#i feel so exhausted from the back to back palpitations

[sesshy380]

Dear Anxiety,

Thank you for waking me from the rare occasion where despite me being aware it's a dream, I have absolute zero control over it and am stuck with the horrors. That was several hours ago. You don't have to stick around and hold my hand...or you know...sit on my chest. I swear I am completely fine now. I don't need back to back little panic attacks every time the song switches on the playlist, or when I complete a quest, or reblog something I like. So, uh, not to be rude...but there's the door. Please leave.

Sincerely,

-Me

[hotchscvm]

leaked nudes — two

pt. 1

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you just wanted penelope’s feedback on your nudes. its hard for her to do so when you send them to your boss instead.

word count: 2k (another short one)

warnings: the word panties, stealing of shirts, reader checking out aaron’s ass, a mention of leonado dicaprio, mentions of suicidal thoughts

The next few days for him is torture.

Every time he looks at you, or even in your general vicinity, he’s reminded of the images he can never forget. Not that he’s been able to stop thinking about them, in the shower, in his bed, in his office, in the field—it was consuming him and he didn’t mind.

Aaron had resorted to wearing his darker suits, hoping they’d conceal his raging boner (an instance that only happened around you or when he thinks of you or when anyone even speaks your name). Unfortunately for exhausted cock, you noticed the change and complimented him on it, leaving him to lock himself in his hotel room and rub out a quick one.

After another unsuccessful day, Aaron sends the team back to the hotel, following them a few minutes afterward. He groans inwardly as he sees you coming out of the bathroom, knowing well enough he’d have to drive you to the hotel as the team had taken two of the SUVs back. He didn’t think he could stand another second alone with you without wanting to pin you against the wall and fuck you until the whole city knew his name.

You smiled at him as he opened the door for you, and he thinks he may develop heart palpitations with the number of times you make his heart stop—Aaron is certain one of these days his heart won’t continue and you may literally kill him with your smile.

Despite his cock stirring in his pants, the drive back to the hotel was lovely, though he can confidently say any time with you is divine. Though, he does rear-end the car in front of them when you unbutton your top, showing a white tank top under. Even worse when the seat belt tightens around you when he steps on the brake hard, causing it to accentuate your breasts, stuffed between them. He thinks he’s finally gone insane, being jealous over a seatbelt.

He opens the door for you once again, getting out of the car and the doors to the hotel. Aaron wonders if you can hear his heart beating wildly out of his chest when you link your arm through his, leaning slightly against him as you walk to the elevators.

Once you get to your room, you sigh loudly, taking off your tank top and throwing it on the unmade bed. You were feeling the effects of being unable to solve the case and being in Kansas City was like being stuck in an elevator running out of air.

After taking a shower, you realize your go bag was running out of clothes as you’ve been here for nearly a week. You were too tired to do laundry in the hotel’s laundry room and you knew Spencer was sleeping by now so you quickly wrapped a towel around your body and walked next door to Aaron’s room.

Knocking, you secured the towel around you, chuckling at the thought of flashing your boss. When he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of you in just the towel, nearly slamming the door close at the thought.

Smiling sheepishly at him, you said. “Hey, can I borrow another shirt? I don’t really want to wear another dirty one and I haven’t done laundry yet.”

It takes him a few seconds to answer, his eyes never leaving your face. Aaron nods, opening his door further. “Um, yeah, of course. Let me just see what I have.”

You step a foot inside his room as he gets a shirt from his duffel bag, checking out his ass as he had taken his blazer off, your view now unconstructed. You wanted nothing more than to have his belt wrapped around your hands instead of his pants.

Aaron gets a shirt from his bag, handing it to you. It’s blue and the material is rather thin from its usage. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah, thanks again, Hotch.” you flash him a grin, walking out of the room. “I promise not to steal this one like the others.”

He chuckles, waving it off. “You can steal as many of my shirts as you want.”

You laugh, opening your door. Truthfully, you liked his shirts better than any of yours. Most of them were faded but they still smelled like him and you often slept in one of them after stealing the first one. You preferred them to the clothing you’ve stolen from Spencer or Derek, though Emily’s hoodie was a game changer.

Thankfully, you didn't have to share rooms so you got dressed in Aaron’s large t-shirt and put on a pair of pink panties. Like the rest, the hem of the shirt fell down just below your ass, leaving you mostly covered.

Your phone buzzes as you get into bed, Penelope’s message causing you to chuckle.

Pen

I’ve been waiting not-so-patiently for these sexy pics.

Before joining the BAU, you had regularly sent nudes to the men on your roster, wanting nothing more than fun and compliments to boost your confidence. During a girl’s night, and after four shots of vodka, you admitted to Penelope you liked getting feedback on the pictures you took and in both your drunk stage, she had agreed to be one of your critics.

And while you slowly decreased your roster, Penelope was always the first person you sent them to, and she’d give you feedback based on how the picture was taken and what you were wearing. Multiple times she had asked where you’d gotten your lingerie.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to send her nudes before you sent them to anyone. Not that you had anyone in mind to send this particular set of pictures to, but it was nice to get compliments from a friend after a long day. She was like your agent if you were famous, steering you in the right way.

Texting her you’d send them in a few minutes, you got ready to take several photos. Some included the bathroom mirror, some included you in Aaron’s shirt and two showed you completely naked. Inappropriate use of your boss’ t-shirt made the pictures hotter to you, though no one but you would know. You giggled at the thought of Aaron seeing you use his shirts in your nudes—that would be mortifying.

As if he could read your mind, your phone buzzed again, Aaron’s name popping up in the text notification. Clicking on the message, you saw he wanted to see pictures you had taken from the coroner of the most recent victim.

You’re about to send them to him when Penelope’s text pops up on the top of your screen, reminding you once again to send them. Grinning, you click on your naked images and send them before responding back to Aaron’s message about the dead body. As you click send, you put your phone on the bedside table and pick up the tv remote, putting on whatever the first show you came across.

Normally, Penelope would take about a minute to “study” the photos you’ve sent her but just as you turned the tv on, your phone buzzed, her text lighting up the screen. Frowning, you unlock your phone, confused by her text.

Pen

Ewww, why’d you send me the vic’s dead body???

Heart pounding, you tap on your messages with the blonde, heart dropping when you realize you sent her the pictures from the coroners instead of the promised nudes. You don’t bother to apologize to her when you see you’ve sent Aaron Hotchner six pictures.

And if you didn’t send Penelope your nudes …

Hands shaking you clicked on Aaron’s name, throwing your phone across the room after seeing a photo of your bare cunt in the message you sent him. It hits the wall, denting it slightly as you stare in its general direction, absolutely mortified.

What the actual fuck.

You rush towards your fallen phone, calling Penelope, face red and hands shaking. “Shit, shit, shit. Answer the phone.”

“Hey, when I mean send pictures–”

“I accidentally sent my nudes to Hotch.” you blurt out, plopping back on your bed.

“WHAT?”

Groaning, you banged your head on the mattress, wanting nothing more than to switch places with the corpse you took a picture of. “I meant to send them to you but I guess I switched you up by mistake—I don’t know, I’m really tired and I sent our boss pictures of my tits and pussy, Penelope!”

Silence meets your confession, and you only hear her breathing for a few seconds. “It’s … I don’t … What … I mean, it's not as bad as you’re thinking. Has he seen them yet?”

“How would I know?” you hissed. Pacing back and forth in your room, you bit your lip, worried. “Oh, my God. He’s so going to fire me, or worse: he’s going to want to talk to me about it instead of just ignoring it. OH, MY FUCK.”

Penelope chuckled quietly. “To be fair, they’re probably good pictures.”

“PENELOPE GARCIA.” you whisper-shouted, fidgeting with the hem of your—Aaron’s—shirt. Oh, how you wanted to crumble on your knees and die. “This isn’t like I accidentally sent them to Spence or Derek, I sent them to Aaron Hotchner. It’s like the worst-case scenario. I’d rather send my pussy to Rossi than Hotch.”

“Really? You’d rather send them to Rossi?” she questioned, amused and almost as mortified at the situation, though for different reasons.

“I’d rather send nudes to Rossi than Derek,” you confessed, running a hand through your hair. “At least with Rossi we can laugh it off but Derek would probably tease me about it until I do something more embarrassing. Oh, God, I’m so going to get fired. I might as well shoot my brains out before he tells me to come to his room to talk.”

“Or … you could go to his room and … you know,” Penelope replied, her tone flirty.

“Leonardo Dicaprio would date a woman over twenty-five years old before that happens, Pen.” you groaned, looking longly at the gun on your bedside table—not that you would actually consider it but, oh to be dead. “I’m actually going to die of embarrassment.”

Before she can reply, someone knocks on your door and you have a suspicion about who it is. You hurriedly say goodbye to the tech analysis, heart heavy as you walk to the door. You think about breaking the hotel window and jumping off from the fourth story but he knocks again, leaving you no choice but to open the door.

Aaron Hotchner stands on the other side, eyes crazed and shirt unbuttoned. You open your mouth to apologize, to make up an excuse, to do some damage control but it seems as if he has other ideas.

He takes a step forward, hands encasing your face as he kisses you. You freeze in shock, and he takes the opportunity to back you against the wall, a hand tilting your jaw and the other tangling in your hair. He bit your lip and you squeal quietly in surprise, his tongue slipping between your lips.

After a few seconds of trying to wrap your head around your boss kissing you, you kiss him back, closing your eyes as you enjoy his lips on yours. His hands drift down your back, squeezing your ass briefly before reaching the hem of your–his–shirt, pulling it up and exposing the pink panties you wore.

He pulls away, both of you breathing hard. Aaron glances down, smirking at the color of your thong before looking back at you, taking a step away and reluctantly taking his hands off of you. You don’t realize you’re whimpering, objecting.

“Do you want this?” he asks, eyes piercing and panting. He still wore his suit, but his shirt was half unbuttoned. You could see his chest peeking from them.

You nodded, taking a step closer to him, bringing you to his touch. “Yes.”

Aaron’s hands are immediately on you again, lips on yours as he whispered. “Good. Tonight, you’ll be filming my cock fucking your needy cunt instead of your fingers.”

a/n: i wanted to write smut but i gotta save my smut juices (ew) for bad ideas 2. also thank u to @callm3c0nfus3d and @gublersgibson for convincing me to do pt 2 :))))

[sunflowersteves]

you’re an addiction || m.o.

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!afab!reader

summary || Everyone always thought Miguel was quiet and calculating, but you know him so much more differently.

author's notes || im so slutty for this man it's insane and I needed him to be soft

warnings || fluff, kinda emotionally constipated miguel, SMUT, praise kink, soft!dom, cockwarming, vaginal sex, unprotected sex [18+ only]

masterlist

“Baby,” Miguel’s eyes flickered from the screen of the computer to the wooded desk. He was trying real hard to concentrate—eyebrows furrowed and large frame standing tall.

“You need to sit still.” He said it so soft. He meant it to sound a bit more demanding, but how could he? You were sitting so good for him. 

Miguel wasn’t known for being a talker. Not really.

At the HQ, he barely uttered a word unless it was necessary. He had grown to like the quiet, empty space of silence. It seemed calming to him. It harnessed a full collection of him and his thoughts as they unraveled.

Until you. 

You were the one exception to the rule of silent Miguel. You were the light that speckled onto his stubborn, grieving heart. You were the cause and reason for every single curl of his lips as he watched you perform a mundane task.

He just couldn’t help himself around you. You dug up underneath his heart and made him want to spill every detail of his thoughts to you. He could never say no to you, either. It felt impossible to him when you bash your eyelashes prettily, and his heart palpitates against his chest. He is absolutely done for the minute you whisper his name softly in his ear.

Like, now. Miguel was supposed to be working on important briefing materials for a new mission. He was gathering evidence and needed to present it to the team in a couple of days.

You padded across the living room floors and sauntered your way into Miguel’s study. It was late. Impossibly late. You had woken up to an empty bed. Your hand had patted the mattress to find your husband, but he was nowhere to be found. You could never sleep without him, and if he was being honest, neither could he. 

“Miggy?” You called out. Your eyes flitted over Miguel, his broad frame hunching over the hologram computer. A pout had sprouted onto your lips because you figured he was nowhere near done.

“Hmm?” He says. His head didn’t even move from the work in front of him.

He could hear you make your way over to him, though. His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. 

Sometimes, he cherished nights like these. You would wake up in the middle of the night to find Miguel sitting in his study. You would wrap your arms around him, koala-like, and fall asleep on his lap. He would always smile as your mind dreamed of him—he knew from the small whispers of his name as sleep took over in full. 

“Can’t sleep without you.” You murmur.

He finally tears his eyes away to look at you. His heart thumped hard against his chest for what felt like the millionth time. Your pajamas hung loose onto your form as you rubbed one of your exhausted eyes.

He scooted the office chair back and tapped his thigh. “C’mere. I’ll be done soon, baby.”

You walked into his presence but didn’t sit just yet. “Promise?”

He breaks into a smile. “Promise.”

You climbed on top of his large thighs. You were straddling his waist and immediately enveloping him in a hug. Your cheeks were pressed up against his chest. If only you could see his smile now—practically beaming.

He scoots the chair back. He breathes in deeply to appreciate the feeling of your warmth radiating off onto him. You close your eyes, and he continues to do his work. His fingers pressed up against the holographic keyboard. He moved other components of the mission to the other—his eyes darting in concentration. 

You yawned against his chest and subconsciously pressed your cheek further into him. You thought about him.

You thought about the way his smile lights up when you walk into the room. You thought about the day he made pozole when you were sick. You thought about the way his body completely wrapped around yours with his broad frame. You thought about the way he held you in bed during the pretty, bright sunrise. You thought about how his hands groped the soft flesh of your thighs. You thought about the times he has left you dizzy from the kisses and bites to your neck. You thought about the way his cock left a burn from—

Now you got squirmy. So much so that, that was how he gave the initial scolding to keep you still. Even though it was soft, you knew when you needed to quit. Although, you couldn’t help it. Not when your mind eventually wandered off to the way his cock pounded into you this morning.

“I’m sorry, Miggy,” you lightly pouted. Your eyes were closed, and you were concentrating on Miguel’s heartbeat. You needed a distraction from thinking about how his cock always filled you up so fucking well.

His eyebrow lifted as he saw the split-second of mischief in your eyes before you closed them, but he still gave you the benefit of the doubt. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. Don’t be sorry.” Your fingers tightened around his shoulder. “I just need you to stay still, okay?”

You nodded, but you could feel the wetness leak onto your panties. With how thin your shorts were, your slick would eventually leak onto his thigh. You squeezed your eyes even tighter, but your attempt in keeping calm had already failed. 

You bit your lip as you watched the way his arms flexed from having to move around the hologram. Your pussy was fucking throbbing at this point, thinking about MiguelMiguelMiguel—

Then, he abruptly stopped. Your head lifted up from his chest in confusion, but he never said a word. He just raised you with one hand, and the other pulled down his sweatpants.

His cock sprang free, and he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes become slightly larger. The way his cock practically pulsated in his grip, always left you speechless. There was pre-cum that spilled against his tip, and you could see the vein that ran across the side of his shaft. It made your mouth water to no fucking end.

He gently sat you back down onto his lap. Your hands immediately went to caress the girth of his cock, but he snatches your hands in his.

He clicks his tongue. “You wanna be a good girl?”

Your mouth falls open, but you nod. “I do.” He looks unconvinced. So, you whine. “Please.”

There it is. He can’t help but smirk. “Since you can’t sit still, I’ll give you my cock.” His eyes locked with yours, and you looked almost excited. “But no moving, okay? Gotta be good for me.”

You’d take him in any which way and in any form. You wanted to smile in delight, but you knew the raise of his eyebrow would be an indication not to challenge him. Instead, you enthusiastically nod.

Satisfied, Miguel maneuvers your pajama shorts and underwear to the side with one of his talons—the fabric ripping slightly from the pure sharpness. 

His mouth drops open at the way your pussy glistens for him. “Oh, poor baby.” His finger teases your opening, causing you to gasp. “You just needed my cock, didn’t you?”

You wanted to cry out. You nodded, the desperation to feel him inside of you was becoming unbearable. “I need you, Miguel.” Your heart beat so loud across your chest that it was even hard to hear yourself. Everything felt hot and heavy—the air feeling thick.

Ever so slowly, he starts to let you sink down into his cock. You both moan from the euphoric sensations of being one with one another. “Fuckin’ tight.” He whispers, closing his eyes. "Eres mia."

He can feel the way you restrict around him, and he has to stop himself from thrusting up into you. All he needs is five more minutes, and then he would be completely done with work. He could be all yours for the rest of the night.

You whimper, “f-fill me up so good, miggy.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah? Am fuckin’ made for you, querida.”

He lets out a groan as your walls clenched around him from the statement alone. You could feel your juices start to leak down onto his balls. Soon, it would be his thighs.

He stares at the hologram once more, attempting to continue his work. Your head leans back against his chest once again. This time, though, you were filled to the brim. His cock stretched you just enough to let you see stars.

He was big. The fat tip of his cock was hitting your cervix as you barely bottomed out. The thought was starting to make you accidentally roll your hips.

Miguel bites his tongue as a moan threatens to escape. He tries to keep his composure because he knows that if he gives you one look, he's done for. He’ll give you exactly what you want because Miguel O’Hara can’t say no to you. You have him wrapped around your pretty finger.

“Bein’ so good, baby. Just a little longer.” If you weren’t already cock drunk and fantasying about how his cock makes you feel, you would have noticed the slur in his words.

His voice was deep and relaxed—the gruffness scratched against his throat. His words seemed fluid and almost combined into one. All he could think about was how wet you were—some of the slick was starting to drop onto your conjoined thighs. He could feel just how desperate you were, and your soft whimpers weren't helping. It was starting to make his head feel fuzzy. 

You nodded against him, but you weren’t listening. “Yes, Miguel.” It was just a habit for you. You wanted to be his good girl, and you are. You really, really are.

Your body jolts as his hand smacks the desk in front of him. It turns off the hologram, and you’re left with your mouth opening in shock.

“Fuck this.” He yells impatiently. “I can fucking feel how wet you are, querida. It’s driving me—driving me fucking insane.” His eyes lowered to see the expression on your face. It almost made him whimper.

Your gaze was fucked. You looked completely fucked out from the haze in your eyes and the way your lip wobbled. You looked like an absolute mess, and it was tearing Miguel up.

He could feel the wanton need to bury his cock even further inside of you—which wasn’t even possible at this point. An aching need to take care of you took over his thoughts and pushed against his chest. He needed you.

“Miguel.” You whimpered. It was as if that was the only thing your brain could come up with—him. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

He coos, “I’ve got you, baby. Fuck work. Those pieces of shit can wait.” His hands move to your waist and squeeze. “You’ve been such a good girl, baby. S-so fucking good for me.”

You yell out his name when he thrusts up into you. You could feel the way his cock pierced through every single part of you. “Miguel—f-fuck—”

His hands tightened around your waist before helping you grind against him. You could barely move, not with your mind reeling from the pleasures that send tingles down your spine.

"So fuckin' good for me, baby. You did so well." Miguel grits his teeth at the way his cock twitched inside of you, in and out of your wet pussy. "Jus' can't get enough of this pussy." 

You whined and whimpered—just as he continued to have you grind and thrust against him. “Please, Miguel. Please—” You were already so close. The tortuous waiting game that he played as his cock stretched you thin was starting to take its toll.

He could feel the way your walls spasmed against him—the way you tightened even more. He moaned against you. “Y-you can let go, pretty girl. You’ve been so fuckin good—”

One of his hands leaves your waist. His thumb pressed up against your swollen clit and swirled around your sticky wetness—the substance had pooled around the two of you so much that it made such a mess.

“F-fuck. Let go, baby. Give it to me. Fuckin’ give it to me.”

You scream out his name as his cock pounds into you again and again. Your cunt impossibly tightens around him, and your orgasm comes quickly as gush all over his aching cock.

The sweet sounds you made had sent him over the edge. He lets everything go right behind you and spills his thick, hot cum deep inside. “F-fuck, querida—fuck.” He wants to say your name over and over until it’s the only thing that can form on his tongue.

You collapsed against him with deep, tired breaths. Your eyelids wanted to slip closed and let the soft pillows of sleep take you whole.

Miguel smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your hair line then another to your cheek.

“Looks like it’s time for bed, hmm?” His finger swipes gently against your cheek. “Let’s get you all cleaned up first.”

You sighed against him, completely and utterly content. A wide smile was on your face. “Okay, Miggy.”

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 1

warnings: abusive!suguru, mentions of cuts, mentions of physical abuse (choking, beating up, chaining), not for the faint-hearted. not beta'd. dead dove do not eat. summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through.

it has been in total of three days since you have been caged in the geto estate, at first, your anxiety and palpitations could not let you sleep, now? you're too exhausted to have those in the first place. it was simple, your parents were millionaires and owed geto some money, they decided not to go ahead with the deal and in turn, Miguel brought you here. in the confined walls of the estate where they crush you chokingly.

it's 3 am, your eyes wide awake in the bed that you're confined to, leg chained to the bedpost and the metallic bite of the chain brushing against your skin, bruisingly. your ankle is tied from the bedpost, you could walk around only to a certain extent. why? because you tried to escape and almost succeeded. now even when you try to sleep, it serves as a reminder of how you are a prisoner here. you hate this, all of this because the cult leader named geto thinks you're useless and a monkey. you don't even have an idea what that means...

---

"they have a daughter." miguel hums at suguru, crossing his arms and manspreading, sitting with geto in his office. the feline eyed man raised a brow, "is that so?" "Interesting..." he hums again, feet tapping on the floor. "Miguel, how does she look like?" his voice laced with curiosity echoed in the room which had the two of them contemplating future plans. "wait, i have a picture.."

and there you were, papped and captured from your morning errand, holding your coffee in your hand and wearing a white tank top, and some parachute pants. you were beautiful, suguru could almost call you perfect. if only... you were not a pathetic monkey. he hates them, and they have no place in his world, they will never be a part of his world...

"i just want to go home- i don't have any idea what you're talking about." another flashback rang through your mind. your first day here, comprising you begging and whimpering against the ropes of the chair you were tied to. "of course you don't, your parents do. your opinions are worthless in this anyway." geto looks at you with disgust, his eyes carry a strange emotion... he just, hated you for existing. nothing else. mere existence...

"fuckers like you who have no morals whatsoever have no other choice but to kidnap huh? fucking asshole!" you snarled, screaming out in frustration. you had no idea how your life could change so easily. a large hand wrapped around your throat the next instant, choking the life out of you with no relent. you struggled, eyes widening and feet kicking with wheezing gasps. "you see?" geto hums, leaning in against your ear and gravely whispering, "this is how easy it is for me to kill you, you're nothing. just a worthless piece of shit born to create curses in this world."

you couldn't do anything, your hands were tied up, you could only see the life you had, flash in front of your eyes before you passed out. suguru has no idea of his strength with a feeble human yet. he leans back, noticing the prominent bruising on your neck once your head leaned back, limp and lifeless. he yanked his hand away, putting some sanitizer on it. "pathetic." he hums, gritting his teeth. you were so weak... so fucking weak and still all you had to do was use that pathetic mouth didn't you?

geto left you there for the night, a very minuscule part of him feeling upset over the way he treated you, he would call himself an asshole for it if it was a sorcerer, but you weren't one. who cares if you're not a sorcerer anyways...

the next day, your eyes blinked awake, a hiss escaping you when you noticed you were still tied up, some of the blood circulation stopped because of the ropes tying your body to the chair. you wanted to scream, but your voice box hurts after yesterday. a grim reminder of what your kidnapper was truly capable of. you sniffled weakly, senses in fight or flight.

before your pitiful breakdown could even commence, manami opened the door, watching you with the same disgust her 'geto sama' carries... what is wrong with these people? truly? why do they look at you like you mean nothing. like you have done the greatest sin of the earth just by being born? "good morning, here's the thing. geto sama has informed your parents that you're under our custody, if they agree to give the money then you're safe to go, or we kill you." she shrugs. killing... is it that normal of a thing to say?

your eyes widened at the sheer panic of it, manami noticing the palpable fear in them and laughing, walking closer to you and untying you roughly; ignoring the scratches the rough rope surface would gift your skin. "take a shower." she yanked you by your hair, throwing you on the floor.

a loud whimper escapes you when your ribs collide with the solid marble, your body was still recovering from being tied up. what is wrong with these people? you're sure you have some visceral damage at this, your internal organs hurt with that throw, blinding pain in your sensitive scalp because of the hold in your hair. suck it up... you need to suck it up. "shouldn't you- treat me like a human at least? if my parents come back for me?" you grunt, using the aid of your palms to get up, a little dizzy.

manami cocks a hip out, "geto sama was right, you have a smart mouth for a monkey." she scoffs, walking outside with a hold on your nape. you stumble on the floor, how is this woman so strong? you couldn't understand why... you couldn't budge in her grip on you.

everything is hazy after, except you were force-fed hot soup for telling geto to kill himself during dinner, and not fed at all the next day, getting captured as well for running away and now a chain on your ankle.

you close your eyes, hugging yourself tightly. you need to be your own comfort. you have to be your own comfort. but its hard... the way they look at you, the way they treat you, everything is making you wish you were better off dead. why are your parents taking so long in the first place? what's wrong with them really?

your body is exhausted, unable to keep up with the constant stress. you do end up getting dazed to sleep. although its filled with nightmares. you're woken up to an echo of a voice.

"good morning, i'm sure these don't feel good." geto hums, and you jolt awake, leaning instinctively against the headboard. eyes glossed, fear dancing through your nerves. you don't respond. why is he here? "i didn't think you were that dumb to try to run yesterday." he clicks his tongue, looking at you. gosh you still have the popped lip from when manami hit you after getting caught. some of it is in your nose too. geto sighs, its the way you behave that he gets conflicted. he has always been an underdog supporter, now a bunch of powerful sorcerers were torturing a frail human just because of money...

maybe he should do you a favor and kill you instead. he could just tell your parents that they delayed in sending the sum of money and take the money anyway.He wants to stay true to his word but also wants to return you to them. another part of him... which he hates the most, almost wants to hug you and apologize. That part is the reason you're being treated this way.

"you're not answering me." he raises a brow, watching you shiver with fear and flinch at the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, won't run again." you managed to say meekly; within three days of you being here, you look like a completely different person. your neck is bruised, your face is bruised, your hair is a mess, you are chained to a room. it is drastic for you, geto knows that. "hm, you know the consequences aren't too great, i would just listen to me if i were you." he adds on, watching your shoulders slump in defeat. my god were you beautiful, you were perfect in his eyes, someone he should have taken on dates if his life was normal. thanks to your disgusting kind, his life isn't normal.

"manami will come to you with breakfast." he stands up with that, and your heart races. you hate that woman and the way she treats you. you wouldn't say geto is any better but at least he isn't downright awful... so far. you nodded, getting up to go and shower at least. the clank of chains in your ankle echoes in the room, and it makes geto stand still for a moment. the flash of his little girls caged haunts in his eyes. isn't he doing something similar to you.

"y/n." he says your name, watching your eyes slowly dart towards him. "if you behave for a few days, the chain will be gone."

you don't respond to that, walking away. suguru bites his lip, he hates this feeling he's getting. a frog in his fucking throat and it's just been four days of you being here. he shouldn't deter from his thoughts like this anyway. you're a monkey, a useless monkey who should be killed as soon as possible.

manami comes in with breakfast and you could only manage a few bites despite not being able to eat properly. manami was not that mean today, all she said that she expected you dead but you're not yet. she says this everyday, nothing ordinary.

meanwhile, your parents have decided to actually manage the sum of money, but it will take time. they inform geto of the same. your mom pathetically sobbing for her little baby girl. "don't worry, she will be alive and kicking, i will keep my word. you have 10 days." suguru cuts the phone call after.

you... would be elated to hear this news wouldn't you? you should be! and so he walks towards your room, where you were laying on the mattress, leg bruised and bleeding. his eyes widen a little. what did you fucking do?

you had a big and a deep gash on your ankle, from the looks of it, you were trying to get free from the chains. what did you even use for this? his eyes land to the sharp enough culinary knife on your bedside table. you were crazy, any other monkey girl would simply behave and let time decide her freedom. why did you want to be so miserable?

"y/n." he mumbles your name again, and your eyes land on him, "geto" you respond, you didn't even carry any malice when you said your name. he walks towards you, getting the first aid from your cupboard and tending to your leg. "if you want an easy enough death, just ask me." he's sure you'd have another panic attack at this statement. you've been having one every day for the past four days after all.

"hm, gimme n' easy death then" you hummed, emotionless as ever. "cus i think m' parents don't give a shit anyway." a stray tear escapes through your eyes, followed by a soft hiccup of a choked sniffle. geto stays quiet at that. yesterday night, he had a dream of you smiling. or what he envisioned your smile would look like... it would surely make you look more beautiful than you already are. he's so sure of it.

"it's not like that, they did contact me and soon you'll be free." he smiled, the close-eyed feline curve that charms everyone fails to work on you. "i see." you hum, and geto trifled with the metallic cuffs on your ankle, gently putting them away. he can't really let you be this miserable. it was pathetic, it was making him pathetic.

"sorcerers exist to protect the weak." his own voice echoes which he preached satoru with. a soft sigh escaping him. he hates you. he hates what you do to him and he hates how you're having this effect on him without even trying. "yeah, a few more days of me tolerating a hooker-looking pest like you." he grits his teeth, getting up. you blinked, unsure what the sudden change in his demeanor signified. all you could do was brace. brace for another attack.

suguru watches you do so, and that sends a shiver down his spine. what's happening to him? he kills monkeys without remorse! maybe he should kill you, fuck your parents, fuck their money. fuck you.

"since you really like using the knife how about i teach you how to use it hm?" you blinked when he spits those words out, feet stomping and holding the knife up. before you could even lean away he has your wrist in his hold, hot tears streaming down your face with the way your heart thumped loud from your mouth. "please please- no no- what're you-" the pointed tip of the knife glides down your skin, and despite your gutteral, blood-curdling screams and pleas, geto only lets go of your hand when he's written the word 'MONKEY' in your arm. throwing the knife away and watching you bleed.

"i hate you, stupid monkeys." he walks away with that, while you succumb to the ache and pass out. it hurts, you could feel the blood trickling down the mattress before your body lulls you to sleep.

meanwhile, suguru shuts himself in his room, the daunting sound of the door shutting down loud and him covering his ears with tears streaming down his face. what's he even doing? why did he have to do that? oh he knows why. he wanted to prove a point that he doesn't feel anything when he hurts a monkey. that he relishes in it... but that didn't happen.

didn't happen at all...

just nine more days with you until suguru geto gets rid of you and proceeds with his mission to kill all non-sorcerers.

[yuzukult]

crush 04 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 04 pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 5.9k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: lmfao idk when the last chapter was or if you've long forgotten me but i have arrived... i'm praying that this is good enough :(

The air is cold.

The stiffness of your cheeks and the tinge of pink on Seokmin’s nose speaks volumes, the thin cardigan you decided to run out with wasn’t much help to combat the briskness. You’d been so quick to grab him out of the restaurant that you didn’t get a chance to snag your coat—why the hell did he just show up here? It’s almost like he’s asking for a fight. 

You huff. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your location,” he says calmly, almost like it’s a normal thing to do. He shows his phone to you, the screen bright and displaying the maps feature with a little icon of a picture of you by the restaurant, the blue dot beside it being his own. “I figured I was in the area, so I decided to stop by and surprise you and your friends. You know, as… boyfriends do.”

You grit your teeth. Seokmin is far from being your boyfriend, especially with the acts he’s been performing lately—so pulling out this ‘boyfriend’ card just because he sees the back of Wonwoo’s head feels low. The location you shared with him was for the time you were stranded on the side of the road, the car battery completely depleted. You must’ve forgotten to turn it off, but nonetheless, it wasn’t something for him to take advantage of. “I thought we weren’t dating.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. Eyes skimming the area, he shoves his phone back into the front pocket of his jacket. If he truly was your ‘boyfriend,’ he should’ve offered you his coat by now. (Well, he also never said he was a good one either).

“We aren’t, but in the future we will. We agreed,” Seokmin’s gaze is on you now—those irises that used to sparkle underneath any light, including the stars in the sky, are suddenly dull. “I just don’t get it. I thought you said you’d wait for me. Why am I finding you with him?” 

Him. There he goes again, the bitterness he has for Wonwoo is practically seeping out of his skin. The pronouns used to identify him even got a taste of the hatred. 

“He’s a friend,” you state, arms crossed over your chest. It’s freezing out here. “I’m allowed to hang out with friends. Plus—does it really matter if I date around? You’re doing it.”

Seokmin scoffs. In disbelief, too! He contradicts himself more frequently than not now, especially with Wonwoo in the picture. “You’re kidding, right? I told you why I’m like this.”

You sigh. Truthfully, it’s becoming emotionally exhausting when it comes to Seokmin; your heart doesn’t seem to palpitate as it used to when he looks at you, instead you feel it racing from all the anger pent up. You still long for him from the distance, wishing it was you who made him laugh and smile in that way that makes his eyes twinkle as you feign ignorance to his irresistible charms, but the reality sinks in and the clouds cast their shadows when it smacks you in the face that Seokmin isn’t doing that for you. He’s doing those things for another girl, someone who he hadn’t promised his end game to, and it leaves you wondering if he actually means when he says you’re the one he’ll finally come home to.

“I just…” There’s a part of you that wants to end all of this, end all the suffering he’s caused you and the feeling of suffocation in your chest. It’s like he’s got your heart chained and locked, himself being the only person with the key, and you’re stuck in this position until he tells you to go. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to tell me how to live my life while you get to freely live yours.”

“You could’ve had anyone else,” he retorts with a soft whisper this time. “Why’d it have to be him?”

“He’s nice to me,” you shrug your shoulders. “And… right now, maybe I just need someone like that to heal me.” You don’t really know what you mean by heal, but something in you felt like… that was the right word to describe Wonwoo. He’s caring, sweet, and he tends to you when you’re having a rough day—no words exchanged, just quick glances and he just knows.

“Heal you?” Seokmin’s voice raises this time around, his brows furrowing in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking, right? A guy like him? He’s an asshole—he keeps secrets and hides shit from people. People he’s close to, people who he claimed to be his family. And he goes behind my back and steals my girl? Do you see how he is?”

He—what? You’re the one confused now. “What are you even talking about?”

Visibly, his vexation lowers along with his stance. “Nothing, just—I don’t trust that guy. I need you to wait for me, just a while longer—”

And before you could ask, ‘how long?’ with smoke whistling out of your ears, a pretty gal with bleach blonde hair and lashes that touch the clouds in the sky eagerly grabs onto Seokmin’s arm.

“Minnie, our table is ready! Oh—” her face brightens at the sight of you. “Hi! Are you Minnie’s fan? I’m Kaykay!” she extends her arm eagerly as you shake her hand gently with an awkward smile. “Well, we have to get going, do you guys want a picture together?”

Your jaw twitches.

There’s something worse about being identified as ‘the girl who Seokmin keeps on the backburner,’ and you’ve never run into it until today. A fan. You’ve been demoted to a fan. You’ve chased him around for so long, in hopes he’d throw away his current lifestyle for you, despite what he says about how he’s so grateful that you’re waiting for him.

All to only be downplayed and lowered to the level of a fan.

“Actually, it’s okay,” you wave her off politely and glance over at Seokmin before slowly making your exit. “He gave me his autograph earlier, but I appreciate it.”

Truthfully, Seokmin knows he fucked up. 

He knew from the moment your lips curled into that warm smile, an effortless laugh erupting from your chest, and when you dip your chin bashfully at a compliment thrown your way without him being the one responsible for it. He messed up big time. And if he’s too late, he’ll never forgive himself for it.

The best solution is to give you up—and in reality, if this was another person, he’d straight up tell them that they missed their chance and it’s time to move on. Yet, he looks himself in the mirror every time and the words never come out. He can’t do it. He can’t let you go. In the forefront of his mind, he’s fully aware of how selfish he’s being for asking you to wait for him without a timeline. 

But he can’t help himself.

He wants you. 

It can’t be anyone else but you.

In all honesty, he ponders if this exact scenario played out with a different love interest would have him this angry. Would he be equally as fueled? Or was there something more because of his own personal history with Wonwoo? Either way, that didn’t help, and putting you in the middle of it was doing more harm than good.

The history that the two of them have is one that’s been inscribed in his brain—he remembers it as if it was yesterday when a group of intimidating men enter the garage that both of them worked at. The leader snickered at the sight of Seokmin, spitting the toothpick that hung on the side of his mouth with a smirk dressed upon his face. “Is this the fresh meat?” he asked, dark eyes observing Seokmin’s face as he grabbed his jaw between his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said coolly, wiping his hand off a rag before tossing it onto his tool cart. “He’s still fresh, so don’t scare him.”

Seokmin relives the feeling of fear—his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his hands began to perspire. “I’m the boss ‘round here,” he spat. Hair slicked back, doused in so much gel that the lights reflected on the strands. Clean shave, smelled like expensive cologne (although he definitely squirted half the bottle), he wore a tank top that displayed the plethora of tattoos that decorated his skin. “That’s all you need to know. I’m the boss.”

Wonwoo lied to Seokmin; he told him that he’d take care of him, help him earn some money and make an honest living.

Working for a guy who has done more illegal things that Seokmin is aware of doesn’t sound like making an ‘honest living’. 

He felt embarrassed, finding himself in a position where he could’ve been just any old regular mechanic but instead as a front of a fucking drug lord’s secret business. When the nights came around, the sun disappearing along the horizon, he smelled the stench of cigars and weed permeating through the cracks of the walls and doors. The hollering of gamblers were faint underneath the concrete floors, but the evident line of expensive vehicles that hid behind the building were enough to give it away. Any idiot would know what was happening there.

But the city was so corrupt; a newly graduated high school student who severely needed a job had to settle for a shady ass job couldn’t even go to the cops about it. He recalled frantically waving his arms to express his story at the local police station, only for them to scoff and turn the other way.

It earned him slashed tires the next day. A threat. A warning. Lee Seokmin would then go as Dokyeom at the shop, just in case they wanted to go any further.

Seokmin spent years trying to cut ties with them. 

“Hey baby,” her soft voice spoke, reaching out from under the covers to lay her hand on his chest. “What’s on your mind?”

And here he is again.

In the sheets with someone else.

She interrupts his thoughts and she only stirs them more. He can’t remember her name, only that when she says it and calls you a fan, the expression on your face made it clear that you didn’t want to stick around any longer. Seokmin hates how he pains you every time he does stupid shit like this, but some masochistic part of him can’t seem to stop. He needs to stop, especially with Wonwoo at arms length to you, ready to catch you when you fall.

“Nothing,” he replies curtly. She’s not you. He wishes he could tell you all the things that happened, all the things that run through his head, and how much he wants to break out of this cycle but even you, the girl who has his heart, can’t even take him out of his own despair. 

Just your luck.

Dodging potholes should be something you’re familiar with considering how frequently you drive in and out of the city, but it’s evident that it’s still a skill you need to improve on.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. The gash on the side of the tire is so big that you felt the hissing of the air blowing into your face. “You can’t even patch this.”

You’re supposed to meet up with Wonwoo in fifteen minutes. The traffic had gotten heavier, and Google Maps suggested taking the local route but of course it had to be the street with the most unpatched potholes you’ve ever seen. Where the fuck were your tax dollars going into?

You sigh in distress. Running your fingers through your hair, you puff out another heavy breath. Maybe you should do what you learned—yeah, after all, Wonwoo taught you for a reason, right?

Just then, your phone dings twice.

(2) New Messages.

One from Wonwoo, and one from Seokmin.

Both said the same thing, coincidentally, reading: “where are you?”

It’s easier to copy and paste the text in return, letting them both know where you were and had a flat. 

As you pop open the trunk, you roll up your sleeves. Thankfully, Wonwoo’s first date idea is more useful than you thought. Although, there’s a part of you that ponders if Seokmin would ever come. He promised, you think to yourself, because the charming words he spewed always meant that he would be your Knight in Shining Armor in any time of need. 

Would he come?

You sort of wish that he did, just to feed that little glimmer of hope still in your heart but a huge part of you knew he wouldn’t. He’s different now, not the same Lee Seokmin you once knew. So why are you wondering if he’d be here?

There’s a latch inside the trunk, and just when you’re about to flip it open to grab the tools and your spare tire, someone’s lights shine from behind.

Is… Is this your Knight in Shining Armor?

Turning around, the headlights are blinding, and it makes you squint in the direction. The door opens, and a figure comes out—brown hair, built frame, and driving a sedan, you wonder if it’s really Seokmin that comes to your rescue.

With the slam of the door and the figure coming in closer, that’s when you feel your stomach churn and your heart drop.

“Hey, pretty,” he says, voice deep and smooth as honey. “I saw your text. I was on the way, and I spotted your car on the side and recognized you. I guess you could say it’s fate.” That cheeky smile already has you swooning.

It’s… Wonwoo.

“How’d you even know it was me?” You laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “What if you were wrong and it wasn’t?”

“Then I’d have to let you know that I ended up having to help someone with a flat,” Wonwoo grins, tapping your shoulder to move you aside. “But I knew I wasn’t wrong. How could I forget the silhouette and the car of a girl I’m crushing on?”

And with that, Wonwoo makes you forget.

There’s something about Wonwoo walking out of the fog (in this case, blurry and bright headlights) that makes you feel like he’s bringing you with him because at the end of the day, he’s here and not Seokmin. 

Should you set strikes for him? Things that Seokmin does that has you reconsidering even waiting for him anymore, and if it was worth your time being put on the backburner for a man you didn’t even know anymore. Did his dreams and goals even align with yours? Did he still want to settle down and have a family? Did he still want you to meet his mom?

Did he love you or did he like the idea of you?

“I can help, you know.”

“Yeah, but I only really taught you so you’d know. Not so that you can do it yourself. Now hold my tools and don’t stand too close to the lanes, gotta make sure you’re all in one piece so I don’t have to eat alone tonight,” he winks playfully.

Maybe… Maybe being with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ma’am, are you sure?”

You blink blankly at the boy who stands behind the counter.

Recently, you’ve come to terms that your Toyota had little life in it left and with your current promotion salary, maybe it’s time to turn in the fella in exchange for something new and durable. 

And maybe slightly flashy.

The dark grey Lexus IS 350 F-Sport is a complete 180 from your aged Toyota; an affordable, casual, everyday car that took the cheapest gas option and for the most part, fuel efficient to a luxury vehicle of the same parent company. Sleek interior, leather beige seats, tinted back window—there’s even a functional Apple CarPlay! The Toyota’s radio didn’t even work, and the air conditioner was a gamble to get running. But the new car had heated and cooled seats, an entire class upgrade.

Wonwoo had the car sitting idle in the yard of his auto shop. It was barely used, to the point where the temporary tag taped to the rear window was still there, crisp and clean just like it was just bought off the lot.

Because it was.

“Look, I’m so over this car,” you remember hearing while eavesdropping from inside the auto shop. “Plus, I’m selling it to you for cheap. Get rid of that Honda Fit and take this instead. Boss would kill me if I couldn’t convince you to take it.”

Wonwoo raised a brow suspiciously to the man with long luscious blonde hair that stopped at his shoulders. “I drive a Prius,” he clarified and the other male just rolled his eyes. “You’re charging me $2k for a brand new car, Jeonghan. I’m not doing that. And I’m not paying what the market price is for this car.”

Weird. At the time, you pondered why this guy Jeonghan was working so hard to convince Wonwoo to buy the car, but with each attempt, Wonwoo kept rejecting him.

That is, until Jeonghan saw you peering out of the garage opening.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked in a teasing tone, nudging Wonwoo jokingly before waving in your direction. “You might as well buy this off of me so you can show it off to her—but also get Boss off my back.”

Who the hell is this Boss they’re talking about?

But before your thoughts could go on any further, Wonwoo was shoving Jeonghan away with a head nod in annoyance. “OK, OK, fine fine I’ll buy it off of you, maybe you can get off my back.”

Little did you know, he only really agreed to buy the car because of you.

Not in the way Jeonghan had suggested but rather for you to buy off of him because he had reached the point where he felt like the Toyota wasn’t sustainable enough anymore. “You’re gonna end up spending more on this car than if you just bought this car off of me,” he warned. “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor ‘cause the longer this stays on this lot undriven, it’s gonna fucking mess with the battery and engine.”

So, you finally agreed after some more convincing. He suggested you to get new tires, mostly because they were low-profile tires (and, you quote “Even though it’s gonna look funny, at least you won’t get a flat tire every time you a hit a pothole.”)

Which brings you here—standing in front of Wonwoo’s new hire. 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“These tires aren’t what is spec’d when you buy ‘em off the dealership lot,” he says, watching you warily. “I’un know about selling you these. I mean, they already installed them and all, but… I’unno how it went through.”

“It’s fine,” you clarify again, resting your arm on the counter. Slightly frustrated, you close your eyes momentarily before taking in a deep breath. You’ve been at this for ten minutes now and he still keeps coming back with the same responses. The tires are on the car now! “Let me pay for it. I got exactly what I requested—let me be the one to face the consequences if it gets fucked up.”

“I get that,” the new hire doesn’t let up. “But if my boss finds out that I went against my judgment and something does happen, then that’s my fault.”

“Your boss was the one who recommended this to me in the first place!” you exclaim, but he stays stoic. “Listen, I just want my car, go home, and—”

“Jonathan, what’s going on here?” Wonwoo comes out from the back; in his navy overalls with his name tag that reads WONWOO in blue stitching to match, he’s wiping his hands off on a used rag with oil and dirt stains all over. He looks over at you with furrowed brows in confusion, tossing the material over his shoulder. He’s… kinda cute like this. “I thought you said you gotta go.”

“I did,” you emphasize, eyes darting lasers at the new hire. “Something came up.”

Wonwoo pats the new hire to move over and he takes over the computer. 

Then, that’s when it happens.

“What’s wrong, love? Let me clear this up so you can get going. Can’t have you miss your client presentation, can we?”

All the anger dissipates immediately. 

The storm above your head clears, and your gaze is glued onto Wonwoo.

Did… did he just call you ‘love?’

And why did you like it so much?

“I-I-um,” he’s got you stuttering over your own fucking words. Shaking your head from the thoughts, you regain yourself again. “Jonathan said the tires I wanted installed weren’t the styles you get at the dealership. He said he didn’t trust it.”

In the midst of it all, Wonwoo reaches for a lollipop from the candy bowl, unravels it and pops it in his mouth. The stick hangs out from the corner of his lips, sucking and shifting as it makes clacking sounds against his teeth. “Oh, alright,” he begins, turning to look at Jonathan. “Is that so?”

Jonathan gulps with a slow nod.

“Good job, kid,” Wonwoo grins, turning back to the computer. “I want you to be honest if you don’t think something is recommended or preferred. But for this situation, I made the call so we’ll just let this one slide, yeah?”

The new hire’s face heats up. 

And somehow from the exchange, he makes your heart tighten too.

“Alright, pretty,” Wonwoo hands your keys over to you. “Your car is out front. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

You tilt your head. “But—I didn’t even pay yet.”

“On me,” he’s got that slick smirk on his face again. “I just want you to be safe.”

“You’re gonna go bankrupt if you keep having to pay for me. Let me pay—”

“For you, I’ll go bankrupt. Now, head off to your presentation and give me a call after.”

Uneasy, you check the analog clock over their heads that ticks obnoxiously loud. It’s so close to 10, and your presentation starts at 12, a solid 1.5 hours away. If you head out now, you’ll still make it.

“Fine, fine, only ‘cause if I stick around any longer, I’m gonna be late,” you narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. “I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” Wonwoo counters, hands in the pockets of his overalls. He knows how flirtatious he is, he does it on purpose but you brush him off to prioritize getting to your meeting on time.

And faintly in the back as you push the front doors of the auto shop, you hear the new hire ask Wonwoo if you were his girlfriend.

Oddly enough, you… sort of wish you were.

“Can I show you how cars are more than just a means of transportation? Or just a fast toy you can play with on a racetrack?”

He looks so sweet when he asks; the fronts of his brows curl up in question, in hopes that you’d agree to his proposition. 

“Mm,” you hum, fiddling with the pen in your hand. It’s mostly teasing when you hesitate, only because an eager, anxious Wonwoo is adorable. He wants to show you his perspective of things, how he portrays beauty, and the excitement that rushes through his veins when he convinces you to give him a chance to share is wholesome. “Sure. Where are you taking me?”

When Seokmin introduces you to cars, they’re fast and flashy. The need for speed is a priority and so is how exorbitant they are. Whenever you’d ask, the value he discloses had an obligatory minimum of six zeros behind the first digit. “They’re sexy,” he describes them, their aesthetics and price a main concern. “Who wouldn’t want a car that drives like the ones on the track?”

Although when it’s Wonwoo, the discernible way he illustrates his cars verbally is different. He doesn’t brag about the acceleration or shares the name of the brands—he talks about the drive, how he loves how the wind blows through his hair and it hits his fingers when his arm hangs out the car. Cold starts in the winter, there’s something familiar about the loud roar of the engine; it brings him back to the old days where his dad would toss him the keys to warm up the car when it snows. A silver 1993 Ford F-250 with an open truck bed for him to hop in on summer days, sleepovers on cooler nights, and a place to sit underneath the stars to draw out his dreams that once felt unattainable. He romanticizes moments with cars while Seokmin showcases adoration for the vehicle itself. 

“My favorite thing about old cars,” he begins, unlocking the doors to a champagne beige 2003 Honda Accord before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Is the wind-up windows. They don’t make those anymore, and this car unfortunately doesn’t have one, but I love them.”

“What do you love so much about it?” You ask, following in suit in the passenger seat. “It’s so inconvenient. You’d pull up at the last second at the drive thru, try rolling down your windows while the worker asks for your order but you’ve barely made it halfway down.”

“Because the lack of tech makes time slow.”

Wonwoo makes this point detectable when he’s going through a drive thru, and you could hear the workers snicker through the speaker. He takes longer than usually anyone would these days just to get the window down, but the expression on his face shows enjoyment instead of frustration.

Then with a turn of his head, your heart nearly stops at the sight of his charming smile and sweet voice. “What do you wanna eat?”

There’s something so familiar about sitting in the parking lot of a burger joint; food sitting on the dashboard, windows down and the sun roof pushed open, the sun sets in the horizon in blends of different hues or oranges, pinks, yellows, and blues. The colors remind you of an old summer love, one that’s so in-the-moment, you get lost in someone else even if it’s for the season and you’d have to part ways after August. The shared ice cream cones, hands linked on the boardwalk by the beach, and never forget the romantic Pier rides and attractions, where you’d hold their arm in fear and they’d squeeze you for reassurance.

Wonwoo makes you feel… homey.

“I know we’re not dating, but this is my favorite kind of date,” he admits cheekily, warmth rushing to his cheeks. “No crazy distractions. No drama. Just… me and you. And of course, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack,” Wonwoo smacks the player a couple times. It’s been stuck in there since the last owner. “I don’t have the heart to actually uninstall this because this CD is a banger.”

You snort. “Is this your favorite?”

“Mm, only ‘cause it’s the origin of Fabulous. Otherwise, if we’re talking about the whole soundtrack, I’d say HSM3 is my top.” 

Wonwoo makes you laugh—genuinely laugh. He says what’s in his heart and in his mind, regardless of how he’s depicted. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you felt as light as this and you wonder if this is how people come out of meditation like.

Cars used to be just a means of transportation to get from point A to point B to you. Either that, or an ostentatious hunk of metal that Seokmin loves to flaunt.

Wonwoo… gives you the perspective of cars in a different light these days.

Another day, another car.

This time, it’s a white 2009 Volkswagen Beetle.

When Wonwoo lets you sit in the driver’s seat, the smoothness of the leather underneath your fingertips is a reminder of what he says about cars. It’s the experience, the feelings that you get during those fleeting moments in your life and how they're so easily forgotten with the daily work grind taking up most of your thoughts. 

With an early 2010s Spotify playlist blasting through the speakers, the vibration brings you back to a different place. Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men on a CD was in the background, your irises melted into a boy’s who sat in the front seat of his car, palms cupping your jaw as he leaned in, nose bumping into yours amateurly. Your hands were sweaty, breath stolen from your lungs because of all the nerves, and keeping your gaze locked with his was harder than it seemed. He was your first love—now your first kiss. 

The fog of your childhood memories dissipates; that boy you fell for in high school with his long dark skater hair and cheeky braces smile is replaced with the view of a boy from today. Eyes that curl into the shape of moon crescents, voice sweeter and thicker than honey, he goes, “how do you feel?”

Happy.

Nostalgic.

You sort of want to kiss him.

There’s this sudden shift in the air when Wonwoo is around; the weight on your shoulders abruptly lifts, allowing you to stretch and move freely. You never once noticed how prettily the sun peers through the sheer white curtains of your apartment on those Saturday mornings where you get to sleep in for a couple more hours after slamming the snooze button once more. His presence at your front door, a bag of groceries in hand as he offered to cook breakfast—everything about him gives you a new outlook on life.

As he sits beside you, in a car that Seokmin would never let you behind the wheel of, Wonwoo watches you eagerly with no hint of fear that you’d hurt the most valuable thing to him… you want to kiss him.

“Can I…” you hesitate, but he’s patient nonetheless. 

Wonwoo furrows his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinks blankly. “You… You wanna kiss me?”

Quickly, reality sinks in. What’s wrong with you? Why would you ask him that, especially sitting in the driver’s seat of his car like that flag girl would’ve wanted, asking him to make out with you like some horny teenager?

Before you could apologize, Wonwoo places his hand underneath your jaw gently, pulling you in close. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispers against your skin, eyes hooded as he leans in more. 

His lips are soft, pillowy, and they’re minty from the Altoids he had earlier; his touches are delicate, gingerly moving down toward your neck to bring you in, head tilting to the side to avoid bumping noses. Wonwoo even smells good. Being this close gave you a whiff of his cologne; notes of peach, blood orange, subtle hints of rum and patchouli leaves, you think it’s the Witch’s brew for a love potion, falling victim under his spell.

Drawing back just barely, your bated breaths ghosts over each other’s faces. Forehead pressed against yours, his hand reaches to push back a couple strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“I know what you think this means,” Wonwoo says softly, almost like he’s sharing a secret but the words that spill are nothing but obvious to everyone. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to jump all in this with me. If you decide after this that you don’t want to be with me, I’m okay with that too. Just… take your time, okay? We’ll go at your own pace.”

But I’m scared, is what you want to admit but it never comes out. The silence fills the air, the whooshing of cars driving over the wet asphalt being the only noise, it’s strangely soothing despite the current event. Wonwoo makes your heart stutter, and it’s been a long time since you’ve felt this nervous around someone. Not even Seokmin.

He pecks your lips cautiously, thumb rubbing against the softness of your cheeks. “I want you to resolve your relationship with Dokyeom.”

That’s when you retreat.

“What?” you furrow your brows frustratedly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wonwoo sighs, leaning back in his seat before pushing his hair back. “Whether or not we pursue this thing between us, I think you need to figure out your situation with Kyeom.”

“I just asked to kiss you,” you retort. “That’s a clear indication that I like you. Why did you have to bring Seokmin into this?”

“Because I don’t just like you, I love you.”

You freeze.

This drive was supposed to be just a mini trip—a time to get away from the city, enjoy the fresh breeze by the shore, and try out driving his Volkswagen for the first time. The stickiness of the air accumulates a layer on your skin, tacky and sweaty, oftentimes causing discomfort but nothing about now feels uncomfortable.

Did… Did Wonwoo just tell you that he loves you?

Maybe it’s an oversight, you think, because he spills it so naturally. Sometimes people accidentally say things outside of what they mean in the spur of a moment, especially this moment, because you found yourself asking him for a kiss just seconds before. 

“I mean it,” he adds. When he turns to look at you, his irises are like pools of warm hot chocolate, bringing the same satisfaction as holding a cup of it by a lit fireplace on a cool day. “I love you. And I know you’re barely just figuring things out, but I think for you to fully move on, you gotta talk to Kyeom.”

“This is sudden,” you pause, fiddling with your fingers. “Why are you saying this now? I barely confessed, we even kissed, and—”

“Why couldn’t you tell me you liked me?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why,” he reiterates, gaze never leaving yours. “Why couldn’t you tell me how you feel? Why do you feel like… you have to apologize for wanting to kiss me? Even though I’ve clearly stated my feelings?”

Rolling your lips, you turn to look at the horizon.

“You’re holding back because of Kyeom. If—If I’ve been overstepping boundaries, you would’ve told me by now. That's the kind of person you are. You wouldn’t lead me on, kissing me, coming by my shop, and taking all my advances if you didn’t feel some type of way. But you’re holding yourself back.”

“Seokmin doesn’t control my life. He doesn’t need to know anything about us. He doesn’t deserve that.”

That’s when Wonwoo reaches to hold your hand. 

“And you’re right, he doesn’t. But… you’re letting him… own your feelings. Own your love. You’ve been sitting here with me, and your heart is with him. I’ll take whatever—I’ll give you all the kisses you ask for, I’ll take you on all these drives, you can be behind the wheel of every car I own, but I can’t… I can’t have you because you’re still with Kyeom.”

“So… what now?”

“This kiss was a reality check for me,” he discloses, tapping his feet against the mat on the floor. “Not that I want to push you away, but… to make things clear between us. I love you, and I’m not gonna pressure you to date me. But if you’re gonna kiss me like this, like you’re in love with me too, I need to establish my own boundaries. I’m your friend, but if you want anything more, I need you to fix this thing with Dokyeom.”

And somehow, it always goes back to Seokmin.

[tethered-dissociation]

I hate the fear that comes with being traumatized.

Not feeling safe with anyone, ever, not even your parents who were supposed to protect you when you were a child.

Being too afraid to close your eyes in your own home or turn your back to an open door.

The daily heart palpitations and fatigue from being in a constant state of hypervigilance.

Jumping badly at every tiny sound so much that it feels like you're being electrocuted.

Existing with trauma is exhausting.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Cal, my love, how are you???

If heard your call for Kaz x Reader requests. If LOVE to see what you come up with for Kaz x Grisha!Reader (I'm feeling inferno, squaller, or Durant, but obviously it's up to you!) where the reader gets sicker and sicker from not using their small science! It's such a fascinating concept to me and hardly ever explored!

Back To Normal- K.B x gn! Squaller! Reader

Okay, hi! It's been nearly two weeks since you sent this in and I did write it! Editing it just took me longer than I expected and I woke up after a nap last night to discover that I have a bit of a cold developing so I couldn't edit the remainder of it and post it like I'd hoped, but I got it done today so yay, I hope you like this one!

This concept is one I've never seen a fic for but one I've debated writing a fic around in the past because the concept in and of itself is a really intriguing idea to me, and this gives me an excuse to write it and also an excuse to write a squaller! reader, which I've thought about doing but have never actually done, so I was really excited when I saw this in my inbox! Thank you so much for sending this in, and if it's not exactly what you had in mind, feel free to reach out and let me know, I'll totally rewrite if you'd like lol.

Fic type- hurt/comfort with moments of angst

Warnings- mentions of sickness, frailness, feelings of weakness, heart palpitations, loss of appetite, and there's reference to the second chapter of Six of Crows so slight spoiler warning too for people haven't read the books

As a Grisha, once your abilities to summon the small science were discovered, there were consequences for not summoning. You grew sick, your body grew weak, your bones fragile and you felt frail, even the smallest actions leaving you winded.

It was the universes way of punishing you for not using the gift you'd been given, another show of like calls to like. Refraining from summoning calls to sickness, and summoning calls to health.

You'd read Grisha theory, both in your time at the Little Palace before you left in the last few months before the war and in the time since, in the times wherein you needed something to read and happened upon a book containing Grisha theory and figured it would be good to pass the time.

You knew that you wouldn't last if you didn't summon, but you eventually stopped finding reason to. Nobody in the Dregs knew you were a squaller, and what good did wind do, anyway, unless it was summer and grossly humid as Ketterdam always got when the weather warmed up? You saw no point in using your small science, so eventually, you just stopped.

For a while, the differences weren't really noticeable. You didn't notice them, nobody in the Dregs noticed them, none of the crows did. You hadn't relied on your abilities as a Squaller since you'd lived in Ravka, and before you'd decided to stop, you mostly used them in summer or when Kaz needed a distraction in the middle of a negotiation in the rarer times they'd taken place outdoors, something to put the opposition a little on edge.

But then, they became noticeable. You stopped sleeping quite as comfortably as you used to, spending hours trying to get comfortable, trying to will your mind to quiet. You woke up and took to coffee to keep you awake, often running on between two and four hours to boot.

Because of your tiredness, dark circles developed under your eyes. Your appetite lessened and you grew to be tired all the time, even on a rarer night where your body rested for seven or eight hours. You still relied on the coffee even then, and Nina was beginning to take notice of the fact that you hardly ate.

Kaz had long taken notice of the exhaustion you exhibited even after jobs that you'd always considered pretty easy, ones that didn't require as much effort, as much physical strain, as the bigger heists always tended to.

Jesper had long taken notice of how much coffee you drank, the fact that you always seemed to have jurda on you even in the middle of the day, and Inej noticed it when your pace began to slow, afraid to walk at the pace you normally did because you didn't want to risk heart palpitations.

Wylan was beginning to notice when those heart palpitations kicked in, was the one to grab your hand and look at you, brown eyes silently trying to ask if something was wrong only to receive nothing in response.

One by one, each of the crows noticed something, and still, none of them said a word. They could've been wrong, they knew. All of them acknowledged that they could've been dramatizing things, making things out to be worse than they actually were.

The only one who was sure of the things they'd noticed was Kaz. You were someone who mattered to him. Of course he was going to notice if you were out of sorts. Observance was his pedigree.

So, one day, Kaz showed up at your door. "What's wrong?" He'd asked. "What is wrong with you, Y/N?"

You'd laughed, a lame, tired laugh. You'd barely slept three hours, and the long-term exhaustion was starting to finally have an impact. Kaz's tone was humorless, blunt like the edge of a knife gone too long without being run across a sharpening block.

It was normally gravel, normally coffee grounds being poured into a coffee press, but it was not that, not that day. It was the unsharpened edge of a knife, the voice that did not belong to the man you loved but rather to one they called Dirtyhands.

"What's wrong with me?" You asked. "Nothing, Kaz. Nothing is wrong with me."

"Exhaustion," Kaz said. "You drink coffee and chew jurda near constantly. You sleep hours after jobs that aren't even tiring. You are constantly tired because you can't sleep unless you are at the point wherein your body will die without resting. You get two hours most nights, four, six, on luckier ones. Nina has also noticed that you eat less lately. Wylan says you've been having heart palpitations and Matthias has noticed you zoning out. Why?"

"Why do I feel like that's a rhetorical question?"

"It's not. Stop trying to flirt."

"I'm not trying to flirt," you laughed again, a shallow, hollowed out version of the laugh Kaz recognized. "If I were trying to flirt, you'd know. I would know it was working because your cheeks would be tinged pink, which, of course, is something you'd deny."

Kaz laughed humorlessly once more. "What, are you sick?"

You paused. Some part of you had known he'd guess at that. With that realization came the one that he already knew why you were sick. Inej must've known, must've snooped for Kaz when the trust you shared was still developing. He was Kaz Brekker, and he had to know somehow, didn't he?

"You're a Squaller," he said, the words falling from his lips like they were something he'd forgotten, like the fact that you could summon the wind was something he'd merely heard and disregarded after having deemed it unimportant. "You're a Squaller, and you're one who hasn't summoned for at least six months. Why not?"

"I saw no point," you said. "Let me guess, though, you've known since I came in, since I joined up?"

"I've known since the night we confronted Bolliger about double dealing," Kaz said. "Geels, the negotiations. It was the day before--"

"The day before you came to me with the Ice Court proposition," you said with a nod. "I remember. What tipped you off?"

"The breeze," Kaz said. "It was late winter, and breezes like that are commonplace, sure, but after a bout of rain? Wind like that doesn't just happen. Especially not considering the fact that it nearly tipped Geels over, and Geels was nearly seven feet tall. It gave me something to use in the moment, and I just kind of noticed whenever you'd do it while I was falling short from then on. Nobody else knows."

"Well you'll need to grant me some leniency, Brekker. I stopped summoning because I didn't see a point."

"if the point of summoning is to keep you alive and healthy, I have to say, I see no sensible reason that one would stop," Kaz said. "You're deteriorating. I know you think it can't get any worse, but it can, and it will."

"I know," you said. "Relax. Let me find the proper time, when it doesn't feel like it'll be an inconvenience, and I'll give it a go."

Kaz looked at you solemnly for a minute before he nodded.

"Right, then," he said. "Work needs doing." He turned to go, and you watched him leave, not saying a word as he left, only closing your eyes and hoping for even another few moments of rest.

-

The next time you summoned, it was June and you hadn't summoned in a year. You were sitting in Kaz's office, the window open as you discussed heist plans with him, Jesper, Inej, and the rest of the crows.

The heat was growing unbearable, so you willed a strong breeze to flow gently through the room, making the area feel a bit colder, much to everyones delight. Kaz shot you a look because Ketterdam in the summer was not prone to breezes on humid days like that one, and you felt some of the energy that was long gone move back into your system, a spark of joy and pride at your small science lighting up in your chest.

You allowed yourself a small smile as you leaned back in the chair you'd occupied.

You were still sick, still frail and tired and coffee-reliant, but you were getting back to normal. You decided, in the moment, that that was what mattered.

[eoieopda]

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

[notroosterbradshaw]

Prompt 88: Kisses in which ‘i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you’‘ but the kiss proves the opposite.

PROMPT: 88. kisses in which ‘i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you’‘ but the kiss proves the opposite

thank you for this, Mak and @gretagerwigsmuse , fluff awaits!

The teasing was relentless.

And exhausting.

"Just ask her out, Rooster. Keep up your MO and someone else may swoop in while you're nestled all snug on your perch," Hangman catcalled as Rooster hoisted the ball down the beach into his tummy to shut him the fuck up. Rooster enjoyed seeing Hangman doubled over, a delighted smirk gracing his features.

God, if there was a more annoying motherfucker, Rooster had yet to find them.

Needing a time out and spotting you up the beach, Rooster sighed. It didn't make anything easier, no one was ever going to understand your friendship - he cherished it. It was purely platonic, non-sexual, he was your wingman, and you were his. All above board, just how you both liked it.

"Hey, you guys look like you're having fun," you smiled as Bradley trotted back down the beach, sweat and sand laced with his sunscreen, skin glistening as he collapsed on your beach towel. You hid your laugh at the dare he and Javy had given each other to find the tightest jeans they had and make jorts out of them for the day out.

You couldn't think of anything more uncomfy than wet, sandy jeans glued to your body. You handed him a beer from the cooler beside you. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "We gonna get you out there? Phoenix and Halo are having a go."

"Would rather die that play with you meatheads, but thank you," you laughed quietly as he grinned, and rolled to his back, hitched on his elbow, taking a welcome sip from the cool bottle.

"Who's winning?"

"Not a fuckin' clue," he admitted. "I'm just trying to bury Hangman," he wriggled his eyebrows as you laughed.

"I figured. Got him good before.”

"Yeah," Bradley grinned proudly. “Was fun.”

"I'm sure he did something to deserve it."

"Always," he confirmed.

"You can't be the bigger person?" you teased as he grinned wider.

"Nope," Rooster admitted, pulling a deep swill from the bottle. "Being the nice guy never got me anywhere before."

"What's he baiting you with?" you dared ask.

"You, the usual. Jesus Christ, he will never get off my ass about you," Rooster said like it was absolutely no big deal to him.

"Me?" you frowned, adjusting your shades over your eyes so you could watch him. It gave you heart palpitations to think his friends were on his case about you. You hoped and prayed it didn't make Rooster resent them, or you, though.

"They think we should date. They don't get it."

No shit, you thought dismally.

Argh, it was like a dagger to the heart. You knew Rooster had absolutely zero attraction to you. He loved that you were one of the guys. He loved that you could give him advice on the girls he fucked around with. He loved that you could drink whiskey together and talk shit all hours. The big problem was... Rooster didn't feel the way you did and he had absolutely no clue that you'd been keen on him for months (years) and it was starting to take its toll in a multitude of facets of your life.

"It's just so childish and ridiculous."

"Completely childish," you repeated and slowly added, "Ridiculous."

But it was no lie. Thinking about Bradley Bradshaw's lips, body and what it could do for you had started taking up a tremendous amount of your daydreams. Watching him lay beside you, looking like he did, only made you uncomfy.

"Maybe I’ll kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything for you," Rooster sipped his beer with a laugh. "Show them all we're just friends and maybe they will get off my ass."

"I don't think you need to do that - " you said as Rooster sat up and moved to his knees.

"No, seriously. We're friends, just imagine it's like kissing your brother," he said with a giggle, pulling your sunnies from your face as he tossed his glasses with yours. He was giddy, maybe even a little excited, to prove his hypothesis correct, you realised as he bounced a little. "Ready?"

"Not real - " you started but it was too late. He licked his lips and his soft mouth was on yours. It was just how you imagined it, even if there was more - oops, there you go. Tongue. Tongue?! You pulled away carefully as he apologised profusely.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," Rooster said, urgently. He jumped away from you like he'd been electrified. You were embarrassed beyond belief - your first kiss with Rooster and it repulsed him.

"It's cool," you told him, grabbing your glasses and excusing yourself to take a dip in the water. Maybe a rip would catch you and drag you out, never to be seen again. Would certainly solve a lot of the problems you were currently facing and Rooster's kiss only compounded it.

He was repulsed by you, it was devastating to consider as your toes felt the first cool laps of water hit them. Anything to soothe your scorching body and you made your way out to your hips, the energy of the waves nothing like the energy coursing through your veins. His lips were so sweet, so soft. His tasted like his beer, but it was forgivable. His tongue was like velvet, you definitely didn't expect that. Soft, curious and everything you wanted your first kiss with him to be... except his reaction.

Letting the waves push you around a bit, you felt strong arms circle your middle and soft lips caress your shoulder. "Look at me and kiss me again," Bradley's voice begged softly. Demanding, a little deeper than usual. You turned to face him, his sunglasses still off his face and glaring with the afternoon sun. "Your lips felt so good," he breathed, his hands cool against you as he pulled you to him, he lifted you, your legs lifted in the weightlessness of the ocean and wrapped them around his middle.

"It'll change everything," you confided.

"Your kiss has already changed me," he breathed, his lips lowering to yours again. He knew he had you scared and surprised, but it didn’t stop him. He needed to know that your kiss felt as right as the first time. His hazel eyes fluttered closed as you tasted salt on his lips this time from the ocean spray. He adjusted his hips, nudging you to keep you close as his lips melded with yours, warm and wet. “More,” he whispered against your lips, opening his mouth to you, his teeth gently nipping your lips. His slippery tongue traced your lips and you eagerly greeted him, his tongue dancing with yours. 

His large hands pressed wide against your back, feeling as much skin as he could learn quickly. His nose bumped against yours as he deepened the kiss and you finally reached around him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He took it to slide his hands lower, hold your hips and pressed you further into his chest.

“Oh my God,” you managed as he did cease, his lips leaving yours and pressing gentle, feather-light touches across your cheeks to your jaw and into our pulse. “Bradley,” you sighed deeply through your nose. Your fingers pressed into his hair, grabbing at the curls as he moaned his mouth moving back to yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me it would feel this good?” he demanded you. 

“You needed to find out yourself,” you told him, head falling back as he kissed down your throat, licking and leaving a trail of saliva as the waves pushed into you but he kept you steady. “I was just waiting for you.”

“How long?”

“Months, years, always,” you confided as he groaned and met your lips again, all the politeness had left as your grip around him tightened. You could hear cheering and whooping from the beach and while you were embarrassed, you’d do anything to desperately cling on to the remains of this kiss. You reluctantly pulled back from him, twirling wet ringlets around your fingers. “Now what?” 

“Everything,” he figured, with a smile, his lips wet and swollen. “And Jesus, I cannot wait to kiss the rest.” 

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[brrtchu]

Pink Star (aka Pink Super Sonic)

saved his world from the path of destruction and demolition. By saving grace his allies were all okay. A part of him had many doubts but that was reassured by the thought of seeing her again. Her sweet gestures and her long gaze. Oh, how much he regretted leaving her to fend off for herself.

He glided past the mountains and ignored the cheering yells of the Earth below him. One thing was on his mind.

After one last sweep, he felt something pierce his heart. Worriedly, he glanced around his surroundings. (Autistic) Amy was standing there on the edge of the cliff. The sunlight beamed on her silhouette. She had been saying, repeatedly, “Sonic.” For the past hour. This must be the cause for why his chest was stinging. Her sweet little cries for him, ached him.

He stepped down, pink flowers and all sorts of shrubs sprouted, and came from behind of her. It startled her that Pink Star could feel her flinch violently. “Hey, Amy… don’t worry, it’s me. I’m fine.” He gently held her from her back, but of course not squeezing her tightly. Amy glanced at his hands and saw, and heard, that it was truly Pink Sonic.

“You feel… more starry than usual…” Her heart palpitated and she grew redder.

Sonic hummed while feeling softer, “I am starry. You are right.” He thought for a split second about holding her up in the air. “I want to ask, is it okay if I float you into the air for a few minutes?” He still talked sweetly to her.

She, who was still staring at his hands, nodded, “I would… like that.” She felt warmer as he came in front of her to hold her hand tightly. He used his Star energy to lift her off her feet.

For those precious minutes, he didn’t do anything rash or insane. But cared her safety as he carried her down from the cliff. In front of her house, he finally settled. Tears welding up in his eyes as he grew exhausted. Autistic Amy didn’t make any conclusions about the trip. But felt enlightened in a way.

“I thank God that you’re alive, Amy.” His Star energy began to fade, slowly. So is his ability to remain present.

Autistic Amy kept her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat irregularly. She knew that he felt the same, almost instantly. “I know. You always say that.” She cracked a smile on one cheek and squeezed his hand back. Pink Sonic smiled. A part of him had a vulnerable thought. But he couldn’t let this get past him. He just couldn’t. He knew he could trust her… but he had trouble acknowledging his normal feelings. Maybe some other day. If it’s not too late.

*•. Thanks for reading guys! My short ship fic about Pink Sonic and Autistic Amy! I thought this was severely cute!! 🥰 Idk what to even call it? Auspink Sonamy? Nah, that sounds weird. 💀

[im-notbean]

wsg bestie r reqs open cuz if they are

can I ask (willing to beg) for aizawa x male reader where the reader's a fellow teacher/hero and he hobo-looking-save his ass and he starts feeling them palpitations

if they rn't open, that's why I'm anon HAHAHHA (also can I be known as orange anon that sounds fun)

Hi orange anon! Requests are open! (also your my first request lol)

Aizawa x Male!Pro Hero!Subsitute Teacher!Reader

Also I'm assuming that reader also is somewhat Aizawa, you'll see the resemblance soon, sorry if I messed it up a bit or it's not to your liking-

(╯﹏╰)

Aizawa: Purple

Reader: Red

Aizawa leaped across the two buildings, the villain he was chasing was fast. Must have some endurance quirk Aizawa thought, then came you. You cut the villain off so fast and was on-top of the villain so fast that Aizawa couldn't keep track of you. He walked up to you slowly, he felt like he had seen you somewhere before. Question was, where? Where did he see you last?

"You gonna just stare their or ya' gonna help me." "Uh- Shit yeah I'll-"

Aizawa found himself stumbling to the side. Making a groan of annoyance he looked to his side. A knife, presumably a dager was lodged into his side, and did I mention he was losing blood. And fast. When did he get that, not important right now, all Aizawa knew was that he was loosing blood and fast. He felt his head spin, you had detained the villain earlier so you walked over to Aizawa.

"Got hit eh?" "No shit-" "Don't move so much. It'll make it worse." "Got it...what are you doing exactly..?" "Trying to make sure you don't die of blood loss."

You pulled off your shirt and tied it around Aizawa's side, right above the wound. You made sure it was tight but not tight enough that he couldn't breathe. You picked Aizawa up from the ground and walked back to the villain who you threw over your shoulder. You started heading to the police station, once you were their you looked at the guard who took the unconscious villain off you arm. You could tell the guard was staring at you, I mean, she wasn't that bad looking. But you knew she probably wanted to use you for money, before she could come back you left for the hospital. Despite all of Aizawa's protesting.

"Seriously. I'm fine" "No. Your. Not, you could bleed out, your wound could be infected, you could make the wound larger which becomes more of a pain to deal with, and you could pass out. All of which can kill you." "Well none-" "I don't give two shits if you'd be extra careful, it's a risk I'm not willing to take." "..."

You felt the sweat dripping down your bare back and some blood from Aizawa's side as you ran down the street towards the hospital. You entered the hospital with Aizawa in your arms and you told them the situation. You placed Aizawa in one of the emergency room beds. You sat next to him and sighed, running a hand through your slightly bloody hair.

That's when Aizawa realized the situation he was in. One you basically saved his ass. Two you were shirtless. And three nobody should be as hot as you were. Aizawa face was three shades of bright red and he slumped into your shoulder, party out of embarrassment and partly out of exhaustion. You let out a soft laugh that left Aizawa even more embarrassed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☆Extra☆

☆At UA High, The Next Day ☆

"Hello students."

Class 1-A was surprised to see instead of their normal sleep deprived teacher with his usual cup of coffee that was pitch black (which always smelled sweet for some reason). A different male with H/L H/C hair who obviously did not really want to be their currently, was leaning on the black board with the words "Y/N L/N" in big bolled letters to the right of his body. All the students took their seats quietly, except Mineta. Who took one look at your upper chest region and said to himself "That is one fine woman" you took one glance at him and was blushing profusely. You narrowed your E/C hues at the boy and geustered to the class, more specifically the empty seat you pre-assumed was his. You looked at the clock and made a mental note of his lateness. As Mineta walked in he seemed to be in a daze, you slamed your fist down on the desk and that seemed to snap him out of his daze.

"You're 3 minutes late Mineta. I expected better from a hero corse student." "Huh?!!" "Awe poor little boy is confused, take your seat whatever you were thinking about isn't important currently." "Yes ma'am." "THAT'S A MAN MINETA..." The rest of 1-A said in unison. "Oh shi-"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so so SO much for reading ♡

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

[boxheadpaint]

no amount of medication will make me not start clawing my own head from the persistent vacuum-like hum outside. can make a diary post though.

took monitor off today, the skin under one patch was totally fine but the skin under the other seems to have had a less good time. that left patch was the itchier of the two, but i wonder what the exact difference was. can take a normal shower again though so im just not gonna worry about it. need to build up the resilience again to block out the heart palpitations too. i want nothibg more than to lay down and curl in until my chest doesnt feel so tight against the beating.

small things have gotten under my skin lately, mostly having to do with my surface computer. its always been a fickle beast to use, but lately its just seemed more like a chore. the back panel that i could use to prop it up has broken off, and my brain still thinks something is wrong with the pen cursor position no matter how many times i calibrate it. this mostly affects how i draw in ms paint, which is immensely frustrating and confusing.

i wish i wasnt so tired. theres things i want to do, genuinely i want to clean the living room or store things away or talk to my friends but i am just so so so exhausted physically and it doesnt go away no matter what i do or how much sleep i get. i keep having upsetting thoughts and struggling against thinking about them and how i affect others. i have Barely drawn the past... idk, few? two weeks? i drew something yesterday for the absol stream and i scribbled in my sketchbook but they were barely anything and still took great effort to just Not Fuck It Up.

i dont want to avoid it but i dont want to talk about it either. all i want is to feel at Least alright again. but instead i feel like a damn boulder, or a bunch of brittle sticks. id like to think that actually yes an extended depressive episode can be brought on by allergies and if i took a benadryl id suddenly feel like myself again. And probably also fall asleep but thats allergy meds for you.

4/9/2024, Well Watever

[dilf-whore]

thunderstruck

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

genre: fluff

summary: you and Eddie watch your kids’ talent show

A/N: i had this idea for a long time now, I just really love dad!eddie lol. let me know your thoughts on this fic💙

requested: no

requests are OPEN

masterlist

𖤐

“Honey, we’re the only ones here” you whisper at your husband as you both enter the school’s theater. “It’s alright. Come on!” He says, dragging you into the front row and sit down, you bring out your camera and Eddie settles the folded, obnoxiously big banner on his lap he made that says: Go my little rockstars! 

It was Roxy’s and her little brother Ozzy’s talent show today and their dad was just too excited so you both arrive an hour early. Your kids are two years apart, both in middle school and they will be performing as a duo: Roxy in the guitar and main vocalist, Ozzie in drums and sub vocalist. They both got really into music when they started fondling over your old drum set and Eddie’s guitar when they were younger. When Eddie saw them, he squealed in delight and immediately told you to start teaching the kids. They were fast learners and soon you all started to have jamming sessions together, Eddie even calls your family band The Virtuosic Munsons.

After an hour and a half, the theater was already filled by parents and school faculty. Layla Higgins who took after her father and became principal of Hawkins middle school, goes into the center stage and gives a brief message to the audience. Eddie nudges your elbow and you lean closer, “she sounds exactly like her father” you cover your mouth as you try to suppress your laughter, remembering the fake annoying voice Principal Higgins would use whenever he’d talk in front of the parents back when you were still in high school. His reaction when Eddie gave him the finger during graduation was still engraved in your mind. Your eyes suddenly land on the familiar figure in the corner, “look he’s actually here” you whisper to Eddie, spotting your former principal now all old and wrinkly sitting at the corner together with some of the teachers. 

“Now for our last performer, give it up for Roxy and Ozzy Munson!” 

You turn on the camera and Eddie lifts up the banner as you both jump and scream on your seats in excitement, “Whoooo, let’s go!” he cheers as your kids go on stage. They were wearing some things that belonged from you and Eddie: your daughter was wearing your leather jacket and one of her dad’s ring as the pendant of her necklace, your son wearing his dad’s denim vest and your drumstick in his hands. You were very touched as you remember them saying how they feel safe whenever they have something you and Eddie own. 

Roxy stands beside her brother and they look at you nervously, you give them a thumbs up and blow them a kiss. “You can do it” you mouth. She lets out a shaky breath and starts the first riff of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck, you and Eddie already start to get crazy - your husband aggressively lifting the banner up and down. 

“Thunder!” the two starts to chant, their small adorable voices making your heart flutter. They just sound so angelic over a badass metal song and it was so cute. You and Eddie start to palpitate, adrenaline taking over as you anticipate for the first verse to start. “I was caught, In the middle of a railroad track” your daughter sings, your husband already kicking his feet - he’s just so ecstatic. 

“I looked 'round, and I knew there was no turning back” she continues, sassily waving her pointer finger as she starts to gain confidence. 

The chorus comes and Ozzy’s has already loosen up, moving his head along the beat he plays. The song continues and you look around, the audience were bouncing their legs, tapping their fingers, impressed smiles on their faces. 

Eddie’s arms were exhausted, but he didn't put the banner down even once. He felt all warm and fuzzy inside, seeing his beautiful kids in front of the stage and playing their hearts out. He really couldn't hold it any longer - he can’t stay seated anymore, “fuck it” he says to himself. He grabs your arm and pull you as he stands up, you didn't protest and follow him. You don’t even care if you’re blocking the people behind you, all you care about is showing your kids your support. 

“You’ve been, thunderstruck!” you and Eddie start to sing along with your kids, jumping up and down as if you were at a concert. 

Your former principal sees you both and shakes his head, it’s what he used to do whenever he sees you and Eddie get in trouble but instead of looking disappointed, he now has a small smile on his face. Still the same Y/N and Eddie he thought.

𖤐

The talent show finally comes to an end and you meet your kids outside, you all go into a group hug and pepper them with kisses. “Mom, people are looking” Ozzy whines. Eddie takes their things and slightly crouch down to meet their eyes, “we’re so proud of you both”. “We love you” you add. You and Eddie are indeed proud of them, they worked really hard and took time to learn the song. They were so good, they even managed to make the audience lively and clap along the beat from time to time. 

“Well, we won’t be this amazing if we didn't have such talented parents. Thanks for teaching us by the way” your daughter says, putting an arm around her little brother.

You hold on to Eddie’s hand as you all head back to your car. You fasten your seatbelts and Eddie starts the engine, Master of Puppets starts blasting through the stereo. “Do you think we can play this song like you and Mommy?” Ozzy asks.

“I know you can” he replies as he drives, bringing your kids to their favorite: McDonald’s.

𖤐

[aussiepineapple1st]

Well I am thinking about something. I can’t help it I like seeing pretty boy Leon suffering. Emotionally that is…maybe he was scared to start a relationship because he knew his line of work was brutal. Away for weeks. Sometimes he was straight up emotionally empty, vacant. But reader got into his skin and he gave in. And every! Single! One! Of his fears! Came true. Even better if it’s slowly, one at a time. So he knows the end is coming, but he can’t help it. He just have to wait until reader gives up. Of course he tries EVERYTHING… he’s sweeter than ever, plans elaborated and romantic plans for reader even tho he’s exhausted…but the root of the problem… his job…he can’t leave his job.

Okay... To start with.. I don't know if I will be able to properly fulfil your whump needs but I will very well try my best.

I Love You

Words: 2,031 Contains: Whump, Crying, Death, Blood, Angst.

He was tired, just getting back from a job, but it was date night. He had already missed the last 3 date nights and he could tell your patience was wearing thin, You had put up with his disappearances for days to weeks on end.

Leon would never tell you what he was doing or where he had been, but seeing him bruised and grazes on his face and body. That's what worried you the most, him coming back to you all broken and injured, then not being able to tell you how it happened to him. What if he never came back? What if you say goodnight to him over the phone one night and then get a call saying he was dead? Or even worse, never hearing anything, he has never told you if his job would contact you or not.

Stepping out of the shower, waking himself up as well as removing the blood and dirt from his body, his phone buzzed on the vanity. Rubbing his towel over his chest he picked up his phone seeing the text was from you.

"I'm waiting in our usual spot for you, I know I'm early, I just want to have time to think. I want to talk to you about something."

This sent a wave of fear running through his body, he had a very strong feeling he knew what you were wanting to talk to him about. He didn't want this to end, he loved you, with every fibre of his being. He could feel his heart racing a few palpitations mixed in there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thinks about what he was going to type in response. Does he beg for you to give him another chance? No.. It might not be what he was thinking? His fears could be getting into his head.

You sit on the park bench of your usual spot, having just sent the text you sigh. You decided not to wear making up tonight as you knew you would be crying, hell, you already were. The cold evening air had the tip of your nose frozen, bright pink as your gloves soak up the tears they wipe away from your cheeks. You sniff, squeezing a tissue to your nose before pulling the hand knitted woollen scarf around your neck over your mouth. You really wished it hadn't come to this, you really loved Leon, but without knowing what he did. You were in a constant state of anxiety, not knowing if he was dead or if he would send you a text saying he was finally home? He wouldn't tell you, no matter how many times you pressed him, he wouldn't give in.

You would be able to deal with everything else, the day to week silences, the times he would just sleep when you finally got to hang out with him. His job clearly made him tired with the amount of physical activity he must do, he was always in tip top shape, even when you had first met him 2 years ago. But the stress of not knowing where he was had become too much for you to handle.

You had actually asked him for his number first, thinking nothing of it, but he had actually texted you back. His messages were sporadic and sometimes came at all hours through the night and day, but you finally had convinced him to go on a date. He had expressed so many times that he was worried to be in a relationship, on a count of what his job was. Ironic how now it was you wanting to break this off because of the first fears he had expressed.

Your phone chimes in your hand and you look down to open it, seeing a reply from Leon.

"Just got done showering, will be there soon. There's something want to talk to you about as well."

You felt your chest tighten, maybe he felt the same way? Maybe he would finally tell you where he had been? You decided you would go first when telling each other what you needed to talk about. Typing your reply back, you liked to be the last one to text.

"Alright. I'll see you when you get here."

Leon's phone buzzed as he pulls his arms though his jacket, that was quick. He takes his keys and closed the door to his house while simultaneously opening his phone. Your text felt empty. Normally you would send a small heart emoji, or even the old <3 or even xxx. but lately you had stopped doing that. He had been seeing the signs. Walking down the wooden stairs of his porch he hops back on his bike, the engine still almost warm from just arriving home. Starting up his bike he makes his way to the park where you were waiting.

-----

20 minutes pass and you heard the familiar rumbling of his motorbike from the other side of the park. Standing up you see the bike pulling up and your heart suddenly felt heavy, he looked so exhausted. His right jaw patched up with a peach coloured band-aid and grazes across his forehead, a butterfly band-aid on a cut on the bridge of his nose. Walking up to him, his hands were in his pockets, he seemed closed off as he looked to the ground. You knew he felt ashamed when coming to see you while looking the way he did. A gloved hand lifts his chin to force his gaze to look at you, he could see the worry and pain his appearance brought you.

"Have a seat." You offer him, sitting back down on the park bench.

He nods and sits down, watching you as you walk in front of him and take the space beside him. Even though it was freezing, you sit with a gap between the two of you. Your finger taps your knee as you both sit in silence, the air felt heavy around you, and you could both feel it.

Leon speaks up first. "My job.."

Your head turns to him quickly, eyes wide. You saw his gaze meet yours as he pulls a hand out of his jacket pocket and hands you a leather wallet. "I want to make us work. I love you, and I know you really want to know about what I do. There are just... There's risks that can tie you to danger if you know about it. Even if you get tied to me."

You frown, what he was saying wasn't making sense. But at the same time made all the sense in the world to you. You open the leather wallet to reveal a metal badge and an ID card underneath with a picture of his face, his signature, name, date of birth, number and Clearance level 13. "Division of Security Operations?" You ask.

Leon nods. "I'm an Agent, I work directly under the president's orders. Wherever he needs me, whenever he needs me, I have to be there. No questions asked."

He was that high up? You were dating a secret agent for 2 years?! Leon watches you as you stare at the badge, he sits up, straightening his posture. "Please.. Say something?"

"So you, don't know what you will be facing whenever you get called to work?" You asked handing the wallet back to him.

Leon shakes his head. "I do, but I deal with bioterrorism. Bio Organic-"

"Weapons.." You finish his sentence, you had heard about them. Especially with all the outbreaks happening over the years, some things end up getting leaked. The first one and what you had heard of was Racoon City. The horror stories you have heard from that place.

"I was in Racoon City when it happened." Leon says as if reading your thoughts.

Your heart aches for him as you turn to face him. Tears welling up in your eyes, not for reasons you had expected them to tonight. "Oh, Leon..." You say, deflating. You had already made up your mind. "I wish you had told me all of this sooner. Maybe I would have been able to learn to deal with it."

"Deal? With what?" He asked. "I understand if you don't want to be associated with me anymore. I have done all I can to keep you safe and keep your name from being connected with mine."

"Leon it's not my safety that I worry about..." You cut him off, reaching over to place a hand on his knee. "We both know where I am going with this. And I can't deal with the stress of worrying about if you will come home to me safely or not." You explain.

Leon looks to you, his bottom lids starting to become wet as he turns away from you, leaning against the back of the bench and staring at the ground. You both sit there in silence for a few seconds before he nods. "I understand. I'll give you a ride home."

You nod and stand up after him, walking to his bike he hops on first before you do. wrapping your arms around his middle you hold him tight. It was painful, you knew after this ride you would never be doing this again. Taking in his warmth and smell of his favourite leather jacket, you sob into his back as he drives you home.

Once at your place he walks you to your front door, you hold his hands for the last time and say your final goodbyes. Watching Leon get on his bike he rides off quickly, normally he would wait until you were inside before leaving. It hurt you to know he was in as much emotional pain as you were, entering your house you lock the door behind you.

Leon sits at a cross intersection, leaning over the fuel tank of his bike a few tears fall to the shiny black paint. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and leans on his foot more as he sits up to pull it out of his jacket pocket. It was a call.. you? You never called him. He answers the phone quickly and puts it to his ear.

"Leon.." Your voice rasped out. "Help.."

That was all he needed. Hanging up the phone he speeds off back to your place. Not even letting the stand down on his bike he shuts off the engine while still moving, dropping the bike on it's side on your front lawn. He leaps over the bike the momentum pushing him to your door faster than he could run. Crashing into the door he pulls a gun from the back up his pants he always carried with him and tries opening the door. He steps back and kicks the door close to the handle, it flinging open.

Waiting for him was a group of masked men, glowing red eyes peering at him as they were taken down one by one. As soon as they were all dead he spots your body sprawled out on your loungeroom floor. Leaping over the couch he kneels beside you. Your eyes were closed and a wound bleeding out on your chest and abdomen.

"(Y/N)! Hey.. Can you hear me?!" He askes pressing his hand to your abdomen, knowing you were either dead, or soon will be. There was nothing he could do. "(Y/N)!!!" His voice cracks as he sits down, pulling your body into his arms.

"Hey.. S... Sorry." You choke out. Blood spilling from your mouth as you choke on it.

"Don't talk.. I've got you.." He hushed you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before looking into your eyes.

"I... Love you..." You gasp, not being able to take in another breath you exhale. Leon watched as your pupils dilate and you stare through him rather than into his eyes.

A choked sob leaves his throat as he pulls you into his chest, holding you tight. A cry of pure anguish leaves him from deep in his chest as he rocks with your body. Out of everything, this... This was his biggest fear.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮

don't mind the words in blue, that's just the 4:4 answer

since they're using the "令嬢" which means daughter or young woman but with honorific, please excuse as I used the term noblewoman instead of just 'daughter' and it's easier for me (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

I was now a "friend" of Prince Gilbert.

I came back to the court from the bookstore in the city, not feeling alive.

Gilbert: "Come to think of it, friends are supposed to eat together."

Prince Gilbert, who seems to be in a good mood all the time, speaks as if he had an idea.

I was already exhausted and could only return a wry smile.

Gilbert: "Starting tomorrow, I'll have you prepare every meal next to me."

Emma: "... If I say no一"

Gilbert: "Yeah, what's that? You want to hear my military strategy?"

Emma: "I just thought it was an honor to be with you, Prince Gilbert!"

Gilbert: "Ahaha, I'm glad you're pleased."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "See you later, little rabbit."

Prince Gilbert easily flips off his cloak and turns his steps toward the guest room.

The moment his back was out of my sight, my breath spilled out involuntarily.

(Let's go to Sariel's office quickly.)

Even after the Trampling Beast was gone, the sickening motion took away my body temperature, and my hands seemed to tremble. **

It was as if I were trapped in an extreme situation with a cliff in front of me and a tiger behind me.

(… I don't cry, but I'm about to.)

Once I start walking with my face down, I bump into something.

Emma: "Oh, I'm sorry—"

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "… Sir."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "Prince Chevalier?"

Chevalier looked down at me with a cold gaze, not saying a word.

The cold-hearted prince, the leader of the foreign political faction and sometimes called "a cruel and merciless beast,"

He turned back the way he came, without changing his expression in any way.

(Oh, I guess he's not going out...)

As I stand there, Prince Chevalier looks back at me and motions with his chin.

(You want me to follow you?)

══════════════════

I followed Prince Chevalier's back to his secret library.

(I didn't know such a place existed.)

The bookshelves are filled with books that are more artistic, such as plays, poetry, and stories, than books of a practical nature,

If I had been my usual self, I would have jumped on it.

Chevalier: "I heard you went to town with Eyepatch."

Standing by the window with the moonlight behind him, Prince Chevalier spoke.

Chevalier: "What did he ask for?"

(I'm thinking you can pretty much understand what the situation was rather than asking "what happened"). **

Emma: "It's about being friends."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Even I, who has been staying at the court as Belle for less than a month, can tell that of the eight princes,

Chevalier is by far the most intelligent and perceptive.

It seems that even for such a prince, "friends" were so unexpected that a brief silence fell.

Chevalier: "Why does he want you as a friend?"

Emma: "I didn't really understand it either, but—"

Thinking back to my exchange with Prince Gilbert, I report to Prince Chevalier exactly what I have seen and heard.

Eventually the words died down, and the stacks were enveloped in the silence of the night.

(Looking back on it again, it's still full of mysteries, but all I know is that there is some kind of plan.)

Emma: "Prince Chevalier... Is there any way I can end it?"

Chevalier: "Why should you end it?"

Emma: "I'm scared because I feel like the fate of my country depends on me."

My heart still palpitates because, depending on what I say or do, it could be a beautiful rose or it could be stained with blood again.

I don't think I can handle the responsibility of being Belle any more than I already have.

I bite my lip, and Prince Chevalier snorts dismissively.

Chevalier: "Don't be conceited."

Chevalier: "Our country is not so fragile that it can be swayed by the words and actions of one little girl."

Chevalier: "Is your statement now as good as if you were saying that I'm incompetent?"

(... Right.)

There are eight noble beasts in Rhodolite.

Their duty is to protect the country; my statement now is equivalent to saying that they will not be able to fulfill that duty.

(Even though the princes of Rhodolite would never lose to Prince Gilbert.)

Chevalier: "It was foolish of you to take that threat seriously."

Emma: "... I'm very sorry."

(I am not alone.)

I felt that the threads of tension that had been tightening around my heart were suddenly loosened.

Chevalier: "There is no need for a mere verbal apology."

Emma: "Ah—"

He flicked my forehead strongly with his fingers as if to reproach me, and I unintentionally frowned.

(Bitten, poked... I've had a rough day.)

Chevalier: "As punishment, you must show me your sincerity."

Emma: "Sincerity?"

Chevalier: "Oh. Yes, I was just thinking about how I could use you."

Prince Chevalier, who had suddenly lifted the corners of his mouth, had a face as bad as the Trampling Beast.

Chevalier: "Be my pawn, simpleton."

Emma: "... Pawn?"

Chevalier: "As your friend, I'm asking you to find out what you know about it."

(...!)

Emma: "You mean... A spy?"

Chevalier: "Exclusively for me."

The proposal offered takes my breath away.

(Okay, I thought "friends" were all bad, but I guess you can use them to your advantage.)

Why did Prince Gilbert appear at a diplomatic meeting and decide to stay at Rhodolite for an extended period of time?

In the first place, why is Obsidian, which has long maintained diplomatic relations with the country, now making a move?

There is too little information at hand to counter unknown threats.

But Prince Gilbert should know most of the answers that Rhodolite seeks.

(If I get around well, I might find out a lot of things.)

(And based on that, Prince Chevalier and the others can take countermeasures.)

When I looked up at him, he snickered at me again.

Chevalier: "Incidentally, an exclusive spy never reveals information to anyone other than their master."

Chevalier: "You know what this means... Do you understand?"

Emma: "... You mean the other princes can't know about this?"

Chevalier: "Yes. Report to me alone any important findings regarding Eyepatch."

Chevalier: "Trust neither the prince, nor the bureaucrats, nor the servants, nor your butler, nor anyone else."

Emma: "Why is—"

Chevalier: "A number of people from Obsidian's side have already infiltrated the castle."

Accepting that statement, made without hesitation, was as painful as swallowing a rose thorn.

(But... I knew that.)

(If Prince Gilbert knows about "Belle," it means that someone tipped him off.)

It is highly likely that this "someone" is in a position to obtain Belle's confidential information...

The princes, some court officials, and Rio are candidates.

(I want to believe in everyone, but we need to accept reality as reality.)

Chevalier: "Above all, the Trampling Beast is a beast that specializes in controlling others and manipulating them at will."

Chevalier: "It is entirely possible that today's allies will become tomorrow's enemies."

(I don't even want to think about such a horrible thing happening, but...)

I am sure Prince Chevalier knows more about Prince Gilbert than I do.

(And me, I'm no stranger to that.)

I already know that there is no "choice" in the options given by Prince Gilbert.

Emma: "... I'll keep that in mind."

Nodding in response to the pain, Prince Chevalier pulls something shiny and golden out of his pants pocket.

It was flicked by his fingers, and it landed in my hand.

Emma: "What's this?"

(I think it's the pin badge insignia of a tiger's crest.)

Each prince also has their own crests.

The personal servants and knights wear plain insignia on their uniforms.

It was the first time I had ever seen one belonging to Prince Chevalier.

Chevalier: "I can predict what Eyepatch will do next."

Chevalier: "That thing is going to make some nasty demands in the future. In that case, there should be no time to ask for a decision on Glasses."

(Glasses... I think you mean Sariel.)

Chevalier: "You can make the decision. You don't have to ask permission every time."

Chevalier: "I will take full responsibility for everything you do and say."

(.....! That's what the insignia is for.)

It may be a small badge, but the meaning behind it is quite significant.

Emma: "... Is it really okay?"

Chevalier: "As long as you do your part."

Chevalier: "As long as you are useful to me, I will protect you."

Chevalier: "If it loses value, though, the worst thing that will happen is that you will be thrown away."

Emma: ". . . . ."

Chevalier: "That's all I'm going to say."

(... I was so anxious that my hands were shaking, but before I knew it, it stopped.)

The presence of Prince Chevalier was reassuring enough to bring warmth back to my cold fingertips.

Emma: "Thank you very much. I will certainly live up to your expectations."

Bowing deeply, Prince Chevalier snickers and heads for the doorway of the library.

But he stopped in front of the door.

Emma: "... Prince Chevalier?"

Chevalier: "Once there was a man who said that the essence of human nature is love."

(... Love?)

I listened to his words spin without him turning around.

Chevalier: "In this case, I would say love is compassion for others."

Chevalier: "His theory is that there are no real bad people in this world, just those who are influenced by their surroundings."

Chevalier: "What do you think?"

(It's difficult...)

It's a question I've never thought of before.

I try to gather up all the words in my head, but I can't find any answers.

(You want to say that the essence of a villain is "love," right?)

The first thing that came to mind was the face of Prince Gilbert.

(I wonder if there is such a thing as "love" in that person.)

When asked if Prince Gilbert, who can trample people with a smile, has any compassion for others,

I can only shake my head at the moment.

Emma: "I don't know..."

Emma: "I have a feeling the answer lies with Prince Gilbert."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Prince Chevalier doesn't say anything, but this time he leaves the library.

(I wonder if the day will come when I will understand the meaning of that question.)

I clutched the insignia and etched it into a corner of my memory.

══════════════════

After a night of nervousness, I headed for the dining hall, where the guests of honor were gathered.

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Silvio: ". . . . . ."

Keith: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "You like sweets, don't you, little rabbit? See, I asked them to prepare a lot of it for you."

Gilbert: "Eat as much as you like. Oh, and give me all the leftovers."

Gilbert: "Our country had food shortages for a while, so I don't like to waste food."

Gilbert: "Hmm, I can't wait to see what you start with."

(... What's this situation?)

In front of us are Prince Silvio and Prince Keith, who have stopped eating and are looking stunned.

Next to me was Prince Gilbert, who was smiling as he prepared a mountain of dessert in front of me.

To begin with, the table was set with food for about ten people, not four.

About seven of them were gathered under Prince Gilbert.

(A lot of things are wrong, and the stares hurt.)

I was prepared for this from the moment I was invited to dine with them, but it was a tougher morning than I had imagined.

Gilbert: "Hurry up and eat. Or do you want me to feed you?"

Emma: "N-no... Let's eat."

(I can feel some eyes in front of me wanting to say something, but I'll let my mind go blank for once.)

With a knife and fork in hand, I cut the cake in front of me into bite-sized pieces.

I brought it to my mouth, remembering the table manners that Sariel had drilled into my head, but I couldn't taste it.

(... I never even told Prince Gilbert that I like sweets in the first place.)

Gilbert: "How's it taste?"

Emma: "... I'm so nervous I can't taste it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're so honest."

I was afraid I might make him uncomfortable, but Prince Gilbert only laughed with ease.

Gilbert: "You don't have to force yourself so hard. Just because there are guests of honor here doesn't mean you have to behave."

Gilbert: "If anyone says anything about your manners, I'll shut them up... Okay?"

(I can't make a mistake.)

Silvio: "Hey, Glumskull. Do you see that?"

Keith: "... Yes, I see it. They look like a victim and a perpetrator in my eyes."

Silvio: "So it's more likely that the woman was forcibly handcuffed?"

Keith: "I don't know if that's the right thing to say..."

Gilbert: "What is it? You want to know about the relationship between me and the little rabbit?"

(… The question is finally asked.)

Prince Silvio and Prince Keith must have wondered about this ever since the day of the goodwill meeting.

Even for the ally Benitoite and neutral Jade, Obsidian is a symbol of threat,

And they wonder who was the young lady that was escorted by the prince of that country.

Emma: "My friend."

Before Prince Gilbert opens his mouth, I make the first move.

(I must prevent anything that would imply that I am "Belle".)

Silvio: "Ha, don't lie so blatantly."

Gilbert: "Really? I know everything about her as proof of that."

Silvio: "Such as?"

Gilbert: "There's a bakery near her house, run by an elderly couple. She likes their sandwiches."

(!?)

Gilbert: "She likes to go to a hill overlooking the city with a sandwich and a drink and read a book."

Gilbert: "One time, she read from morning till evening, and she caught a bad cold."

Gilbert: "At the time, everyone in town was worried. It seems there was a bit of a commotion."

(… Only people close to me know about such things.)

(And the last time I had a cold was before I met Rio, so that was at least three years ago.)

Even if I had caught Prince Gilbert's attention because I became "Belle",

I don't think there would have been a spy who would report such a useless and trivial episode in the past.

(Could it be that Prince Gilbert's eyes were on me even before I became "Belle"?)

(… That can't be. I'm just a town girl.)

I have done nothing to attract the attention of the prince of a great nation.

I have never met Prince Gilbert in the past.

(Once I see such a characteristic person, I'm sure I'll never forget them...)

But facts must be accepted as facts.

Prince Gilbert probably "knows everything about me."

(Who would have told him about my past?) **

The more I think about it, the more my fingertips tremble, and my fork slips to the floor.

(… I shouldn't...)

As I rushed to pick it up, Prince Gilbert's cold fingers grabbed my hand.

Gilbert: "Little rabbit, picking up the things you drop is what the common people do."

(Ah...)

Emma: "... My apologies. I'm just a little upset."

He returns to his posture and looks toward the servant who was waiting by the wall.

The whole process of entrusting a dropped item and having a new fork prepared is one of manners.

Fortunately, Prince Silvio and Prince Keith did not doubt that I'm a noblewoman.

Rather, they looked at me with pity.

Silvio: "From the looks of her, you got that information from somewhere, didn't you?"

Gilbert: "Yep."

Silvio: "You don't know anything else about these bullshit incidents, do you?"

Gilbert: "What, you still want to hear about it? I've got... Well, I have about a hundred more."

(… I'm getting dizzy.)

Keith: "Gilbert, even if you really were a friend, you are intruding too much into a woman's private life."

Silvio: "You know what they say about men like that?"

Silvio: "It's called being a perverted stalker bastard."

(Prince Silvio!?)

Gilbert: "Ahaha, I see. That's a word we don't have in Obsidian, so I've never heard of it before."

Prince Gilbert laughs briskly and dismisses the words with a smile.

He did not seem offended, but rather smiled as if to say, "I like it."

(… I don't understand Prince Gilbert.)

Emma: "Where did you hear about me?"

Gilbert: "Secret."

The conversation was lively,

But when we broached the subject, they resumed eating as if they had lost interest in the subject.

(I didn't expect you to tell me so easily.)

Emma: "It's not fair."

Gilbert: "Hmm?"

I gathered my courage, remembering the insignia I shoved into my skirt pocket.

Emma: "Prince Gilbert, you know so much about me, but I don't know anything about you"

Emma: "You're my friend. Don't you think that's strange?"

Gilbert: "Haha! That's for sure."

Prince Gilbert acknowledged my words more easily than I had expected.

Gilbert: "Friendship is a process of getting to know each other. Therefore, you have the right to know about me."

Gilbert: "But I guess mealtime isn't enough for you to get to know me."

Gilbert: "I'd have to be with you from morning till night to have the amount of information I know about you."

Gilbert: "Isn't that right?"

(Huh, why am I in such a cold sweat when I'm the one who started this?)

I put down my knife and fork, and Gilbert wraps his hands around my fingers.

I felt like a rabbit in the bosom of a tiger, even though he was not being rough with me.

Gilbert: "Let me help you do your work." // "Let me help you do your tasks."

Emma: "What!?"

Silvio: "Pff—"

Keith: "Ah—"

Prince Silvio spurts out the tea he was drinking, and Prince Keith drops the cutlery in his hand on the floor.

(You want to help me?)

(… The disaster of the world, the trampling beast, Prince Gilbert, the prince of an enemy country of Rhodolite...?)

Gilbert: "You... are helping the princes with their official duties for the sake of your studies, aren't you?"

Emma: "... Yes."

Of course, I don't remember talking to Prince Gilbert about that.

But from an outside perspective, it should be.

(Maybe he's saying, "I'll help you select a king.")

Gilbert: "I'll be your friend, and we'll be together forever, right?"

Emma: "But, Prince Gilbert also has official duties—"

Gilbert: "Don't worry, I can make as much time as I need to spend on you."

Gilbert: "It's not so bad, right?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "I wonder if there's something wrong if I help."

With a glance at Prince Silvio and Prince Keith, Prince Gilbert gently narrows his blood-colored eye.

(If I say no, does that mean you'll bring up the subject of "Belle"?)

Either accept the offer or be forced to accept it.

The choices given today are unreasonable.

(… I would have lost my head before I heard what Prince Chevalier had to say.)

(But now I have other duties to perform besides being "Belle.")

I casually brush off Prince Gilbert's hand and lift the corners of my lips.

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "If you are willing to help me, Prince Gilbert, I would like to take you up on your offer."

Silvio: "Huh!?"

Keith: "Lady Emma!?"

Gilbert: "Heh."

Emma: "Because I also... want to get to know you, Prince Gilbert."

Silvio: "Woman, are you an idiot? This is not a problem you can handle on your own."

Emma: "...No."

(Maybe Prince Chevalier had anticipated all of this turn of events.)

If I talk to Sariel and the other princes, they will surely try to keep Prince Gilbert away from me.

But that was no good — it would be "meaningless" in Prince Gilbert's hands, 

So Chevalier made the first move.

(If I had refused, it could have been used as an excuse to make things more complicated.)

(… Truly, he's an amazing man. He reads all the movements of Prince Gilbert.)

I take the insignia out of my skirt pocket and put it on the chest of my blouse.

Emma: "No problem."

Prince Gilbert was the first to react to the insignia with the tiger's emblem.

Gilbert: "Ahaha! I see, Chevalier..."

Gilbert: "I guess he read my actions."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Prince Gilbert's smile beams as if he's genuinely enjoying himself rather than being angry.

Gilbert: "That's why Rhodolite is—"

Gilbert: "So worth crushing... Isn't it?"