of your other breast and squeezed, just hard enough to make your milk spurt forth in an erotic spray.

Hoshina growled around a mouthful of creamy liquid, drinking deep as if he was the one teetering on the edge of madness and not you. His eyes flicked up to lock with your own, searing irises smoldering with such unrelenting focus the air seemed to sizzle between you.

"So damn gorgeous when ya feed me like this, mama'," he rumbled in a voice made of sin and dark promises. His grip on your breast tightened fractionally, coaxing another jet of rich milk. "Gonna spend the rest of my days breedin' ya over and over so you'll never run dry for Daddy..."

With a final swipe of his tongue, Hoshina straightened and drew the back of his hand across his glistening lips, savoring the remnants. For several suspended moments he simply gazed down at your supine form, drinking in the sight with a level of intensity that made you flush with heat and shyness.

Then his palm skated possessively over the slope of your stomach, coming to rest atop the taut skin where a brand-new life had been kindled. A slow smile curved his lips as he rubbed his thumb in slow, circular caresses.

"Might even have to keep ya like this after this one's born, baby girl. Just stay nice and soft and full for Daddy..." he growled, fingers drifting to cup your swollen folds in a possessive grip. "Maybe then ya won't be so inclined to take off and play hero out there where yer not needed anymore, yeah?"

Your protests died a swift death on your tongue as Hoshina plunged one thick finger into the soaking heat of your pussy. With his free hand still resting atop your stomach, he began pumping with measured, languid strokes - his gaze locked unblinkingly upon yours the entire time.

"That's right, my perfect little housewife..." he coaxed as your hips bucked in instinctive counterpoint, pussy clamping down with greedy demand. "Let Daddy take care of ya like this forever...ya won't even miss the battlefield once I get ya good and bred again as soon as this one's out."

"Shiro...oh, gods, please..." you moaned as his fingers began curling and scissoring in deliberate, unhurried motions, dragging against that most sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside.

"That's right, darlin'," Hoshina purred, bending low to nuzzle at the underside of your breast, lips skimming across the supple flesh. "Ya just lay back and let Daddy do the hard work...keep my baby girl safe and cozy while I handle all the heavy liftin'."

Your hips bucked in frantic desperation as his mouth descended on your straining nipple once more, lips pursing to suckle in firm pulls. His free hand continued rubbing in gentle circles across your abdomen, while his fingers began pumping faster and harder between your thighs.

You could feel the pressure building behind a wall of sheer ecstasy, every muscle drawn taut and vibrating. Just as you began toppling into the abyss, Hoshina pulled his fingers free. You whined in protest, writhing for the friction he had stolen away.

"Please, Shiro, I need it..."

"Shh, easy now, mama," he murmured, shifting his body weight until he was fully settled between your thighs, arms banded on either side to brace his bulk. "Know what ya need better than yerself, remember? So just relax and let Daddy do his job, yeah?"

With a single smooth thrust, Hoshina hilted himself to the hilt inside your spasming core, eliciting a choked cry from the both of you. For several seconds, he remained motionless and shuddering, simply reveling in the sensation of being seated fully inside the slick heat he had claimed years ago.

"Holy shit, I thought it would be different," he groaned, forehead pressing against your own as his pelvis began rocking in a steady rhythm. "But yer still just as tight and hot for my cock as the first time I buried myself in ya, aren't ya, baby girl..."

You whimpered incoherently, hips rising to meet each driving stroke in delirious counterpoint. Hoshina growled in approval, increasing the tempo until the table rocked violently beneath the force of his thrusts. "Do ya remember? When ya tried playin' hard to get with me, thinkin' ya had the upper hand?"

As if in emphasis, he shifted his weight and began grinding his pelvis into yours in punishing, deliberate circles. Your cries pitched to a higher, keening note as the pressure built towards that glorious crescendo once more.

"Shoulda known…you were mine the moment I laid eyes on ya," Hoshina continued in a voice made of molten gravel. His eyes bore into yours with single-minded, searing intensity. "Shoulda fucked ya stupid right then and there...but I'll be damned if ya weren't worth the wait, baby girl'."

He punctuated his statement with a brutal snap of his hips that had you keening beneath him. Your entire world was narrowed down to the molten stretch of him inside you, the friction of his pubic bone grinding into your swollen clit, the overwhelming presence of his gaze burning you to ash with nothing but adoration.

"Love ya, mama...love ya so much I can't ever think straight whenever ya take off like that," Hoshina's voice cracked with emotion, fingers threading into your hair to angle your face up to his. "I'd do anything for ya...just don't ever make me live without ya, baby girl."

"I-I won't, I promise," you sobbed, overwhelmed with the intensity of his emotion, your own body teetering precariously on the razor's edge of release. "Please, Shiro, make me cum, need it so bad, please—"

He immediately rose to his full height, both hands gripping the generous swell of your hips and angling you at a steeper incline. Your legs instinctively hooked around his waist as his strokes became deep, savage pistoning - the new angle allowing his cock to strike all those tender spots inside you just perfectly.

"Cum for me, baby girl, wanna see ya soak my dick..." he gritted out, every corded muscle in his powerful frame flexing as he worked himself furiously in and out of your sopping core. "Let Daddy see that pretty pussy milk my cock, yeah?"

His fingers tightened into bruising crescents against your hips as the pace of his thrusts became increasingly ragged, a low groan building in the back of his throat. You felt his balls drawing up tight, his shaft swelling as the familiar pulsating throb began signaling the moment he could no longer hold back.

The moment you had him entirely, utterly, and irrevocably undone.

Your entire body went rigid, toes curling and spine arching as you crested over the edge into an inferno of blinding ecstasy. Hoshina snarled gutturally as your core spasmed, hot liquid spurting and gushing around his cock just as your tits sprayed another fountain of rich milk, splashing his chest.

"Holy—fuck! That’s the sexiest goddamn thing I've ever seen," he grunted, fingers digging into your hips to lock you into place as he drove himself to the hilt once, twice, and then held...

"Fuuuuck!" Hoshina bellowed, head thrown back in agonized rapture as his cock erupted inside you. Thick ropes of cum gushed into your still-convulsing depths, splashing the mouth of your womb with hot seed. You could feel him twitching, jerking, and pulsing as he pumped everything he had deep inside, until your pussy was thoroughly and completely drenched with his essence.

When the last shuddering spasm finally left him, Hoshina slumped forward with a groan, catching himself before he collapsed fully on top of your sated frame. Your legs remained tangled around his waist, both of you too blissfully spent to move for several long minutes.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt Hoshina stir above you, a satisfied hum reverberating deep in his chest. Cracking open one eye, you found his mouth curled in a lopsided grin of smug masculine satisfaction, gaze glimmering with pure adoration.

"I didn’t know you could do that," he rasped, eyes dipping to watch the way the last few rivulets of milk trailed in pearlescent streams down your breasts. "If I’d known all it took was some good, rough fuckin' to get ya squirtin' like that, I woulda done it sooner—"

"Shut up," you groaned, cheeks flooding with molten heat. Your hands flew up to cover your face as if they could hide your embarrassment, only to be stopped by the iron bar of Hoshina's forearm.

"Uh uh, no hidin' now, darlin'," he drawled with an easy smirk, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours. "Besides, no use being bashful now. I’ve seen all those filthy, gorgeous bits you were tryin' to hide..."

He punctuated his statement with an easy roll of his hips, causing a fresh wave of his seed to trickle from your swollen core and down the curve of your ass. You shuddered in delight, still feeling the aftershocks tingling through your limbs.

"And ya can bet yer pretty little ass I'm gonna see plenty more before the night is through, mama..."

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verysium · 1 year ago

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BLUE LOCK REVERSE ICKS 😳

😭 i read this as blue lock icks and was about to drag them all through the dirt with a brutally honest character review. but anyways, reverse icks is still a good idea, so here you go anon:

rin has abandonment issues. now before u come for me, let me explain. ever since sae left him, he's been hesitant to let anyone back into his heart, and that's why you mean so much to him. his hand automatically reaches for yours in the crowd so you don't get separated. when he has nightmares and dreams of you leaving, he wakes up, patting frantically on your side of the bed until he finds your body and relaxes. hugs you as if he'll never let go and buries his face into the crook of your neck and just whispers "thank fucking god." and you can see his chin wobbling as he struggles so hard not to cry, but deep down you know he's a very sensitive soul and you're quite literally his whole world.

sae's entire character is a reverse ick. have you not seen that man? he is beautiful. but i'll give u a little scenario: sae attends a charity gala, and you're invited as his plus one. you're busy getting ready in the bathroom, and he just leans against the doorframe, breath hitching when he sees you all dolled up in your fancy dress. coughs to hide his blush when you turn around and ask him for help. creeps behind you silently, his hot breath grazing your nape as his deft fingers reach for your zipper. his hands are callused and gentle when they clasp the back of your necklace (the one he bought for you), and the cold metal contrasts with the warmth of his hands on your shoulders. his heart is beating so fast that his fingers tremble and struggle with his tie, so you fix it for him but when your gaze travels back up his face, you catch him staring down at you, his eyes filled with an intense emotion. your gesture of kindness reminds him of his mother and how he hasn't gone back home in ages and how blessed he is by the gods to have you in his life.

kaiser does the hair tuck thing where he kisses a strand of your hair and smooths it behind your ear. he tries so hard to be a suave and charming gentleman, but honestly he's just an awkward loser. screams like a girl when you watch horror movies together and hugs you so tightly you think your lungs might burst. but then he gradually quiets down and falls asleep in your arms, and you think maybe he's not so bad. he canonically is not a morning person, so when he wakes up, he has the homeless cut 2.0 with the wild bed head and groggy facial expression. also has a weird habit of walking around the house naked. in any other situation, you would've yelled at him to put some clothes on, but his physique was looking extra good today, and you sort of got distracted. he definitely noticed and not-so-subtly flexed his biceps. always tries to make you laugh even though his pick-up lines are terrible and he can't tell a good joke to save his life.

nagi sometimes wakes up before you and pulls your body closer to him. on most occasions though, it's you who wakes up before him and he drags you back to bed. he hates it when you work late and hovers above you like a phantom, waiting for you to finally finish and go cuddle with him. if it gets to the point where you fall asleep while working, he will tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight. the next morning, you find all your work finished, albeit in poor handwriting. in all honesty, nagi is a genius, and he tries hard for you and only you. if any other person asked them to finish their work, he would've flat-out rejected them.

isagi is good with children but often at his own expense. unsuccessfully tries to make a baby laugh but ends up getting distracted and slamming face first into a telephone pole. now that made the baby start giggling, and he just smiled through tears with a red bump on his forehead, insisting that he was alright and didn't just knock his two front teeth loose. whenever he babysits your siblings/cousins, he ends up doing all the grueling work like changing diapers, taking out the trash, cleaning up after the gremlins. and yet the children will still favor you and not him. tries to act like he's not heartbroken but boy did that sting a little too much.

barou buys you flowers. has a big stupid blush on his big stupid face and refuses to admit that his heart skips a beat every time you look at him. does that thing where he looks the opposite way to pretend like he's not interested before shoving a bouquet into your hands. he's also very protective. holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk so you don't get run over. holds the door open for you every time. tried to make those origami hearts for you, but his fingers are thick and stubborn, and he stayed up all night in a fit of rage because he's not used to delicate work like this. you ended up getting a lopsided piece of crumpled paper that barou insisted was a heart, and you agreed because why would you hurt his feelings?

chigiri knows how to braid your hair. makes you sit in front of the mirror while his slender fingers carefully brush the soft strands. he can get complex too. dutch braids. french braids. fishtail braids. also does that cheesy couple tradition where he braids a piece of his own hair with yours as a symbol of love. most people don't know this, but he's actually a crackhead. sometimes when you're walking down the street, he'll do impersonations of the various people he sees. the old lady at the laundromat. the two aunties at the flower shop. the fisherman near the boardwalk. he even imitated your dad once, and you nearly lost it. he's too funny guys, but you need a sophisticated sense of humor to understand him.

and that's about it. sorry this was so short anon, but my brain is dessiccated this week.

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tarotwithlucien · 2 months ago

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What compliments do people say behind your back? | PICK A PILE

₊˚๑ How to choose: Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the image that caught your attention. ₊˚๑ Disclaimer: All readings are done for entertainment only, don't use my readings as a replacement for legitimate advice. This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ masterist | tip jar ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE ONE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hey, pile one! You’ve got this unforgettable presence that makes people remember you, even if they usually struggle with faces or names – but with you, it’s different. When people meet you, they can’t seem to forget your face or who you are. If they were in a crowded room full of people, they wouldn’t waste time talking to anyone else – they’d be drawn to you. Even if they don’t know much about you, there’s this mystery around you that keeps them intrigued and wanting to know more. You’re genuinely one-of-a-kind, almost like a muse in people’s eyes, and some might even say you’re the type of person an artist would write songs about.

People also talk about your hair, how soft it looks and how it flows perfectly in the wind. On top of that, they think you’re super photogenic – you always seem to come out looking great in photos. A lot of people assume you’ve got a good, stable life going on – even if you don’t always feel that way, from the outside, it seems like you’re chasing your dreams and achieving your goals. But there’s another side to this – if you’ve ever let an opportunity slip through your fingers, people might say, "you had your chance, and it’s on you for not taking it." They see you as someone who’s tough, knows their worth, and usually gets what they want.

People think you follow your heart, maybe even a bit too much sometimes, but they know you’re reliable and that they can count on you. Lately, though, some have noticed you might be going through something, even if you’re not saying it out loud. They see you as ambitious, always striving for more – sometimes even to the point of overindulging, like spending too much on clothes or accessories. You’re someone who doesn’t like hearing “no” and keeps pushing until you get that “yes.” That’s a strength, no doubt, because you’re persistent and don’t give up easily. But at the same time, some people might see it as a downside, viewing you as a bit selfish or spoiled because of how hard you push for what you want.

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE TWO ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hello, pile two! So, one of the first things people say about you behind your back is how sweet-hearted you are, and they absolutely love that about you. They also talk about how much stronger you are than you think, even though you might feel totally wrecked inside sometimes, lol. People see so much potential in you, like you’re capable of achieving everything you want and living the life you dream of. But here’s the catch — sometimes you might end up just talking about it or daydreaming without actually taking action, and yeah, that’s not helping you much.

Another thing people admire is how well you hide your emotions, especially when you’re going through tough times. It’s like no one around you can really tell when you’re down, which can actually be a huge advantage if you’re surrounded by toxic people. Not giving them the chance to use your insecurities against you? That’s a power move. People also respect how you don’t just let anyone into your life to mess things up. You set boundaries, and they see that. Some might take it the wrong way though — like, they could think you’re arrogant or selfish just because you don’t bend to their will or things didn’t go their way. But honestly, don’t even worry about them, lol.

Another thing people admire about you is your independence. You handle your own problems, and it’s not like you’re out there looking for comfort or validation from others. You’ve got this "I can handle it myself" energy, and that’s something people definitely notice. On top of all that, they also see how you know how to chill and have fun after a long day, whether it’s at work, school, or whatever. You’ve got that perfect balance of working hard and knowing when to relax.

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE THREE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hello, pile three! One of the first things they compliment is that you’re an amazing friend to those around you. You have this way of calming people down when they’re nervous, making them feel better, helping them take a deep breath, and just relax. Even though you're great at being there for others and supporting them when they need it, people have noticed that you’re not the type to ask for comfort when you’re feeling low. When you're down, people really miss your positive, high-energy vibe — some of you in this pile are even a little sassy and people love that about you, lol.

They also admire your "I don’t need anyone" vibe, but little do they know, you act that way because you’re afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt in relationships. Still, when you do get close to someone — whether it’s a friendship or something more — you’re all in. You want them to be there for you just like you’re there for them, but you don’t let on about your fear of being abandoned. You’ve got this energy of "you’re either with me or you’re not."

Another thing people say is that you’ve got the potential to be brilliant. You don’t give up easily, no matter how tough things get, and that inspires the people around you to do the same. People also really respect how much you care about justice and equality – it seriously bothers you to see unfairness in the world, like people going hungry on the streets or religious hypocrisy. Some of you reading this are atheists, and it drives you nuts when people use religion to justify their shady actions. You’ve got a way of surprising people, whether it’s through your actions, your thoughts, or just how you handle things – people honestly never know what to expect from you, but in a good way.

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taurasiluvr · 5 months ago

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I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU WITH ANYONE BUT ME / NOBODY GETS ME LIKE YOU / HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LET YOU GO? / ONLY LIKE MYSELF WHEN I'M WITH YOU / NOBODY GETS ME, YOU DO──BELLINGHAM⁵

how you can help palestine

★ been thinking about fwb!jude, blame ev for the filth you're all about to read.

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, minors dni. friends with benefits, smut with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, cheating (on r's bf), nothing too insane

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; i am sooooo down bad for jude, he's my husband. also why do 80% of my fics have to do with cheating ummmm

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 5.5k

you didn't really know how this arrangement had began, all you knew was that it was very much due to jude's very evident commitment issues.

okay, maybe commitment issues were a stretch. you'd seen how he treated his friends and family with unwavering loyalty. but when it came to relationships, there was always a barrier, an unspoken rule that he couldn't let anyone get too close. or maybe he just didn't want to ─ you weren't too sure.

it all started innocently enough.

you and jude had been friends for a while, always hanging out with the same group, always finding yourselves paired off in conversations or at the same end of the couch during movie nights. there was a comfort in your friendship, a kind of ease that made everything feel natural and genuine.

one night, after a particularly intense game and a few too many drinks, you found yourselves alone in his apartment. the air was thick with a tension that had been building for months. one thing led to another, and suddenly you were waking up in his bed, sheets tangled around your legs and his arm draped over your waist.

the next morning, you both agreed it was a one-time thing, a slip-up that wouldn't happen again.

but it did. over and over, until it wasn't just an accident anymore. it became an unspoken arrangement, a way for both of you to satisfy needs without the complications of a real relationship.

you knew it wasn't ideal. you knew that every time you woke up in his bed, you were getting a little more attached, a little more hopeful that maybe he would see you as more than just a friend with benefits. but you also knew that jude had his walls up for a reason, and trying to tear them down could end up ruining everything.

so, you kept going. you played your role, took what you could get, and tried not to think about what it meant for the future.

because as long as you had him in some way, it was better than not having him at all.

seeing him with other women was the worst part of it all. now you knew you didn't really have any rational reason to be mad because he wasn't your boyfriend ─ he was just... well, it was complicated.

you hated the gut-wrenching feeling when you saw him talking to a beautiful girl at a party, his charming smile lighting up his face in a way that made your heart ache. tt was a reminder that while you had a piece of him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from seeking out others.

you tried to mask your feelings, laughing along with your friends and pretending not to notice when he slipped away with someone new. But inside, you were screaming. the rational part of you understood that you had no claim over him, no right to be jealous. yet, the emotional part couldn't help but feel a sting of betrayal every time.

⠀ ── ⠀

one night, it got to be too much. you saw him at a club, his arm around a girl's waist as he whispered something into her ear, making her giggle. your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were outside, gulping in the cool night air to calm the nausea.

when you had come back inside, your initial hurt turned into bitterness. now you usually weren't so petty ─ but if jude was allowed to go and flirt with other people, why couldn't you?

you sat down at the bar, finding some solace with the alcohol you were drinking. you knew your bait had worked when you felt someone eyeing you in your peripheral, a small smile on your face.

"hello,"

he had a slight accent, his voice was gruff and sent a shiver down your spine. you turned to face him, taking in his rugged features and confident demeanor. he was attractive, no doubt, and the way he looked at you made you feel a flicker of excitement.

"hi," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

he leaned against the bar, his gaze never leaving yours. "can i buy you a drink?"

you nodded, pushing aside the guilt that tugged at your conscience. "sure, why not?"

as you sipped the cocktail he ordered for you, you couldn't help but steal glances across the room, where jude was still engrossed in conversation with the girl. the sight fueled your determination to go through with this. if jude could have his fun, so could you.

"so, what brings you here tonight?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with interest.

you shrugged, taking another sip. "my friends told me i needed to get out, they say i've been stuck in the office for too long."

he chuckled, a low sound that made your skin tingle. "i get that. they're some good friends."

the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. he was charming and attentive, qualities that made you feel desired in a way jude never fully did. but even as you laughed at his jokes and flirted back, a part of you remained painfully aware that this was all a distraction, a way to numb the hurt.

as the night wore on, he moved closer, his hand resting on your lower back. you allowed it, leaning into the touch, craving the comfort it provided. but just as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, you caught sight of jude watching you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

your heart skipped a beat, a mix of triumph and regret flooding through you. you had his attention now, but at what cost? you broke away from jude's gaze, your attention fully on the man next to you.

however, before you knew it ─ you two were interrupted.

"y/n," jude's voice seemed steady but as you turned to face him, his expression nothing short of intense. his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"jude," you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. the man next to you shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension.

jude's jaw tightened as he glanced at the guy beside you, then back at you. "it's getting late, let's get outta here."

"that's funny, i was just about to ask her that." the man spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice before he cleared his throat, noting that his commentary was certainly not needed.

you blinked up at him, your lips curving into a sarcastic smile. "why don't you go ask the girl who's been keeping you busy all night?"

"that's what this is about?" jude let out a huff, his gaze boring into yours. "jealousy?"

"oh, you shouldn't be talking." you shot back, your voice tinged with bitterness. "you’ve been parading around with other women all night. don’t act like you’re innocent."

jude's eyes flashed with anger. "i wasn’t doing anything different than what we've been doing all along. you knew what this was from the start."

"yeah, i did," you snapped. "but it doesn't make it any easier to watch you with someone else."

the man next to you awkwardly excused himself, sensing the argument escalating. jude barely noticed as he took a step closer to you, his frustration palpable. "so, what? you decided to flirt with some random guy to get back at me? i don't like pettiness, you know that."

you crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground. "no, not everything is about you. maybe you just don't do it for me anymore, have you thought about that? you're not everyone's ideal man, jude."

jude stared back at you, trying to process what you just said. "oh really?" he let out a laugh but it was void of the usual amusement. were you really trying to come for his ego now?

"really," you responded, standing your ground.

"so i don't do it for you anymore, is that right?" jude glared back at you as he walked closer, his tall frame towering over you. "what's it, exactly? cause i know you're not coming for my bedroom skills."

"bingo," you answered with a smirk, grabbing the drink from the table as you took a sip. "you're exactly right."

he let out a soft chuckle as his gaze darkened. "really that guy could fuck you like i do? nobody could fuck you like i do."

you felt excitement in his words, knowing you were hitting him where it hurts. and you'd hoped it'll pay off at the end of the night. "you really think you're that good?"

"i know it,"

"cocky, jude. very cocky," you purred, stepping closer to him.

the heat between you was palpable, the air thick with unresolved tension. you could feel the intensity of his gaze as it roamed over your face, down your body, and back up to meet your eyes.

"confident," he corrected, his voice low and husky. "there's a difference."

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "is that right?"

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "you know it is. and i'll can prove it to you."

a shiver ran down your spine at the closeness of his body, the warmth of his breath on your skin. you set your drink down and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch.

"prove it, then," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

jude's eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam in them as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "i will, make you remember who fucks you the best."

you licked your lips, your breath hitching as his thumb traced your lower lip. "i'm counting on it,"

with a growl, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hand tightening around your waist as he deepened the kiss. you melted into him, all the anger and frustration from earlier dissipating in the heat of the moment. his lips were demanding, his touch possessive, as if he was claiming you all over again.

your hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more. jude responded by lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the exit. the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the electricity sparking between your bodies.

as he pushed open the door to his car and placed you inside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. something real. but you knew that was wishful thinking.

jude climbed in after you as he started the car and drove toward his place. the journey was a blur of heated kisses and whispered promises, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other.

and by the time you reached his apartment, the anticipation was nearly unbearable. he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him before setting you down and pinning you against the wall, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck.

"still think that guy could compare to me?" he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your body.

you moaned softly, arching into his touch. "no," you admitted breathlessly.

he smiled against your neck, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head. "good. cause you’re mine, and i’m going to show you just how much you mean to me."

he carried you toward the bed, placing you down gently before hovering over you, his eyes burning with desire. you could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you crackling with intensity.

jude's hands moved with a possessive urgency, trailing over your skin as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. your breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

his hands were deft and skilled, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and shiver under his touch. clothes were discarded in a frenzy, the need to feel each other skin-to-skin overwhelming, leaving you naked. when he finally pushed into you, it felt like coming home, a perfect fit that made you both moan in unison.

"all mine," he whispered against your lips, his thrusts steady and deep. "don't ever forget that."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, losing yourself in the sensation. the way he moved, the way he touched you, it was like he was trying to prove a point with every thrust. and maybe he was. maybe this was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

he pulled your hips upward, sitting up as he fucked into you like a starved man. his grip on your hips was firm, almost bruising, as he pulled you closer, thrusting deeper with each movement.

the intensity of his gaze bore into you, a mix of lust and possessiveness that made your heart race. your body arched off the bed, meeting him halfway, every sensation amplified by the sheer need radiating between you.

"god, you're so perfect," he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. the combination of pleasure and the raw intensity in his voice made you shiver, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

you were completely at his mercy, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher. his pace quickened, a desperate edge to his movements as if he couldn't get enough of you. you could feel the tension coiling in your core, your breaths coming in short gasps as you neared the edge.

"cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

the command was all it took. your body tensed, the pleasure cresting in a powerful wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. jude's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched you, his own control slipping as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling into you with a groan.

for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the aftermath of your shared intensity leaving you both spent and sated. jude collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his hold gentle now, almost tender.

"mine," he murmured again, his lips brushing your temple. "always."

you nestled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "always," you echoed, the word a promise and a reminder of the connection that bound you together, for better or worse.

after that night, sex was how you fixed every little dispute you had. sure it wasn't healthy but sure as hell worked, he made sure you forgot all about why you were angry in the first place. yeah, he was cocky but it was for a reason.

⠀ ── ⠀

you still yearned for more.

you knew that was wishful thinking, jude was too focused on his career to even think about girls. you were the only one that he kept and you didn't know why, but you couldn't deny that it made you feel special, even if it wasn't in the way you truly wanted.

you were his escape, his relief from the pressures of his demanding life, and while you cherished the moments you had together, you couldn't shake the longing for something deeper, something more meaningful.

you often found yourself lying awake at night, replaying your conversations and encounters, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way. but jude was a closed book, his intentions unclear. it was both frustrating and intoxicating, leaving you constantly on edge, hoping for more but never quite sure if it would ever come.

one evening, after another intense round of making up, you lay in his arms, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths. jude's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a touch of tenderness that made your heart ache.

"jude," you began hesitantly, unsure if you should voice the thoughts that had been plaguing you. "do you ever think about what this... what we could be if things were different?"

he stiffened slightly, his hand pausing its movements. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "i mean, if you weren't so focused on football, do you think we could be more than just... this?"

jude was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost distant. "i don't know. my career is everything to me. it's what i've worked for my whole life."

"i get that," you said softly, turning to look at him. "but it doesn't mean you can't have something more, someone who supports you and is there for you."

he sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of regret and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "if... if things were different, sure. but not right now, i don't have time for all that right now."

all that, he called it, as if your feelings and the possibility of a deeper relationship were just another burden on his already full plate. the sting of his words was sharp, but you tried to keep your voice steady.

"all that," you repeated, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

jude's expression softened, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "y/n, it's not that i don't want it. it's just... i can't handle more than i already have. my career, the constant travel, the pressure — it's overwhelming."

you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again to meet his gaze. "i get it, it's okay."

having some of him is better than have none of him, you kept reminding yourself as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you lay there for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you, the knowledge that you would always come second to his career. but in those quiet moments, it was hard to focus on the negative. there was something so peaceful about being in his arms, so right, that made it difficult to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the cycle continued. you took what you could get, savoring the good moments and enduring the difficult ones. your friends started to notice the change in you, the way your mood would swing based on your interactions with jude. they would offer concerned looks and ask if everything was okay, but you always brushed them off with a smile and a nonchalant "i'm fine."

deep down, you knew they were right to worry. the emotional toll of your arrangement with jude was starting to wear on you, and you were constantly on edge, wondering when the next blow would come. you tried to distract yourself with work and hobbies, but nothing seemed to fill the void that jude left when he wasn't around.

⠀ ── ⠀

THREE MONTHS LATER

⠀ ── ⠀

it's crazy how much could change within 3 months. after a while, you stopped talking to jude and he understood why ─ you were hurting and you needed time. you found a boyfriend and of course jude wasn't too happy about that, but he couldn't really do anything about it.

you met your boyfriend at a friend’s birthday party. he was charming, attentive, and most importantly, he was ready for a relationship. things moved quickly, and soon enough, you found yourself in a stable, happy relationship. he treated you with the care you had longed for, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were moving forward.

it didn't stop you from missing jude. the excitement you got from the way his presence made your heart race, was something you couldn’t easily forget. despite your boyfriend's kindness and the stability he offered, there was a lingering sense of something unfulfilled, a part of you that still yearned for the intensity you once had with jude.

one evening, as you and your boyfriend were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, your heart skipping a beat when you saw jude's name.

jude: miss you.

you quickly turned your phone face down, trying to focus on the conversation with ben, but the message stayed with you, echoing in your mind. you couldn’t deny that a part of you missed him too, missed the thrill and the connection you shared.

⠀ ── ⠀

the euros had came and your friends had bought tickets to go see england in the quarterfinals versus switzerland, they eventually convinced you to come. the thought of seeing jude on the pitch, representing his country, filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

on the day of the match, the stadium was buzzing with energy. you and your friends found your seats, the sea of england fans creating a vibrant atmosphere. as the players took to the field, your eyes were immediately drawn to jude. he looked focused, determined, and undeniably handsome in his england kit.

the match was intense, with both teams fighting hard for a place in the semifinals. you cheered along with the crowd, your emotions swinging with every close call and near miss. seeing jude play with such passion and skill reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place.

when the final whistle blew, signaling england's victory, the celebration in the stadium was electric. you watched as jude and his teammates hugged, their faces alight with joy. you couldn't take your eyes off him, feeling a deep sense of connection despite the physical distance between you.

after the match, your friends had gotten invited to the celebratory party due to their connections to the english players. you knew you'd eventually be seeing jude and you just had to trust yourself to not fall in his trap once again.

well, you were wrong.

your legs tightened around jude's waist as he pushed the door of his hotel room open, his lips never leaving yours. he closed the door with his foot, pushing you against it when it closed.

you moaned against his lips as his hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. his kisses were demanding, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held you close as if afraid you might slip away.

"jude," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "we shouldn’t be doing this."

"i know," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck. "can’t help it. i need you, y/n. how can i celebrate without you?"

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and any resolve you had left melted away. you had tried to move on, to build a new life with your boyfriend, but being in jude's arms again felt like coming home.

"just this once," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "just this once," he agreed, though you both knew it was a lie.

with a growl, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your hips as he carried you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body pressing against yours as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the heat between you growing, the familiar ache of desire spreading through you.

"god, i’ve missed this," he groaned, his hands sliding under your shirt. "missed you."

"me too," you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against your skin.

clothes were quickly discarded until you were in left in your bra and underwear, the urgency between you leaving little room for hesitation. jude's touch was both familiar and electrifying, every caress reminding you of the connection you had tried so hard to forget. he moved with a confidence that made your heart race, his hands and lips worshipping your body as if making up for lost time.

"mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice rough with emotion. "no one else can make you feel like this."

"yes," you gasped, arching into his touch. "i’m yours, jude. always."

his eyes darkened with possessiveness, a primal satisfaction evident in his gaze. "i’ll never let you go again," he promised, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor.

his hands found your hips as he pushed you into the mattress, you let out another moan at his roughness. something your boyfriend never managed to do, you were never satisfied with the sexual part of your relationship.

he began rubbing his finger against your clothed core, his ego skyrocketing at the wetness that was already soaking through your panties. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride. "so wet for me."

you whimpered in response, your hips bucking against his hand. "jude, please," you begged, the need in your voice unmistakable.

"please what?" he teased, his fingers slipping under the fabric to stroke you directly. "tell me what you want, y/n."

"i want you," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "i need you inside me, jude. now."

"oh yeah?" his voice was hoarse as he gazed down at you, taking in your form. he stopped his movements as he licked his lips, "does he fuck you like i do? tell me."

jude was teasing and you hated it. you also loved it, loved the way he made you work for it.

"no," you admitted breathlessly, your hips moving in a desperate attempt to find some friction. "no one fucks me like you do, jude. only you."

a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "that's what i thought," he murmured, his fingers resuming their torturous movements. "you're mine, y/n. always have been, always will be."

"please," you begged, your voice breaking with need. "i need you, jude. please."

"aw, poor baby. bet you haven't cum in a while, right? he looks like he doesn't know how to fuck, right?" jude mocked as he leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "he's a damn loser. let me show you how a real man fucks, yeah?"

"please," you repeated as you nodded, too lost in the pleasure to think clearly.

he chuckled softly, clearly relishing the power he held over you. "since you asked so nicely," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. with a single, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, drawing a loud moan from your lips.

the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain. jude moved with a possessiveness that left you breathless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

his hands found your hips as he began fucking into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust. each movement was deliberate and intense, a reminder of the connection you shared and the passion that had never truly faded.

"god, you feel so good," he groaned, his grip tightening as he quickened his pace. "so tight, fuck. like you were made for me."

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. "only you, jude. no one else."

the words seemed to drive him wild, his thrusts becoming even more frantic as he pushed you both closer to the edge. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies, each moan and gasp a testament to the intensity of the moment.

"can't get enough of you," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "i need you, y/n. always."

"always," you echoed, your own voice trembling with the force of your feelings. "i'm all yours, jude."

the coil of pleasure inside you tightened with each thrust, building to a crescendo that left you breathless and desperate for release. jude's movements became almost frenzied, his own need evident as he chased his climax.

"cum for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "wanna feel you come around me."

the words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. you cried out his name, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

jude followed moments later, his own release hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, as if he was reclaiming all over again. for a long moment, you both lay there, tangled together and utterly spent.

finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. you nestled against him, savoring the warmth and closeness. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a tender gesture that made your heart ache with longing.

"break up with him," he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"jude..." you moved your head so you could face him, a frown curving your lips. "it's not that easy,"

"you just cheated on him and all it took were a couple drinks." he replied nonchalantly, his voice tinged with annoyance. "obviously he doesn't fuck you well, cause you felt this the moment i touched you."

"it's not just about that," you protested, your voice a mixture of guilt and frustration. "he's a good guy. he treats me well, and i do care about him."

"but you don't love him," jude shot back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "not the way you love me."

the truth in his words stung, and you knew he was right. but breaking up with your boyfriend wasn't just about ending a relationship; it meant facing the reality of your feelings for jude and the complicated situation you found yourselves in.

"i don't want to hurt him," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"but you can't keep pretending." he spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "look, i know... i was selfish."

was, as in past tense. you noted.

"i wasn't thinking about what you wanted and... i knew i wasn't fulfilling your emotional needs. i didn't know what i had til you left," jude continued, his voice sincere. "god, nobody does it like you. i've looked but nobody feels like you and it's deeper than just sex it's..."

he paused, feeling vulnerable as he sighed. where was he even going with this?

"it's everything," jude finally said, his voice softening. "it's the way you make me feel, the way you understand me without me having to say a word. it's the way you laugh, the way you support me, the way you just... get me."

you felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making you believe every word. it was everything you had wanted to hear, but the reality of your situation made it hard to fully embrace it.

"jude, i need you to understand that this isn't just about you and me," you said gently, trying to convey the complexity of your feelings. "i do care about ben, and breaking up with him is going to hurt him. i can't just ignore that."

"i know," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek. "and i'm not asking you to ignore it. i'm asking you to be honest with yourself and with him. you deserve to be happy, and so does he. even if it means going through some pain first."

you sighed, knowing he was right. it was a difficult decision, but staying in a relationship where your heart wasn't fully invested was unfair to both you and ben.

"okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "i'll talk to him. but jude, i need you to promise me something."

"anything," he replied, his eyes full of determination.

"i need you to be all in," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion in your chest. "if we're going to do this, i need to know that you're committed, that this isn't just about the thrill or the sex. i need to know that you're ready for something real."

jude's eyes softened, and he nodded, his hand gently squeezing yours. "i promise, y/n. i'm all in. i want this to work, more than anything. and i'll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that."

with those words, a sense of resolve settled over you. it wouldn't be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time, you felt like you were moving in the right direction.

as you lay back in his arms, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter. one where you were finally choosing to follow your heart, no matter where it led.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham blurb #england nt #england national team #real madrid #bellingham #jb5

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certaimromance · 4 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 So Close, Quantico.

Post prison Reid x Fem!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: A strange visit to the prison ends with an unexpected confession of love and makes you run away again. You were ready to leave, but maybe this time he'll make you stay.

Words: 2,5k.

TW: literally none, just drama and sweet love+emily being a bestie. english is not my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I didn't expect to be asked for a second part because I'm still new here and I don't think anyone will read me (intrusive thoughts lol), but here I am giving it to you because Spencer needs a happy ending!

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Just as you sat down and pulled out a travel magazine to read while you waited for your flight, you got a call from Emily. You frowned and were confused for a few seconds until you remembered that you hadn't told her that you were going back to London so soon and that the possibility of having a drink together would not be fulfilled. You hadn't even said goodbye in person, and it was only now that you realized it.

You hadn't noticed anything after working on Spencer's case for four days straight and losing your mind over it. It was the first time you hadn't seen your client or personally briefed him on the progress of the investigation, and that impersonality made everything strange, but you knew he didn't want to see you, and you weren't going to push him. At least you managed to get him released on parole after you found some evidence of third party involvement in his alleged crime. And as soon as you were informed of this decision, you assigned a trusted lawyer to the case, booked a flight, and packed your bags.

“Don't hate me, but I'm about to catch a flight and I forgot to tell you.” You said quickly as soon as the call started and you could hear a sigh of shock from the other end.

“You what? Why? You just got here and we haven't even had a chance to talk and drink wine.” She replied after a few minutes of processing the information.

“I'm really sorry, Ems. I have things to do at my office and my work here is already done.” You tried to explain as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. You didn't like the idea of looking like you were running away again, even if you were. “I really have to go.”

“You have or you want?”

The question alone made you sigh and question being best friends with a profiler. It was impossible to hide your feelings and thoughts from her.

“It doesn't matter...anyway, you can visit me whenever you want, I have plenty of wine at home.” You spoke trying to avoid her question at all costs. “Penelope and JJ can come, girls' night out and all.”

“And Spencer...?” She asked in a cautious tone, knowing that this was a complicated subject. After all, Emily was the one who had to put up with your sighing and crying over Reid for years.

“He's not a girl.”

You could almost see her roll her eyes at your answer, and by the tone of her voice when she told you she meant it, you knew she did.

“Seeing him was as strange as I imagined, but confirming that he doesn't want to see me and that he hates me felt worse than I thought. I have to face this from a distance.” You tried to explain and put into words the feelings you were avoiding.

“He doesn't hate you, and he definitely wants to see you.” She corrected you, making you frown.

“What? Please don't try to make me feel better with emotional profiling tricks.” You said wearily, looking up at the big screen with the flight schedules and realizing that it was still more than half an hour before your plane was due to arrive.

“These are not tricks. Seriously, if he didn't want to see you, he wouldn't have asked me for your hotel address yesterday.”

Your heart stopped at that moment, and any attempt to focus your attention on something else, or even keep your cool, failed. You didn't want to get your hopes up again and sound like a fool for getting excited about something so minimal.

“I'm not even at the hotel anymore, and he never went there.” You tried to control your nervousness and conceal how this information had thrown you. “Ems, my flight arrives in 30 minutes, I have to leave you, but I promise to call you more often and visit you sometime. I love you.” You ended in a chaotic way.

“Well, me too. But don't disappear, I'll wait for that girls' night.” She replied, defeated by your insistence, and paused before speaking again. “And tell Reid we have a case in Utah, we're leaving in 30.”

“What?” You asked immediately, not understanding if you had heard wrong, but she had already hung up.

You looked up again, expecting to see the central screen with the schedules, but instead of seeing your flight number in bright letters, you saw Spencer's brown eyes searching for you a few feet away. You had to blink several times to confirm that it was him and that you weren't hallucinating, and only then did Emily's last words make sense.

Was he here to see you? Was it possible?

You remained motionless in your seat, as if bound to it, and watched as Reid walked at a brisk pace straight towards you. It was the first time you had seen him since that chaotic visit to the prison, and you still had a bittersweet taste in your mouth from that interaction. He was wearing a suit now, probably the clothes he wore to work, and he looked like he had run several miles, judging by his disheveled hair and labored breathing.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as soon as you had him in front of you, rising from your seat to be at his height even though you were several inches shorter.

“I needed to talk to you for days and you never came to see me again.” He explained, still trying to regulate his breathing after searching for you all over the airport. “About what you told me before you left.”

“I didn't come back because you made it clear that you didn't want to see me, and I respected your wish.” You explained as calmly as you could. “And as for what I said, there's no need to talk about it. It's outdated and I shouldn't have brought it up.”

You saw him sigh and fidget chaotically for a second before he spoke again. He seemed nervous, as if he had rehearsed the conversation a thousand times in his mind.

“I need to talk about this. You told me you were in love with me...I just found out and I couldn't stop thinking about it, it's stuck in my head because you never told me.” He tried to speak slowly, but it was as if the old Spencer you once knew had reappeared and started babbling. “You said you were leaving because you were offered a better position and you were bored with this job, you never mentioned that...that you liked me.”

“My flight leaves in less than 30 minutes, I can't talk now.” You tried to get out of the situation, but he gently grabbed your arm before you could escape. And with a sigh, you spoke again. “Good. I never told you how much I liked you, but that doesn't change anything.”

You pulled away from his touch and putting your hands on your bags so you could leave soon.

“It changes. It really changes everything.”

“What? How?” You dropped the suitcases and looked at him in confusion.

He remained silent for a few seconds, looking at the clock on the bright screen above you, trying to use the little time he had to talk to you and express himself. He felt the words catch in his throat, and it was a disappointment after having only you as the protagonist of all his thoughts since you had visited him, pushing away any possibility of holding a grudge against you because the only thing on his mind was doubt about what would have happened if he had known.

Spencer had spent so many years locked in hate, trying to hold a grudge against you for leaving, leaving nothing but torturous memories in an eidetic memory and a ridiculous need for a hug from you every time things went wrong. And suddenly you showed up, looking as beautiful as ever, saving him from a traumatic experience and delivering information he never expected.

He had only been free for a few days and yet everyone looked at him differently, from pity to fear, knowing that prison had changed him forever. But not you, you looked at him as if he were the same as always, even though years had passed and you had only seen his worst face again.

“If I had known...if you had told me I...” He stammered, trying to find some courage to stop feeling like the same young man you had left. “You would know that I felt the same way.”

At that moment, you almost had to sit up again because of the impression his words had made on you. You closed your eyes and opened them again to make sure that you were not hallucinating and that it was really the one you had been dreaming about for years who was telling you that he also felt something for you before.

“You don't have to lie...no, don't lie to me like that just because I got you out of jail.” You started to blurt out, completely denying the strong beating of your heart.

“I appreciate you doing this, but I won't lie to you. I could never do something like this.” He assured you, looking you straight in the eye for confirmation. “And if you don't believe me, I can tell you exactly when I first realized I liked you, it was November 8, 2005, it was 11:35 in the morning because I looked at the clock. You had completed your third month with us and you went to talk to Gideon and Hotch because you wanted to get out in the field and stop doing paperwork. You were so nervous about getting fired that you grabbed my hand before you left, but you didn't notice because you were busy listening to my comments about your performance. I thought it was nothing and that I was just nervous because you were the only one I was talking to and I was afraid of losing you, but before you left you smiled at me and I knew everything was going to be okay. Again I thought it was nothing...but every time things went wrong I thought about it, I still do because that smile is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.”

“I...” You tried to speak and formulate even one word, but it kept getting stuck in your throat.

“Wait, I'm not done yet.” He interrupted you, saving you from a possible babble. “I never told you because I thought you didn't feel the same way and that you saw me as a younger brother to be taken care of. I'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all, so I left it in my mind as an impossibility and I thought I was completely over it until you left and I lost my mind...and it's happening again.”

“God, I need to sit down.” It was all you could say at the time as you tried to process everything he said.

You sat down with his help and watched him relax a little as he finished speaking, as if he had waited a long time to say it and had practiced it many times. You felt your heart pound after years of dreaming of hearing those words from him. You had never imagined a life where Spencer felt anything more than friendship for you, and now it was real. He had loved you as much as you wanted, and you had been too blind to see it before other people came along.

“I know it's been years since you got over me and that I was a jerk to you when you came to see me, but you need to know that ever since I saw you I couldn't stop thinking about what my life would have been like if I had told you from the beginning.” He spoke again, trying to look closely at you to decipher what was going through your mind. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry if this has upset you or...”

“Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?” You said, still surprised, taking the opportunity to get up from your chair.

“I'm sorry, I know it's too late and now you're going to leave again, but this time I'm here to ask you not to do it again.” He came over and took you by the hands, bending down a little to be at your level, as if he was begging you. “And I know it's selfish because you have to go and you have a life away, but I really...”

“Spencer.” You stopped him before he started babbling, and he looked at you anxiously for your answer. “It's not too late.”

“Really?” He asked, as if he could not believe he had heard you correctly.

“Really.”

You gave him a small smile of affirmation and felt your eyes glaze over with emotion as you felt him release your hands and grab your cheeks to wipe away the stray tear that had fallen. The look of tenderness he gave you along with his touch made you tremble.

“Are you planning to kiss me already or are you going to wait 13 more years?” You spoke without even thinking.

He didn't have to think once before closing the distance between you and fulfilling the longing that had been in your mind for so long. You couldn't say anything because his lips had been on yours before and the first contact had almost made you melt. His hands were still on your cheeks, but one of them went down to your waist to pull you closer and make sure you were real.

Your lips tasted like cherries and that made him smile immediately in the middle of the kiss, thinking that you were still wearing the same lipstick that you had applied in front of him so many times and that he had only dreamed of tasting. Finally, the reality was far better than any fantasy and the softness mixed with the intensity of a repressed love during the kiss because finally the stars had aligned for the two of you.

“Are you going to go out on a date with me?” He asked as soon as you both parted.

“I have a girls' night out first.” You replied, letting it be known that you were tired of running away. “But I'd love to go on a date with you.”

He came over and gave you a quick kiss before you could say anything else. You returned the kiss and then pulled away, putting your arms around his neck.

“You're kissing me like this before the first date?” You joked, still trapped in the bubble of love you felt you were in.

“I don't intend to wait any longer now that I have you here.” He responded by giving you a kiss on the head and wrapping his arms around you to hug you. “So please don't go away for 6 years again.”

“I don't plan to go anywhere now.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

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knowyourplace-fool · 1 year ago

Note

Bully gojo and shy oc !! Who always torments you and humiliates you. Makes you do all his works and you do out of fear. You don't question him and feels smug . He tells how he hates you( but actually he likes her a lot but he doesn't confess because ypu keep rejecting every guy so he thinks you don't accept him either) and tells you that you are just a burden on this earth but then you get into an accident and don't come to scl for a week. Gojo doesn't know what happened to you and can't find out cuz you don't have frnds either. After a week you come to schl with a bandage to your head and a fracture sling on your arm. He gets worried and clings onto you and tou lash out for the first time telling him that he got what he wanted and he could be happy now. He gets angry and kidnaps you and fucks you🙃

-> omfg YES! gojo is such a bully

-> sorry for any mistakes!

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

All you’ve ever done is mind your own business

Sure, you don’t have many friends but that doesn’t really bother you

You enjoy being independent. Your grades are high in the air, your part time job in your school is more than enough for you to live comfortably. (In this universe, inflation doesn’t exist)

You don’t really talk to anyone, not even family. Whole bunch of drama happened, and they were toxic so you ended up leaving them for university.

Everything seemed to be going as planned until a 6’4 menace walked into your life.

Gojo Satoru was your typical frat boy and the star of the university’s basketball team.

Some may even say the Golden Boy of your university. He was smart, athletic, had a good reputation among the professors and just with people in general. Not to mention, he was ridiculously handsome. Man literally had girls fighting over him.

You’ve seen him in the hallways but never actually interacted with him. He was in a few of your classes but luckily, you guys never were put together in a group.

Until today. Your prof is running a lab and gathered the smartest students he knows to do it for him. It’s kind of a two in one for him, the lab gets complete and you guys gain some experience.

Anyways, the group consists of you, Satoru and his friend Suguru and some other nerdy people

Now unlike Gojo, you already sorta knew Geto. He was really friendly and kind towards you so you were kind of excited to be working with him.

A few days into the lab and Gojo has a sudden fixation with you. Well he always had, but this lab is letting him work closely with you and it’s making his obsession worse.

You’re stupid if you think that Gojo Satoru hasn’t kept on eye out for you. Every time you walk by him in the halls, he gets a hard on just by catching a whiff of you. The cute skirts and the pastel closet you have drives him over the fucking edge.

It takes every cell in his body to resist the urge of grabbing ur wrist, pulling u into the janitors closet and fucking you absolutely dumb and stupid.

You look so cute and innocent, like a little bunny. And god, you are just an easy target to corrupt.

So, Gojo plans a party. A party on the following Saturday after your lab is complete because he knows that you’ll be free.

His plan is to get you to come, keep you company, get you a little hammered, then get a feel of your pussy. Simple plan.

It’s now up to Geto to get you to come to this party. And of course, for his best friend, he’s 100% on board with his plan.

All goes well in the lab and in your final days of completing the report, Geto asked the big question.

“Satoru and I are throwing a party tomorrow. If you’re free, we’d love for you to come. You can bring anyone you want.”

You blush. Party? Your first party? Your brain breaks out in celebration because as much as you liked to spend your weekend relaxing, you also have a severe case of fomo. (Fear of missing out)

Your eyes lit up, saying yes on the spot in excitement. The following day, you went back to your dorm and tore your closet apart, looking for a nice dress. You settled for a blue, body con, summer dress. (despite it not being a party dress but who gives af bc it’s summer)

The next night, you got all dolled up for the party. You made arrangements with Geto to pick you up. He made it on time, looking handsome in his all black fit with his hair in a bun.

You were excited… for nothing.

There was a party (a lit one), but you realized a little too late that your social skills were next to non existent. The whole time, you felt out of place. So you stood in the corner, drink in hand and watched others dance and interact with each other.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

You turn your head only to be faced with a bright blue eyed man, the one and only Gojo Satoru.

“I guess partying is not my thing.”

“Oh come on, come with me.”

He grabbed your hand and headed towards the beer pong table

You and Gojo were a team and surprisingly you two worked perfectly together

The alcohol in your system made you flush, and you found yourself loosening up a bit and having a bit of fun.

Gojo’s plan seemingly was rolling out perfectly. You were a bit drunk, so he took you back to his room to “sober up” (but it was just an excuse to get u alone so he can fuck u but u don’t know that)

Now listen, Gojo got rizz alright. So imagine the look on his face when he went in to kiss you and you slapped him so hard, his face turned the other way.

“I’m not some whore you can use for tonight. I was genuinely having a good time with you, I don’t know why you had to make it sexual.”

You felt like crying. Is this what all guys think about?? Sex?

You get off the bed and head towards the door before you’re pulled back and thrown on the bed

“Satoru, stop! I want to go home.”

And just like how you did with him, he slapped you. Much, much harder.

He didn’t say anything, he just had this look in his eyes that could honestly kill. He took a hold of your wrist with one hand and let his other roam and touch your body.

He pulled your dress up, revealing the lacy, white, underwear you wore. You were a teensy bit wet, not because of him but maybe the alcohol? Or his best friend?

You don’t know, but Gojo thought the wet spot was because of him.

“Tch, saying you don’t wanna hook up but you’re fucking wet f’me.”

He pulled you closer to the head board, reaching out to his night stand and pulling out,,,, cuffs?

“Wait wait wait wait!” You say in a panic. You squirm to get your wrist free but once you feel the metal snake around your wrists and the click afterwards, you were doomed.

Your dress was ripped off by him. Your panty was somewhere on the ground and he easily took off your bra by doing the same thing he did with your dress. You laid nude under him, against your will.

As you can imagine, the night went terribly for you. You weren’t a virgin but it had been a while since you had sex (all the way back in high school) and really it was your first time with someone so experienced.

The next morning, you woke up with him cuddling you from behind while his lanky legs were intertwined with yours

You somehow managed to escape his grip and sneak out of the house before anyone could notice. You did have work, but decided to call in because of… well for obvious reasons.

On Monday, you dreaded to go to school. But with midterms coming around the corner, you couldn’t afford to miss a lecture. You dressed in baggy clothes and took a different route to class to avoid Satoru.

The day was going alright until you had to go to the library to pick out a few books to help you on an assignment.

While you were reaching on your tippy toes, someone behind you grabbed the book which made you quickly turn around. Your eyes meet his bright, blue eyes.

“You’re avoiding me now?”

The anger that overcame you in that moment was indescribable. You wanted to scream at him, hit him, threaten him or somehow bring him down, but you couldn’t.

“Did I fuck you mute? Answer me.”

You took a deep breath in and said, “leave me alone”

“Why? What, you think you’re too good for me? That I don’t have enough worth to fuck you? Is that what it is?”

He grabbed your cheeks with one hand and squished them together, pushing you back against the bookshelf in the process. He was holding you so hard, you couldn’t move.

“Listen to me, you slut. Don’t get our roles mixed here. You’re literally a piece of shit next to me. You hold no value in this world. If you died, no one would even think twice about it because no one gives a flying fuck about you. You think you’re soooo fucking special or something. You think you’re too good for everyone. Well you’re not. You’re just a broke whore, with no friends, no family, no hobby— nothing.”

He roughly let’s go of your face that you nearly fall to the floor. You tried your best but couldn’t help but cry at his words. Gojo swings off his backpack, grabs a note package and hands it to you.

“This assignment is due tomorrow at noon. I haven’t gotten the chance to start it because of basketball. So you’re going to do it for me cause you’re a worthless, bunny that has nothing else to do after school hours. And before you think about handing in something stupid, take a look at this.”

He pulls out his phone and in a matter of 10 seconds, you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

A video. Of you. Getting fucked by the Gojo Satoru. It’s evident that you’re crying but it’s easy to cover it up with an “excuse”. Your face held a horrified expression.

“P-please, delete that! Please, I’ll do it but please just- just delete the video please!”

“No, not until that assignment is handed in and I have to get 100% on it. If it isn’t handed in or I don’t receive 100%, this will be leaked to everyone in a matter of minutes. I’ll post this shit everywhere with your full name on it, got it?”

You felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. This felt worse than a nightmare. This felt worse than dying even. “Okay, I’ll try my best but I don’t know if I can get-”

“If you don’t get 100 on this assignment, I’m leaking it. I don’t give a shit. I already showed Suguru— sick bastard got off to it, and I’m sure many more will too if you don’t score 100.”

He picks up his backpack and leaves while you stood in distraught. The following night, after work, you immediately started on his assignment. You saw the assignment date and it was assigned 3 weeks ago. He wants you to do 3 weeks of work in 15 hours.

Somehow, you pulled through the night. Researching the best you can on the internet and trying to make it as best as you possibly could. You were able to send him the file at 11:30am so he could skim through it and hand it in.

You ended up leaving early for the day so you could go home and get some sleep. When you woke up the next morning, your nearly dead phone kept ringing over and over.

You pick it up and see hundreds of notifications on various social media’s and a few iMessages

Your thumb clicked on one of the iMessage notifications and there was Satoru’s name with the following message:

“I told you, only 100%”

Below the message was an image of his mark

A 98%

You swipe off of iMessage and open Instagram and boom

Hundreds of new follower requests, numerous dms and clicking of Gojo Satoru’s story, was the video of him blowing your back.

You checked Snapchat and there it was on his story too. You wanted to die. You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself alive than live another day in this situation.

Later that day, you had received an email from the dean’s office regarding a “very sensitive and confidential” meeting that would be taking place tomorrow.

You had an idea of what it might be about but hope and prayed to god that it wasn’t what you were thinking.

But to your luck, this meeting was regarding your sex tape and how there is no longer a spot for you on the dean’s list or team.

Your whole world was crumbling apart. You spent your whole life to get to where you are today, only for him to ruin it in a matter of 12 hours.

You left the building slowly, still deeply thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this. How stupid you are to go to that party and slap the Gojo Satoru.

“Why is this happening to me?”

All of a sudden, everything goes black.

You wake up in a hospital. Your head felt heavy and your arms was twitching. You look around and see… no one. The nurse catches a glimpse of your eyes and quickly walks in to check on you.

She explains that you were in an accident and that they tried to get in contact with an emergency contact but you hadn’t stated anyone. You stayed at the hospital overnight so they can monitor your brain activity and fortunately they were able to discharge you the next morning.

You took the rest of the week off from school and Gojo Satoru was losing his mind. He had spammed called you from various numbers but you weren’t answering your phone at all. He went from his usual mean insults to angry insults to pleading for a response back.

He doesn’t see you until Monday, with a bandage around your head and your arm in a cast which is also in a sling. He nearly runs to you, wanting nothing but to embrace you.

And he does. Holds onto you tightly, inhaling your shampoo until you knee his in the balls.

He immediately drops down and you completely lose your cool. “Don’t fucking touch me! I hate you! You ruined my life! You’re not allowed to touch me after you forced me to have sex with you and shared the video with the entire campus! You got what you wanted Satoru! You stole everything from me! Broke my entire world, burned my hard work down! Made me feel worthless! And now you want to act all concerned?! I hope you rot in hell!”

You ended up going home for the day, otherwise another headache would’ve set in. You took a quick lap before getting up and getting ready for work because those hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

You had the closing shift and although working with one hand was quite the challenge, you desperately needed the money.

After closing up, the walk to your apartment is about 10 minutes away. Everything was going fine until a car quickly pulled up next to you, two men sprung out and shoved you into the car before you even had the chance to react.

One of them had his hand over your mouth while the other held your legs together.

You were blindfolded and tied in the car and after a while the car came to a stop and you were carried out.

You were thrown on the floor and when the blindfold was removed, you were met with his eyes again.

You immediately started crying. You were afraid and quite frankly exhausted of everything that’s happened over the last week.

“Please. I’m sorry. Just let me go. I’ll never ever bother you again. I’m sorry.”

You plead and beg but you hear his belt unbuckling. “Please! Please, I beg you Satoru! I’m sorry! I can’t- I can’t do it again please!”

You were left unheard. He threw you on the bed and tied your limbs to the bed. One of your arms was already in extreme pain and the other arm was starting to hurt too because of how tightly he tied you.

Every ounce of hope drained from your body when you felt his cock push into you. He pushed your head into the mattress and fucked you hard, like there was no tomorrow. Your tears soaked the mattress. Sweat, tears and snot covering your puffing face.

Satoru went on for hours. Abs glistening in sweat, his arm veins popping out because of how hard he was holding you. Not to mention his cock was coated with loads of cum.

You were passed out by the time he finished with you. Your body shaking on its on, cum dripping out your cunt and marks/bruises left all over your soft skin.

Hopefully his bunny learned her lesson.

#tw: dark fic #tw: noncon #gojou satoru x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #bully!gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut

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obsessedwrhys · 7 months ago

Text

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS...

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ (modern au!!) Being in a toxic relationship with her. angst, some fluff in a fucked up way? common toxic relationship things, arguments, this song is her song idgaf what anyone says. reader is fem!! Didn't proof read cuz im sick and lazy ☹

ᯓ★

It still shocks you how you and Ellie were in a 2 years long relationship. Maybe that was one of the main reasons why you felt reluctant to end things with her. And adding on the image of your relationship built around your friends, you felt the pressure to keep it going because everyone thought you two were happy together.

They envied you.

They wanted what you two had.

If only they knew what you two really had...

"What the fuck was that?" Ellie cursed at you after slamming the front door shut behind her.

"You're the one saying that? I fucking saw you cuddling with your ex!" You said as you went in your shared room to put away your bag, she follows after you.

You two had just come back from one your friend's party but it seemed like things took a turn when you walked in the living room to find Ellie cuddled on the sofa with her ex, cigarettes and drinks in hand while they chatted like old friends. Not to mention a flirty smile on her face as you'd catch her staring down at her lips. It was enough to make your stomach twist.

"So what!? I already told you we're just friends! You fucking embarrassed me when you stormed off like that!!"

"And that gives you the excuse of cuddling with her?! You were flirting!!" You raised your voice at her after turning to face her.

"Why are you being such a fucking bitch?! You do that shit with your friends and you don't see me complaining about it!!"

"That's because I never FUCKED ONE OF MY FRIENDS!!" Your words making her scoff out of disbelief. Almost like the situation was too much that she was now finding it ridiculous.

"You wanna talk about fucking? How about we continue this conversation when you're not a slut?" She walks off, going to the bathroom to open the shower.

You were speechless. Your lips were parted but you didn't know how to respond. It was like you were too overwhelmed with rage that your brain couldn't even think of what words to form. Soon your body collapses on the bed and you ran your hands tiredly across your face.

The sound of the shower running in the background indicating that Ellie was really bathing after what she said to you. You were upset. You had the right to. But it wasn't only her words you were upset at, it was the realisation that this was your life now, this wasn't the first fight and will never be the last.

You were too focused on your emotions to even notice your eyes burning with tears. You were trying to stop yourself from letting them pour out but your mind was encouraging it to with the amount of sad thoughts they were making up. You tried to be quiet but it didn't matter either way because the shower was soon turned off.

You tried to cover your face with your hands the second the bathroom door opened. You couldn't bring yourself to look at her. To show her the effect she had on you. It was quiet for a painfully long minute until you heard her approaching you.

Surprisingly she sat herself on the bed beside you and wrapped her arms around your body, she was making you rest your head on her chest. You were still angry but somehow some part inside of you liked the warmth. The feeling of her gently running her hands through your hair and brushing them off your face seeming to make your frown fade.

"I'm sorry baby... I didn't mean that... I don't know what came over me" She said, her tone completely different from her tone from before.

"It's just I get frustrated when you start accusing me of things like that. I would never leave you for someone else. You mean everything to me"

Her words made you feel guilty.

Maybe you were overthinking it.

Maybe you were the problem...

"... I'm sorry. I was just scared that she might try something on you" You apologised as you changed your position to get closer to her.

"It's okay baby... don't cry... nothing will happen... I'm yours" She comforted.

You didn't bother thinking if it was a lie or the truth because you were too delusional to even see things realistically. The next morning you'd find yourself awake, laying alone on the bed. You were confused and sort of heartbroken...

Where did she go?

Did she wake up early?

You got up and wandered the house and the second you went in the kitchen, you were greeted with the smell of food. Your heart melt when you realised she had made you breakfast. Once she finally notises you in the kitchen, she smiles almost pleased with your reaction alone.

"Morning baby... thought I'd cook your favourite" She said and you didn't say anything but just kiss her on the lips which she happily kisses you back.

"Woow now... I have work later. You don't wanna make me late now" She grins at you but you simply ignored her by wrapping your arms around her neck.

"I love you" You smiled radiantly.

"Love you more"

Almost like the argument never happened, the next few days went on as it usually does. You two spending time on dates and doing whatever stupid things you'd be up to. Apparently your birthday was soon and you couldn't help but think of some plans. Your first plan was to choose to hangout with some friends the day before so you could spend your birthday with your girlfriend. It was perfect.

Who knows, maybe she'll even have plans for you?

Possibly a surprise?

The thought made you excited that you felt you couldn't wait anymore. Soon the day came, you had told Ellie about your plans with your friends and she seemed fine with your idea. Before you left she gave you a kiss on the cheek and a hug, the feeling making you all warm inside.

"Stay safe baby, I'm gonna miss you" She uttered.

"It's only for a day Ellie you're overreacting" You joked which she just shrugs with a sheepish smile.

"Whatever, just have fun" She said.

Just like that, you waved her goodbye as you left to the mall where you've agreed to meet up with your friends. You did multiple activities together, from playing go karts to exploring a cat cafe. It was everything you had hoped for. Eventually the activities ran out and you didn't expect the day to end that fast, with your gifts in hand, you bid all your friends farewell before heading home.

It was still 3 in the afternoon since you had thought it would take until 7 in the evening to try out all the activities you've planned out. But oh well, that means you'll have more time to spare. As you opened the front door, you noticed there were clothes scattered across the floor. Some clothes you didn't recognise. You consciously put your gifts on the coffee table before making your way further into the room.

The clothes acting as a trail for you to follow... into the bedroom? You noticed the door was opened slightly so you carefully opened it. The sound of it creaking making it more suspenseful than it should be. Your heart drop once you see the sight before you. It was Ellie, naked, on the bed with another woman. Her face couldn't be seen since she had her face nuzzled into her neck.

They were too dead asleep to even notice you standing at the doorway. Your body felt like it was burning from the amount of emotions you were experiencing all at once. You couldn't believe it. Again and again, you chose to forgive her, hoping she had changed but the reality was that you were just too much of an idiot for thinking she'd actually change for you.

Your hands clenched into a fist and from the rage, you grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand to pour it on them. The second their face came in contact with the water, they were jerked awake. The girl got up and you could see now it was no other than her ex. You scoff at the sight.

"What the fuck?! Who—" Ellie stopped talking once she realises it was you who did that. Her ex just staring at the two of you with a worried expression... cause you caught them... you caught her cheating.

"You told me she wouldn't be back early" She whispered to Ellie who quickly shushed her to shut up.

"You're fucking kidding me" You managed to say from the rush of the adrenaline pumping through you.

"I can explain all of this" Ellie said as she quickly puts on her shirt. You take a step back when she tried to approach you.

"No! Don't! I won't let you sweet talk me out of this!" You said which she made her stop herself from walking towards you. She stares at you, vulnerabilities in her eyes.

"I-It's not that. Baby I do love you, you mean everything to me"

"Cheating on me the day before my birthday..." You said that had her look away with a defeated sigh.

"I mean that little to you huh?" You smile weakly, tears already covering your burning cheeks.

"I wasn't cheating on you—"

"Shut up, get the fuck out of my house" You said and for a split second, the sadness in Ellie's eyes changed to pure anger.

"This is my fucking house too, I paid for this as well...!"

"It's under my name Ellie!"

"Bullshit!"

"Go ahead!! Gaslight me 'cause that's all you've ever been good at!"

"Oh so I'm the bad guy?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to put up with your shit?! You should be thankful I actually love you because nobody else would!!" She raised her voice. Her words like knives gutting you open.

"I think you should leave (Y/N)" Her ex, who's still on the bed had the nerve to speak. You glare at her but she just rolls her eyes away like she's playing innocent.

"... I can't do this anymore... not with you... we're done..." You stomped off and guilty enough, you had hope she would try to stop you from leaving... but she never did.

The next few days you'd find yourself living at a hotel. It wasn't too expensive or anything but it was enough to live for a while. You tried to get her off your mind by taking care of yourself but no matter how happy you felt, you would always find yourself at your lowest again. You couldn't even enjoy your favourite show without thinking of her.

Your favourite game.

Your favourite song...

Fuck you can't even enjoy anything at this point.

What's worst was that Ellie was trying her hardest to contact you after a day of leaving her. From texting you through your number to your socials, she wouldn't give up. Although you've told yourself to block her and forget it, a tiny parasite inside you was dying to see what she had to say. Eventually one night where you were too lost in your thoughts, you decided to unblock her to see the messages she sent you.

Ellie: Hey baby, I'm sorry for what happened. If you're ready to talk I'm here

Ellie: I didn't mean what I said

Ellie: I'm also sorry for shouting at you

Ellie: I know how much you hate it when I do that

Ellie: Please reply, I can't eat or sleep knowing what I did wrong

Ellie: I still care about you

Ellie: -Deleted Message-

Ellie: Ignore that

Ellie: Are you okay? I hope you're still okay

Ellie: I miss your smile

Last online a few minutes ago, you stared at the messages but your mind was elsewhere. Should you respond? What should you say? You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of what to say until suddenly a phone call came in. You felt your soul left your body when you realised it was Ellie. She must have seen you were online.

With not much to do, you weigh your choices and decided to just answer. It was quiet as you had the call on speaker. Maybe this was a bad idea... you wondered until the sound of shuffling could be heard over the line.

"Hello? (Y/N)?" Ellie said, her voice sounded like she's been crying but she was trying to pull it together at the moment.

"Hi" You simply responded.

"Are you safe? You've been ignoring my calls" She said. There she goes again... acting like the fight never happened....

"We need to talk" You said with your eyes shut from how overwhelmed you were becoming just by hearing her voice.

"Okay..."

You took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Your mind repeating the words you've been rehearsing everytime you were in the shower. The words you've been dying to tell her ever since what happened.

"This isn't gonna work anymore. I think we should part ways, for both our sakes" You said. The line was dead silent for few seconds.

"I know I know baby... and I'm sorry for letting it happen but we can try again—"

"No...! You... ugh... you don't get what I'm tryna say. We can't. We never will be happy together. It's never going to work" You said and you could hear her voice shivering a bit when she takes a breath to process your words.

"Oh... huh... you're saying we should never see each other again?" She asks.

"Yeah..."

Her lack of response was killing you. Even though this was happening over the phone and not in person, yet her presence was still strong. You gripped on the blanket to use it as a way to ease your nerves.

"Are you sure that's what you want? Have you even thought it through? What if you regret this" She started blurting out questions before you could even answer.

"I won't—"

"And what about your things? You're just gonna abandon everything here? Abandon me?"

"I've already asked my friend to help me get my things tomorrow..."

"What about me? Please baby I need you" She cries on the phone and you couldn't help but feel yourself almost pitying her.

"You don't... you don't need me... you just needed someone to make yourself feel less alone. I've realised that now..." You said with all the strength left in you as your voice quivers.

"Sometimes I wish we never met... then I wouldn't be put through half this shit... that's why I'm ending things between us now... goodbye Ellie... and please don't make this harder for anyone" Without waiting for her to respond, you ended the call. Now you were in your hotel room, crying to yourself as you tried to muffle your screams.

After the messy breakup and getting your things back with the help of your friend, you were able to get a fresh start. Though there were some bumps on your road to healing, you didn't let that throw you off. With the good things going on in your life, you decided to go out with your friends to a party. You haven't gone to one in forever but you thought you deserved it after being so kind to yourself.

"I told you it was a good idea to come out with us" Your friend nudges you with a smile and you smiled back.

You felt happier as you finally wore the dress you've always wanted to wear, your makeup done perfectly according to your features and some cute earrings to finish the look. If the old you saw the new you now, she'd think you had gone mad. During the party, you decided to walk around meeting new people and getting yourself a drink. It was then you locked eyes with someone familiar.

Your eyes widened as you saw her.

It was Ellie and she still looked the same.

Despite seeing her again after all these months of healing, you were surprised to find yourself handling the situation well. Your chest was definitely burning but it didn't burn as bad as it first did in the first month of your post break-up, where even the thought of her made you want to have a meltdown. Instead of running away, you simply smiled at her.

Ellie, who was standing on the other side of the room watches as you smile at her before you turn to talk someone else. You were smiling. Laughing. Happier than you ever did when you were with her. It actually made her heart ache knowing she wasn't able to be the one to make you that joyful. Instead she was the one who tore you down.

With her drink in hand, she leans against the bar as she watches you continue chatting with your friends. A bittersweet look on her face. Maybe you were too good for her. Maybe, all she's ever good for was ruining a good thing like you. And in the end, that chapter of your life is soon over. You'll forget about her... but you will always be in her dreams...

472 notes · View notes

killerelysia · 5 days ago

Text

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader!

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!

Words:10004

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.

You always knew something was off within the labyrinth of your mind, an ache that whispered solitude in every corner. Perhaps it was loneliness, so profound that you yearned for someone to notice you—anything to shift the weight of your gaze from them to you. Some flicker of curiosity, a moment that lingered in the eyes of another.

Love? No, it wasn't something you believed you deserved. That thought had long been etched into your consciousness like a brand. But if, by some twist of fate, someone were to fall for you, you’d ensnare them with relentless support until they admitted it, an inexplicable, almost desperate logic born from the shadowed corners of your heart.

The end of the first semester brought the storm. It wasn’t just another rough day; it was the day you became a target for the school’s cruelest crew. Fists flew, words cut, and everything seemed to blend into one terrifying blur until Crowe stepped in, his eyes dark with determination.

"Thank goodness you're unharmed," he gasped, breathing heavily, each word a raw mix of relief and pain.

"You’re worried about me? Look at you, you're the one who’s hurt!" Your voice quivered, the disbelief clashing with gratitude.

He stood there, battle-worn and steady, blood trickling from a split lip, the bruises stark against his pale skin. Those who had cornered you were finally satisfied, leaving with the empty laughter of the bored and cruel. Crowe looked at you and shrugged, the glint in his eyes softening.

"As long as you’re safe, this doesn’t matter."

A warmth spread through your chest, alien and consuming. Someone cared. Someone defended you, unyielding in their resolve.

"What's your name, crazy prince?"

He managed a tired, almost mischievous smile. "Jericho. Jericho Ichabod. But just call me Crowe."

You exhaled a shaky breath. "Nice to meet you, Crowe. Call me Y/N."

That moment in the clinic, under the unforgiving fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of antiseptic, became the silent contract that bonded you two. You shared conversations, silent glances, and a strange understanding that made the world seem a little less harsh. For a while, you even harbored a crush, tender and tentative.

But then it hit you, as sudden as that fateful day. Crowe would have done the same for anyone—he was simply good. He was kind. The realization struck with an ache so deep it nearly broke you. Love, you learned, was an unrequited script in your story. But you respected him too much to let it taint what was there.

You laughed at the absurdity of your own heart, wondering how it had come to this: delusional, hopeful, but still grateful for the fleeting feeling of being someone’s concern.

There was always that gnawing thought, like a shadow, lurking at the back of your mind. You tried to shake it off, but it whispered relentlessly: There’s something wrong with the way you love. Maybe it was the way you sought attention, not in small doses but in that raw, hungry kind of way. The way you craved someone’s gaze not as a fleeting glance but as an unwavering fixation.

Too much, you thought, turning the phrase over and over like a bitter pill on your tongue. You wanted to be loved so desperately that it bordered on obsession, a gnawing, insatiable need. It wasn’t the soft, gentle kind of love you read about or saw in movies—it was something darker, almost suffocating. It made your chest tighten with both longing and dread.

You swallowed hard, a dry laugh slipping past your lips as the thought settled in: That’s just you, isn’t it? Creepy Y/N, always wanting more, always needing to be consumed by the flame of someone’s attention. A shiver traced down your spine, and you hugged your arms close, seeking comfort in the cold truth.

Now, you’ve perfected the act. You've slipped so far into delusion that reality feels like it’s cracking at the edges, and your mind might not make it back intact. But you only have one task: work relentlessly and pay off the debt, save the farm that’s been the lifeblood of your family.

Your obsession with love, you remind yourself, is nothing but a sickness—a distraction, unhealthy and unneeded. Focus, you think. Study. Keep your head down. Your father believes in you, doesn’t he? He trusts you with this responsibility. But would anyone love a mess like you anyway? The question loops bitterly in your mind, self-loathing taking hold before you even have the chance.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” You tell yourself.

Something felt off for a few weeks now, like an odd tension building in the corners of your life. It was... something. It wasn’t anything you could pinpoint, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

A pair of eyes, always there, always watching. At first, it was subtle—just a flicker of awareness when you turned a corner or sat down. But it was more than that. It was almost a presence, an invisible force that seemed to follow your every move. It wasn’t a simple glance. No, it was far more intense, almost stalking.

And yet, a strange part of you... liked it. It sent a thrill through you, a kind of adrenaline rush you couldn’t explain. You’d find yourself sitting in class, pretending to study, but the sensation of being watched made your heart race. It wasn’t discomfort—it was excitement, a twisted thrill, something you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just at University. No, it followed you home too. As you entered your room, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar weight of someone’s gaze on you, lingering in the dark corners, watching through the crack in your door. Your mind spun with a chaotic mix of fear and anticipation. Who was it? Why were they watching you?

There was no reason for it—at least, none you could rationalize. And yet, you found yourself... hoping to meet them. Wanting to meet them. A part of you longed to finally see the one who’d been following you in the shadows. Because somehow, you knew they were close. You knew they were waiting for the right moment to step out from the

The next morning, something was off. The usual routine of brushing off your paranoia seemed heavier, more tangible. Your bedroom window, which you always locked at night, was ajar. Not just unlocked—it had slid open slightly, exposing a crack wide enough to send shivers down your spine. You tried to push it closed, but the latch was broken, the mechanism jammed beyond repair. Had it always been like this?

You stared at it for a moment, the realization sinking in: someone could have come in. Someone might have been inside.

You tried to shake it off, but as the day went on, more pieces fell into place. A gnawing sense of violation crept up your spine when you went to grab your laundry and noticed... something was missing. Not just something—specific clothes. Shirts you’d worn recently, soft hoodies you curled up in, a pair of socks that didn’t match but had sentimental value. Gone.

Your chest tightened, panic flooding your veins, but it wasn’t just fear. A part of you—some sick, pathetic part—felt thrilled. Someone is watching me.

The thought settled in, heavy and dark, but the sharp edges of logic began to dull. Who would stalk you? You’re not even pretty. You weren’t special. Not worth the effort. And yet, here you were, clothes missing, your window breached, the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze following you through every step of your day.

“Normal people would think this isn’t fine,” you muttered aloud to yourself, trying to anchor yourself in rationality. This isn’t fine. This isn’t okay.

But the words fell flat. Somewhere in your mind, reality started to bend. Yes, it was wrong—stalking was wrong. It was invasive, dangerous, terrifying. And yet, the pounding in your chest wasn’t just fear. It was curiosity. It was longing.

The thought twisted in your mind, dark and intrusive: What kind of person would go this far just for me? They must care. They must want to know you in a way no one else ever had. What do they see when they watch? What do they think about?

You couldn’t help yourself. The idea of being desired so intensely that someone would break into your life, leave pieces of themselves hidden in the cracks of your existence—it sent a thrill through you. Wrong. So wrong. But intoxicating.

You paced your room that evening, staring at the broken latch on the window. The moonlight spilled across the floor in sharp lines, almost like it was pointing at the scene of the crime. A part of you wondered if they were watching now. Standing somewhere in the dark, just out of reach, their breath fogging up the glass.

Who even are you? Why me?

The questions spun in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a strange obsession of your own. You should be scared. You should be scared. But instead, you were intrigued. Drawn in. You wanted to know this person, to see the face that lingered in the shadows.

You sat down at your desk, your reflection catching in the window’s glass. “This isn’t normal,” you said softly, your voice cracking slightly. “I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t want this.”

But you did. You couldn’t deny it any longer. The thought of someone dedicating their time, their energy, their every waking moment to you—it filled a hole you didn’t know existed. You craved that kind of devotion, twisted as it was.

You caught yourself smiling, a wry, self-deprecating grin. “God, I’m a mess,” you whispered. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Why do I feel this way?

The truth settled in, stark and undeniable: you’d never felt wanted before. Not like this. And now, even if it was wrong, even if it was dangerous, you couldn’t help but feel... excited. Like something in your life was finally happening, shaking you out of the monotony of existence.

You wanted to meet them. To see them. To understand the face behind the gaze that followed you everywhere you went. You told yourself it wasn’t love—not yet. But it was something. Something raw and electric, and you weren’t sure you could resist it.

Your fixation deepened, evolving from a vague thrill to deliberate action. The missing items didn’t alarm you anymore—they exhilarated you. At first, it was small things: a pen left behind on a desk or the bench outside class. Accidental, you told yourself. But you knew better. You weren’t careless. You’d started leaving things on purpose, wondering, hoping, knowing they would take them.

And they did.

The pen was gone when you returned, replaced by nothing but the faintest hint of satisfaction in your chest. You tested it again, leaving behind a notebook with a stray doodle inside—gone by the next day. It became a game. A secret dance between you and this unknown figure lurking in your shadow.

The knowledge that someone wanted these pieces of you made your heart race. Pathetic, you thought, but the warmth in your chest told a different story. You were addicted to the idea, to them. And soon, you weren’t just leaving things behind. You were creating a world where they could exist freely.

You didn’t fix the window. Why would you? You liked to imagine them climbing through it, their hands brushing against the sill, their breath in your room. Fixing it would shut them out, make their life harder. You couldn’t do that—not to them. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted them inside, because you were inviting them in. No, it was just… considerate. Thoughtful.

The laugh that bubbled up from your throat at the thought startled you. Soft, at first, then louder. “I’m losing it,” you murmured, but the giggles didn’t stop. They spilled out of you, an almost giddy sound as you turned the idea over and over in your head.

If they were coming in, why not make it easier for both of you? Why not see them, finally see them?

That night, you slipped a tiny camera into the corner of your room, hidden carefully in the folds of an old, dusty bookend. It was subtle, unassuming—nothing that would stand out to anyone who didn’t know it was there.

The thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine. Soon, you’d have answers. Soon, you’d see their face, their expressions, their intent. Ah, what would they look like? You’d imagined it before, of course—soft features, a piercing gaze, maybe even a shy smile. Someone who would look at you with the intensity that had kept you up at night, that had followed you for weeks.

You sat in the middle of your room that night, staring at the blinking light on the camera, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “You’ll come, won’t you?” you whispered to no one. The silence answered back, but you weren’t disheartened. You knew they’d come.

You could feel the laughter building up in your chest again, giddy and uncontrollable. The corners of your lips curled upward as you muttered, “I’m going to see you. Heheh… Soon.” The giggle turned into full-blown laughter, sharp and manic as it filled the room.

This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But God, it was intoxicating.

The thought of finally meeting them, of knowing them, sent your thoughts spiraling. Your hands trembled as you checked the camera one last time before heading to bed. It was all set. Everything was perfect. All that was left was to wait.

As you lay in bed, staring at the broken window, your mind swirled with fantasies of what was to come. Maybe they’d speak to you, confess their reasons for watching, for taking your things. Maybe they’d admit their feelings—feelings you were sure existed, even if you couldn’t yet see them.

And if they didn’t? Well, you’d find out soon enough.

“Come on,” you whispered to the empty room, your voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and desperation. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

And with that, you closed your eyes, letting the thrill of anticipation lull you into restless sleep.

You wake up, drowsy and groggy, blinking as you register the faint glow of your camera's recording light. Your heart skips—not from fear but from a jittery excitement. Did it catch something? Your hands move faster than your thoughts, fumbling to pull up the footage.

Last night had been a blur. You’d tried so hard to stay awake, but the meal you’d eaten earlier had lulled you into a deep, undisturbed sleep. As you scroll through the recording, skipping the mundane moments of you tossing and turning, the feed jumps to him.

The man.

His hair, black with vivid green streaks, is loose, falling in soft waves around his face. The mask he wears obscures most of his features, but his eyes—crimson red on the outer ring with fiery orange at their centers—gleam, focused solely on you. His attire is dark and layered: a black t-shirt over a green-striped long-sleeve, necklaces clinking softly with each of his movements. You even catch a glint of the metallic piercings decorating his ears, the upside-down cross swaying slightly as he leans closer.

And then, he speaks.

“Finally found you, pumpkin,” his voice is soft, smooth, almost reverent. You freeze, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Pumpkin?

“I’m sorry about the window,” he continues, running gloved fingers along the edge of your desk. “But it’s a good thing you didn’t fix it, still.” His tone is teasing, like he’s scolding and praising you all at once.

Your hands hover over the keyboard as he approaches your sleeping form on the screen. He kneels beside you, brushing back a strand of hair from your face with deliberate care. “Hyugo’s pills do work,” he murmurs to himself, chuckling faintly. “They make you sleep so peacefully. I can finally see you at night…”

Then, he leans down. His masked face inches closer to your cheek. You watch, your breath caught, as he plants the softest kiss on your skin.

That explains it. The faint pressure you’d felt in your sleep—the fleeting warmth. Your hand instinctively touches the spot on your cheek, even now, feeling its ghost.

Yet instead of terror, instead of the dread that should’ve consumed you, your heart flutters. A warmth blooms in your chest, spreading, suffocating. You press your clasped hands to your lips, trembling not in fear, but in something else entirely.

The stalker. The man. He…he likes you? Watches you every night, praises you even in your most unguarded moments? It’s wrong. It’s so obviously wrong. The rational part of your mind screams at you to call for help, to fix the window, to run far away.

But instead, you giggle.

The sound bubbles out of you uncontrollably, and you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. You know this isn’t normal. You know something is terribly broken inside of you. But that knowledge doesn’t stop the twisted elation coursing through your veins.

He’s here. He sees you. He wants you.

You rewind the footage, watching it again. This time, you focus on his words, on the reverent way he speaks to your unconscious self. You note the details: the shine of his hair, the small buckle on his collar-like choker, the way his spider-bite piercings catch the moonlight when he tilts his head. He’s beautiful, like something plucked out of your dreams—or maybe your nightmares.

And now, he’s real.

Your hands shake as you stop the playback, staring blankly at the paused image of him by your bedside. The mask hides so much, but his eyes—they burn into you, even through the screen. You imagine what it would be like to see him without it, to hear his voice unfiltered, to—

You slap your cheeks, shaking your head. Focus, Y/N.

But the truth clings to you, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. You know he’s a stalker. You know this situation is dangerous. Yet the thought of fixing the window, of locking him out for good, feels unbearable. The idea of never seeing him again—of never hearing his voice, his praises—sends a pang of despair through you.

“Delusional,” you whisper to yourself, laughing softly. You curl into yourself, gripping the camera tightly. “I’m so delusional.”

But even as you say it, even as you acknowledge the depths of your spiraling thoughts, you can’t stop the lovesick smile creeping across your face.

You couldn’t shake the image of him—the stalker who had taken such a twisted interest in you. His voice, his praise, the way he watched you with that obsessive focus—it haunted your waking thoughts and danced through your dreams.

You needed to know more about him.

At first, you tried to find clues, anything that could lead you to his identity. You scoured your campus, paying close attention to anyone with black and green-streaked hair, those fiery orange-crimson eyes, or piercings that matched the ones you’d seen on the footage. But nothing. He was a ghost, blending seamlessly into the crowd or watching from somewhere beyond your grasp.

Still, you didn’t give up. Each day, you upped your game. You adjusted your routine to appear natural, but always left subtle traces behind—a scarf forgotten on a bench, a pen dropped intentionally in class. When you circled back, the items were always gone, confirming he was following you even during the day. Good, you thought with a lovesick smile.

Then there was the matter of the food.

You began preparing two batches of every meal—one real and one fake. The fake was the key to your plan. You seasoned it as usual but spiked it with just enough sleeping pills to incapacitate. You made sure to label it with your name, store it visibly in your fridge, and place a half-finished glass of juice beside it. You wanted it to look lived-in, convincing, a perfect trap should he decide to raid your kitchen while you left so he can do be fooled with the fake, food.

Your window remained unfixed, and you started leaving the back door slightly unlocked, just in case. You didn’t want to inconvenience him. He might notice and think you were trying to keep him out, and you couldn’t have that.

Meanwhile, your eyes darted constantly across the campus, scanning crowds for any hint of him. You noted everyone’s schedules, mapped out their movements, even engaged in small talk to see if anyone slipped or seemed overly interested in you. But you were careful, never letting on that you were actively looking for someone.

The high alert you maintained made your classmates think you were just unusually focused. Nobody questioned you, and you made sure to keep up appearances: smiling, laughing when appropriate, pretending you didn’t feel eyes on you during every step you took.

Your awareness sharpened to the point where you could feel even the subtlest shifts in your environment. A shadow lingering a little too long, footsteps trailing you just far enough to seem coincidental, and the faint brush of something in your periphery. It thrilled you.

That night, everything was in place. You prepared your fake dinner, complete with a side of drugged juice, and left it in the kitchen. The back door was left unlocked, the window slightly ajar. You dimmed the lights in your room, slipped into bed, and forced yourself to feign sleep.

Your heart raced as you waited. Will he come tonight?

Time passed, but you stayed still, fighting the urge to peek at the camera feed. If this worked, you would finally get what you wanted—a glimpse of him unguarded, vulnerable.

The plan worked almost too perfectly. The camera, discreetly tucked in a shadowy corner, confirmed what you already suspected—he was breaking in nightly. Sol fell for the fake food every time, drugging it to keep you in a deeper sleep. You couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride. He's trying so hard for me.

That night, you left everything in place as usual. The drugged fake food was strategically left out, the door slightly ajar, and your performance as a deep sleeper rehearsed to perfection. You even regulated your breathing to mimic the rise and fall of slumber, fully aware he was watching. The excitement bubbled under your skin, but you held it in check. Be still. He can’t suspect.

You felt him enter, the faintest whisper of air as the door creaked open. He moved quietly, though not silently. Every step he took was deliberate, careful not to wake you. You heard the faint sound of him checking the food, his soft hum of satisfaction as he saw it gone!. Good. He thinks I ate it.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down beside you. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your breathing steady, your body relaxed. He leaned close, his breath warm against your neck.

“Pumpkin...” he whispered, the word barely audible, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. His voice was soft, tender, laced with a devotion that felt almost holy in its intensity. “You’re so perfect, you know that? Even when you sleep, you’re beautiful.”

You felt his hand brush against your hair, a soft caress like you were something precious, fragile. He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you. Then, he did something you didn’t expect—he lay down beside you. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close as though you belonged there, as though this was his right.

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell like heaven,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “I’ve waited so long for this. To hold you. To be close to you.”

Your heart clenched. Not in fear or disgust—no, it was something else entirely. He’s... cute? The thought struck you like a lightning bolt, absurd and yet undeniable. There was something endearing about the way he clung to you, his touches reverent, his voice filled with genuine emotion. This is wrong. He’s a stalker. He drugs my food. He breaks into my house... but... You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile.

He continued to whisper sweet nothings, his words blurring into a hazy mix of praise and adoration. “You’re everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His hand slid up to brush your hair back, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “You’re mine, pumpkin. You’ll always be mine.”

A part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Mine? You were the one trapping him, leading him into this elaborate game of cat and mouse. And yet, his words made your heart flutter. What is wrong with me? you thought, though the answer was glaringly obvious. You were broken, disturbed, a sick and twisted mirror of his obsession.

But you were self-aware, at least. That counted for something, didn’t it? No. No, it doesn’t, you admitted silently, feeling a pang of guilt.

Still, you played your part perfectly. You didn’t stir as he shifted, wrapping his arms around you more tightly. You felt the weight of his head resting against yours, his breath warm and steady.

“You make me feel alive,” he whispered. “Even if you don’t know it, even if you’d hate me if you did... I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. But instead of fear, you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. He needs me.

You clasped your hands together under the blanket, holding them to your mouth as though in prayer. Your lips curved into a soft smile, hidden from his view. This was real. Someone wanted you, needed you, loved you so obsessively it consumed them.

It didn’t matter that it was wrong, that it was dangerous. You weren’t afraid. If anything, you felt secure, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. How ironic, you thought, giggling softly in your mind. The stalker makes me feel safe.

The hours dragged on, but he didn’t move. He stayed there, holding you as though he was afraid you’d vanish. When his breathing finally evened out, signaling he’d fallen asleep, you dared to open your eyes just a sliver.

You caught a glimpse of his face, partially obscured by the strands of his black-and-green hair. Even in sleep, there was a softness to his features, a vulnerability that made your chest ache.

He’s beautiful.

You closed your eyes again, biting your lip to stifle another giggle. You were a good actor, yes, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t pretending for his sake. You were pretending for yours, to keep up the illusion that you still had control.

Because the reality was, you didn’t.

He had you just as much as you had him.

Each night, you lay in bed, pretending to be under the spell of the fake food laced with sleeping pills. Each night, he came to you, a shadow in the moonlight, and you reveled in his presence.

Your adoration for him grew like an uncontrollable fire, consuming every rational thought. The notebook you'd started was your secret shrine to him. Sketches filled the pages—his face, his hair cascading like a dark waterfall, his intense eyes, the way his lips curled into the faintest smile when he whispered sweet things to your sleeping form. You had to capture it all. Your pencil scratched furiously, your mind replaying his words, his touch, the way he’d caress your face and murmur promises as if you were his most precious treasure.

That night, you prepared everything as usual. The fake food sat on the counter, the door left just barely ajar, your blankets pulled up to mimic serene sleep. You curled into the mattress, feigning slumber, though your heart raced with anticipation.

The familiar sound of the door creaking open sent a thrill down your spine. His footsteps were soft but unmistakable, and you felt the mattress shift as he sat down beside you. Here we go.

“Pumpkin,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His hand brushed your hair back from your face, and you fought the urge to smile. “Why don’t you ever turn back to look at me? I saw you at class today...”

Your breath hitched ever so slightly. What?! Your mind raced, but you maintained your facade. His voice was soft, almost pleading, and it tugged at something deep inside you.

He sighed, lying down beside you and draping an arm over your waist. His grip was possessive, but his touch was gentle, warm. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “I wish you’d look at me, smile at me, talk to me… God, I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. Is this real? His words, his touch, the way he held you—it all felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

“If anyone bullies you…” he began, his voice low and serious. “They’re done for. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bullies? Your mind latched onto the word. Did he know about the snide remarks, the subtle glances from classmates? Wait… Your heart skipped a beat as realization dawned. Same school?!

You wanted to scream, laugh, cry—every emotion hit you at once. He was there, so close, within reach even during the day. The idea sent a jolt of giddy energy through you. He's been watching me even then.

He shifted, his lips brushing dangerously close to yours. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you fully, and your heart practically stopped. Instead, he kissed the corner of your lips, lingering just enough to make your stomach churn with a dizzying mix of emotions.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered. “Good night, pumpkin.”

You waited, your body tense, until you heard the faint click of the door closing behind him. Only then did you sit up, your breaths coming fast and shallow. Same school, your mind repeated, looping the thought like a mantra.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your fingers trembling as you opened your notebook. The sketch of him was already half-finished, but now you added the details you hadn’t dared before—the soft smile he wore when he looked at you, the way his hair framed his face like ink spilled on paper. You scribbled furiously, giggling to yourself as your mind replayed his words.

“He’s mine,” you whispered, clutching the notebook to your chest. The idea felt like a delicious secret, one only the two of you shared.

You fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. It was manic, unhinged, and you couldn’t stop. You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to stifle the sound, but it burst out anyway.

He’s at my school. He’s watching me. He wants me.

The thought spiraled in your mind, sending shivers of excitement down your spine. You hugged yourself, the ghost of his embrace still lingering on your skin.

“Ahahaha…” Your laughter echoed in the room, a twisted symphony of delight and madness. This is love, you thought, your smile widening. “He loves me. He loves me so much.”

Dark circles framed your eyes, your energy depleted from balancing your nightly "acting" with day-to-day university life. Every night, after he left, your mind raced with fantasies of him, spinning scenarios that left you restless, yet alive.

Crowe noticed, of course. He always did. His concern showed in the way he glanced at you during lectures, and eventually, he leaned over, whispering, “You look like death. Go to sleep in the next class. I’ll get the notes for you.”

You flashed him a polite smile, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine, really. I was going to head to the library anyway.”

Crowe’s friend Brittney was hard to miss. Tall, striking, and effortlessly commanding, she was the kind of person who drew attention whether she wanted to or not. Her gyaru style made her stand out even more: bold streaks of color in her hair, immaculate nails, and an outfit that balanced daring and chic. Crowe had asked you to at least try to get along with her, but the truth was, you didn’t see yourself fitting into their world. Too weird, too… you.

Still, you played your part well, smiling sweetly when Brittney asked for help organizing papers. “Of course! Thank you for asking,” you replied, your voice the picture of politeness.

As she walked away, Crowe chuckled. “She’s like that. Rough edges, but she means well.”

You tilted your head, smiling faintly. “Everyone hides something under their skin, Crowe.”

The library was a quieter battlefield until one of the bullies decided to play a cruel joke. A mean girl "accidentally" knocked over a shelf Brittney had been working on. Papers and books scattered everywhere, and you could see Brittney’s jaw tighten, her polished exterior cracking.

“F***ing bitch!” Brittney snarled, tackling the girl with surprising ferocity.

It escalated quickly. Books flew, chairs screeched, and the air buzzed with tension. You tried to step in, hands raised in a gesture of peace, but chaos had already broken loose. When one of the girls attempted to strike Brittney from behind, you didn’t hesitate—you shoved her hard, pushing her back into a table.

Pain shot through your wrist as you deflected her, and you realized she’d managed to scratch you with something sharp. Blood welled up, staining your sleeve, but adrenaline drowned out the pain. Brittney’s punches found their target while you held the attacker off.

The fight fizzled when a few bystanders yelled for order, and the bullies slinked away under the librarian’s furious glare. Brittney brushed herself off, her hair askew but her fiery defiance intact. Jess, another of Brittney’s friends, rushed to her side, fretting quietly as she checked her for injuries.

You stood off to the side, cradling your wrist. Jess glanced at you briefly, hesitant, before returning her focus to Brittney. You caught the faintest flicker of concern in her expression. She does care, you thought, but you let it go.

Crowe appeared moments later, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—let me take you to the nurse.”

You shook your head, offering him a tired smile. “I’m fine. I can go on my own.”

Crowe didn’t look convinced, but you turned away before he could argue, clutching your injured wrist as you made your way out. It’s nothing, you told yourself. Just another day in your fractured reality, another crack in the mask you wore so well.

The nurse��s office was a quiet reprieve from the chaos of the library. You slipped into the restroom nearby first, taking a moment to breathe and inspect your injured wrist under the fluorescent lights. The skin was raw and red, the gash deeper than you initially thought, but the pain was dulled by the adrenaline still coursing through you. You splashed water on your face, smoothing your features back into a neutral mask before heading into the nurse's domain.

The hallway seemed endless as you walked, with lingering eyes on you from passing students. Whispers buzzed faintly, but no one dared approach. Good, you thought. You preferred it that way. Once inside, the nurse noticed your bruised state immediately.

“Another bully victim?” she sighed, her tone exasperated but kind. “This school, honestly... I need to file a formal complaint with the principal.” She gestured for you to sit, but you stayed standing, pretending to be fascinated by the various medical supplies lined up on the counter. You didn’t want to stay still. It made you too vulnerable.

As you idly picked at a box of bandages, a voice sliced through the quiet atmosphere.

“Did you have to punch that girl’s boyfriend that hard, Sunny?”

“Yes,” came a familiar, firm reply. “They hurt them. So I did.”

Your heart stopped. That voice—it was him. The one who watched, who whispered. The voice that curled around your mind every night like smoke.

Without thinking, you stumbled backward, finding a corner to hide behind as your gaze sought him out. And there he was.

There was something almost surreal about seeing him in the light of day, his presence no longer confined to the shadowy cocoon of your nights. "Sunny," as his companion called him—was perched on the nurse’s bed, his plum hair catching the light in a way that made it seem alive, streaked with vibrant green like ivy climbing through ruins. His heterochromatic eyes burned like embers: orange at their core, ringed with a deep crimson that seemed to pulse with restrained intensity. They were a contradiction, much like him—fiery yet haunting, sharp yet soft.

His features were angular, carved with precision, yet softened by the slight pout of his lips and the faint curve of his nose. He radiated a raw, magnetic energy that felt both predatory and tender, like the kind of beauty that ruins you, and yet you crave it. The piercings that adorned his ears gleamed faintly, tiny markers of rebellion etched into his skin. The hoops on his lower lip caught the light every time he spoke, adding a glint of silver to the vibrant palette of his face.

His striped shirt clung to him, black and green lines stretching across his lean frame. The black t-shirt layered beneath was slightly oversized, softening the edge of his appearance, while his necklace dangled lightly with each of his movements—a two-pronged key, dangling with an air of mystery. His jewelry matched his aesthetic perfectly: the buckled choker hugging his throat, the key necklace swaying with each breath, the metal glinting like secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Even seated, he had a presence that demanded attention, though he seemed to wield it effortlessly, unaware of the effect he had on the room.

The blue-haired boy standing next to him was smaller in stature, and despite his exasperated expression, there was a gentle authority in the way he interacted with Sol.

“Isn’t it time to go, Sunny?” he asked, clearly used to Sunny's antics.

“Nope,” Sunny replied lazily, crossing his arms. “Not until Y/N gets bandaged.”

Your breath hitched. Your name falling from his lips sent a jolt through your chest, like an electric wire connecting directly to your heartbeat. You pressed further into the corner, praying they wouldn’t notice you, but you couldn’t stop watching.

The blue-haired boy—Hyugo, as Sol addressed him—sighed, dragging Sunny off the bed with surprising strength despite their size difference. “Sunny,” he chided, like a parent scolding their child. Sol resisted briefly, pouting, before reluctantly letting himself be led away. His footsteps echoed faintly as they left, and you waited until you were sure the coast was clear before emerging from your hiding spot.

You managed to snap a few discreet photos of Sol. You told yourself it was just for memory’s sake, but when you looked at them again, your stomach fluttered.

Sol, with his chaos and beauty, was so striking, so utterly unique. And he was yours to admire, even if only from a distance.

The nurse’s hurried return interrupted your spiraling thoughts. Her voice pulled you back to reality as she gestured for you to sit on the bed she had prepared. "And what about the other two students?" she asked, glancing toward the hallway.

“They left,” you muttered, your voice neutral as you fought to keep your heart rate under control. The nurse bustled around, grabbing supplies while she filled the silence with small talk.

“They’re such interesting boys,” she said, her voice warm with familiarity. “Hyugo is such a helpful young man. Always looking out for that friend of his. You know, despite his height, Sol is surprisingly sweet—like a friendly giant."

Your hands tightened around the edge of the bed, nails pressing into the vinyl. Hyugo. That was the blue-haired boy’s name. The nurse’s description of him as Sol’s protector matched perfectly with what you had seen. You forced out a soft giggle, though it escaped as a hiccup, drawing the nurse’s attention. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied quickly, masking your excitement. “It’s just… they seem close. It’s kind of nice.”

“Oh, they are,” she continued, dabbing antiseptic on your wound. “Hyugo’s always been like that. And Solivan…” She paused, as though thinking of the right words. “He’s a bit of a sad case, really. He’s been through a lot, poor thing. But he’s strong—so much stronger than he realizes.”

Your breath hitched. Solivan. Your world tilted as the name settled in your chest like a brand. Solivan Brugmansia. It echoed in your head, sweet and perfect, like a melody only you were meant to hear.

The nurse’s voice faded into a murmur as she continued her work, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. Your heart raced, your mind spinning as you turned the name over and over in your head. When she finished bandaging your hand, you thanked her in a daze and stumbled out of the office.

The hallway was empty, but you didn’t care. You ducked into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind you. The sterile walls seemed to close in as your emotions surged. A giggle bubbled up, spilling out in shaky bursts before escalating into full-blown laughter.

“Solivan Brugmansia,” you whispered, your voice reverent, almost trembling. You repeated it, louder this time, your reflection in the mirror smiling back at you. “Solivan Brugmansia. Solivan. Brugmansia. Sol. Solivan.”

The name felt like magic, a key unlocking something wild and unhinged within you. You chanted it like a prayer, each repetition filling you with a twisted joy. “Solivan Brugmansia, Solivan Brugmansia, Solivan Brugmansia—”

Your giggles turned to shrill laughter, a sound that echoed eerily in the small restroom. You clutched the sink for support, your bandaged hand trembling as your thoughts spiraled further. I know his name. I know his name! The realization was intoxicating, overwhelming, consuming every rational thought you had left.

“He’s perfect,” you whispered to yourself, tears of manic delight prickling at your eyes. “I’ll meet him. I’ll be normal. I’ll be normal. I’ll—”

A sudden knock on the door shattered your reverie, the sound loud and jarring against your fragile composure.

“Could you keep it down in there?” a muffled voice called, annoyance dripping from the tone.

Your laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a cold, seething anger. Slowly, you turned toward the door, your reflection in the mirror now a twisted, distorted version of yourself.

They dared to interrupt.

You opened the door slowly, your movements deliberate, controlled. The person on the other side—a student, their face vaguely familiar—took a step back, their irritation fading into nervousness as they met your gaze.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous. The edges of your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your tilted head made you look like a predator sizing up its prey.

“N-No, just…” they stammered, their confidence crumbling under your cold stare. “You were, um, being kind of loud—”

Before they could finish, you took a single step forward, and they flinched. The hallway seemed darker now, your presence casting a shadow that felt far too large for one person.

“I’ll keep it down,” you said softly, the sweetness in your tone laced with venom. Then, leaning in just enough for them to catch the glint of something unhinged in your eyes, you whispered, “But you should watch where you stick your nose next time.”

They stumbled back, their mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before muttering a hurried apology and retreating down the hall.

The sound of their footsteps faded, you turned back into the restroom, closing the door with a quiet click. Your reflection in the mirror greeted you, your smile widening as you touched your lips, imagining them shaping his name again.

“Solivan Brugmansia,” you whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

The encounter had done nothing to dim your obsession. If anything, it only fed it. Soon, you thought, your heart pounding with anticipation.

You started stalking Sol and Hyugo like clockwork. Every day on campus, you trailed after them, your movements as careful as a predator circling its prey. They were always together—Hyugo acting like a makeshift guardian while Sol seemed lost in his own world. Their favorite spot quickly became apparent: the rooftop. It wasn’t technically allowed for students to hang out there, but that didn’t stop them. Sol seemed to loathe the cafeteria, his disdain for its noise and chaos written all over his face whenever someone suggested it.

You made it a habit to reach the rooftop before them, ensuring you’d have the perfect vantage point to watch them. Not creepy at all, you thought with a twisted grin. There was something ethereal about Solivan under the open sky, the sunlight catching on the green streaks in his hair and making his mismatched eyes gleam like fire and blood. He’s so pretty, you sighed internally. Every movement, every glance felt deliberate and perfect, like he was crafted by your own imagination.

Hyugo, the blue-haired “parent” of the duo, was Sol’s grounding force. You watched as he subtly steered Sol’s chaotic thoughts back to reality, his calm voice carrying through the breeze. Sometimes, their conversations drifted your way. One particular exchange made your heart race.

“Have you been taking your sleeping pills, Sol?” Hyugo asked, his tone laced with concern.

Sol nodded, but you knew better. Oh, sweetheart, you’re feeding them to me instead, you thought, biting back a giggle. The very idea thrilled you. He’s lying to his best friend for me—just like I’d lie for him. We’re so alike, Sol. Matchy-matchy. You giggled softly to yourself, clutching your bag as though it held every secret you’d gathered about him.

The rooftop had become your sacred ground. Each day, you made sure to get there first, blending into the background as best you could while Sol and Hyugo came to unwind. It was their haven, where Sol could escape the cafeteria—his disdain for the crowded, noisy space evident in every eye roll and sharp comment he made about it.

You hid yourself carefully, peering around corners or crouching behind vents as the duo talked. It wasn’t hard to piece together their dynamic: Hyugo, the loud and teasing one, always nudging Sol toward some semblance of normalcy, and Sol, the quiet, brooding artist, who seemed eternally annoyed yet tethered to his friend’s chaotic energy.

“Sunny boy, I swear, one day you’re going to crack from all this stalking,” Hyugo teased, leaning against the edge of the rooftop railing. His blue hair caught the sunlight, but your eyes were locked on Sol.

“I’m not stalking anyone,” Sol muttered, his voice as flat and disinterested as ever. He didn’t look up from his sketchbook, where his pencil moved in quick, fluid strokes.

“Uh-huh. And I’m the Pope. Come on, Sunny, you’re practically vibrating whenever Y/N’s around. It’s cute, actually.”

Sol shot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “I don’t vibrate.”

“Sure, sure,” Hyugo said with a grin, leaning closer to peek at the sketchbook. “Hey, is that—oh my God, are you drawing them again? Sunny, you’re obsessed!”

“Shut up, Hyugo,” Sol snapped, snapping the book shut with a satisfying thud. A faint flush dusted his cheeks, and you almost swooned at the sight.

Through your relentless watching, you pieced together more and more about Sol’s world. He liked plushies—tiny glimpses of them in his bag or on his desk betrayed a softness he tried to hide. Horses fascinated him, though you’d never seen him near one. The ocean, however, was an object of pure hatred. Even the thought of it seemed to unsettle him. And his neck—oh, how he hated when people noticed it. You didn’t know why, but the way he’d pull his collar up or hide behind his scarf whenever someone’s gaze lingered too long sent shivers of fascination down your spine.

Crowe, though? Sol hated Crowe. Why? You weren’t sure. Did Sol think you liked Crowe? That thought made you laugh—a loud, manic sound that echoed in your mind. No, silly Sol. Crowe’s just a friend. You’re the only one who matters. You giggled to yourself, making a mental note to friendzone Crowe at the next opportunity. No one has to die, right?

Your stalking wasn’t all selfish indulgence, though. You made it your mission to protect Sol from his bullies in secret. Every time someone dared to mess with him, you found ways to make their lives miserable. Pranks, carefully crafted rumors, even well-placed traps—it was your way of showing love, even if he’d never know it was you.

You couldn't stop yourself, could you? Each time your mind drifted back to Sol, it felt like you were drowning in an ocean of thoughts you couldn’t escape. There was no rational explanation for it, just a need, a yearning to see him, to be close to him. You didn’t know why you liked Sol, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt like something inside you was broken. Messy. Rotten. Ugly. Stupid. The words echoed in your mind like a relentless drumbeat, each one sinking deeper into your consciousness.

But you couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t you stop?

Maybe you were just messed up—maybe this was just who you were now. The idea of obsession wasn’t new to you, but this? This feeling for Sol was different. You were feeding into his own obsession, subtly manipulating his thoughts and actions, just as he unknowingly tugged on your every string. I’m a fucking mess, you thought, crumpling the pages of your journal before tossing it aside. I’m messed up for liking him. I shouldn’t be doing this. Why do I care so much?

Yet, as you thought about it, a darker voice inside your head whispered: But you don’t care. You just want him. You want to keep him. Don’t you?

You looked at your reflection in the glass, disgust rising up in your throat. The self-loathing was overwhelming. You wanted to leave. Run away. Escape from this sick obsession gnawing at you, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. What would I even do without him? you thought, the sick realization that he was the only thing that made sense in your otherwise chaotic world.

And then your gaze shifted. Your scrapbook—your treasure trove of Sol. You’d been filling it for weeks, months, maybe. Pictures of him, scribbled notes, little drawings of his face, and the countless things you learned about him. Things you knew he would never notice, things that were yours and yours alone. You smiled, a dark, twisted grin spreading across your face as you flipped through the pages, relishing in the thought that no one else had this.

You reached for your favorite pen, the one that always felt so good in your hand, and began writing. The words flowed out like a twisted confession, something that felt raw and vulnerable, but at the same time, empowering. You wrote:

O, thou shadowed soul whose crimson eyes do stare, Through twilight’s veil, seeking me with ceaseless care. How I know thy step, thy breath, thy tender scheme, The hunter’s heart, woven deep within this dream.

I, Annabel, with whispers darkly sweet, Stand here entranced, ready for the cruel heat, Of trial and gaze, a feverish, whispered jest, To test thy fervor, O stalker, my unrest.

Art thou true, or doth the mask crack wide, When confronted with love that seeks to chide? O Sol, thou art regal, a lost marquis, A figure grander than court's rich pleas.

Why dost thou flinch at this jeweled yoke, Collared like Marie Antoinette, when spoke Of necks adorned in fate’s decree, Tell me, pretty man, dost thou flee or plea?

Yet, I love thee, this strange, begotten chase, A danse macabre within thy haunted embrace. O, prove thyself, meet the midnight’s dare, For ‘tis love I hold, should thy soul lay bare.

His Annabel...

You laughed quietly to yourself, the sound almost hollow. Oh god, this is so cringy, you thought. The poetry, the confession—it was ridiculous. But it’s what I feel, isn't it?

You paused, looking at the mess of words you had written, and smiled. It’s okay. I don’t care. You couldn’t help but smile. I’m not normal. I’m not like everyone else. But Sol... Sol gets it, doesn’t he?

The laugh bubbled up again, darker this time, a little more manic. You hugged the scrapbook to your chest, clutching it tightly as though it were a lifeline. The obsession that had once felt foreign was now becoming a part of you, weaving itself into your identity like the very air you breathed.

You were hopeless. But, in a twisted way, you were happy. Because in this world of chaos, Sol was your constant. The only one who could save you.

And so you wrote more. “Fix me, Sol. Fix me, and I’ll love you forever.”

You looked at the words..

Everything was perfect until!

THUD!

Geo had always been a bit of a mystery to everyone, even to those who were close to Crowe. His tall, imposing presence, the sharp eyes that seemed to look straight through you, and his effortless grace with a weapon made him someone no one dared cross. He wasn't known for being sociable or for revealing much about himself, and despite his wealth, people respected his silence more than they feared his power.

But now, you had been caught.

The way he stood in front of you, arms crossed with that knowing, intimidating gaze locked on you—shit. You hadn't expected anyone to figure it out. You thought you'd covered your tracks well enough, staying in the shadows, sneaking around just before the rooftop sessions, watching Sol and Hyugo like an obsessive, lovesick ghost. But now, Geo—Geo—was standing in front of you, calling you out.

You forced a smile, a casual, almost innocent grin. "Why do you care?" You giggled, trying to make light of the situation, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. The amusement didn't reach your eyes. He knows, doesn't he?

Geo raised an eyebrow, his aquamarine eyes never leaving yours, sharp and assessing. His posture was relaxed, but the air around him crackled with the intensity of someone who didn’t need to do much to make people feel uncomfortable. "Stalking people isn't exactly a good look," he said, his voice low and steady. "Especially not those close to Crowe." His eyes flickered briefly to your hands, as if he knew you were clutching something—your scrapbook, maybe, the evidence of your obsession. Shit.

You scoffed, trying to push down the anxiety creeping up your spine. "Oh, come on. I’m just… observing." You laughed, as though it were a joke, hoping that Geo would take it lightly. But you knew he wouldn’t. Geo wasn’t someone who took anything lightly.

"You think I'm stupid?" Geo's tone hardened, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He stepped forward, the movement smooth and deliberate, closing the distance between you. "I know you’re not just observing. You’re obsessing, and you’re messing with them. Do you think I don't notice? Do you think you’re the only one who sees things?" His words were like daggers, each one hitting harder than the last.

The room felt smaller now, as if the walls were closing in on you. Your heart raced, a mix of fear and excitement. He was onto you. But did he know the extent of it? Did he know you weren’t just watching from afar? Did he understand how deep this fixation went?

Geo's expression shifted, growing more serious. "You’re playing a dangerous game, you know." He stepped even closer, his face inches from yours. "And I don’t like people who play games with people I care about. So, if you have something on them… or if you think you can manipulate them into something they don't want… I’d suggest you think twice."

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. The image of Sol, of Hyugo, both so wrapped up in their own worlds, their quiet, innocent lives. You didn't want to hurt them, not really. But the obsession—the way Sol's face haunted your thoughts, how he was everything you wanted and more—it made your decisions blur. It made you do things you didn’t even fully understand.

Geo seemed to sense the shift in your demeanor. "Look," he said, a trace of pity in his voice now, "I don’t want to make things difficult. I just want to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions." His eyes bored into yours, almost reading your thoughts. "Whatever it is you think you're doing with them… just stop. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt."

The way he looked at you now, with a strange mix of concern and cold detachment, made you feel small, exposed. You weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to being vulnerable. He knows. He knows everything.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you whispered, but it was clear Geo didn’t believe you.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing a little. "You’re lucky I don’t want to make this worse. Just… stay away from them, okay?" His voice softened just a fraction. "You don’t want to mess with someone like Sol. And you definitely don’t want to get on Hyugo’s bad side. Trust me and mess with him, you will see me."

Geo took a step back, eyes still on you, as if waiting for your response. You didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything you could say. He’s right, isn’t he?

Geo turned and walked away, you felt your chest tighten.

You watch Geo from a distance, your heart pounding with excitement and a dash of madness. It wasn’t enough to just observe them anymore. No, you needed more.

With a quick step, you approach Geo, your grin growing wider. His dark eyes flicker with annoyance, and he halts, looking over at you as if you're a pest he wishes would just disappear. The tension is thick, and you're only getting more thrilled by it. You call out his full name, “Subaru Oogami,” knowing the effect it would have.

He stops. His expression hardens, and you can almost feel the wave of annoyance radiating off him. “What do you want?” he spits, his voice low, almost like a growl. It’s a response you expected. A warning, a challenge. You savor it.

“Isn’t Hyugo Sugimoto your older brother?” you ask, a playful note lacing your voice. The words are casual, but your eyes glint with mischief. His gaze sharpens even more. You can see the tension rising in his posture.

You giggle, unable to hide the amusement. "Such a bad boy, Subaru, ignoring your own brother like that. It’s so embarrassing, though... all that emo energy for what?" The words spill out of you in a rush, the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. You know it’s getting under his skin. You can tell by the tightening of his jaw, the slight twitch of his hands.

You step closer, your eyes glinting with something dangerous, something predatory. “You know, I’ve gotten a lot of info from watching you and your brother... but don’t worry. I’m not interested in Hyugo,” you say, voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. You lean in just a bit, the space between you two narrowing. “But... I am interested in Sol.”

His glare feels like it could slice through steel, but you hold his stare, smiling evilly. His eyes narrow into daggers, but you don't flinch. No one gets in your way. Not anymore.

“Don’t disturb me, and I won’t be after your ass, Subaru,” you say, your voice sweet but laced with the cold bite of a threat.

He looks at you, eyes flashing with fury. There’s a moment of silence where he contemplates your words, the weight of your threat hanging between you two. He looks ready to strike, to put you in your place, but he simply lets out a harsh “tch” and shakes his head.

“You keep quiet, stay out of trouble with me or Hyugo, and we won’t have a problem,” he says, his voice sharp, his glare never leaving you.

You tilt your head, a sly smile still tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Promises,” you murmur, watching as he turns, clearly done with the conversation. You let out a quiet laugh as you watch him walk away, knowing that you’ve made your point.

Geo, Subaru Oogami—whatever you call him—wouldn’t be such a threat anymore.

He left, looking that same death glare at you smiled like a angel who did nothing wrong!

Part 1 over! Pls tell me if I should make part 2...

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