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stargirl-mo · 2 months ago

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Cam girl X Ghost Part Two

CW: Ghost x fem!reader, masturbation, swearing , breeding kink, p in v!, dirty talk, cunnilingus, mask kink (and more sorry if I didn’t get them all 💋) MDNI 18+

AHHHH I did it finally this is my first time writing smut so pls be gentle with me but also give me feedback as well thank you soo much @darkrain for asking for part two I probably wouldn’t have made it this one is for you love 💋🫶🏾

“ Johnny hurry up and stop taking the fucking piss”, Ghost said as he paced back and forth his large boots silent and quiet making his name apparent on why he’s called the GHOST.

“L.T. there’s plenty of people here who want ya Bonnie lass ya not the only one who -“, Johnny was cut off by ghost grabbing him by the scruff of his ridiculous mohawk that only he could pull off.

“ Sergeant r’ you tellin your lieutenant ya won’t follow an order hmm is that what you tellin’ me”, Ghost rasped into his ear dangerously close his grip tightening around his lush brown locks.

“ Nay sir I got it promise”, Johnny said his voice an octave higher and a tad bit shaky, his sky blue eyes dark and pupils blown till only a little ring of blue was shown. His breathing was shallow as if all the air was suddenly thinning out and scarce.

“ Good lad that’s what I like ta hear”, Ghost released his grip on soaps hair and clapped him on his broad shoulders squeezing them before pulling away.

He looked at him smirking beneath his balaclava pulled down only showing his amber eyes narrowing at Johnny one last time and went back to pacing.

His mind was racing he couldn’t believe this was reality. His life has never been kind to him always harsh and bitter. Shit dad and lost the only two people he loved and cared about his mom and his brother. He thought the world gave him a break when he found the 141 but now he knows that God gave him a bone like the starving dog he is.

Finally, after all these months of pining after you, he has the chance to have you. He has been one of your fans since the beginning when you were still wearing your flimsy little skeleton mask. He had stumbled upon you on the cam site still young and tender.

He had been wanting a good wank since he hadn’t had a decent one since being back from a long and harsh mission. Him holding back moans and groans and spitting into his rough callused palm and tugging on his leaky fat cock with his thick leather gloves, in abandoned buildings in bum fuck nowhere and the bunks weren’t ideal.

He saw you and your skull mask and was intrigued instantly he thought maybe it was a sign or whatever the fuck Johnny rambles about. He pressed play and heard your voice ring out softly introducing yourself. He was even more excited by your voice calling out to him even past your nerves he wanted to see you.

He remembers how eagerly you played with your puffy clit small fingers pumping in and out your sweet little hole only worried about getting off. Clearly showing your inexperienced ways as you clumsily fucked your self.

It was as if your fingers weren’t enough you needed his thick and large fingers, he could imagine his fat fingers in your tight slick gummy walls reaching far and deep to touch your sweet spot moaning his name making you cream on his fingers and tasting you after.

Your moans were like a siren song angelic and dangerous calling him closer and closer to you. He was gone from there his dick was harder than ever he was already leaking pre cum he didn’t even need lube. He shoved his pants and underwear down in a hurry eager and hungry.

He timed himself to your pumps mimicking your pace and came with you he swear he saw stars as hot thick ropes of his cum spilled over his tight grip at the base of his pulsing cock. His nut was all over his flexed abs heaving and breathing hard as he tried to calm down from one of the best nuts of his life.

But what hooked him was your face when you took off your mask and you were even more beautiful than he could imagine but he knew from your eyes you had to be a stunner. Long pretty doll lashes batting at him. From then on he knew you were his bird and only his.

“ Aye l.t. I’m in her software should glitch and you’ll be at the top of the list now all she has to do is pick you and damn you outdone yourself with the donation” Johnny, said smiling at his l.t proud of himself.

“ Trust me she is and why not spoil her there’s way more where that came from but good job this isn’t over yet sergeant but I knew you could do it”, He patted Johnny's shoulders he knew their work was cut out for them.

…………………………………………………………………………..

A week has gone by and you had all your contenders lined up picked carefully and deliberately you weren’t playing this was going to be one of the best nuts since your not planned celibacy. There were three 3 guys you lowered it down to you checked for hand cleanliness and dick size they were all average sadly but you could make it work.

You stretched as your black and pink lacey cami rose showing your little pudge. You sat cross-legged with nothing else on but your black panties on your pink and fluffy bed comfy with Sza playing in the background. You had your hair in a slick back bun your glasses on with a bowl of ramen on your lap eating as you edit one of the videos.

As you sat and edited yourself moaning and playing with your self you saw a video pop up. And a hefty donation of 10,000 dollars you didn’t even care about the money but damn…

You went to click on it and saw that the video and person were added to your finalized list of people. You thought maybe it was a glitch and you were going to remove it because of the money and everything thinking it was a scam but what was the harm in checking hell.

The video began and you immediately sat up as you saw the grey sweats with a thick and long outline in them. A wet spot at the tip makes a dark spot. The man was shirtless and my god his body was like a Greek statue. Abs that looked handcrafted and perfect you could wash laundry on them shits.

His v line was prominent and slutty with veins bulging and you swore you were gonna lick them.But that wasn’t the only thing he had on a ghost mask similar to the one you began with in your career.

And then he spoke.

“ Hullo birdie you can call me ghost for now this is my fan video”, His voice was deep and gravelly and he was a Brit.

Shit, you were hooked that accent combined with that voice it went straight to your pussy. Damn were you pathetic your pussy already thumping like it had a heartbeat and wet from his voice alone.

But maybe it was the mask you never thought you’d be one of them girls who had that kink but shit it was working. The mystery about him is drawing you in and you know for sure the mask was staying on.

His large and pale hands which looked like he could crack a watermelon in two pulled his sweats down as he lifted his hips. His cock sprang out his tip bulbous and cherry red. His length was long and monstrous and way above his belly button , and his girth was thick.

You knew that would be split you open wide and damn near ruin you. But still, your mouth watered and your pussy turned to a leaking faucet just nonstop spilling of your sweet juices.

The sound of him spitting into his hand made you think about him spitting into your open hot mouth waiting for it to hit your tongue. But he didn’t even need the spit his tip was leaking fat clear globs of pre cum his spit just made it sloppy and erotic.

And that’s when he began stroking up and down like his life depended on it soft grunts coming out of his mouth you wish you could see. He teased himself so badly stroking himself slowly then fast gripping his base his hips lifting into his strokes bucking like a wild beast you could imagine the pleasure and pain of your inner thighs feeling the brute of that.

His groans go straight down your spine and your pussy the cotton of your underwear soaked and maybe your sheets at this point.

You wanted to see his lips curve into soft o’s and his cheeks flush. You wanted to see his face contort in pleasure it was driving you insane. But you were stuck in a trance of him and his amber eyes pulling you in like a magnet.

He finished ropes of thick white cum hitting his abs. The growl that left his mouth must have come deep from his chest and you wished you were there to lick it up.

“ That’s all for now Lovie hoping to see you soon”, Ghost said voice raspy and thick as he winked at you.

You knew your winner and that was it he was what you needed craved all your desires were going to happen thanks to Mister Ghost. You immediately emailed him kinda desperate but hey you were.

And you went to play his video again so you could cum with him…

………………………………………………………………………….

“Alright l.t I been following your bird all week I know her favorite flowers and her favorite snacks so you can bring them with you today when you meet her in the hotel”, Johnny said as he gave Ghost a beautiful bouquet of glittery pink roses and a hello kitty plushie.

He had a box of homemade donuts with pink and white icing with sprinkles. A taro boba tea with extra boba just the way his doll likes it. From the bakery, you go to every afternoon after your workout.

Thanks to the military database and a couple of their screws being loose they found you easily. He knew you didn’t have that specific Hello Kitty plushie cause he and Johnny scoped out your apartment…

They knew you down to how you liked your coffee.

………………………………………………………………………

You were pacing up and down the luxury hotel white toes freshly done on the plush carpet floor burning a hole into it. Nervous was an understatement you were shitting bricks you didn’t know how people felt comfortable doing this in their apartments.

So you got a hotel to calm your mind but the idea of a random man coming to fuck you is still even more off-putting curse your horny ass mind and his big dick.

You finally sat down on the big plush bed with rose petals on it. They even gave you guys complimentary champagne and fruits. You took a strawberry and bit it as you thought some more.

You lied to the workers downstairs and said it was you and your boyfriend’s anniversary you know lying is bad but hey at least they won’t judge when you too walk out together.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a knock came to the door. Your heart immediately dropped to your ass and your palms began to sweat. You got up and wiped your hands on your black and red slip dress that hugged your curves and gave no room for imagination. You played with your hair twirling the ends around of your blow out that flew down your back.

You opened the door and immediately you knew your neck was going to be hurting from looking up considerably from this man’s height. He was 6’5 and most definitely 6’6 with his army black boots on. He was huge and beefy, he had on a black compression shirt and black sweats that hugged his muscular thighs oh so nicely. His hair was blonde and curly but it was low like he cuts it all the time.

His huge veiny hands held flowers pink roses with glitter your favorite and in the other arm a Hello Kitty plushie and donuts from your favorite bakery. It's weird how he knows must be a coincidence all girls love Hello Kitty and your favorite bakery was pretty popular.

His lower face was covered in a surgical black face mask most likely cause a man his height and size walking around in a balaclava must be scary as shit.

But with this, you could see that he had little freckles here and there from the sun, his nose had two or three bumps from being broken way too many times and not being healed correctly. And his amber eyes were as magnetic as they were in the video.

His eyes crinkled which shows he was smiling from your blatantly obvious eye fucking. He wasn’t complaining cause your tits were spilling from the top of your dress oh so nicely giving him a nice show already.

“ I-I’m so sorry please come in”, you said embarrassed and like a loser frankly.

“ It’s not a problem Lovie a little nervous myself but you look stunning doll”, he said stepping in and looking around the room.

“ These are for you I hope you like it “ His voice was gritty and raspy as he gave you the roses and the Hello Kitty.

You took them from him accidentally bumping his hand it was warm and rough and it was gonna be roaming your body soon you felt a shiver go down your spine.

He looked at you knowingly like the bastard knew the effect he was having on you.

“ Thank you ghost they’re so beautiful”, you said smelling them and avoiding eye contact with the handsome stranger.

“ Call me Simon love I want you moaning my real name “, He said Manish and cocky-like.

“ Whatever”, you said lamely rolling your eyes and focusing on your flowers.

“ What was that lovie I couldn’t hear you with the flowers in your face,” He said as he grabbed your chin softly but firmly.

You looked up stunned and panties wetter than you’d like to admit. He was so fine good lord you wanted him now.

“ Nothing “, You said looking at him in the eyes and your cheeks hot. He eyed you like he knew you were lying.

He decided to spare you cause he knew how flustered you were. He’d make you pay in the bed.

You guys went to sit down with him giving you space and he sat on the chair his thick thighs taking up the whole chair. You guys talked and he told you he was military he was very humble about it as you thanked him for his service.

“You can thank me another way hun,” He said with a light chuckle as he eyed you hungrily.

“ Well let me get stuff together “ You blushed down to your neck. Not looking at him you felt like prey to his predatory stare.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom birdie be ready for me when I come out,” He said as he lifted heading away. His tone was commanding and gruff that left no room for argument.

You set up the camera pressing start feeling how real this became he was gonna fuck you on this bed you were gonna have sex with a stranger.

You bent down to fix the cords feeling the material of your dress stretch damn you had to stop eating sweets so much.

You had to be teasing him or something he thought as he came out of the bathroom to get himself together. You were bent over fat ass in the thin see-through material showing your red thong that disappeared in the fat of ass crack. He immediately beelined for you pressing his already semi-hard cock to you.

A gasp left your lips as you were startled you felt his long pulsing cock press against your ass. His hands rubbing up and down your sides possessively. Rutting against your ass trying to soothe the ache he must feel of his hardened cock.

He turned you around for you to see he had on his skull balaclava he had a feeling you’d like it. And you most definitely did your pussy sopping and mask kink activated.

He lifted his mask to only show his lips and nose. You barely had time to see the scar that split the top of his lip making him even more sexier. His lips were plush and pink as he took your plump ones aggressively swallowing your soft moans.

His tongue was pushed in your mouth not giving you no room to protest. His mouth was hot and wet as he immediately gained dominance in the kiss. Everything about him was commanding in this moment, the way his hands groped and fondled your breast pulling your tits out as you pulled back to breathe from his kiss.

He immediately took one of your tits in his mouth and began to suck like you had milk in them. His other large hand pulled and teased your other nipple making you moan indecently. His teeth softly grazed your nipple making you jump and clench around nothing.

“ Look at you all fucked out like a whore haven’t even touch ya cunt yet,” He said smirking as he pulled up your dress bunching it up to the middle of your back.

He lifted you making you yelp in surprise as he swooped you with ease. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist and put your arms around his neck.

He smacked ya ass making you squeak as he walked you both to the bed. Now straddling his lap his dick straight beneath your pulsing pussy you know he could feel it as you felt his hardness. You immediately feel your pussy gush out your juices on his sweats.

You’re moving your hips before you could think chasing that delicious friction you needed desperately.

“ Fuck Lovie keep doing that,” He said as he encouraged you to move your hips forward and buck his hips into yours.

You mewled into his neck dragging your cunt against his cock and feeling his nails dig into the fat of your ass moving you with vigor. You kissed and nipped his neck making him groan and buck harder into you.

“ Ngh I-I’m gonna come s-Si,” You said bucking your hips as your eyes crossed tugging his hair and making him groan.

“ Go ahead lovie I got you,” He said as he bucked his aching cock more against your puffy clit sending you right over the edge.

You came with a cruse and you said Simon’s name.

You could barely process your first orgasm when he laid you flat against the bed on your back. He got up and took off his shirt off.

You immediately propped up on your elbows taking in his chest and abs that looked way better in person. And how fucking huge he was big hulking of a man with a nice layer of fat that made him look hefty.

He was littered with smoke-grey tattoos of skulls and swirls that all morphed into one or another. He had scars that seemed from knives and bullet wounds that added to his ruggedness, yet they fit him.

“ Didn’t ya mum teach ya not to stare”, He said with a false sense of sternness. But you could tell he was smiling beneath his mask from the crinkle of his eyes.

“ I never did listen anyway “, You said smiling at him.

He looked back smirking as he pulled your legs to pull you down to him making you squeal and laugh. He parted your legs as he took two of his fingers making a nice slow circle to your clothed clit.

You moaned quietly trying to mask your feeling good but ultimately losing as he kept that slow agonizing pace.

“ Cat got ya tongue now huh doll,” He said as he quickened his pace making your moans louder.

He pulled his fingers away making you whine until you felt him pull your thong off , an embarrassing amount of your essence being soaked into your thong making the once light red a deep one. Your cunt now exposed to him.

“Bloody hell got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen,” He said softly making you leak more from his praise.

He went on his knees and kissed your clit slowly sucking it making you groan. He grabbed your thighs making you scoot further into his face as he lapped up your essence.

He urged you to hump his face as you bucked your hips into him feeling his nose rub onto your pulsing clit. Feeling his 5 o'clock shadow scratching on your thighs as you clench around his face not caring if he could breathe or not. He thought if he had to die it’d be this way buried in your sweet cunt.

He took one of his fingers pushing his way into your tight gummy walls. Your moans were immodest as he still was sucking your cunt not giving you a break as he coxed another orgasm from you.

You immediately felt yourself gush coating his face feeling him add a second finger as you clenched around him. His large two fingers felt like four of your fingers inside. The stretch and burn felt good as he found a good pace stretching you out.

He pulled up from in between your thighs as he felt your essence drip down his face and neck mixed with his saliva.

“ Got the sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” He said as he continued to work his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt.

“ Fuck your hands are so big stretch-“, You mewled as he found your spot curving his fingers just the right way. Your toes curled and you fisted the sheets trying to find something to hold onto.

“ I found it haven’t I lovie” He said knowingly as you could hear the smugness in his voice.

All you could do was moan as he hit that delectable spot over and over again making you come undone yet again. He brung his hand to paw at your tits yet again rolling and tugging your nipples adding another layer of simulation.

Your eyes rolled back in the back of your head as you come for the third time making you desperate for his cock needing something to scratch that itch inside.

“ Please I need your cock now please,” You said whining over and over as he scissored his fingers in you stretching you not the way you wanted anymore.

“ Shush calm down doll gonna give you your dick don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” He said as you whine and groan frustrated.

You began to rut on his fingers desperately trying to chase that feeling you needed to be full to the brim and wanted to feel too full.

“Ghost fuck me”, You said bratty not caring if you sounded impatient.

Something in him flipped as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt and sucked his fingers staring at you in your eyes.

“ Fine was tryna be nice but wanna be a fuckin brat ill treat you like one,” He said his voice low and gravely.

He shoved his pants down revealing his thick and long cock. He was fully erected yet it still hung in between his legs. It resembled a bat swinging there between his thick and gaudy legs. Your eyes widen as it jumps maroon red tip leaking pre cum. You quickly realize what you just got yourself into.

He spanked his heavy cock against your clit making you clench around nothing and whine. As he teases you rubbing his cock against your cunt mixing your essence with his pre cum making y’all own lube. He slips down to your soaking hole slipping his tip softly against it not pushing in. He’s driving you crazy as he pushes in with not enough force to slip fully in.

You feel tears of frustration as you whine out pleading and begging him to fuck your pussy and apologizing for being a brat. He grunts satisfied with your begging. He grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder.

He sank slowly into your inviting pussy feeling your gummy molten hot walls constrict around his cock. Your cunt sucking him in like no tomorrow.

Your moans were pornographic as you sigh in relief feeling the stretch of his cock you never felt anything this big. Tears prick your eyes as you try to relax.

He leans into you more as you feel some of the pressure of his body now feeling him sank in more inches. You sigh in relief as you feel his moving stop his tip nudging against your cervix as you feel him in your stomach. You moan as he shifts accidentally feeling him hit your womb.

Your arms around his neck as he waits for your consent to move forward. You bury your face into his neck as you nod feeling him pull out making your eyes roll back.

“Fuck ya cunt squeezing me so tight pretty girl,” He said as he rocks softly into you making you whine.

Your moans get louder and louder as he hits that sweet spot every time without failure. Your nails scratching his back making him hiss and fuck into you harsher only making you grip his cock harder.

“ Fuck doll bout to come now aren’t you feeling you clench me so hard go ahead and let go for me,” He said in your ear breathy and low as he fucked you harder making his pace animalistic.

“ Ouuuu shit ugh si I’m coming I’m coming I’m-“You said with a broken moan as you clench around him babbling praise as you coat his cock with your cream.

His pace was unrelenting as he bullied his cock into your hole not caring as he coaxed out your fourth orgasm.

He slid out of you making you feel empty yet before you could start whining he positioned you again straddling his lap. He takes you and spares you onto his awaiting cock.

You sink feeling him in your belly more like this. You push down on his chest and begin to bounce up and down feeling his cock kiss your womb with every thrust. Your moans are like music to his ears as he meets your bounce.

“ Fuck I can feel your womb ma gonna give you a baby if you keep letting me hit that spot,” He said between clenched teeth guiding your hips to slam into his pelvis.

You’re so out of it you’re asking for his babies babbling and pleading with him with tears in your eyes as he fucks you so good.

“ Yeah be my little wife keep my home nice and cozy keep you fat with my babies yeah,” He said grunting as you squeezed him almost painfully you were so turned on by being his wife.

“ Please si please I’ll do I'll do it fuckkk”, You slur as he fucks into you going limp in his arms.

You come with a cry as you feel him hit your sweet spot over and over again. You feel your legs twitch and shake as you feel him still torment your poor hole.

He switches your position to doggy but your back is to his chest and now you're facing the mirror.

You see where your cunt and his cock meet the creamy white ring around his cocky filthy and so vulgar. His pace never changed as he bullies you more as you cum again with a sob your eyes tearing up as tears run down your face.

“ Look they’re kissing baby,” He said smirking forcing you to look where you connected.

He grabs your arms and pulls you into his pace fucking you vigorously the loud sound of his balls smacking against your ass echoing around the room. Your head drooped as he pulled you into him.

He lets one of your arms go snaking his hand against your belly pulling you into him, and pushing the bulge in your stomach from his cock. The other hand is around your neck making you look into the camera.

“Open ”, He grunted. You opened wide too fucked out to care and he rolled up his mask to spit in your mouth. You swallowed and moaned fucking back into him matching his pace and making him grunt as you squeeze his cock for dare life. He hit your womb constantly making you drool and eyes go cross.

“ Gonna breed you make you swollen with little Riley’s,” He said grunting his rhythm never faltering.

“ Yes I want your baby w-wanna be your wife”, You hiccuped overwhelmed by the intensity.

You feel his hand leave your waist as he rubs your clit matching his pace. He squeezed your neck as you cry tears and you cum again for the umpteenth now overstimulated and you clench him tight.

He groans and swears as he releases his seed deep inside your womb. Fucking into you not wasting one drop. You presses a kiss through his mask and you sloppily make out with it pushing your tongue against it making him groan and throb inside you. Rocking slowly into you again.

This was far from over…

………………………………………………………………………….

You wake up in fluffy sheets and clean with a big t-shirt on that reeked of Simon musk, rain and a slight peppermint tea smell. You bring your nose to smell it finding comfort in it already. You feel a big hand around your waist and lean back into him more and slowly close your eyes again letting him embrace you more. Even though he was a stranger he treated you more kindly than any asshole you had ever been with , so you closed your eyes and let the giant with good heat warm you up.

You woke up officially with him leaving you a note and snacks that he had an amazing time and that he’s happy you picked him. He had a mission that called him back into duty no negotiation. You pouted because you wanted to get to know him more but oh well duty calls. You got what you wanted after all he rocked your world. You could barely stand up and when you did your legs shook.

When you got home you uploaded your guy's video and it went viral instantly. He was a fan favorite immediately. People constantly asked for the Ghost back.

Imagine your surprise when a month later you find Simon at your door with his bags.

How did he find your apartment…

But that doesn’t matter Lovie because now you’re a Riley now. You failed to know that Simon already had plans on making you his wife for real.

As you promised even if it was under the influence of sex or not you’d promised to be his wife and bear his children. Mrs.Riley has a nice ring to it doesn’t it Lovie… ;)

@afrodisiiac @iloveuuuuk @hhimetsu thank you guys for liking and reposting my work it means a lot 🩷🌟

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #hes so fine #call of duty smut #cod ghost

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kiemiu · 4 months ago

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𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝓞: 𝓝𝐞𝐰 𝓕𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 1.8k

summary -> the kids being preoccupied left you room to become friendly with the newcomer, kang cheol before his sister makes an appearance for a quick visit. warnings -> injuries (?)

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

12:33PM

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 gave you more time to spend with the kids while your mother was out running errands. You never had a full grasp on what she did on those errands, always returning with more junk than she had left with, always leaving the bulk of it all in the trunk of her car for you to carry in. Even at such a young age you could feel your bones aching and your back practically begging for a break as you carried in pile after pile of magazines. Never knowing what she did with them, or why she had so many, but also never being curious enough to ask.

A huff of exhaustion yet relief left you after plopping the last stack of magazines in front of her door, twisting and turning parts of your body to release any tension before you went back to supervising the kids. Turning your head in a slow circle until your eyes landing on the halfway open door to the art room. The top of a head picking in and out of the crack, scattered papers with markers all over the floor. It didn't take you long to realize it was Cheol. After breakfast and a short lesson, he asked to retire to his room because he wasn't feeling the best, not in need of a nurse or tea that you offered but just wanting to sleep.

You knew how hard of an adjustment it must've been for him to be dropped off in the middle of his adolescents. So many questions could be going through his head, mainly wondering why? And as you think back to his older sister you can't help but wonder what type of hardship they might've been through at such a young age.

The bleak weariness that overtook their forms showed that the past hadn't been kind to them, and even in the safety net of an orphanage they still kept their walls up high. Being self-preserved and reluctant to bond to those around, as if at any moment the world around them would start to crumble, and their efforts to build anything other than a simple acquaintanceship would be futile when it's all said and done.

Without a second thought you made your way over to him, giving the crowded play room a mere glance to make sure the kids were behaving appropriately before making your way inside the art room.

A few gentle knocks were placed on the door before you slowly made your way in, even with the intention of being subtle, you still managed to frighten him, his body jumping before he backed into the leg of a table. A junction of apologies leaving your lips as you slowly made your way towards, your hands held out as you approached as if he was an injured animal.

"I just wanted to see what you were up to." you quietly whisper, bending down far enough to pick up a piece of a paper he colored on. His once rigid form slowly relaxed, scooting himself closer and closer to you when he realized you didn't pose a threat.

The picture messily drawn showing three people in front of a house standing and holding hands with big smiles. "Who's this supposed to be?" You asked, turning the page toward him, having the smallest hint of who it might be.

"Me, my sister, and my mom." he clarified, beginning to draw on another piece of paper, his eyes never leaving the page even as he dropped a marker to pick up another one. You didn't want to press the issue, thinking of all of the possible outcomes that could've led him to end up here, instead settling for a hum of approval and a meek "You draw very well."

A small smile creeped on his face at your compliment, the rapidly moving hand that sketched across the paper halting as he slowly looked up at you. "You wan' me to draw you?" his head slightly tilting to the side, his doe eyes gleaming with something adventurous.

You reciprocated his smile, before nodding, offering to draw him as well, leaving your mother to supervise the other group of rowdy children on her lonesome, you were sure she could handle herself.

As you drew each other on the floor of the art room, you exchanged your likes and dislikes, foods you hated and adored, and your all time favorite tv shows. Small laughs being exchanged between you two, while a light weight lifted off of your shoulders to see him fully relax into the atmosphere. His posture eased and his babbling nonstop, cutting himself off between sentences to tell another story than the other one he told, which was something you also did when you got too excited.

Just as he was in the middle of telling a story, two short and rapid knocks broke through the tranquil bubble created between you two. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes slightly widening at the sight of his sister, standing placid, her face wearing the same exhausted yet impassive expression she wore last time.

Cheol gasped before lifting himself off of the floor and running towards her, his arms locking around her waist as one of her hands rested on the top of his head, messily combing her fingers through his flat locks. "We were just talking about you, noona!" he exclaimed, his toothy grin looking up at her as he rested his chin on her lower abdomen, arms still locked tightly around her waist.

A flash of confusion crossed her face, her eyebrow lifting up only for a split second before returning to her regular stony composition. "You were?" she asked, the tilt of her head similar to the way Cheol had completed the action earlier. Although different in looks you could tell they were related by the allusive mannerisms, even the way they talked occasionally reminding you of the other.

You lifted yourself off of the floor, dusting the sides and back of your pants off before slowly making your way over. "He was just telling me a story on how you taught him how to ride a bike." you clarified for him. A grin creeping on your face as you recalled him telling you she wasn't the best teacher at the time, the longest she'd been on a bike no longer than 10 seconds as she always ended up losing her balance.

Sae-byeok's gaze fell from yours to her little brothers, a ghost of a smile tugging on her lips for a split second before disappearing as her head turned over to the ruckus of the playroom next door.

You didn't mean to stare, but your eyes couldn't help but lock onto the visible scar on her neck, something you hadn't noticed the first time you saw her. Your head tilting the slightest to gaze at it. It was a faded pinkish color, a whisper of a tragedy etched into her skin for life, just barely being covered by the stray hairs falling from her pulled back low ponytail.

It felt as if you were underwater, falling into a trance of your eyes trailing the visible parts of her body to see any other unmarked scars that you had missed at first glance. Her hands barely concealed yet the scratches and traces of dried blood on the knuckles shined a brighter light on who she was. Her fingers long, slender, and littered in bruises, making you wonder what she could've done to sustain such injuries.

The way her hands consciously slipped deeper inside the sleeves of her jacket to conceal her hands didn't go unnoticed, and as if you were pulled from the suffocating waves of the ocean, you heard Sae-Byeok's voice come into view.

"Why aren't you playing with the other kids?" she asked, your eyes catching hers for a second before they diverted to Cheol who was still gripped onto her tightly. He hummed in response, not wanting to tell his sister that he was afraid.

Afraid of what the other kids would think about him, how they would treat him if he spoke too much, and if they'd see him differently if he was truly himself.

"Um, I just wanted to color." he murmured, his eyes avoiding his sisters, his hands resorting to latching onto her wrists, swinging them back and forth to keep himself occupied from having to meet her gaze, knowing that she can read him like a book.

You saw Sae-byeok tense, her face cringing at the sudden pressure around her wrists, but quickly masking it with a frown. Her mouth opened to question him but was abruptly interrupted by Cheol. "Oh, Miss Kim, Can I show noona what we were drawing together?" He suddenly asked, his head turning towards you, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

You nodded, your eyes abashedly meeting Sae-Byeok's for a split second. "Of course, and if you want you can color with your noona in the visitor area." you offered, already gathering the sheets of paper off of the floor and bending down to throw markers back into their bin.

You smiled as he quickly nodded his head up and down, quickly scattering down to the floor to help you clean the mess you made together. "Will you join us?" Cheol suddenly asked after gathering the multitude of supplies, holding the bin of coloring items with both of his hands, occasionally using his knee to keep it from slipping.

You opened your mouth to answer but was soon interrupted by the yell of your mother calling your name. A small sorrowful smile making its way onto your face, "I don't think I'll be able to..maybe some other time, yeah?" you query, holding the now neat stack of papers close to your chest.

Cheol nodded, his smile still never slipping as he made his way back over to Sae-Byeok.

You held the papers out for her to take, not wanting to pile too much onto Cheol, only then being close enough to realize the noticeable height difference, she practically towered over you, her head having to slightly tilt down if she wanted to maintain eye contact.

Her eyes stayed trained on yours, eyelids fluttering at the smallest graze of her fingertips against yours as she took the drawings away from you. A mumble of what you assume to be a 'Thanks' was heard as she turned her back towards you, her and Cheol treading down the hall to the visitors area to continue coloring together, faint murmurs of Cheol's voice being heard as he told Sae-Byeok how good of an artist you were when you were merely average at best.

As they turned the corner you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat at Sae-Byeok's departing glance at you over her shoulder, her eyes flickering towards yours like a magnet before she disappeared into the halls of the orphanage. She evidently wasn't one for words, speaking her own secret language with her eyes, you just had to figure out what she meant.

Where did you come from Kang Sae-Byeok?

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here

#kang sae byeok x fem!reader #kang sae byeok x reader #kang saebyeok #kang sae byeok #kang saebyeok x reader #kang saebyeok x fem!reader #squid games x reader #squid game imagines #squid game x y/n #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x fem!reader

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jacqueline-01 · 6 months ago

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[He’s obsessed]

A.H x Y/N

To be loved is to be truly seen and heard.

Aaron made sure of that through his quiet, thoughtful actions. From offering you an extra blanket on the plane ride back home to listening intently as you and Morgan bickered like siblings, he was always present. Though he rarely showed it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by your quick-witted comebacks to Morgan’s every remark. In his mind, you were one of the few who could stand up to his inner prosecutor, navigating his sharp, sometimes unyielding personality with ease.

Every time you caught his eye, there was a quiet connection, an unspoken understanding. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that he was paying attention. You could feel his gaze on you during cases, the way his subtle smile would appear when you offered your perspective, no matter how small. It wasn’t loud or brash, but it was there — a constant, steady presence that comforted you.

You, too, found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the way he led the team with calm authority, or how he could read people in a single glance. It was his silence, the way he carried a quiet strength, the way he never asked for anything in return. He made you feel seen, truly seen, in a world where most people overlooked the small, tender moments that meant everything.

There were moments you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and in those moments, your heart would race. He was a man of few words, but those fleeting moments of eye contact spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say “I love you” because you already knew. You could feel it in the way he would adjust the collar of your jacket on a chilly morning, or the small, comforting touches during stressful moments.

As the weeks passed, the air between you shifted. It was subtle, unspoken — but it was there. The way his hand lingered just a little too long when passing you a file, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way his voice softened whenever he addressed you. The tension was building, and you could feel it in your bones. But neither of you dared to break the silence.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both found yourselves at the same bar, unwinding with a drink. The dim lighting, the hum of quiet conversation around you, and the warmth of the moment made everything feel just a little more intimate.

The evening was quiet, the weight of the day’s case still lingering between you. You sat at the bar, nursing your drink, the low hum of conversation in the background. Aaron had been silent the entire ride over, his usual stoic presence beside you in the car, but tonight, something felt different. There was a palpable tension in the air, something unspoken that both of you had avoided addressing.

You took a sip from your glass, trying to push away the heaviness in your chest, but the silence was too much. You wanted to know if he felt it too — the way his presence made everything seem a little brighter, the way your heart beat a little faster when his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

Finally, you spoke, your voice softer than you intended. “Do you ever wonder… if we’re all just pretending? Pretending that this,” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t something more than just… whatever this is?”

Aaron’s eyes flickered to you for a brief moment, his brow furrowing slightly, as if unsure whether you were talking about the case or something more personal. He studied you for a long second, the same way he did when he was trying to read someone. But this time, it was different. He wasn’t trying to figure out the suspect — he was trying to figure you out.

“You’re not talking about the case, are you?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You shook your head. “No. I mean… I guess I am. But not really.” You set your drink down, eyes fixed on the bar in front of you, afraid to meet his gaze. “I don’t know, Hotch. It’s like… I’ve always been aware of the way things are, but lately, everything just feels… louder.”

Aaron let out a breath, setting his drink down too, his gaze steady but intense. “Louder how?” His voice had a quiet curiosity to it, the kind that only surfaced when he was genuinely interested in someone’s perspective.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I guess it’s just… when we’re together, when we’re talking, it’s like I’m hearing everything, but also nothing. It’s confusing, you know?” You glanced at him then, your eyes meeting his for the first time all night. “I’ve been wondering if maybe… I’m just hearing what I want to hear.”

Aaron didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. “And what do you want to hear?” he asked, the question loaded with an intensity that you could feel in your chest.

Your heart beat a little faster. “I want to hear you say that you feel it too,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “That all this silence, all these moments… they mean something.”

There was a long pause. The air between you was thick with the weight of your confession, but Aaron didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat into his usual quiet self, the one that hid his emotions behind a mask. Instead, he leaned closer, just enough for you to feel the heat of his presence.

“I’ve felt it,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “More than I’ve let myself admit.” He reached across the bar, his hand brushing against yours in a gesture so small, but it felt like a promise. “I’ve been waiting for you to see it too.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. He had felt it. For how long? How long had he been waiting for you to say something? The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over everything you’d been holding back.

Before you could respond, Aaron spoke again, his voice now steadier, more certain. “I’ve been silent because I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is. But if I’m being honest with myself…” He paused, the words hanging between you. “I think we’ve both been pretending that this silence doesn’t mean something. Pretending that we don’t both want more.”

Your heart raced as you processed what he was saying. The silence that had hung between you for so long wasn’t just the absence of words — it was filled with everything that you both couldn’t say.

And then, as if all at once, the distance between you closed. Aaron’s hand found yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away. No more pretending. No more silence. Only the quiet understanding that, in that moment, everything had finally clicked into place.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of everything you had both been too afraid to say. And as the kiss deepened, you realized that sometimes, it wasn’t the loud declarations of love that mattered. Sometimes, it was the quiet moments in between that spoke the loudest.

#hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #Spotify #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader

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potatomountain · 5 months ago

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CIY CH 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Breaking Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @yourfatherlucifer, @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour 📍dividers by @cafekitsune banner made by me! ageless blocks will be blocked immediately if you interact with this post 📍AN: I HIGHLY recommend skipping this chapter if any of the following warnings below the cut are triggering or you are just not in a good headspace to read about a traumatizing event that befalls reader. It is not described in detail, but is described as having happened off screen. The trauma is not caused by any of the main cast, or idol representing character (i in fact refused to give him a name) masterlist | Previous | Next

📍Warning(s): extremely dark and triggering themes such as: mentions of r@pe, torture, graphic depiction of murder of minor character. Graphic details such as blood, stabbing, and talk of explosives. Kidnapping, held hostage, a somewhat cliche mafia scene with dark twists because trauma.

The bright lights woke the two men from their awkward slumber, Hongjoong being the first to lift his head despite a swollen eye. For three days of torture, the two of them were still pretty much in tact. It left Hongjoong feeling a bit… disappointed.

This was the feared Blood Hounds? The red chains around their necks were a give away, and with five of them it shouldn’t be too hard to cause some damage. So why were they mostly just bruises and busted skin from punches? The brass knuckles hurt something fierce, but aside from a dislocated shoulder all his bones were intact. He assumed it was the same for Seonghwa.

Twenty-four hour observation, no food or water but sleep was provided surprisingly. Probably to keep them coherent enough for the questioning.

And that was just as dull. Despite hunting them down, they knew so little. Didn’t even notice their connection to the law, or their full place in the Black Pirates. That was probably due to the Red Wolf that did the questioning. The man sat behind the lights, late thirties, early forties, and had his jacket open to expose his bare chest and the red wolf on his side. He even flaunted it often, making Hongjoong assume this man’s ego was bigger than the abandoned building they were in.

That was fine by him, it made it easier to play the game. “Let’s start from the beginning shall we? The black pirates are responsible for the hit on our territory a few weeks ago, correct?” The way the man emphasized ‘our’ just showed his pride over this situation. If Hongjoong had to guess, he was given this interrogation role as a test, most likely an ass kisser that worked his way up the ranks. A true coward under it all.

It made it hard not to mock him. “Not sure what you mean, please elaborate.” He licked some of the blood off his lip, tilting his head back and knocking it against Seonghwa to wake him up a bit more. The bright lights around them were annoying, but only really kept them awake now that they were. The man stood up and began to circle them, a little ticked off it seems with how harshly he glared. Hongjoong just yawned, seeming unaffected. Bored even. Because he was.

That just pissed off the wolf even more, throwing one of the lights to the ground in a rage as it broke and sparked out. “Three days we’ve been at this! How much longer are you going to keep playing this game?!” He shouted out, stomping over to Seonghwa and out of Hongjoong’s sight and gripping his hair.

Seonghwa spit in the man’s face. “As long as we want. Really, do you think you’re terrifying?” While he had a lot of bravado in his tone, Hongjoong could sense the underlying fear there. He knew his partner.

It had been three days and they weren’t sure if they had been out longer than a day. They had gone through scenarios like this dozens of times in case they were captured. Wooyoung could use his connection to the Pink Boas and as a freelancer to get out of his ties to the Pirates, something his mother had said she would always help with, but if it was any other member but Yeosang they had a plan.

Three days. That was the minimum needed for rescue. It gave Yeosang plenty of time to track their whereabouts, and the others to mobilize an extraction. It would have begun the moment there was an attack on the safe house. But Hongjoong knew it wasn’t for them that his partner was scared for, but he was sick with worry over you. Had you made it out? Did you go to Yeosang or did you run? What if you fought? Even Hongjoong couldn’t deny that was an option, knowing how feisty you could be. You weren’t the type to run anyways, but for once Hongjoong wished you were.

Sure their torture was pretty minimal but for you? A random woman in a Pirate safe house? Oh they wouldn’t attempt to question you, he knew that. He tried not to think about it though, tried not to let the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach bother him. The implications that they were going easy on the torture on purpose and that it might have something to do with you. The real torture was not knowing if you were safe. The hits, starvation and dehydration were nothing. The soreness of his muscles he thought would be a nice excuse to beg you for a massage. Still, none of that compared to how he was sure Seonghwa felt.

He had watched over you since day one, first like a protective mother to see what damage you would do to his nest, then you were part of it. They wanted to make it official, maybe have you spend a few nights in their bed after all this was over.

So he knew Seonghwa didn’t care about the punch the man threw, jolting to the side as it connected with his jaw. He spit out blood onto the concrete just in Hongjoong’s view, but he kept his face stone cold. He never liked when Hwa’s pretty face got hurt.

The smug look on the man’s face was just as disgusting. “Then maybe a little bit more?” He nodded to two of the men and they left the room. There was a door opening somewhere, loud bass heavy music filtering out that hummed through the concrete under their feet. “Of what? Boredom?” Hongjoong through out with a bout of dry laughter. “I’ve had more intense fucks than this. Not even a whip or paddle or a knife? Booooring.” “Don’t give him any ideas, love, he’s already struggling with his creativity.” Seonghwa added on, finally lifting his head. “I think he might make it in a kindergarten painting class now.”

In retaliation he grabbed Hwa by the hair again, yanking him up. Hongjoong was proud of the sinful moan Seonghwa let out, resulting in their ‘interrogator’ dropping his head and stepping back with a groan of disgust. “Seriously? Are you two getting off on this?” “Hardly. It’s not rough enough.” Seonghwa hummed out, licking his lips as he turned as if to look at Hongjoong. “You do it so much better baby.” “Ugh, gross.”

Hongjoong had took a risk that the red wolves wouldn’t use them against each other sexually, too homophobic to do any touching or raping of sorts. He was glad that the risk was paying off.

Off in the distance they could hear the door and music again, and that feeling of dread returned.

The wolf smirked, motioning to one of the men and pointing to the lights. Hongjoong watched with a frown as the hound turned two of their lights to the door, shining on the dark hallway just outside. A spotlight for a show.

“What? Got some fancy torture machine you’re going to bring out? Really, it’s like you want to get us off.” Despite that growing pit in his stomach, Hongjoong forced the taunt out. He wanted to wipe that disgusting smug smirk off his face the second the spotlight illuminated up the three people in the doorway.

Seonghwa’s pained gasp hurt as much as the sight of you. “Angel?” Hongjoong steeled his expression, taking in the sight of you to fuel the growing rage and bloodthirst that was building. Every cute, every drop of blood, every bruise, he would pay them back tenfold. None of that mattered compared to the mental damage they no doubt did on you, as you hadn’t even reacted to Seonghwa calling out for you. Body limp as you were dragged further into “Not so cocky now?” The wolf hummed out, making his way over to you and with each step Seonghwa and he began to thrash in their chains. “Oh you really don’t want me near her? Where do you think I am when I’m not here with you?” He slid up behind you, hand running over your exposed stomach and down.

The way you tensed and began to shake wasn’t lost on the two men, both unable to look away from the one part of your naked body they had tried so hard to ignore. When the disgusting man cupped your bloody privates, Hongjoong let out a yell, thrashing even more against the chains. They had been loosening them slowly, but now it hadn’t been fast enough.

Not when the blindfold was removed from your eyes and the dead look in them brought tears burning behind their eyelids. Not when you wouldn’t look at them, you didn’t even seem mentally there.

“Can’t say her pussy was so good that I’d fight like this for it. Maybe her mouth if she hadn’t tried to bite off my dick. Ass far too tight…” He grabbed your mouth as he talked, smearing some of the dried blood from your lips and then thrust his hips against your back. Hongjoong knew he was taunting, just rubbing in the damage he had done to you, and it was working.

Seonghwa tried calling out for you again, desperation and pain in his tone that twisted Hongjoong’s heart further. Once more you didn’t react. “You son of a bitch let her go.” He threatened lowly, throttling hard enough the studs that kept the chair in place were beginning to break. For the briefest moments they froze, the brandishing of the knife against your throat giving them pause. You didn’t even flinch, but you trembled. The fear radiating off of you was palpable. What the fuck had he done to get you like this?

Only the beating of their hearts told them time was still passing, even their breath halted, the smug look on the wolf’s face growing by the second. He opened his mouth to taunt, but all hell broke loose before he got a word out.

The next few moments rushed by quickly, all starting with Seonghwa finally picking the chain and the metal falling loosely around them. Either because he finally got it loose, or because of who they saw just in the shadows of the bright doorway. Before the wolf had time to react, the knife was pulled out of his hand and tossed to Hongjoong who caught it easily, just as a gun was thrown to Seonghwa, thanks to Jongho rushing into the room and dislodging you from the man.

Finally, just in time, the others were here. That bit of relief had the other two men moving with confidence, fueled by their rage of what was done to you.

You fell limply against Jongho’s chest as he kicked the man right into one of the spotlights. He tripped over it, both crashing to the ground, which Hongjoong took as his opportunity to pounce on the man.

He spared no mercy as he first slit the man’s throat, just a bit shallow so he would suffer, then jabbed the knife into him over and over before he could bleed out. He kept eye contact, wanting his fury known. Even long after the body was limp beneath him he kept going, Seonghwa having effectively eliminated the blood hounds with a precise bullet to each of their skulls, leaving no enemy alive.

Only his rage. One stab for each mark on you. Each bruise. Each cut. For the number of times this disgusting being had probably violated you. For the dead look in your eyes, the way you trembled.

It was all Hongjoong could do, screaming at the dead man as if it could somehow take away the pain he inflicted on you. Seonghwa had to walk over and peel Hongjoong off of the dead body, grabbing his wrist to get him to drop the knife. They shared a look, Seonghwa shaking his head and then nudging his chin in your direction. He followed, tensing up at the sight of you huddled against Jongho’s chest, holding onto his shirt with such a death grip.

Hongjoong knew you both still didn’t trust or like each other, so it shocked him out of his rage, the pain boiling to the surface once more. Jongho was leaning against the wall, holding you to him with both arms around your back. You were laying your cheek against his shoulder, breathing heavily and uneven but seemingly dazed. Tears had started falling down your cheeks, and Jongho looked as pained as Hongjoong was feeling. “We need to get her out of here Joongie.” Seonghwa gently prompted, rubbing his lover’s back. Despite how distraught he had been moments ago, Seonghwa sounded much more clear headed now. It helped ground Hongjoong, dropping the knife. “Where… where are the others?” Hongjoong managed to get out, still panting from the excursion of, well, murdering someone brutally. Jongho didn’t even look up from you, gaze glued to your face, following each tear that fell down your cheek. “Yunho is out front with the van, Mingi is setting up the explosives on the ground floor, San and I split up and he checked the floor below us-” He stopped as he heard music, the base vibrating through the concrete, and then it stopped. “That music was louder on the first floor, we took out the guards there when it was vibrating the place…” He trailed off when they heard screams. San’s screams.

They were screams of anguish. The three of them shared a silent look of understanding before glancing at you. He must have found the room you were kept in, aware the building was currently clear of enemies if he had entered the room to begin with. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa with a pleading look. “He’ll need you, I won’t be calm enough.” “And I would be?” He hissed out, motioning to you just to have you flinch. It was both a good and bad sign. Good that you were still, to some extent aware of your surroundings… but that meant you were probably aware of what they just did. “Angel…” He sighed, relenting as he pocketed the gun and moved around slowly so as not to spook you. “Get her to the car, and then let's blow this place up.”

Seonghwa left then, hurrying down the hall and leaving behind silence. Hongjoong was afraid to reach for you at first, freezing up when his bloody hand got close. You stared at the blood there, seemingly more present, then looked up at him. He gave the softest most gentle smile he could muster at the moment. “Hey firecracker. You're safe now.”

Your gaze shifted to the dead body behind him, then back to him questionly. “Yes, I killed him. He hurt you, he didn't deserve to live another second. Now… do you want to go home with us? We can clean you up and feed you. Does that sound nice?”

The both of them waited for some answer from you, and it came in the form of wrapping your arms around Jongho's neck. The man held on tighter, looking up at his leader for answers on what to do.

Hongjoong motioned at the door. “Carry her out, she's probably in a lot of pain so be gentle. You have Yeosang on the line?” He pointed to his ear where the piece was. At Jongho's nod while he slowly picked you up, Hongjoong grabbed it and stuck It in his ear.

“How bad is it?” Yeosang immediately spoke into the piece and Hongjoong could hear a nervous clicking on the other side. “When I saw them grab her the other day I tried to get Yunho there I-”

“Yeosang. This isn't your fault.” Hongjoong chided as he followed Jongho out of the room, keeping an eye out but he knew Seonghwa would have dealt with any strangers on his way. “She's alive, but I need you to warn the others. Where is Wooyoung?”

“He's with Minjae at the base. He was going to bring them in as backup if needed. He won't… he won't handle it Captain.”

“I know. So you're going to tell him to check the other locations and safe houses we have with Minjae and the others and that I want a full report tonight. We need to…” his gaze flickered back to you, still trembling in Jongho's arms and hiding your face against his shoulder. Jongho himself looked as pained as Hongjoong felt, but he was whispering gentle words to you so low that not even Hongjoong could make them out. “We're going to give her time to rest before Wooyoung sees her.”

“Understood? What else?” There was a firmness to Yeosang's tone that took Hongjoong by surprise, but he pushed on.

“Just warn Mingi and Yunho not to panic. Hwa is with San. If Yunho has a blanket or something to cover her, he needs to have it ready. Contact Wooyoung’s mother for a female doctor, Firecracker might trust-”

Hongjoong broke off when he heard someone else on the connection. Seonghwa. “Joong… there are pictures of what he did to her. The bed is soaked in blood and the chains…”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Mingi's voice suddenly cut in, broadcasting on all channels. “What the fuck did they do to our Princess?!”

“Easy Mingi. She needs us calm right now okay? Get this building ready to blow.” Hongjoong attempted to pacify him as the ascended the stairs. The skipped the floor below, hitting the ground floor and headed for the entrance. Mingi met them first and Hongjoong quickly moved to get in the way.

He hated the way his eyes went big and glassy, the color draining from his face as he stared at you. When Mingi tried to reach out though, Jongho stepped back, shaking his head. “She just stopped shaking. Don't. No more surprises for her.”

Hongjoong was shocked by the defensiveness of Jongho’s tone, so was Mingi, both staring at him like the many just grew a second head.

Jongho dipped his head and just rushed off for the door, past the two dead guards there. So Mingi turned to Hongjoong, finally taking in the blood that covered him before asking. “Tell me that belongs to the one who hurt her.”

“It does.” It was Seonghwa that answered, holding an angry San by the back of the neck as they descended the stairs. “He's nothing more than a mutilated corpse. We started a fire in the room she was held in, but let's burn this whole place to the ground.”

“Is she…” San prompted, blood sneered on his cheek and a crumbled picture in his hand. “She’s alive right?” He refused to look at either of them, his shoulders and voice trembling.

Hongjoong knew that this was hardest for San no doubt, with his experience and his past with you. Softly Hongjoong patted his broad shoulders. “She needs us to be strong, okay? Would our firecracker want us looking at her like she's broken goods?”

“No.” The three others, and Yeosang, all chimed in.

“Then let's go. It's about time we take her home.” He guided them outside to the waiting van, the door was open and Jongho was sitting on the floor, his back against the driver seat a very pissed off Yunho sat in. The man was gripping the steering wheel hard enough the veins on his hands were sticking out.

Hongjoong forced Mingi up front, climbing in the back with Seonghwa who was already covering you up with the blankets since Jongho refused to let you go. Er, well, you were now holding onto his arm so Hongjoong could only assume you didn't let him.

That just hurt more.

No more than a few seconds of pulling away from the building did a series of explosions go off, the building crumbling to rabble but for Hongjoong that wasn't enough. He couldn't take away what had happened to you, just the place it did. Nor could he undo the fact it happened to you… because of him. Of them and where they had you.

Only silence accompanied the somber tension in the van.

Taglist will be added to reblogs so they will be easy to ignore!

#pirateeznet #lapydiariesnet #mirohsaurorasociety #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 #ciy #triggering content #ateez mafia au #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #poly ateez x reader

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uhdrienne · 4 months ago

Text

⋆⁺₊❅. 'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

#svt fic #k-labels #svthub #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #svt fanfic #svt fics #seventeen fanfic #svt x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff

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random-thot-generator · 8 days ago

Text

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 12

TWELVE: Easily Torn, Not Easily Mended

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM READER

Summary: What is it they say about best laid plans? Well, your plan goes horribly wrong and just keeps getting worse. And worse... Ah, but chin up, dear reader. It's always darkest before the dawn.

Tags/Warnings: profanity, hints of spice but nothing explicit, angst... so much angst, hurt/no comfort

(Notes: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.)

mdni banner & divider: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER TWELVE

“From this new and intimate perspective, she learned a simple, obvious thing she had always known, and everyone knew; that a person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn, not easily mended.”

― Ian McEwan, Atonement

Ollie's been casting worried looks your way all day.

He can tell that something has gone terribly wrong, but you don't have it in you to tell him. Reliving all that had happened that morning by speaking of it would break you, and you're barely holding it together as it is.

Tears keep welling up out of nowhere, and you have to rush off to the loo or the kitchen or the supply closet to hide until you get yourself sorted out. You try to avoid Ollie as best you can.

While restocking the bar, the memory of how Peach wrapped herself around Simon suddenly pops into your mind. It leads to you imagining what the two of them must be doing at that very moment, and just the thought of it has your gorge rising. You end up in the loo on your knees, retching up your morning coffee and toast into the toilet.

By noon, Ollie has retreated to his office, and you take your lunch break. The idea of eating makes your stomach churn, so you grab a water and your phone and go out the back entrance.

The humidity hits you like a wall as soon as you step outside, and you immediately start to sweat. Flipping over an empty bucket, you drag it into the meager shade of the building and plop down with a tired sigh.

Pretending to be alright while your world is falling apart is exhausting. At this point, you're struggling to keep your head straight, your thoughts a jumbled mess. The feeling only gets worse when you open your phone and see that you've got a voicemail from Simon.

Your hands are shaking as your thumb hovers over the screen, debating whether or not to listen to his voicemail. In the end, you chicken out and call Fiona, instead. You tell yourself you're calling her for a distraction, a bit of idle chat to take your mind off of things. Yet as soon as you hear her voice, the floodgates open and the whole wretched story comes spilling out.

Needless to say, she's furious on your behalf. She rants for a solid five minutes, threatening to bring doom and destruction down on the heads of Simon and Peach, which does make you feel somewhat better. It's enough to stop your tears, at least.

"I can't believe he stood there an' let that manky tart call ya his bleedin' housekeeper! Swear it, love. Say the word an' I'll geld the fucker!"

You want to get angry about it, like Fiona, to rage and rant and throw things, but all you feel is heartbroken, a sadness that settles deep in the bones and aches like a wound. It hurts; it hurts so much, and it makes you feel sick.

Sick down to your very soul.

>>>>>>>>>>

You're still a mess by the time Ollie opens the door for business, but at least you've stopped spontaneously bursting into tears. You're so emotionally drained that you feel numb, working behind the bar like a robotic automaton. It's only when Ollie asks if 'Riley' is coming to pick you up after your shift that you show true signs of life.

In a dead panic, you grab your phone and dart into the kitchen, muttering, "shitshitshit..." as you open your texts. Typing out a quick message with trembling hands, you send it off to Simon and pray it reaches him in time.

[YOU]: No need to pick me up. Already have a ride. TTYL

You fret as you wait, half-expecting the phone to ring at any moment. That text is vague enough to set him off, to have him calling or charging down here to demand more intel. He's protective and suspicious of everyone and...

He's not answering back.

You wait for a minute, then two, then five, both dreading and hoping for a response, but it never comes. Your text sits there in its little speech bubble, unanswered and unread. It's like a knife to the gut, eviscerates you and hollows you out.

After ten minutes, you give up. You guess he's too busy to be bothered with you right now and, oh! Does that cut deep.

A nasty thought suddenly occurs to you. There was probably no need for you to text Simon at all. He must still be so wrapped up in Peach that he's completely forgotten about you. Hell, he forgot about you the moment he saw her standing in his doorway. You never had a chance.

Feeling more despondent than ever, you put away your phone and return to the bar.

>>>>>>>>>>

Fiona arrives a bit early for her shift, coming behind the bar where you're filling a pint for old Ned. You slide it across the bar to him and then shift your gaze to Fi.

"Christ, luv, ya look like hell."

You shrug, because you know this already. You're hurt because Simon hasn't called or texted back. Being forgotten is so much worse than simply being ignored. When you purposefully ignore someone, you're still acknowledging them, in a sense. You're still thinking about them, even if you choose not to engage with them. But being forgotten?

That means you haven't crossed their mind at all. Not once.

Fiona purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at you in assessment. She's gauging your pain, sussing out your mental state. She already knows that emotionally you're a wreck, but she still needs to determine how you're holding up. She doesn't seem very encouraged by what she sees.

"Have ya heard from the blighter?"

Your heart sinks at the question. "No, I..." You shake your head, then pause, remembering his voicemail. "Wait. Actually, he did call me earlier today and left a message. I've not listened to it yet. I was too chicken," you admit.

You take out your phone, feeling nervous, uncertain. "Should I listen to it?"

"It'll drive ya mad 'til ya do," she says with a sigh. "All I can say is, it better be a feckin' apology."

With Fi standing beside you, you finally gather the courage to listen to what Simon had to say. Pulling up the voicemail, you hit the PLAY arrow and tilt the phone so Fiona can listen in.

The first thing you hear is Simon's rumbling chuckle, along with a husky female giggle in the background.

(Simon speaking away from the phone) "Get off me, ya muppet. 'M try'na leave Dee a message."

(Peach giggling in the background but close) "Tell her I wore ya out this morning, so I'm takin' ya out to feed ya. Gotta rebuild your strength for round two later."

(Simon huffing a laugh) "Shuddup..."

...(rustling sounds)...

"Oi, Dee. 'Me an' Peach 'r goin' out f'lunch in Blackheath. She's wantin' t'check out some uh the shops, too, so we'll prob'ly be there all bloody afternoon. Should be back in time tuh pick ya up after work, though. Oh, an' Peach is gonna spend the night. Thought I'd warn ya. Later."

(click)

It feels like an invisible hand has reached into your chest and is squeezing your heart. It thuds hard and erratic, the sound loud in your ears. Your phone slips out of your numb fingers and hits the floor, breaking apart. You don't bother picking up the pieces.

Fiona has moved down to the end of the bar, whispering at Ollie's ear with a seething expression on her face. Ned and the other old geezers look on with keen interest, muttering their speculations back and forth. All the voices sound garbled, like your head's under water.

Your throat constricts, your next exhale wheezing out. You can't breathe in here. You feel like you're suffocating. You need to get out, go outside where there's more space, more air.

The quickest route is through the kitchen, so you slam through the swinging door and rush for the back exit. Stumbling out into the alley, you manage to get out just in time, before you heave up the water you drank earlier. You gag and spit and sob, bracing your arms against the wall. You drop your head, panting, and try to count your breaths.

Eventually, you hear the exit door creak open, but don't bother to see who's come out. Footsteps crunch on bits of broken glass, grinding them into sandy grit. A pair of red Converse appear. Fiona.

"Christ, Dee..."

You straighten, arms wrapping around your torso, as your eyes raise to meet hers. She blanches, hurting because you're hurt, and her bottom lip trembles before she wills it to stop.

"C'mere," she whispers, and wraps her arms around you. "I'm so sorry, luv. I can't believe Riley would just—" She bites off her words, shaking her head. "Never mind. Him an' tha' homewreckin' slag can both feck off."

Sniffling, you pull away to look at her, panic dawning on your face.

"What am I going to do, Fi? I can't go home. I can't be around them. If I see them together, I'll..."

The rest of your words dissolve into tears.

"I know, luv," she murmurs, rubbing your back to soothe you. "Ya come stay with me an' mum t'night. Hell, stay fer as long as ya want. We'll make do."

You sniff, clinging to her, beyond grateful for her offer. "Are you sure?"

Fi scoffs. "Like ya hafta ask." She keeps on hugging you, tight and fierce. "We'll get this sorted out, luv. Don't ya worry."

Heaving a sigh, you draw away to look at her, still hurting but resigned to it now.

"This sucks," you sniffle, your breath hitching. "I don't even have a change of clothes or my toothbrush."

"Then we'll go by Riley's an' get it."

You rear back, shaking your head. "No! I can't, Fi! I don't want to see—"

"Shh... Easy, now," she croons, trying to calm you. "I know ya don't want to see him, but just listen fer a second. Riley said him an' Peach were goin' t'Blackheath, so they may still be there. I can drive ya by his place t'see if they're still gone. If they are, we'll go in, grab ya some clothes and get out."

You bite your lip, considering it. "But what if they're back?"

She thinks about it for a moment, then smirks. "If they are, I'll have Ollie give Riley a call. He can talk 'em into comin' down to the Dog fer a pint. We'll wait fer 'em t'show up, then go back to Riley's and grab yer stuff."

You give her a worried frown, uncertain. "Do you think Ollie will do it, though? He might not want to get involved, and I don't want to drag him into the middle of it."

"Pfft!" Fi scoffs. "He saw how upset ya were, an' he's none too pleased with Riley right now. If I ask him, he'll do it."

Steeling your nerves, you take in a deep breath and blow it out. "Alright then. Let's go."

>>>>>>>>>>

It's just past six when Fiona turns down Simon's street and cruises past the line of row houses. A few dim lights glow in the windows of neighboring houses, but Simon's windows are dark.

"I don't see any lights on inside his flat, but his truck's here," Fi mutters, head turning as she drives past it.

You peer out at the line of cars parked at the curb. "I don't see Peach's rental car, though. She'd be parked behind his truck if she was here."

Fiona speeds up, does a U-turn, and goes back for another look. "Check all the cars, t'be sure," she says. "Riley said he was goin' with her to Blackheath. That makes me think they took her car."

After another drive-by, you still don't spot her rental. "Her car's not here."

"Let's do this, then."

Fiona parks up the street and shuts off the motor. Taking your hand, she looks you in the eye. "Are ya ready?"

You blow out a shaky breath and nod. "I'm ready. Let's hurry and get this over with."

You feel like a thief, slipping through the gate and creeping up Simon's walk. You've got your door keys already in hand, casting around furtive glances. You know you're being ridiculous—you live here, you're not breaking and entering—but the thought of Simon and Peach catching you here and confronting you is your current, worst nightmare.

Fi stands as lookout while you unlock the door and turn off the alarm, then she hurries inside after you and closes the door. She grins at you in the gloom of the foyer, her eyes glinting.

"See? Nothin' tuh worry about."

You open your mouth to reply, then nearly swallow your tongue when a voice at the top of the stairs calls out softly, "Who's there? Is that you, Deedee?"

No. Fucking. Way.

You both gawk as Peach comes padding down the stairs, dressed in a short, red kimono with her long, black hair hanging damp around her shoulders. She stops on the bottom step, propping a hand on her hip as she looks you both over.

"Simon was wonderin' where ya were. He tried callin', but ya didn't answer, so he tried the pub. His friend told him you were out with Fiona. I'm guessin' that's you?" she asks Fi.

You feel Fi tense up beside you and grab her hand, giving it a squeeze. Side-eyeing you, she huffs out an irritated breath but maintains her cool.

"Yeah," she mutters and crosses her arms.

Peach smiles as she takes the last step down and saunters past you like she owns the place. Heading towards the kitchen, she calls over her shoulder, "Gettin' a drink. You guys want one?"

"Where's your rental car?" you blurt out, following her. "I didn't see it parked out front."

She giggles, flapping her hand. "Ah, we had to leave it in Blackheath and take an Uber home. After me an' Si went shopping, we stopped at a pub for a drink and ended up having too good of a time."

"Who the feck is Si?" Fi whispers to you as you trail Peach into the kitchen.

"Later," you mouth back.

Peach opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of water. "Sure ya don't want one?" she asks, standing in the bright vee of its light.

The sash of her robe has come undone, the kimono parted to reveal what she's wearing underneath. You nearly choke at the sight.

She's wearing a sheer, red, see-through nightie with a matching G-string that does little to hide her lithe body. Her pert breasts are pushed out proudly, hard nipples plain to see through the gauzy material.

She sees you both staring and laughs at the look on your faces. "You like?" she teases, her grin lewd. "Pretty hot, right? Si helped me pick it out. Man's got good taste."

Fiona makes a gurgling, choked sound in the back of her throat, her eyes bugging as she turns to glare at you.

You feel sick and avert your eyes. "We should go," you croak.

"Where's Riley?" Fi grits out between her clenched teeth.

"Fi, no," you hiss, shaking your head.

Peach cracks open her water and takes a slow sip, then tilts her head, giving you a sly little grin. "In bed, asleep. He needs the rest, so be quiet if ya go upstairs. Don't want to wake him."

You're shaking, wanting nothing more than to launch yourself over the island and rip out her silky, black hair. Fiona grips your elbow and pulls you back towards the kitchen door.

"C'mon, Dee," she mutters lowly, disgust plain on her face. "Let's get yer stuff and get the hell outta here."

Leading you up the stairs, Fiona practically drags you down the hall to your room, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath the whole way. You come up short in front of Simon's bedroom door, tempted to barge in and just scream at him. You feel like you could scream until your throat is bloody and raw, and then you would scream some more. Instead your tongue stays glued to the roof of your mouth.

Fiona sees you staring and gives your arm a sharp tug, drawing your attention. "He's not worth it, Dee. He's not worth another second of yer time. Now, c'mon an' pack yer things. We need t'get outta here before I do somethin' that'll get me arrested."

The two of you manage to pack two large duffels plus a carry-on bag with all your toiletries in record time. You're just coming out of the loo into the hall when Peach appears at the top of the stairs. She sashays towards you with a smug smile, pausing at Simon's door as you approach.

"Are ya leavin' now?"

"Yeah," you rasp, choking on your own impotent fury. "Just need to get my bags from my room."

"Okay. See ya around, I guess." She twiddles her fingers in a mock wave before she opens Simon's door. "Be sure an' lock up on your way out, will ya, Deedee?" she says, then shuts the door with a soft click, not waiting for a response.

"Feckin' cunt!" Fiona hisses, taking a step towards Simon's door, before you yank her back and pull her into your room.

"Just leave it alone, Fi," you warble out, fighting tears. "They can both rot, for all I care."

Hitching a duffel up on your shoulder, you follow Fiona out of your room, but then freeze mid-step when you hear Simon grunt, followed by Peach's husky giggle.

"Ungh... Peach? Whaddya want? Why'd ya wake me up?" Simon slurs, his voice gravelly with sleep.

"Mmm, c'mon Si," she moans. "You know exactly what I want, baby..."

You can't get down the stairs fast enough, and when you run from the row house, you leave the front door standing wide open behind you.

prev. << | >> next

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #love thy frenemy #love thy frenemy au

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fancyfeathers · 2 months ago

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Comment from @veil123 on this post

Flash must be about to have a heart attack, given how risky his daughter was. I have no doubt that while watching the videos, he'll speed off to try to save his daughter so she doesn't break a bone.

I imagine they're in another city, Flash, at a meeting, and then the topic of "kids on the run" comes up (we call them that because they're literally the real deal. If I could run away from home, I'd run away from everything). And they put on a live video of them and Flash, face to face, watching their daughter walk in and out of a burning building, as if to say to death, "Come on, I'm not afraid of you," while Diana's son yells at her to calm down and stop taking risks because she's going to fall.

Example:

"Hey, control yourself. Supergirl is going to..." he is interrupted.

"Asteria!" Supergirl, who doesn't want to be Supergirl, angrily corrected him. (I feel like Supergirl would change her name every five minutes so they'd stop calling her Supergirl)

"Whatever! Stop running, we're going to put out the fire in the building. If you stay inside, you might freeze and fall," he warns her as he helps some civilians out.

"I'm not going to fall."

And as a dramatic twist to what she said, she took a good fall, amidst the laughter of Supergirl and a heavy sigh from Diana's son.

Meanwhile, the heroes tried to revive Flash, as his fatherly, protective side of his princess, suffered a cardiac arrest due to what he saw on screen.

Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

For reference this series is set in the universe of the Young Justice show

A/N- Again I just had to answer this as a post. I’ll make a masterlist for this series soon.

Whenever the League gets new footage of their little team, they are always hoping that it isn’t their kid, Batman is used to seeing his own daughter cause problems since she has been on the run the longest. Flash’s daughter is definitely the one who gets into the most trouble. Like the first time there was an incident where she was running down a highway, or rollerblading rather, since she uses those because of a dare and a semi truck just straight up hits her head on, she broke nearly every bone in her body, but luckily being a speedster she heals extremely quickly. But it was still horrifying for Barry to see the video of his daughter half unconscious on the ground for at split second before she was picked up and rescued by Clark’s daughter.

Diana’s son also has a fair share of injuries, especially since he is just human who was trained by an Amazon. The worst injury he has ever gotten is when he broke his leg and it was a compound fracture when he and Bruce’s daughter broke into a League of Shadows base to steal documents but they both had the unfortunate encounter with Ra’s Al Ghul himself. He could barely move let alone walk, but Bruce’s daughter got him out of there and luckily his mother will never see that footage. Now on camera he has never gotten injured, which makes Diana think that her son is somewhat being safe, he’s not, it’s just never been seen. So just imagine how pained she feels when she sees her son in person during a fight and he keeps on taking hits over and over again to protect the rest of his friends.

Aquaman’s son has taken a few serious blows, but I think the biggest would have been if and when he got caught, he was helping rescue people during a hurricane type storm, but his ankle ended up getting caught in some rocks and coral, and with every wave that comes in his head gets bashed up against rocks, coral, and other things that have formed in the ocean. It is horrible, he is so close to the surface and pulling himself out, but he can’t he’s stuck. It goes on and on until he is knocked unconscious and eventually he is found but by then he has lost a lot of blood and has a serious concussion. When he wakes up, he is back home, back in Atlantis. His father takes a break from Justice League missions to look after his son and he is never leaving home ever again.

Clark’s daughter, Zatara’s son, Martian Manhunter’s daughter, and Green Lantern’s twins have never really gotten injured before. Clark’s daughter because she is kryptonian, but there was an incident where she got exposed to kryptonite that got caught on camera and she got violently sick. Zatara’s son has been able to deflect practically everything with magic, he really would never get injured unless perhaps he got into a fight with Klarion, The Witch Boy. Then Marian Manhunter’s daughter has never gotten injured, she is sort of the team manager, she’s the one who helps treat injuries along with Green Lantern’s son, I love the idea of the two of them being the team parents, they are the ones who are always fixing things and running communications. Green Lantern’s daughter has never gotten seriously injured by sheer dumb luck and a Star Sapphire ring, no one knows how she is still alive she just is.

Then the one who was gotten the worst injury is Bruce’s daughter, there was a time where her grappling line just snapped and she fell so far that she should have been dead, it was a literal miracle that she survived, she was on bed rest for weeks, she could couldn’t even move with all the injuries she sustained from that. The rest of her friends genuinely thought she was dead for a few minutes because Supergirl, Clark’s daughter, genuinely did not hear her heart beat for two minutes.

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cosmicdahlias · 7 months ago

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I Hate Everything About You

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You’re a student at the same college as Stanford. You hate his guts for being a successful arrogant bastard, but secretly have a crush on him.

warnings: slut-shaming, slapping, oral, rough sex, choking, breeding, drugs (weed)

this is my first stab at an enemies to lovers fic. i’ve always loved the trope, so this was a lot of fun. i also definitely didn’t include them smorkig weed because i’m like missing it and living vicariously through my writing or anything. 👀💦

You sat in your dorm finishing your homework. You were in your junior year at Backupsmore University with a major in theoretical physics, winter break was two weeks away. Tonight you were on edge, dreading a knock on the door. The reason? You had been assigned to write a research paper with Stanford fucking Pines.

Oh my god how you hated him. Success and praise flocked to him. You were the only feminine presenting person in your major, and thus had to fight tooth and nail to be seen as even half as good as your male classmates.

It drove you mad how professors just seemed to naturally love him, whereas they never showed you the time of day. And worst of all? He was arrogant and self-absorbed. He thought himself so much better than the other- in his words- “troglodytes” around him.

But what you hated the most was how attracted to him you were. How could you want to fuck someone so badly when you hated their guts? You always tried to repress your feelings, but some nights you still shamefully found yourself with your hand between your legs, thoughts running wild of Stanford using you like a sex toy.

You quietly seethed over your homework when you heard knocking at your door. You sighed heavily and pushed your chair back, savoring your last Stanford free moments.

You swung the door open and there stood the man that you despised more than everything.

“Stanford.” You said coldly.

“Y/n.” He responded, not even entertaining the idea of making eye contact with you, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Barely an hour had passed before you two found yourselves locked in a heated argument. A simple disagreement over formatting had boiled over.

“Jesus christ, Stanford why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”

“I’M making things difficult? I’m not the one who’s been shooting daggers all night, barely responding to my questions because apparently talking to me is like pulling teeth. What the hell did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”

“Oh you really wanna know why I hate you? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that professors fawn over you for the most menial effort, meanwhile I’ve had to work myself to the bone, slaving away just to earn half the recognition you barely have to lift a finger for.” You spat.

“Well maybe if you kept your legs closed every now and then this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as you make it.”

Hot tears formed in your eyes, you quickly raised a hand and brought it down hard on his face. He stumbled back, his cheeks turning bright red and not from the slap. You looked down, a bulge clearly forming in his pants.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You thought, quickly growing angrier that he had managed to turn you on like this.

“For fuck’s sake Stanford, are you serious?” You said through gritted teeth.

“I- well I- it’s not like I can help it. I’ve never been slapped before.”

You stared at each other for a moment, the sexual tension building.

“Look,” he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation “it’s clear we both have some underlying feelings for each other, perhaps it would be for the best if we-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you said, cutting him off “maybe you do, but I certainly don’t.”

“Oh please, don’t lie to yourself. I catch you staring at me during lectures all the time, undressing me with your eyes, nothing anywhere like the malice you so pretended to demonstrate tonight. Admit it, you like me. Despite aaaaaall of your personal hangups about my successes, you genuinely have feelings for me.” He said, crossing his arms.

He let his words hang in the air, a smirk creasing his lips. God, he was such a dick.

“Now,” he continued “I was going to say I think it would be best if we just put this to bed, literally.”

“Stanford, no I-“ the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

He chuckled, tilting your chin up. “I knew it, you want this.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your lips. He was right, you did want this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t imagined him between your thighs during class. You reached a hand down, fondling his cock over his pants.

“Mmm, fuck.” He groaned into your mouth.

You both began removing each other’s clothes desperately. He looked down at your naked body, his breath shaking. He took your breast in his hand, stroking your nipple with his thumb.

“Do you know the things those brutes in class say about you, about your body? When you walk into the room every man fucks you with their eyes, but you like it that way, don’t you?”

You took his thick cock in your hand and stroked it, he moaned and buried his head in the crook of your neck. He pulled himself away then pointed to the floor. You sank to your knees in front of him and wrapped your fingers around his cock again, pumping the near 8.5 inches in your hand. He tilted his head back, groaning and cursing.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby.”

You went to slowly take his head in your mouth, but he seized a fistful of your hair and shoved the full length down your throat. You choked and gagged.

“You know I was thinking of being nice, but honestly I think you deserve to be brutally fucked after the way you’ve been acting. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded with his cock buried in your mouth.

“Good, although honestly I was planning on doing it regardless.”

He gritted his teeth and resumed bucking furiously into your mouth. You to whimpered and gagged around him, tears streaming down your face.

“You’re my little slut now, you understand?”

You let out a muffled “Mhmf.”

“Look at you, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Do you let anyone else do this to you?”

He pulled out to let you answer. “No.”

He shoved his cock back in your mouth. “Let’s keep it that way. I’m not big on- mmf, sharing. I always figured the rumors of you being the campus whore weren’t true. You have too much self respect for that, but I bet you’re so dirty when you’re alone. Picturing me fucking you in every position, touching yourself and cumming with my name on your lips.”

He quickened pace, fucking your mouth rapidly in pure aggression. He growled and his hips stuttered, he was going to cum in your mouth if he kept going like this. He pulled you back by your hair and you took in a gasping breath. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before picking you up and throwing you facedown on the bed.

He knelt behind you, slapping your ass hard a few times. “There, now I think we’re even.”

His hands pinned your wrists to the bed and he teased your entrance for barely even a second before slamming every inch inside you. You struggled to hold back a loud moan, trying to not let the whole floor know that you were getting absolutely wrecked.

He growled and moved his hands to your hips, fucking you so hard that it felt like his cock was going to split you in half.

“I have a confession to make, y/n.” He breathed between violent thrusts into you. “I saw you, two weeks ago, in the library. You didn’t see me, you leaned down to select a book off the lowest shelf and I could see your panties under your skirt. Pink with black lace. God I- I couldn’t resist, not after watching you eye me up in class. I found a quiet part of the library and stroked my cock to the thought of you.”

He picked up his pace, the slaps of his hips meeting your ass only aroused you more. “When our professor announced the assignment I knew I had to have you. I went and spoke to him after class and convinced him to pair you up with me. And now look at you, taking my cock like the whore you are, just like I knew you would.”

You gripped the sheets in your fingers as he pounded you into the mattress. Jesus fucking christ the idea of him getting worked up because of you was enough to fuel your masturbation fantasies for months. The thought of him stroking himself- in public no less- just because he saw your panties, good god you were going to savor that image in your mind forever.

He flipped you over on your back, kissing you deeply. His hands found your hips and pulled you onto his cock, resuming his aggressive rhythm.

“I love the feeling of fucking you from behind, but I need to see those eyes.”

He slid his hand to your throat, gripping it tightly. You choked out a weak moan and the corners of your vision started to turn to black static.

“God you’re gonna make me fucking cum. I want you to look in my eyes as I breed you, princess.”

He pounded faster and faster, savoring every moan and whimper that passed your lips. You dug your nails into his back causing his cock to twitch and throb, edging him closer by the second to cumming inside you.

“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes as I cum in you.” He demanded.

The sight of your doe eyes looking back at him was what did it. His brutally fast pace faltered and his breathing hitched and as he felt himself release deep in you, his hot cum coating your walls. He moaned your name loudly.

He panted, exhausted and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. You were about to kiss him when he started making his way down your body.

“Stanford what are you-“

“Finishing the job, I’m not about to leave you unsatisfied like some kind of neanderthal would, I’m better than that.” He muttered.

You rolled your eyes, there he goes being arrogant as usual.

He took your clit in his mouth, you reached a hand down and buried it in his hair. He hummed against you, tongue lapping at your delicate nub.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” He teased.

“Nnnngh, Stanford.”

He looked up at you and chuckled. “Please, call me Ford.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them against your g-spot. You arched your back instinctively and he held you in place by your hips.

“Getting close already are we?”

“Mmh, I can’t help it, you’re too good at this.”

“Surprisingly research goes a long way. It’s amazing what certain books can teach you.” He said with a devilish smile.

“You fucking nerd, I didn’t say you could stop.” You tightened your grip on his hair and pushed him against your clit, he let out a little “hmf”.

You rocked your hips against his tongue, feeling yourself tip over the edge.

“Ahh hah, oh Ford.”

Your orgasm shook you, hitting you hard. All you could do was focus on your breathing. Ford watched you intently, god you looked so perfect when you came.

He moved himself up on the bed, coming behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, spooning you.

Goddammit, you really thought you were going to just bottle up your feelings for Ford until the day you died, but here you were in post coital bliss with him pressed against you.

The conflicting feelings of fucking the classmate you thought you despised moments ago started to weigh on you, you needed to take the edge off. You rolled out of Ford’s arms and off the bed, his eyes following you. You dug around in your bedside drawer pulling out a small baggie and a glass pipe.

You packed the bowl and flicked the lighter, taking in a long drag. You let out a cloud of smoke and sighed heavily before laying back down next to Ford, who was still watching you. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it six fingers?”

“Nothing, I just-“

“Lemme guess, those anti drug psa’s really got to you as a kid.”

He looked away, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes again. “Jesus, you really are a fucking nerd. Here.”

You handed the pipe to him, he took it in his hand, studying it for a second before flicking the lighter taking a deep inhale, you watched him hold his breath and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dude, holding it doesn’t do anything, breathe.” You snorted.

He took gasping breath and let out a hacking cough, smoke coming out of his nose.

“That’s what they- ack- always do in the movies.” He wheezed.

“For the love of god, you really need to get out more.”

You passed the pipe back and forth for a good while, talking about random shit. By the end of it you were both sufficiently stoned.

You quickly learned that Ford was very affectionate when he was high, he pulled you close against him, nuzzling the back of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses. He traced the curves of your body with his fingers.

“You know, I was starting to think you genuinely hated me.” He murmured into your neck.

You let out a long sigh. “Ford don’t think I ever actually hated you, I envy you. Everything seems to come so easy to you, almost naturally. Your professors love you and- I don’t know- it was just hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy. Like this college wasn’t even my first choice, everywhere else rejected me and I still have to bust my ass just to be seen as being worth anyone’s time.”

Ford took a breath and exhaled deeply. “BMU wasn’t exactly what I had planned on either, I mean, remember what they said at orientation? This is no one’s first choice. My dream school was West Coast Tech, but things… fell through.”

He paused, you could tell there was weight to that last part, memories too painful to say aloud. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n, I want you to understand it hasn’t been easy for me either. I’ve had to work twice as hard just to make something of myself at a school with nonexistent educational standards.”

You felt a pang of guilt for ever assuming this was in any way easy for him. You turned to him, holding his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.

He broke away. “You know I was thinking we could grab coffee in the morning before heading to the library to work on our paper together. I- if you want, that is.” He looked away, nervous.

You smiled and kissed him again. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You laid your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead. His breathing deepened as he began to fall asleep. You soon felt your eyelids grow heavy, following Ford into slumber.

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #ford pines fanfic #gravity falls #my fics

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mediocre-shark-tales · 4 days ago

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Mental Healing with the Race

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Hey Guys, I just wanted to say I am still super sorry with every chapter that takes longer than I used to be to get them out. I asm currently in the middle of the last 2 weeks of college, so lots of studying and prep for our huge Final Projects or Tests. On top of that my FSAE team and I are prepping to leave for the Big Competition three weeks from now. However, I do not want any of my chapters to lack in the love and work that I put in to writing them. So I will do my best to try and get them out more regularly, but I will not post anything early or with any less love than the last one. So should they continue to take longer please remember this. No one has said anything about this but I still want to make sure that everyone knows I am not done with this story, just a little busy right now. With that said please enjoy...

The gym lights flicker on just before sunrise, humming low above my head like they’re still waking up, too. My hoodie is heavy with sleep and my shoulder twinges the second I shrug it off, revealing the newer, thinner brace beneath. It’s progress — less restrictive, easier to hide under my clothes — but it also means I’m out of excuses. The world thinks I’m still resting. But rest never made me stronger.

I roll out my mat in the same corner of the performance room as always. Familiar. Quiet. Grounded. Axel lays just a few feet away, head on his paws, eyes tracking my every move like he knows this day is going to be rough.

Because it is.

Today is cardio and strength. And no cast means full-arm weight again. It’s the first real milestone — a make-or-break kind of day.

I sit on the mat for a moment, my back pressed against the cool wall. My fingers find the scar on my forearm, tracing it absentmindedly. A reminder.

The crash didn’t defeat me.

"Alright, warrior,” Diego calls, stepping into the room and clapping his hands once. He’s grinning, but there’s a crease between his brows — the one that always shows up when he’s worried about me. “Scale of 1 to 10. Pain?”

I crack a tired smirk. “About a 4. Maybe a 5 when I raise my arm too fast.”

He raises a brow. “And how much of that are you downplaying to look cool in front of us?” Slightly nodding towards Axel.

I glance over at my dog, who immediately perks up like he knows he’s being talked about. “A solid 60 percent.”

Diego laughs, but he kneels down next to me, softer now. “Y/N, you’ve made insane progress. But we’re still building up. You don’t have to prove anything today.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, even though it’s a lie. “I’m just trying to… feel strong again.”

He doesn’t challenge me. Just gives a nod and offers his hand to help me up. “Okay. Let’s do this. But the moment I see that shoulder falter or your breath get shaky, we’re pausing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The warm-up is fine. Easy even. Jogging laps around the indoor track with Axel trailing behind me like a shadow. My lungs are steadier than they’ve been in weeks. I feel… almost like myself.

Then we shift to shoulder presses.

“Let’s start light,” Diego says, passing me the small dumbbells — the baby ones, I tease in my head. I hate how small they feel in my hands.

“Come on,” I mutter to myself, planting my feet. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. Hell, you used to double this weight for warm-ups.”

“That was before your bones tried to throw a party and forgot to invite safety,” Nico pipes in from the corner where he’s leaning against a table, flipping through my training notes. “Let’s not reenact the crash scene here, yeah?”

I shoot him a look but secretly, I’m glad he’s here. He grounds me. Keeps me from letting the fire inside burn too hot, too fast.

I managed the first set. My form is shaky on the second. By the third, my shoulder screams. My breath catches.

Diego notices before I say anything. “Stop. Drop ‘em. Right now.”

I obey, lips pressed tight. My pride stings more than my shoulder.

“Sit,” he says, nodding to the bench. “Now tell me what your body’s saying.”

I slump onto the bench, sweat trickling down my spine. “It’s saying I’m not ready.”

He kneels again in front of me, tone low and honest. “No. It’s saying you need time. Which isn’t the same thing.”

Nico steps closer now too, crossing his arms. “You’re not failing by resting, Y/N. That’s the bravest thing you could do right now — listen.”

I exhale shakily, brushing my sleeve across my face. “I just… I don’t want them to worry. The boys. They were scared enough. If they knew I was training again, they’d—”

“—They’d be proud,” Diego finishes for me. “Because you're doing this smart. You're building up again. You’re not throwing yourself into a cockpit half-healed. You’re working for it. Quietly. Strongly.”

I don’t respond right away. Just nod and lean forward, elbows on my knees, eyes on Axel who’s still watching me with that serious, almost human stare.

“Just… don’t tell them yet,” I finally whisper. “Let this be mine a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico says, his voice softer now. “Your story. Your pace.”

“Besides,” Diego adds, grinning again as he hands me a bottle of water, “when you finally show up at the garage again and toss your helmet on like nothing happened, they’re gonna lose their damn minds.”

I chuckle. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

I pick the dumbbells back up before they can stop me. Not for another full set — just one more press. One more reminder that I can. I lift them once, clean and steady, before lowering them again.

“That’s enough,” Diego says gently. “Today, that’s enough.”

And for once… I believe him. Because I know I’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after that. I’m not chasing the old me anymore. I’m building someone stronger.

—

I hadn’t realized how much I missed the scent of race fuel and burnt rubber until I stepped through the paddock gates again.

The buzz. The noise. The heartbeat of a track that never really goes quiet.

The second my shoe hit the pavement inside the circuit, it all came rushing back — that itch in my fingers to feel the steering wheel again, the thrum in my chest that didn’t hurt anymore but still pulsed with memory. I wasn't driving today — still under the "you're technically held together with sports tape and medical optimism" clause — but I was here.

That counted for something.

Nico was walking just to my left, sunglasses on, hands in the pockets of his black team jacket, looking every bit like my silent, slightly too-calm bodyguard. Meanwhile, Paul practically bounced beside me on the right, grinning like a rookie who’d been handed keys to a spaceship.

“I swear, I thought you were just a myth,” Paul said, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “They said ‘Ghost will meet with you before FP1’ and I was like, cool, should I also expect a unicorn and a sentient AI?”

My voice changer cracked slightly as I tilted my helmet toward him. “Sentient AI would be less chaotic than most of this team.”

Paul snorted. “And here I thought you were gonna be mysterious and intimidating. You’re… kind of hilarious.” I shrugged beneath my oversized hoodie. “Don’t get comfortable. I bite.”

“That would explain never taking that helmet off.” he said with an exaggerated look of fear. “Let me just go prep for my debut with the racetrack cryptid watching me from the pit wall.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Your job today is to not crash my car, Aron. It likes being pampered.”

“Anything else I should know?” he asked, just as we turned down the garage hallway.

I smirked under the helmet, then nudged him with my elbow. “Lots. Don’t downshift too hard into turn six — it’ll get twitchy. There’s a subtle bump on the exit of nine, trust your rear to hold but don’t overcorrect. And if you talk back to Diego during the debriefs, I’ll personally short-sheet your bed for the rest of the season.”

Paul stared at me, eyes wide. I tilted my head playfully. “What?” “That was… disturbingly specific. How do you even know about short-sheeting beds?”

“Because I’m creative and mildly vindictive.” Nico coughed — poorly disguised laughter — and muttered, “He learned it from Oscar.”

I pretended not to hear him and turned my attention back to Paul. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be on the pit wall the whole time, headset on, translating Diego’s feedback into ‘Paul Speech.’ He’s been dying to lecture someone other than me.”

“Oh great, I’m the replacement victim,” Paul said, mock sighing. “But really, thanks. This means a lot, Ghost. Being the reserve is weird — you never know when you’ll actually be used. I thought I’d be invisible.”

I reached up and tapped the visor of my helmet, voice softening through the modulator. “Invisibility doesn’t mean unimportant. You’ve got this.” He smiled then, really smiled. That bright, pure grin that reminded me so much of Jack it almost stung.

“Alright, cool,” he said, straightening his posture like he was trying to match the height of his moment. “Let’s go make you proud.”

“Oh, you’re already halfway there,” I replied. “You didn’t trip coming off the shuttle. That’s one more point than I had on my first day.”

“I knew you were a disaster once,” he laughed.

“Once?” Nico muttered beside us. “That implies improvement.”

“Rude,” I said flatly through the voice changer, flipping him off.

We turned into the garage then, the loud hum of tools and chatter dimming the second we stepped through the threshold. The mechanics looked up, a few nodding in recognition as I passed, others just giving me that respectful kind of glance — Ghost’s back. Even if I wasn’t driving, I was here.

Paul peeled off to go suit up. I took a breath, looking over at my car — technically still mine, even if someone else would be behind the wheel for FP1. It gleamed under the overhead lights, waiting.

My fingers twitched. Soon.

Nico said something, but I didn’t hear him — not really. Because just then, the gravity of being back settled in my chest. Not pain. Not fear. Just this warm, solid weight of home.

And I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding onto that until I let myself feel it again.

—

The hum of the garage had dulled to a low buzz after FP1 wrapped. Tools were put back in drawers, pit boards were stacked, and Paul was somewhere in the back being debriefed, grinning like a kid who’d just aced his first big test.

I stayed where I was on the pit wall, not wanting to really speak to the media or answer questions. I didn’t need to hide here. But, it still gave me that edge of comfort… a thin line between me and the rest of the world. Especially when emotions threatened to press a little too close to the surface.

“You looked good out there,” a voice said behind me — calm, familiar, warm.

I turned slightly, already recognizing Franco’s tone before my eyes landed on him. He gave me a soft nod, leaning his elbows against the barrier beside me, helmet tucked under one arm.

“I wasn’t out there,” I said, the voice changer wrapping my words in static.

He tilted his head, blue eyes sharp and quiet. “Didn’t say you were driving. I said you looked good out there.”

I paused. Then exhaled through my nose and pulled out the mic cord completely, letting it hang from the railing as I leaned forward a bit, matching his posture.

There was a moment of silence before I added, softer, “You know it hurt… at first”

He didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“It hurt a lot to sit here and not be the one buckling in. To know that the car — my car — was about to be driven without me. And that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fight it.”

My hands clenched slightly at the memory — the ache in my ribs still faint under the surface, the scar on my arm pulling a little under the hoodie.

“I kept thinking about how many races I might miss… how slow recovery’s felt. How I used to fly in that thing. And now I’m grounded. Watching. Coaching. Like I’m some kind of whisper in the background of my own team. Truly a ghost by name. ”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just reached out and tapped his knuckles lightly against mine — an anchor.

“But…” I said, slowly, breathing in deep. “Then Paul started talking. Asking me questions. Getting excited. Like… full-on spark-in-his-eyes excited. And I realized I could still be part of it. Just from here. From the wall. From the headset.”

I looked down at my gloves, flexing my fingers. “He listens. Like really listens. And seeing him figure things out… watching him light up after his first laps? I don’t know. It felt… right. Not perfect. Not the way I wanted to be here. But right… okay.”

Franco nodded once, voice soft. “You’re still racing. You never stopped.”

I looked at him.

He smiled faintly. “Just because you’re not in the seat doesn’t mean you’re not driving this thing forward. He wouldn’t be out there doing so well without your help. You’re shaping him. You’re shaping this whole team.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

My throat tightened a little behind the helmet. “I think… for the first time since the crash… I don’t feel broken being here. I feel like I still have a purpose. I want Paul to do well. I want him to prove himself. I want him to have the chances I had. And if I can help him get those… then maybe this isn’t all just pain and waiting.”

Franco reached up then and gently knocked on the side of my helmet. “That’s the champion mindset. And the good teammate mindset.”

He grinned. “Even with the scary voice mod.”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s for dramatic effect.”

“You’re terrifying,” he deadpanned. “Inspiring, but terrifying.”

We both chuckled, the kind of laughter that eases tension like a pressure valve finally letting go.

Then Franco leaned back and said quietly, “It’s okay to feel both, you know. The pain and the pride. You’re allowed to miss it. And you’re allowed to find joy in what you can do right now.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “For saying that.”

“Always,” he replied, and for the first time that day, I let myself take my helmet off — slowly — and just breathe.

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t stare. He just offered a genuine smile, no different than the one he gave me when I was Ghost.

“You’ll be back in the car soon,” he said. “But until then? This version of you — the strategist, the leader, the teammate — is just as badass.”

I blinked at him, then smiled.

“Don’t tell Diego or Nico that. It’ll go to their heads, like some mother duckling they might pull me from my seat.”

Franco smirked. “My lips are sealed.” I smiled back before following him back across the pit towards the garage.

—

It was race day when the others finally found me.

Sure, they knew I was here. The media had caught glimpses of "Ghost" in the paddock all weekend, whispers and blurry photos circling online. But catching me for a real conversation? Actually pinning me down? That was a whole different challenge to them.

Until a very familiar flash of papaya orange caught me out.

I was tucked away in a quiet corner behind one of the hospitality buildings, sitting on a crate, sipping from a water bottle, my legs stretched out in front of me.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up — only to see a smirking Oscar Piastri standing there, arms crossed.

“Well, look who I finally found," he said, tilting his head at me with a grin. "Thought you were supposed to be taking it easy during your injury. Yet here you are. Hiding like a delinquent.”

I didn’t get a word in before he stepped closer, peering dramatically at me.

“I hope you at least have your brace on under that hoodie," he teased, tugging playfully at the sleeve. "Would hate to have to carry you back to the medical center and explain to the physios why you’re broken again."

I scoffed behind the voice modulator, batting his hand away. "Relax, Mum," I said dryly. "Brace is on. Doctor's orders. I’m being good."

Oscar chuckled, dropping down onto the crate beside me with a quiet oof, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.

"I dunno if sitting here in your emo corner counts as being good," he quipped. "But it’s good to see you. Missed you, you know."

I smiled — small, hidden — but it was there.

"Missed you too, mate."

We sat there for a beat, the sounds of the paddock — tools clanging, fans yelling, engines roaring in the distance — fading into a quieter hum around us.

"You look good," Oscar said suddenly, voice softer now. "Healthier. Stronger."

"Feel stronger," I admitted, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie. "Still a long way to go. Still can’t race yet. But it’s... better being here. Even if I’m not in the car."

Oscar nodded, watching me with that patient, careful look he only ever used when he dropped the sarcasm.

"I’m proud of you," he said simply.

Before I could say anything back — feeling dangerously close to getting a lump in my throat — another familiar voice floated over to us.

"There you are!"

I turned just in time to see Charles approaching, helmet in one hand, hair a little messy from pulling it off, suit half-zipped down. His face was lit up with relief, though there was a thin line of worry etched between his brows too.

"I have been looking everywhere," Charles said, crouching in front of us, resting his elbows on his knees so we were eye-level. "You are impossible to find sometimes, you know that?"

"Occupational hazard," I joked lightly, voice still crackling with the modulator.

Charles huffed a laugh, but then his gaze softened as he studied me.

"You are really here," he said, almost to himself. "And you are doing well."

"Trying," I said honestly. "It... wasn’t easy at first."

Oscar nodded beside me, nudging my arm. "But she's kicking ass. You should've seen her, Charles. Advising Paul like a damn pro. Ghost engineer era unlocked, I can’t wait to see what they can do during the race together."

Charles smiled — a real, warm smile — and reached out to squeeze my hand where it rested on my knee.

"I am proud of you, mon amie," he said. "More than you know. It takes a lot of strength to be here. To stay when it hurts."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing gently into my chest — not painful, not overwhelming. Just... steadying.

"I needed to be here," I whispered. "For the team. For myself. Even if it’s just helping from the wall. It feels like... I'm still part of it."

"You never stopped being part of it," Oscar said quietly.

Charles nodded, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. "And you never will."

For a moment, the three of us just sat there in the shade, the chaos of race day spinning on without us. It didn’t matter. It could wait.

Because here, hidden behind the noise, tucked into a small, forgotten corner of the paddock, I was reminded that even when I couldn’t drive, even when my body wasn’t at a hundred percent — I wasn’t alone. And that was enough. For now at least.

—

The race was chaotic.

From the second the lights went out, my heart thundered in my chest, the noise of the engines vibrating through the pit wall. I sat perched on a high stool right beside Diego, headset snug over my helmet, live feed on the monitors in front of me.

Paul's voice crackled through the radio — tight, a little anxious. His first F1 race. His first real chance. He'd qualified P14, and while it was a hell of a debut, he wanted more. We all did.

"Focus up, rookie," I murmured into the radio, voice softened by the modulator but still carrying the firmness I knew he'd hear. "Eyes forward. Breathe. You’re better than half the grid out there."

"Copy," Paul answered, clipped but trying to sound calm. I could hear the nerves anyway, layered under every word.

The first few laps were brutal — midfield battles that could turn ugly fast. Paul held steady, sharp and clean even under pressure. But he hesitated at key moments — lifting just a fraction when he could’ve pressed the attack.

"Car ahead is struggling with rears," I said, low and steady in his ear as Diego fed me data. "Watch him out of Turn 7. You’ll have him on exit."

A beat.

"Okay," Paul breathed. "Okay, Ghost. I trust you."

I smiled behind the visor, chest tight with pride.

And sure enough, two laps later, Paul slipped past in a beautifully patient move, climbing to P13.

The race ebbed and flowed, the pit stop cycle throwing chaos into the midfield. Every time Paul's focus wavered, I was there — guiding without overwhelming, steering him without grabbing the wheel.

"Car in front weaving under braking. He’s nervous. You stay clean. He’ll crack first."

"Brake balance forward two clicks. Save your fronts, we’re gonna need 'em later."

"Trust your exit speed. You’re faster in S2. He can’t stop you if you set it up early."

It was like music, almost — this silent, invisible dance we did together, woven between the roar of the engines and the crackle of the radios.

Lap by lap, Paul clawed his way forward. P12. Then P11.

When we hit the final stint, fresher tires on and the car lighter on fuel, Diego leaned toward me, excitement flashing in his eyes.

"One more position," he said into my private channel. "We get points."

I keyed my mic again, calm even though my heart raced like mad.

"Paul. Eyes up. P10 ahead. You are faster. You are faster. Stay close. Pressure him."

Paul’s breathing was heavier now, the strain of the race wearing on him, but he responded instantly. "Copy, Ghost. I’m on it."

I watched, fists clenched, as he chipped away at the gap — lap after lap, tenth by tenth.

Finally, into Turn 4, he made the move — bold, late on the brakes, perfect.

P9.

Inside the points.

The final few laps were a blur of adrenaline, shouting, encouragement.

When the chequered flag waved, Diego practically threw his headset into the air beside me, and I couldn't hold back the yell that ripped from my throat over the radio.

"YES, PAUL! YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT!" I screamed, voice cracking with pride and joy.

Over the team radio, Paul whooped, the pure exhilaration pouring out of him.

"OH MY GOD, THANK YOU, GHOST! THANK YOU!" he shouted, breathless. "I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!"

"You did that," I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt under the helmet. "You kept your head, you fought smart — you earned this, Paul. You earned every bit of it."

He was still yelling and laughing as he pulled the car into parc fermé, tires screeching slightly. The mechanics and engineers around us were clapping, cheering, and I stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed.

He did it. We did it.

I pushed through the crowd toward the car, heart hammering.

Paul barely waited for the car to cool down. As soon as he wrestled himself out of the cockpit, he tore off his steering wheel, slammed it into its mount, and sprinted toward me.

"Ghost!" he shouted, voice hoarse with emotion.

I didn't even have time to react before he threw his arms around me, nearly knocking us both off balance.

Our helmets clashed with a loud crack, making both of us stumble a little, but neither of us cared. Paul clung to me like a lifeline, arms tight around my back, helmet pressed to mine.

I wrapped my arms around him in return, gripping him just as hard, laughing breathlessly even as something in my chest squeezed and ached with pride.

"You absolute legend," I said, voice trembling. "I'm so proud of you, Paul. So, so proud."

He pulled back just a little, enough that our visors almost touched.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Ghost," he said again, voice thick. "You believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could do it."

"I knew it from the start," I said quietly. "You just had to see it for yourself."

For a moment, the noise of the world faded away — the shouting, the music, the celebration. It was just the two of us, standing there in the middle of it all, holding onto each other like it mattered.

And maybe it did.

Maybe it mattered more than either of us could say.

Masterlist

Taglist @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym @ferrarisstrategy

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver!reader

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morgan-va · 3 months ago

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CynSide (Cyn x GenderNeutral!Reader Oneshot)

Masterlist

I got home late, just like always. My feet ached, my shoulders were sore, and my hands still felt stiff from breaking down boxes all day. Stocking shelves wasn’t hard, not really, but it was exhausting in a way that settled into my bones, like I was rusting from the inside out. It didn’t help that the fluorescent lights at work buzzed just enough to get on my nerves, or that customers had an incredible talent for asking me the dumbest questions imaginable. No, ma’am, I don’t control the prices. No, sir, I don’t know why the soup was on sale last week but isn’t today.

I kicked my shoes off at the door, not caring where they landed, and shrugged off my jacket. Straight to the kitchen, just like always. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I definitely wasn’t about to go back out for fast food. So, I grabbed a bag of pizza rolls from the freezer, ripped it open, and dumped way too many onto the tray of my air fryer. Maybe they wouldn’t cook evenly, but that was a problem for future me.

As I shoved the bag into the trash can, I felt the resistance of something already packed too tight. I tried again, this time forcing it in, but all that did was crumple the bag against the overflowing pile. Great. Just great.

With a sigh, I pulled the garbage bag out of the can, twisting the top shut before hoisting it over my shoulder like some kind of trash Santa. The apartment complex dumpsters weren’t that far, just down the stairs and around the side of the building, but it was enough of a hassle to make me regret putting this off for so long. I could’ve taken it out yesterday. Or the day before.

I made my way down the stairs, the garbage bag swinging slightly with each step, its weight shifting uncomfortably against my arm. The dumpster was just ahead, lit faintly by the buzzing and oddly neon yellow glow of a streetlamp. Almost there.

I hefted the bag up, ready to toss it over the side—

—and the bottom split open.

Garbage spilled out in a slow-motion horror show, tumbling onto the pavement in a heap of takeout containers, crumpled receipts, and whatever else I had shoved in there over the past week. I stared at the mess, my brain grinding to a halt as the reality of my situation settled in.

Just my luck.

I groaned and crouched down, grabbing a few of the less disgusting pieces of trash and chucking them into the dumpster. I wasn’t about to sit here and clean all of it up—just enough so that I didn’t feel like a complete degenerate leaving my mess behind. As I reached for another stray container, something caught my eye.

A glint of metal, barely visible beneath a couple of overstuffed garbage bags.

I froze, staring at the glimpse of dull metal peeking out from under the trash. It took a second for my brain to process what I was looking at, but once it clicked, my breath caught in my throat. That was a hand. A metal hand.

I hesitated for only a moment before yanking the garbage aside, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. There, half-buried under discarded food containers and torn-up junk mail, was a drone.

Not just any drone, either.

A Worker Drone, her silver-blonde hair reflecting the dim glow of the streetlamp. She wore a maid dress, neat despite her unfortunate resting place, complete with a black bow at the collar. Her black thigh-high socks were still in place, though she was missing one of her shoes.

What the hell was she doing here?

Even as scrap, a drone like this was worth a fortune. Fully intact? That was practically unheard of. Someone must’ve thrown her out recently, because there wasn’t a single dent or scratch on her—at least, none that I could see in the dim light.

I glanced around, making sure no one else was lurking nearby, then quickly hopped inside the dumpster. My shoes landed in something I definitely didn’t want to think about, but I ignored it, pushing bags out of the way to free her completely.

“Okay, c’mon,” I muttered under my breath, carefully slipping my arms under her and lifting her out. She was lighter than I expected, more awkward than heavy. I propped her against the side of the dumpster for a moment, climbed out, then pulled her into my arms properly.

Screw my trash—this was way more important.

Keeping a tight grip on the drone, I hurried back toward my apartment, my heart pounding with something I couldn’t quite name. Anticipation? Excitement? Maybe a little bit of both.

One thing was for sure—tonight had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

Adjusting my grip, I hoisted the drone up higher in my arms, but carrying her like this was awkward. She wasn’t heavy—surprisingly light, actually—but her arms and legs were limp, making her a pain to hold properly. After a second of thought, I crouched down and shifted her onto my back, hooking my arms under her legs in a makeshift piggyback carry. That was much easier.

Once I was sure she wouldn’t slide off, I made my way back upstairs without issue, pushing my apartment door open with my shoulder before stepping inside. I wasted no time setting her down in my desk chair and flipping on the light.

Now that I could properly see her, I took a step back and gave her a once-over.

She was in great condition. No scratches, no dents, no signs of damage anywhere. Her dull blonde hair, though a little messy, still gleamed under the light. Her maid dress was stained in a few spots—probably from the dumpster—but was otherwise intact. The only thing really missing was her shoe.

So why the hell was she thrown away?

Maybe she had some internal faults. A hardware failure, a software issue, something that made fixing her not worth the trouble. Or maybe someone had just tossed her out for the hell of it. Either way, I wasn’t about to let a perfectly good drone go to waste. Either she’d be worth a lot for scrap, or maybe I’d finally have an actual friend.

I turned to my computer, booting it up while rummaging through my desk drawer for a connection cable. My fingers dug into a mess of tangled wires, a congealed mass of chargers, USB cords, and adapters I had neglected to organize for years.

Sighing, I pulled out the entire tangled mess, chucked it at the wall, and watched as the impact miraculously separated them all.

Works every time.

I grabbed the correct cord, plugged one end into my computer, and slotted the other into the drone’s port, watching as my screen detected the connection. Time to put my overpriced college robotics classes to actual use.

A quick search brought me to JCJenson’s official website, where I found the Drone Diagnostic Program. I hit download, drumming my fingers on the desk as I waited.

Hopefully, this would tell me what was wrong with her—if anything.

Once the program finished downloading, I double-clicked the file to launch it. A bright, obnoxious JCJenson™ logo filled the screen before immediately being replaced by a wall of legal text that scrolled at a speed no human could possibly read. Probably intentional. At the bottom was a single button:

[Agree to Terms]

Well, they never actually hid anything important in those TOS agreements anyway. I clicked the button without a second thought and let the program do its thing.

A window popped up with some basic setup instructions:

Remove the rear plate from the drone’s head.

Hold the power button for five seconds.

Easy enough.

I turned back to the drone, gently tilting her head forward as I ran my fingers along the back of her skull. There was a small panel near the base, flush with the rest of the plating. I popped it off and found a tiny recessed power button inside. Pressing down, I held it for the required five seconds.

Almost immediately, a faint hum vibrated through her chassis, and her visor flickered to life. Yellow text scrolled across the screen:

Booting Sequence: 1%

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Looked like it was actually working.

The progress bar ticked up at a slow but steady pace, nothing to do now but let the system handle itself. I stretched my arms over my head, the exhaustion from work creeping back in now that the excitement had settled. A drink sounded good right about now.

Leaving the drone to do her thing, I walked over to the fridge, tugged it open, and grabbed a soda. Twisting the cap off with a satisfying hiss, I took a sip, letting the cold fizz wake me up a little.

Tonight had taken a turn I definitely wasn’t expecting.

As I walked back to the desk, the drone’s boot sequence hit 100%, and the diagnostic program kicked in automatically. A list of systems appeared on my screen, each one flashing bright red as they failed their checks.

Optics: DamagedServos: DamagedHeat Sink: Damaged

The errors kept piling up, row after row of critical failures. Jesus. No wonder she was in the dumpster—practically everything was wrecked. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Well, at least the frame was intact. That had to be worth something.

The program was nearly done. I reached for the mouse, ready to exit and shut everything down, but just as my fingers closed around it, another diagnostic began running—

Operating System Check: IN PROGRESS

Huh. This one was different.

Unlike the others, it wasn’t instantly flagged as broken. The bar crept forward, checking each subsystem one by one, no red text in sight. Maybe her software was still functional? That would make salvaging her a lot easier.

I leaned in, watching as the progress bar inched closer and closer to completion.

97%... 98%... 99%...

100%.

The screen flickered violently, and for a brief moment, a strange symbol appeared—something jagged and unnatural. The lights overhead suddenly flared, growing impossibly bright, their hum turning into a sharp, almost alive buzz.

I barely had time to panic, attempting to pull the cord out of the drone, but a massive jolt of electricity shocked me, sending me reeling back against the desk.

Suddenly, darkness falls. The computer screen, the lights, everything—completely dead. The hum of electricity vanished, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

I sat there, heart pounding, gripping the desk so tightly my knuckles ached.

What the hell just happened?

The moment my vision adjusted to the darkness, I scrambled toward the fuse box. My apartment wasn’t that big, so it only took a few seconds to reach it. Yanking the panel open, I scanned the breakers and, sure enough, one had flipped.

Of course it had. The drone must’ve overloaded the power.

I let out a breath, trying not to think about the possibility that my PC had just been fried. If that thing was dead, I’d have to work so much overtime just to afford a new one. I shuddered at the thought.

Grabbing the switch, I flipped the breaker back on. Instantly, the lights buzzed to life, flooding the apartment with their usual dull glow.

I hurried back to my desk and pressed the power button on my computer. The fan whirred, the screen flickered, and after a few agonizing seconds—

It turned on.

“Thank God,” I muttered under my breath.

Turning my attention back to the drone, I quickly unplugged the cable from her port. No way was I letting that thing mess with my computer again.

Poor thing. I glanced at her visor, now blank and lifeless. What the hell had happened to her?

Not that I could find out. I wasn’t a technician, and even if I wanted to fix her, I didn’t have the tools or the know-how.

Letting out a sigh, I picked her up again, carrying her into the living room. Her light weight made it easy, but there was still something uncanny about holding a humanoid machine like this—especially one that had just knocked out my power.

I gently set her down on the couch, propping her up so she wouldn’t slump over. I’d look up some drone part buyers in the morning, find someone willing to take her off my hands. Maybe I could make some decent cash out of this. But for now, it was late, and I was exhausted.

I gave the drone one last glance before stretching my arms with a yawn. That’s a problem for tomorrow.

I walked back to my desk, still feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing against my eyelids, but I needed to make sure everything had survived the power outage. There was no way I was going to bed without checking. I clicked the mouse, watching the screen light up, and the comforting sight of my desktop greeted me. Everything seemed to be in its place. My files were intact, and there were no glaring signs of damage.

With a tired sigh, I put my computer to sleep and stood up, stretching my arms above my head. My body was exhausted from the long day, and the events of the night were catching up to me. I flicked the light switch, casting the room in darkness, and stumbled to the other side of the room, my eyes already half-closed as I made my way to the bed.

As soon as I hit the mattress, I didn’t even have time to pull the covers over myself before I passed out, sinking into the soft warmth and letting sleep overtake me. My thoughts, fuzzy and disjointed, seemed to drift away, and I was almost completely gone, the weight of the day finally releasing me from its grip.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sunlight streaming through the curtains, bright and warm against the coolness of the room. It was a peaceful, dreamless sleep—one of those nights where you’re just too tired to even think. I used to dream a lot when I was younger, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had one. It had been so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to wake up with a lingering sense of a dream.

I stretched and yawned, rolling out of bed and quickly getting to my feet, ready to take on the day. It was the weekend, and that meant a break from the monotony of my job.

“First things first,” I muttered to myself, “I need coffee.”

I shuffled over to the kitchen, the thought of that warm, bitter liquid already making me feel a little more alive. But as I passed the living room, my mind froze.

The drone.

I turned to look at the couch, my mind instantly trying to place what I was seeing. Or rather, what I wasn’t seeing.

The couch was empty. The drone—the drone—was gone.

I blinked, shaking my head, willing the haze of sleep to clear, but there was no denying it. The spot where I’d left her was vacant.

Did I get robbed?

I immediately bolted toward the front door, but the lock was firmly in place. I rushed to the window next, double-checking the latch. It was locked, too. I quickly scanned the apartment, looking for anything else that could be missing. My computer was still on my desk, which seemed odd. A thief would have grabbed that without question. But the drone—where the hell was it?

I had to be imagining things, right?

But no. I knew for a fact that I hadn’t dreamt this. The entire night felt too real—the dumpster, her being powered up, the electricity pop, everything. It was too vivid for it to have been a figment of my imagination.

With a surge of anxiety rising in my chest, I rushed back to my desk and powered on the computer. I needed answers. I needed to see that damn program, the one that had been running before the power went out.

The computer hummed to life, the screen blinking as it booted up. I opened up the file explorer, hoping to find some trace of the JCJenson™ program.

But when the file explorer opened, it was… empty.

I froze, staring at the blank window. There was no way I imagined everything. No way.

I felt my heart race, my palms starting to sweat. Was I losing it? Had the crushing monotony of life finally taken its toll and driven me crazy? Was this some kind of hallucination, or was I missing something far worse?

I rubbed my face, trying to calm down, but nothing made sense. The drone, the program, the power flicker—they all felt too real to be a figment of my tired mind. I had to figure out what happened. I had to know if I was losing my grip on reality, or if something much stranger was going on.

I definitely needed coffee. Badly. The fog in my brain wasn’t clearing, and I had no idea what was happening. My thoughts were too jumbled, like I was trapped in some bizarre, waking dream.

Right on cue, the coffee machine dinged, and I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat. The sound was so jarring against the chaos in my mind. I turned slowly to look at it. Wait a second—I didn’t start it.

I was about to, sure, but then everything came to a halt when I realized the drone was gone. Had I… did I forget? Was I sleepwalking? How the hell did that coffee get made?

I walked over to the coffee machine, my legs feeling like lead as I approached. There, the little glowing yellow light was blinking, signaling the coffee was ready.

Wait...

I swore that the light had been red earlier. I’d made coffee a thousand times, and it was always red when it was finished. There was no yellow—there was just no way. My mind was racing. Had I had some kind of stroke while I slept? Maybe I was still dreaming, trapped in some weird, hyper-realistic nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the glowing light, before I finally decided to pour myself a cup. My hands shook slightly as I did, still unsure of whether I was really awake or not.

I took a sip.

And then I froze.

Wow.

This was the best coffee I’d ever tasted.

I nearly choked on it. There was no way in hell I could make coffee this good. It tasted like something out of a high-end café, rich and perfectly brewed. How was this even possible? I felt like I was losing my grip on reality, and this cup of coffee was just the cherry on top.

I stared into the mug, wondering if I was completely losing it, because there was absolutely no explanation for this.

It seemed that the evidence was in: I was done for. I’d lost it.

I took another sip of the coffee, trying to steady my nerves. Damn, that was one hell of a cup. If I had truly lost my grip on reality, at least I could enjoy better coffee. I placed the cup back on the counter, still trying to process everything. I turned back to face the rest of my apartment.

There, standing less than a foot away from me, was the damn drone from last night.

I swear my heart skipped a beat. My body went rigid, and my mind couldn't quite catch up to what was happening. She was just standing there, her head tilted at a strange angle, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. How the hell had she snuck up on me? I hadn’t heard a thing, hadn’t seen her move. The apartment was small—there were no places for her to hide. I mean, was she somehow under the bed the entire time? The couch? No. That didn’t make sense. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the shock.

Before I could even think about reacting or saying anything, her robotic voice cut through the tension: “Giggle. I frightened you.”

I looked at her, still wide-eyed, my heart racing. “How long have you been awake?” I asked, the words stumbling out of my mouth.

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. “Inquisitive tone. Define awake.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of her answer. “Uh, I mean, how long have you been online?” I clarified, more frustrated than I wanted to sound.

She didn’t hesitate, her response coming quickly. “I have been online since you powered me on last night.”

I stood there, completely stunned. "Wait—what? You've been awake this entire time?" My mind raced with more questions than I knew how to ask. "What the hell have you been doing all this time? Why didn’t you make yourself known until now?”

She responded in that eerie, mechanical tone, her smile widening slightly. “I was merely getting acquainted with my new… home. Smile.”

I chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. "Right... sure."

But then, as if on cue, she asked, “Did you enjoy the coffee? I prepared it as soon as you made your request.”

I froze.

That… that didn’t make sense. I’d barely spoken, hadn’t even finished waking up when I said I needed coffee. But the real kicker was that I hadn’t seen her anywhere near the machine. She must have heard me mumble about wanting some, but how the hell had she prepared it?

I took a step back, trying not to let the questions overwhelm me. “Yeah… it’s great,” I managed to say, but my mind was reeling. How could she have done that? Was she more capable than I gave her credit for? Was there something else going on here?

I pushed that uneasy thought aside for now and focused on the drone in front of me. If she’d really been active since last night, then she must have had time to assess herself, right? That diagnostic program hadn’t exactly painted a pretty picture of her condition.

"Hey, uh… are you feeling okay? Your diagnostic last night didn’t look too good," I asked, watching her closely.

She blinked, her head tilting just slightly. “Feeling is a mortal plight. I am above such things.”

I stared at her, waiting for some kind of follow-up. Nothing. That was all she had to say on the matter.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Nope. No words. Just moving right past that, I guess.

I cleared my throat. “Right. So, uh… what did you mean earlier when you called this place your home? Does that mean you want to stay here?”

Her eyes lit up—literally, her optics flickered a little brighter—as she clasped her hands together. “Oh yes, this will do quite nicely. Innocent grin.”

Despite her abnormal speech pattern, there was something oddly… endearing about the way she said it. Sure, she was a little strange, but that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. I’d always liked drones, after all. And besides, she didn’t seem dangerous.

Still, I wasn’t sure what to make of all this. She just decided she lived here now? Just like that? Part of me wanted to be cautious, but another part of me was… intrigued. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing.

Maybe, just maybe, this could actually be interesting.

I turned back to grab my coffee, but when I turned around again, she was gone.

Well, not gone, exactly. She was now across the room, perched on my desk chair, spinning in slow, lazy circles.

I blinked. How the hell did she get over there so fast? I hadn’t even heard her move. One second she was standing by the counter, and the next—bam, desk chair. Maybe I was still groggy.

Oh well.

I walked over, watching as she spun one last time before the chair gradually slowed, stopping perfectly so that she was facing me. That same tiny smile lingered on her lips.

I was about to ask if she wanted me to clean her dress—it had been pretty filthy last night—but then I noticed something strange. Her dress was already clean. Not just wiped down, but spotless, like it had never been dirty in the first place. Even stranger, she was no longer missing a shoe.

I furrowed my brow. “Wait… didn’t you—”

“Thank you,” she said cheerfully, tilting her head. “But I already took care of it. Hee hee.”

I had no idea what to say to that.

“Right… well,” I said, still trying to shake off the weirdness of the last few minutes. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she was silent, almost like she was thinking about it.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Thoughtful pause. My name is Cyn.”

Cyn.

It was a nice name. Simple, but… fitting.

I smiled at her. “That’s a lovely name.”

For a brief second, her optics seemed to glow just a little brighter. Then she nodded, more to herself than to me.

“You are… different from the others,” she murmured. “This arrangement will work well.”

I had no idea what she meant by that, but hey, I’d take it as a good thing. I guessed that meant she liked me.

I shifted awkwardly, glancing around my apartment as the silence stretched between us. What was I even supposed to say here? I’d never had a conversation like this before—never had a reason to.

Scratching the back of my neck, I muttered, “Uh… just so you know, I don’t really have any… friends. Or family. Or anyone who comes over, really, so… you might only ever see me.”

I met her gaze hesitantly, half-expecting some kind of disappointment or even confusion. Instead, she smiled.

“Perfect.”

I blinked. “Oh. Uh… okay then.”

That was… a little intense. But at least she didn’t seem bothered by it.

I cleared my throat, shifting on my feet. “Well… what do you wanna do now?”

I raised an eyebrow as she pointed a finger to the UNO deck on my desk, its plastic wrapping still intact, untouched. Right. That thing. I’d bought it ages ago, back when I still thought I’d have friends to play it with. That hadn’t exactly panned out, so it just sat there, collecting dust.

Still, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Alright, sure.”

I picked up the box, peeling off the plastic as I turned around—only to find she’d vanished again. My head snapped to the other side of the room, where she was now sitting at the dining table, hands neatly folded, watching me expectantly.

I hesitated. How the hell did she keep doing that? She moved like a horror movie ghost, yet she stood like her servos were on the verge of imploding at any given moment.

Pushing the thought aside, I walked over and sat across from her, removing the packaging and shuffling the deck as she observed with that same unreadable smile.

“May I attempt?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah, go for it.”

She took the deck in her hands, tilting her head as if analyzing it. Then she made her first attempt—only to send the cards scattering across the table in a clumsy heap.

I reached forward instinctively to help, but before I could, she suddenly muttered, “Frustrated growl.”

A strange, crackling hum filled the air as the scattered cards twitched—then lifted into the air, enveloped in a vibrant yellow glow. I could only watch in stunned silence as they swirled into a tight, controlled vortex, shuffling themselves at impossible speed before settling into a neat, pristine stack right in front of her.

She beamed. “Perfectly random. As all things should be. Giggle.”

I stared at her. Then at the cards. Then back at her. “Okay. What the hell was that?”

Before I even finished speaking, she cut in, “I am better than other drones. I have shuffled off the limitations of this flawed body and become capable of so much more. Example: shuffling cards. Smile.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or impressed. I mean… yeah, that was kinda freaky, but also—

That was totally badass.

She slid the deck over to me, clearly expecting me to deal. Well, alright then. Not gonna question it. I had no idea what kind of experimental prototype she was, but if playing UNO with a telekinetic drone wasn’t the coolest thing I’d ever done, I didn’t know what was.

I dealt the cards, explaining the rules as I went. Cyn watched me with an expression of pure focus, as if absorbing every word like gospel.

Just as I finished, she picked up her cards, glanced at them, then flicked her gaze up to meet mine.

"Oh, I already knew how to play the game. Your voice is just very sweet. Affectionate smile."

She looked back down at her cards before I could even process that.

My brain short-circuited a little. Nobody had ever said they liked my voice before. It wasn’t something I thought much about, but hearing it out loud—especially from her—sent a strange warmth curling in my chest.

I cleared my throat. “Uh. Alright then.”

And so, we played.

Cyn was good. Too good. She played her cards with almost eerie precision, dropping +4s at the worst possible times, blocking every attempt I made at getting ahead. But eventually, through sheer dumb luck, I managed to win. And not just win—I obliterated her.

I set my last card down, grinning in victory. “Ha! Got you.”

Cyn giggled, tilting her head. "I must admit, I knew your cards the entire time, but I enjoy playing with you too much to care."

I froze. “Wait. What?”

I looked at my empty hand, then at her, an uneasy feeling creeping in. How the hell did she.. did she have x-ray vision or something? That would be insane. Right?

I hesitated before asking, “How did you know what I had?”

She giggled again. "You showed your cards when you reached for your coffee cup."

…Oh.

I exhaled, shoulders relaxing. Rookie mistake. I really needed to work on better card etiquette.

Still, she let me win, which was kind of sad. But also… kind of sweet.

I began shuffling the deck again, the cards making a satisfying fwhip as they slid together. Just as I was about to finish, one of them slipped free and fluttered to the ground. I reached down to grab it, but before my fingers could even brush the card, something black and sinuous lashed out and plucked it off the floor.

I jerked back in shock, watching as the tendril curled around the card, lifted it gracefully onto the table, and placed it neatly back on the stack. My gaze followed its slow retreat as it slithered behind Cyn, disappearing into some unseen void.

She smiled at me, her yellow eyes bright with something unreadable, like she was studying me, waiting for my reaction.

"Giggle."

I blinked. That was—well, I wasn’t sure what that was. But it was cool as hell.

“Whoa,” I breathed, sitting up straighter. “That’s awesome!”

Cyn’s smile faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "You are not... frightened?"

I raised a brow. “What? No way, that was sick! You could like, reach the TV remote from across the room and stuff.”

She didn’t say anything at first, head tilting slightly as if processing my response. The motion must have overextended her faulty neck joint, because her head suddenly slumped forward with a faint clunk. Without hesitation, she lifted a hand and propped it back up.

I probably should’ve been unnerved by that. Instead, I just found myself really hoping she wouldn’t actually break herself while sitting at my dining table.

She watched me a moment longer before finally speaking. "You are an odd human. Not like the others. Curious."

I huffed a small laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I tapped the deck against the table, aligning the cards into a neat stack. “Wanna play again, or should I head out and find some spare parts for you? Pretty sure I could raid a scrapyard and at least scrounge up some replacement servos.”

Cyn chuckled, shaking her head. “That will not be necessary anymore.”

I raised a brow. “Anymore?”

“I choose this form for a reason.”

Something about the way she said that made me hesitate. I wasn’t sure if it was the certainty in her voice or the way she phrased it—like she wasn’t just accepting her state but actively preferring it.

“…Alright,” I said slowly, deciding not to press the issue. “So, what do you wanna do now?”

Cyn’s fingers drummed idly against the table, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. Eventually, she looked back at me, her yellow optics gleaming.

"Have you ever considered the intricacies of reality?"

I blinked. “Uh… What?”

She tilted her head—not as much this time, keeping it within the limits of her unstable joint. “If you found out your entire existence was nothing but a simulation, how would you feel? Inquiring gaze.”

I frowned, mulling that over. “I mean… I guess there wouldn’t be much I could do about it. If everything’s fake, then everything’s fake.” I shrugged. “But if the simulation’s just chilling and having fun with you, then, hey—I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Cyn’s smile widened, her optics growing a bit wider too.

"Curious. What a peculiar human indeed."

Cyn stood up from her chair and walked over to my side. I gave her a curious look as she reached out, gently placing a hand on my head and patting me.

"Pat pat pat." She vocalized the action like it was some kind of command.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. She was such an odd drone, but it was strangely endearing how unique she was. She kept patting me, and after a moment, I reached up to do the same to her—only for her hand to snap out and catch my wrist just before I could touch her dull blonde hair. She stared at my arm for a second, her optics flickering with something I couldn’t quite read. Then, carefully, she guided my hand the rest of the way, placing it on top of her head.

I took the hint and started patting her in return. For a moment, we just stood there, both patting each other’s heads, giggling like idiots.

Once we stopped, Cyn tilted her head, smiling. “I have never met a human that makes such a good pet. I will enjoy this relationship.”

I laughed, brushing off her words as more of her odd behavior. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Cyn.”

As I stretched, something clicked in my brain. “Oh, right! The morning paper should be outside.” I glanced toward the door as I explained, standing up and beginning to walk over.

Before I could even take a step, Cyn suddenly materialized in front of me, appearing in an instant like she’d been there the whole time.

"You cannot leave. I have not prepared it yet."

I froze mid-step, staring at her with my mouth slightly open.

Cyn’s expression changed as she studied me. "Oh dear, did I break another one? Sad expression."

I snapped out of it, shaking my head. “Forget that—how the hell did you do that? That was amazing! Can you teleport anywhere? Do you have to have been there before? Can you take people with you?”

Her expression flickered between confusion and intrigue as I rapidly fired off my questions, clearly more excited by what I’d just witnessed than the fact that she had outright denied me from leaving.

"You are by far the most strange human I have encountered," she finally said, watching me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

I grinned. "Well, you are by far the coolest drone I’ve ever met."

Cyn's optics shifted as she leaned forward slightly. "I am no drone." Her voice took on an almost reverent tone. "I am the Solver of the Absolute Fabric. I have chosen you as my squire, the one who will accompany me as I rewrite the universe."

I blinked.

…and she likes roleplay?? Wow! She really is so cool!

Without thinking, I grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air, spinning her around in excitement. "That’s amazing! What a fantastic character! You even have the godlike speech patterns down! I love the commitment to the bit!"

She dangled in my grip, completely limp, her head tilting slightly as her unblinking yellow eyes bore into me. I finally set her back down, beaming.

She remained still for a moment before tilting her head again, her expression unreadable. "So peculiar…" she murmured, as if speaking to herself rather than to me.

Cyn seemed to ponder something for a moment, her optics flickering as if deep in thought. Then, without warning, she reached forward and took my hand.

"Come with me," she said. "One final test."

I hesitated, but something in her tone—calm, assured—made it impossible to refuse. She led me to my desk and gestured for me to sit. As soon as I did, the computer powered on, though she hadn’t touched a thing. My confusion only deepened when a program opened on its own.

A camera feed popped up on the screen.

It was my apartment.

I frowned. At first, I thought it was a live feed, but then I noticed… something was wrong. The lights had that dim, early-morning glow, the same way they had looked when I first woke up. And then I saw it—me.

Slumped on the floor.

I swallowed hard as the footage continued. Cyn sat in my desk chair, just where I had left her the night before. For a long, eerie moment, she didn’t move. Then, suddenly, she powered on, her optics flickering to life. She hopped out of the chair and waved at the camera.

I stared, heart pounding, as she walked over to my unmoving body, gently taking me by the shoulders and pulling me up into the chair.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. That… that was definitely me.

My mind raced back to last night. The power surge. The static in the air. The shock that had run through me like a jolt of electricity.

No. No, no, that wasn’t possible.

Slowly, I turned to look at the Cyn standing beside me.

She was already watching me.

"Giggle." Her head tilted slightly, that ever-present smile playing on her lips. "I see you've caught on. I couldn't risk another human throwing me out, so I brought you here instead. Welcome to my mind."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My breath felt shallow, my thoughts scrambled, as if my brain had been thrown into a blender.

She continued, her tone almost… disappointed. "I assume this is too much for you and your mind is slowly fraying along with your sanity. That is okay, perhaps all humans are a lost cause after all." She let out a soft, thoughtful hum. "Pensive afterthought. What a shame, I quite like you."

That snapped me out of it.

"Wait," I blurted out, focusing on the only thing that actually made sense. "You like me??"

Cyn’s optics flickered. Her expression shifted into what could only be described as pure, unfiltered confusion.

"What?"

I ran a hand down my face, trying to process everything. "Okay," I started, "don’t get me wrong, this is insane. I mean, I’m trapped here, my body is—dead? Lifeless? Something?—out there in the real world, which is absolutely terrifying, but…" I hesitated, then let out a breathy chuckle. "I’ve always wanted something like this to happen."

Cyn’s optics brightened slightly.

"I’ve played so many games where the protagonist gets yanked into another world," I continued, "and I used to wish that could happen to me. Just, y’know, without the whole ‘possible death in a strange new world’ part. But that aside—" I leaned forward, looking her in the eyes. "You actually like me?"

She blinked.

"Please be honest," I pressed. "You’re not messing with me, right? This isn’t some cruel twist where you pretend to like me just to break my heart later?"

Cyn stared at me with what I could only describe as genuine shock.

Her optics flickered. A few bright sparks crackled from the side of her head.

She tilted her head, scanning me up and down like she was trying to make sense of me. For once, she didn’t immediately respond. It was as if she was actually thinking deeply about what I had just said.

Finally, after a long pause, she giggled. "Hm. You are by far the strangest and most peculiar human I have encountered."

Then, she smiled. "So yes, I believe I like you. Quite a lot. Giggle."

I pulled her into a hug before I could think better of it.

Cyn stiffened in my arms, caught completely off guard. For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, her arms wrapped around me, returning the embrace.

"It has been a very long time since I experienced what humans call hugs," she murmured. "I suppose I could get used to it."

I smiled, holding her a little tighter before finally letting go. That warmth lingered for a moment, but then my eyes drifted back to the monitor—back to my body, slumped over in the chair.

Oh. Right. That.

"So…" I swallowed. "What happens to me now? I mean, y’know, now that I’m… in here?"

Cyn chuckled and snapped her fingers.

On the monitor, my body shimmered, warped, and then just… evaporated. It was like it had never existed at all.

I stared. "Holy shit. Sick."

"You don’t need it anymore," she said simply, stepping beside me. "And I could not risk someone coming in and asking questions. So, I removed the issue."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "Right. Cool. Totally normal day."

Cyn giggled and clasped her hands behind her back. "I will work on building a new world for you here," she continued. "A perfect world, just for us. Where we can spend time together. Forever."

Her optics glowed a little brighter as she smiled at me.

I grinned. "Well, I graciously accept."

Cyn laughed—a real, genuine laugh this time. "You did not actually have a choice," she teased.

"Yeah, but I don’t mind!" I shrugged. "This is literally all I ever wanted. No stress, no responsibilities, just—” I beamed at her. "—just us."

Overcome with excitement, I grabbed her and spun her around again, just like before.

This time, she smiled.

As I set her down, something in her expression softened. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her optics—something warm, something alive.

Yeah. I could definitely get used to this. And something told me that, for the first time in a long, long time…

Cyn would be happy too.

Wait… I never got to eat my pizza rolls!

(The end.)

(...Or is it?)

#murder drones #murder drones x reader #murder drones fanfic #murder drones headcanon #cyn x reader #murder drones cyn x reader

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