#if it were up to me everything would be like. one vivid scene with some dialogue and that would tell you everything. but noooo i had to

[blorboresidue]

guhhhh i am struggling so much with ch3

[moviestarmartini]

trátame suavemente. — franco colapinto x gf!reader

no quiero soñar mil veces las mismas cosas / ni contemplarlas sabiamente / quiero que me trates suavemente.

summary: reuniting after spending months apart and having recently recovered from a fight feels bittersweet. however, you have to push all your feelings aside at the end of the weekend to treat your boyfriend softly. 

wc: 2.3k 

warnings: established relationship, hispanic!reader, sentences in spanish, bit of angst, long distance relationship mention, takes place after the são paulo gp, nsfw (18+ mdni), p in v, bathroom sex, oral (m!receiving), lowk edging, whiny!franco, sub!franco if you squint, unprotected sex (get on your pills or shots or SOMETHING don’t raw it), creampie, soft sex and ambiance overall. 

A/N: based on this request ! and yess, franco with soda stereo again hehe. please listen to the el último concierto (remastered) version of this song when reading, it's a whole different vibe than the og !! mil besitos as always and feedback is appreciated

now playing... trátame suavemente by soda stereo

“Vení.” 

Come here. Franco’s voice echoed the minute he noticed your hesitant footsteps filling up the once empty silence. 

You leaned against the bathroom door frame, head leaned to the side. The lights were dimmed— proper of a fancy hotel, where else would you be able to adjust the lighting anyway?— He soaked in the steamy water clouded with the relaxing bath salts, trying to find some relief in what had been his worst weekend yet. Both on and off the track. 

“Hi.” You greeted softly with a tiny wave of your hand before it retreated back to its post across your chest. 

“Sabés que no muerdo a menos que me lo pidas.” He sat up, back straightening. Humor was a natural addition to his words, even when he was at his lowest. It never seemed to impress you, and it was something you could sometimes hate. 

The scene was still vivid and bright behind your eyelids. Counting down the days for him to come home, getting the call he was in fact going to take longer— because he’d made it. He’d made it to Formula One. Your heart sped up when reliving the memory, unaware of how difficult it was going to be from then on. 

Your relationship wasn’t exactly public, something you’d chosen yourself in case occasions like these arose. Then you’ve come to realize it gave him a certain freedom, the one that allowed him to flirt openly with interviewers and not face repercussions to his public image. 

Behind closed doors, it was another story. 

You tried. With your whole chest, you tried to not complain to him directly. It was his personality, the way he’d pulled you in from day one. One day, you just couldn’t. His absence was palpable, and after a week or so without any communication he’d texted to sulk about his mediocre results during the Mexican Grand Prix, having the fast lap taken away from him. 

You couldn’t hold it in. From the fact he was inconsistent in the relationship that had you suffering through a rollercoaster of emotions, to his absence digitally and the lack of interest in your doings. He’d barely have the time to check in with you, not about you. 

The calls were frantic, tears were shed, and he promised to be more present. The fight was left in a stalemate, and you cursed yourself when the flight reminder popped on your notifications. You couldn’t help but wait another week to see him? 

The same word with four letters that broke the silence moments ago was texted by him that same day, and you couldn’t hold a grudge even if you wanted to. You were never truly mad at him, you just missed him. So much so it ached in your bones, both set your heart ablaze and cooled it at the same time. 

Painful could only begin to describe it. 

Your worries were pushed away once you clarified everything, after the Saturday session was canceled and all you had on your shared agenda was cuddle up in the hotel room, quiet promises being made. After all the grief he had to withstand in the midst of this storm— literally— the last thing in your priorities was to stay on your own petty agenda. 

At his request to be closer, you sat at the closed lid of the toilet, unable to take your eyes off of him. 

“You’re too far away.” His insistence only furthered, eliciting a quiet laugh out of your lips. Without further ado, you stood up, stripping off the simple lounging set and folding it aside before sinking opposite to him on the warm water, growing cold with each passing moment now that the faucet was off. 

“What is it?” You blinked, head leaned to the side. Franco looked at you profoundly, and you wondered if he had something he was trying to figure out about you. 

“I missed you so much.” 

The words hung in the steamy air while you processed them, your bottom lip puckering out while a mixture of emotions washed over you. A part of you didn’t believe him, while the other ached for those words, even if it wasn’t the first time he said them during the weekend. 

“Really?” You wondered out loud, not caring that the water could spill out of the tub while you carefully moved to rest by his side, an arm wrapped around you. 

“Yeah.” He insisted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m exhausted now. This was supposed to be such a good weekend… by the red flag all I wanted to do was lay my head on your tits for hours.” 

“Baboso,” You splashed him with water, both of your laughs echoing in the room, the acoustics amplifying the sound. 

“I missed you too, by the way.” You spoke up after a while of silence, the shapeless shapes he drew on your skin with his index finger lulling your heart to a lower rate. 

“Por si no era obvio.” You added soon after, your laugh making your heart skip a beat. You didn’t feel like your claims from just a week and a few days ago were irrational, and you stood by them. He also did, acknowledging his lack of care. 

But you were there, by his side. When he most needed it. And you wouldn’t change that for anything in the entire world. 

Instead of getting an answer with words, you felt his fingers tenderly cupping your chin, guiding your gaze to his in order to receive his lips in yours warmly. 

Careful and complex. His lips moved with calculation, and a sigh inevitably left yours. This is what your body ached, what made the desperately cold layer dissolve off your heart and set it fully ablaze under his careful affections. 

You moved to straddle his hips, arms wrapped around his neck. You could’ve sworn you heard a whine while he straightened up, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. 

Desperate and desirable. The kiss transitioned to match the steam in the room, his hands unable to find a place to stay put in, instead just roaming the soaked inches of skin he could get a hold off. 

“Me hizo muchísima falta tenerte así,” Franco let out in a pant, eager fingertips delving into the plush skin of your ass. Now it was your turn to answer with an action, leaning in to kiss down his neck, carefully placing affections on the prominent scar knowing it made him squirm. 

“Ay amor…” He let out a groan, unable to resist when your chest pressed against his torso. 

“¿Qué pasa?” You questioned quietly, fluttering your lashes up at him. You took his physical queues and understood them almost immediately. He couldn’t help but lean into his touch, shaky breath leaving his lips with each grazing of your fingers. 

You noticed how he swallowed hard, just shaking his head to signify nothing was going on— nothing was inherently wrong. 

“Sit up here.” You instructed quietly, patting the tiled edge before the tub began, seemingly used for people to sit and dry themselves. This once, you two were definitely not going to use it for that. 

He followed the command obediently, watchful eyes following your movements while you positioned yourself between his legs. 

“You’ve had such a rough week…” Your voice was hypnotizing, in the same way your hand stroking his length was. “Let me take care of you, mkay?” 

The words he planned on letting out found themselves choked back when you deposited a kiss on the skin edging between his inner and outer thigh. He melted into his spot almost literally, manspreading to give you more access to leave the warm affections that brought goosebumps to his skin. 

You batted your eyelashes innocently up at him while your flat tongue licked the underside of his hard cock, green eyes hyper-focused on your lips wrapping on the flushed tip. 

“Fuck…” He managed to groan out, his right hand reaching to clutch your hair while the other held onto the ceramic, preparing himself for what he’d been desiring for what felt to be years, when in fact it had only been a short couple months. 

You knew how to treat him, how to push his buttons just right without exceeding into a rougher context. All you wanted was for him to relax, at least for now. That didn’t mean you didn’t put in the effort, your hand encompassed what your mouth couldn’t take even when it almost hit the back of your throat.

“Que linda te ves con la boquita llena,” He caressed your cheek tenderly while you took a breather, his hips jerking upwards ever so slightly to thrust into your hand.

“Hm just for you,” You winked in agreement to the compliment before wrapping your lips around the now leaking tip, humming at the taste of the precum on your tongue and inevitably down your throat. 

“Así, así,” Franco whined the minute you started bobbing your head up and down his length with precision and speed. He threw his head back, allowing the moans to leave his mouth freely, mixing in a dangerous cocktail with his heavy breaths. 

The moment was perfect. You knew Franco was getting lost in it, nearing the edge with each desperate jerk of his hips matching up to your nose grazing his lower abdomen. He could still feel the warm water, but nothing could compare with the sensation of your throat. 

Unless… 

“Pará, pará,” He breathed out, his tone high pitched, containing himself into not bursting out the seams right then and there. 

“¿Qué pasó mi rey? Did I do something wrong?” You pulled away visibly concerned, straightening up still on your knees. 

His response was a weak shake of his head, chest rising up and down. He still rested his back against the tiled wall, regaining his composure. Your eyes traced every inch of his skin, every mole and freckle, subconsciously licking your lips. His laugh snapped you out of your shamelessly perverted ravaging, and you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Te amo tanto.” He muttered, leaning in to close the gap between your mouths halfway. Even if seconds ago you were wondering why on earth he would edge himself, the kiss told you everything you needed, adding to the support his hands gave you to get on your feet and sit on his lap. 

His lips parted from yours only to give soft kisses to your cheek and jaw, traveling the marvelous road down your neck. Your moans were soft, beginning to ease into it when a curious hand parted your legs open. 

“Fran…” You breathed you, your hand reaching to caress the hair falling near his nape; it was longer than usual, he needed a trim— you noted mentally, reminding to comment on it later. 

“Let me feel you,” He whispered against your skin, the action forming goosebumps on the area. “Estás tan mojadita; porfa.” 

He didn’t need to beg twice, your back already pulled away from his chest, shifting around in his lap and raising your hips a little in order to sink down his length, your sighs of relief harmonizing. 

“I missed this so much,” You noticed you had rendered him almost incoherent from the way he could barely formulate the words between heavy breaths and moans, a battle to keep his eyes open to watch your figure as you bounced on his hard cock. 

“Ay ese culito…” He groaned, the sound of a smack bouncing on the walls before it remixed with your yelp, but it only encouraged to move faster, wanting to give him the show he deserved. 

Franco didn’t allow himself to get lost in the mesmerizing movement of your body, instead pulling you back to be as close to him as humanly possible, his hand cupping your chin to almost drag your face near his. 

The kiss was sloppy from his part, the grinding of your hips was sharp in comparison, and he couldn’t focus. Your wet skin against his, the noises you started making the moment he started toying with that sweet spot. 

“Amor,” He couldn’t help but call your attention, ripping his lips off of yours in order to speak. You noticed the way his brows furrowed— and how could you not? he was always so expressive— his bottom lip puckering out while he tried to make out the following words. 

But he didn’t need to. 

“Yes,” You nodded, feeling your own orgasm approach quickly. From the moment you stripped and dipped in the water you knew you weren’t going to last long in whatever activity you might engage, and you were okay with that. 

“¿Si?” Franco whined, his lashes fluttering while his eyes fell shut before he could hide his face in the crook of his neck. 

“Si. Cum inside.” You confirmed, feeling his lips press against your shoulder blade before the conjoined noises filled up the room, the hand that occupied the space between your legs failing in its constant rhythm, while the other dug into the doughy merge your hips and upper thighs conformed. 

You let your eyes close while the wave of pleasure washed over you, chests rising up and down rhythmically. It felt like you had just floated down from the sky, settling down into the reality of the position— a bit insane, to say the least— you found yourselves in, guided by the pure lust and yearning of each other after the sudden separation. 

“All good over there?” You laughed softly, receiving a small ‘eh’ in a high pitched tone. It took Franco another moment before he raised his face, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your jaw before his arms wrapped around your midriff and into a tight hug. 

“Con vos? Todo perfecto.”  

[honeyhaeya]

🎮03 | No Feelings Involved🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, strong language (profanity), explicit language, petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, suggestive content, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, jealousy, mature themes (alcohol, party scenes), angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. smut warnings: masturbation (both f and m), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex, degradation (really slight. f being called "slut" once), overstimulation, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom) wc: 11,087 ♪ playlist ♪ : one of the girls (the weekend, lily rose depp, jennie), love me harder (ariana grande, the weekend), toxic (britney spears), kiss it better (rihanna), don't blame me (taylor swift).

03

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a vivid, merciless replay of every single humiliating detail from the night before. It wasn't just a hangover—it was the full-course regret special. You'd tried so hard to push the memory of last night into the furthest corner of your mind, but it refused to budge. Instead, it danced right in front of you, mocking you with every cringe-worthy second. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.

Groaning, you splashed cold water onto your face, scrubbing with an almost aggressive force as though that would somehow erase your mistakes. This is why alcohol is the devil.

You'd made this promise to yourself before—swearing off drinking after every disastrous night out—but this time, you meant it. Probably. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your thoughts racing. You couldn't let this ruin you. Vulnerability was dangerous. It was messy. It made everything worse. No, you couldn't afford that—not with Jeonghan, especially not with Jeonghan. You straightened your back, glaring at your reflection as if it could fight you back. Be your fucking self, you dumb idiot. But no matter how much you mentally pep-talked yourself, there was no escaping the glaring, undeniable fact: you tried to kiss your boss last night.

What the hell was wrong with you? Even worse, you'd been so drunk that your stupid, impulsive actions had no logic behind them. You didn't even know why you did it. And now you were paying the price. When you arrived at work, Jeonghan was... off. It wasn't his usual self—the playful, teasing boss who would occasionally poke fun at you for being "too serious" or "too good" at your job. No, today he was colder. Detached. His voice was clipped, his instructions sharp and curt. "Get my coffee," he'd said that morning, handing you a slip of paper with the name of some café that you realized, to your horror, was an hour's drive away.

"Wait—this is in another city." "I know." He didn't even look up from his desk. "Be quick about it." You wanted to scream. Was this some kind of punishment? Clearly, yes. But like the professional you prided yourself on being (even though you were currently drowning in humiliation), you'd complied. You got in your car and drove, cursing yourself—and Jeonghan—the entire time. By the time you got back, it was already afternoon. You placed the coffee on his desk, glaring at it because, of course, it had long since gone cold. He didn't even glance at it. "Is there anything else you need?" you asked, keeping your tone as even as possible, though your patience was fraying like a worn thread. "No." He didn't even look at you. "Okay." You turned on your heel, jaw clenched, heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and guilt. This coldness of his—this distance—was suffocating. You wanted to apologize, but how could you when he wouldn't even give you a chance? A text wouldn't cut it. That would be way too insincere. Apologies needed to be face-to-face, with your pride laid bare. But Jeonghan wasn't letting you anywhere near his walls. The day dragged on. The tension between you two was thick enough to slice through, and every interaction felt like walking on shards of glass. You were used to his teasing, his sly remarks, even his annoying requests—but this cold, indifferent Jeonghan was something you weren't prepared for. You only had yourself to blame. By the time the clock struck 6 PM, you were ready to collapse. Still, you lingered by your desk, scrolling mindlessly through emails, hoping he'd say something—maybe even address the elephant in the room. But he never did. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This is hell. Finally, you mustered the courage to approach his office door, knocking lightly. "Jeonghan?" "Come in," came his voice, detached as ever. You pushed the door open, stepping inside. He was seated at his desk, looking over some paperwork, his expression unreadable. "I..." you started, but your throat tightened, and the words caught. His gaze flicked up to you, sharp and expectant, and suddenly, every ounce of bravery you'd scraped together began to crumble. You swallowed hard, your palms sweating. "About last night... I—" "Don't." His voice cut through the air like a knife. Your breath hitched. "I just want to—" "Forget about it." His tone was final, the authority in his voice leaving no room for argument. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something unspoken, something unreadable—that gave you pause. You clenched your fists, nodding stiffly. "Fine." And with that, you turned and left his office, your chest tight and your mind spinning. If he wanted to play this cold war game, then fine. Two could play at that. But deep down, you knew this was far from over.

By the time you finally got home, you wanted nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and forget the entire day. But the universe had other plans. Your phone buzzed with a message from your mom:

Mom: I sent the caretaker home early today, so I'm alone. Could you visit, dear?

You didn't hesitate. Dropping your bag by the door, you grabbed your jacket and started toward the garage. But when you saw your car keys, you frowned.

The bus schedule was unreliable at this hour, and taking the car felt like a hassle. Your gaze drifted to the motorcycle in the corner—a sleek, black machine that hadn't been touched in months. Your chest tightened. The sight of it brought back memories you weren't ready to unpack. Nights spent speeding down empty streets, trying to outrun emotions you didn't want to face. Moments of reckless abandon that had cost you more than you wanted to admit. But tonight, practicality outweighed sentiment. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your helmet and swung a leg over the bike. The engine roared to life, the sound reverberating through the quiet garage.

When you arrived at your mom's house, the familiar warmth of the porch light greeted you. It was comforting, in a way that made your chest ache. But just as you were about to head inside, your phone buzzed with another notification. Mingyu had posted something on X—formerly Twitter—and tagged you. Against your better judgment, you opened the app. There it was: a group photo from last night's event. Mingyu had captioned it, "Last night was one for the books. Kitsunya, you killed it." Killed it? You wanted to scream. If by "killed it," he meant your dignity, then sure. Perfect phrasing. As if that wasn't enough, Seungkwan had chimed in with a reply: @/pledis_boos: Killed it?? She was on another planet with all that alcohol, LMAO. Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Of course, the chaos didn't end there. Your Discord server was in shambles with nonstop teasing:

[#general] min9yu: Streaming hangover queennn ho5hi_kwon: Who's taking bets she skips streaming again?? pledis_boos: After that karaoke performance? definitely. kitsunya: i hope you all die a miserable death

You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face. Slamming your phone shut, you muted the server before they could fire back. You were already frustrated beyond belief, and their antics weren't helping. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into your pocket and turned your attention to the house. You were here for your mom, not for these idiots.

Stepping inside, the familiar scent of lavender and warm spices immediately wrapped around you. It was as though time had stopped in this house. The same photos lined the walls, the same throw blanket draped over the couch. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted. "Sweetie?" your mom called from the kitchen. "Yeah, it's me!" you replied, slipping off your shoes and making your way toward her. She was seated at the kitchen table, a teapot in front of her and her usual serene smile on her face. "You didn't have to come all this way." "Of course I did," you said, leaning down to hug her. "How are you feeling?" "Better, now that you're here." Her words were simple, but they hit you hard. No matter how chaotic your life felt, being here always reminded you of what mattered most. For the first time all day, you allowed yourself to breathe. You sat down beside her, letting the conversation flow easily, her calm presence grounding you. Maybe the rest of the world could wait. For now, you were just her child, sitting at the kitchen table, finding solace in the only place that had always felt like home.

The hum of the studio buzzed around you as you took a long sip of your coffee, letting the warm bitterness steady your nerves after dealing with the overly flirtatious model. His incessant chatter had been more of a hindrance than a distraction, dragging out a task that should've taken half the time.

You needed a moment to breathe, so you leaned against the far counter, watching the set come to life as photographers, assistants, and models swarmed like bees.

Your brief peace was interrupted by the chime of your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart sank as you saw it was from X. Another tag. Another random mention. You opened it, eyebrows knitting together as you read the tweet. @/kitsunya is lowkey hacking, I've watched her gameplay on her streams. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you hesitated before clicking the attached video. It was a screen recording of someone playing League of Legends, supposedly you. The movements in the video were eerily familiar to your own, down to the champion choices and gameplay style. But something felt... off. The clip showed a flawless streak of kills and maneuvers you didn't recognize. At one point, the screen glitched, a strange overlay flashing briefly—something that screamed "hacking" to anyone who didn't know better. "That's not me," you muttered, the words a mix of disbelief and annoyance. Your fingers swiped down to the comments, and your heart sank further at the sea of responses.

- "She's so fake. always knew she was too good to be true" - "Imagine trying this hard to be relevant. Cringe." - "cancel her, wtf."

You bit the inside of your cheek, scrolling further to find a glimmer of reason among the mob.

- This doesn't even look like her gameplay. I've watched all her streams—this never happened. - "Bro, this is so edited. Look at the glitching when has she ever used a cheat?" - "She's bad at LOL sometimes, lol"

A small, bitter laugh escaped you at the last comment. The defender wasn't wrong. If anything, your League skills were average at best. Shutting your phone, you exhaled slowly. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to drag your name into some petty drama, but this? Accusations of hacking? That was new—and exhausting.

Calm. Professional. Handle it later, you told yourself. Your hands tightened around your coffee cup, knuckles whitening.

The scandal didn't disappear as quickly as you'd hoped. By the time you wrapped up at the studio, your socials were flooded. Notifications pinged relentlessly, and your Discord server wasn't any quieter. Mingyu and Seungkwan, of course, had chimed in.

[#general] min9yu: Saw the scandal. Want me to 'accidentally' leak your bad League stats? Clear your name instantly. pledis_boos: Fr tho, why would they say hacking when you literally suck at dodging skill shots kitsunya: shut up

You slammed your phone into your bag, groaning as you walked toward your parked motorcycle. Their teasing was harmless, but the noise around the whole situation was eating at you.

You didn't even realize how tense you were until your phone buzzed again—this time, a DM from Wonwoo.

everyone_woo: Saw the video. Want me to handle it?

You blinked at the message, unsure how to feel. Wonwoo wasn't exactly warm—his jokes often toed the line of annoyance—but he wasn't a liar either.

kitsunya: handle it how? everyone_woo: Show proof it's fake. Or just flame them in the server. Your pick.

You rolled your eyes. The image of Wonwoo in your server flaming trolls was ridiculous—and oddly tempting.

kitsunya: thanks, but ive got this everyone_woo: Sure. Just try not to cry about it on stream later.

You glared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your blood boiled.

kitsunya: fuck you, jeon.

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

everyone_woo: You wish.

You groaned, shoving your phone back into your bag as you straddled your motorcycle. The engine roared to life, drowning out your spiraling thoughts for a moment.

Focus on fixing this later, you told yourself again. But as you sped through the streets, the frustration churned in your chest, mixing with a spark of determination.

Whoever thought they could drag you down with a cheap, fake video clearly underestimated you. And if Wonwoo and the others had their way, they'd probably make sure the trolls regretted it too.

You didn't know what the next stream would bring, but one thing was clear—you weren't going to let this slide.

As the hours dragged on, the noise surrounding the scandal only grew louder. You had tried ignoring it, but your notifications were relentless. Your phone buzzed with messages from fans, haters, and even a few friends teasing you. After scrolling through the endless comments, you decided enough was enough.

Opening X, you navigated to the original post causing the uproar. The video was still playing, and the comments section was an absolute battlefield. Some were trashing you, while others valiantly defended your honor. You smirked to yourself.

With a deep breath, you typed your response. Calm, composed, with a pinch of playful sass—your signature style.

@/kitsunya: Wow, I didn't realize I got a skill boost overnight. Wish I had this kind of gameplay in real life. But hey, next time you edit, try not to glitch the screen, it's giving 'rookie hacker.' 🥰 Stay safe, everyone! 💕

You hit post and shut your phone off with a smirk. That should shut them up for now.

Later that evening, you fired up your stream. The usual intro music played, and the chat instantly exploded.

Chat: - "OMG, she's here!!! 🔥" - "HANDLE THEM!" - "say the word and we'll roast them for you!" - "So you're a 'hacker' now, huh? XD"

You leaned back in your chair, your trademark fox ears headband perched snugly on your head. "Alright, alright," you began, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Let's address the elephant in the room—or, in this case, the poorly edited League of Legends gameplay."

The chat erupted with laughter emojis.

"First of all," you continued, "if you're going to accuse someone of hacking, at least make the footage look convincing. I mean, come on! That glitch was so bad, even my grandma would've caught it. And she doesn't even know what a mouse is, okay?"

Your playful tone had the chat spamming "LOL" and "QUEEN ENERGY."—You've never really liked being called that (queen), it was a bit cringe but if that's what your fans would call you, you'll gladly let them be. Besides, they just knew how you hated it, too.

You quickly pulled up the clip in question, dissecting it for your viewers. "Look at this," you said, pointing out the glaring inconsistencies. "That's not even my interface. I use a custom overlay, so nice try, but not quite. And these moves? Yeah, I wish I was that good, but y'all know I play like a bronze-tier gremlin on most days."

- "NOT THE GREMLIN LMAOO" - "She's roasting herself and the haters at the same time 💀" - "Petition to make 'bronze-tier gremlin' a merch line."

You shrugged, smirking at the chaos you'd stirred. "Anyway, to the person who made this... next time, put some actual effort into your smear campaign. This was embarrassing—for you, not me." You ended the segment with a wink before transitioning to your usual gameplay.

Throughout the stream, you maintained your signature IDGAF attitude, brushing off the drama like dust on your shoulder. As the games went on, the chat buzzed with renewed energy, rallying behind you with jokes and support.

By the time you ended the stream, you felt lighter. The haters had nothing on you, and your fans? They reminded you why you kept doing this in the first place.

As you signed off, you left one final remark. "To anyone still doubting me, feel free to stick around. You might just learn what real gameplay looks like. And to my fans—love you guys. Kitsunya out."

With that, you clicked the end-stream button, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. Let the haters try again. They'd never win against you.

The aftermath of the "hacker" scandal didn't deter you—it only made you sharper. Your streams saw a spike in viewers, curious to witness the alleged "cheater" in action. Meanwhile, your usual gaming circle hadn't changed much, except for one small, persistent annoyance: Wonwoo.

It started innocently enough during a group stream with Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Wonwoo. You were all queued for a round of Valorant, and as the match loaded, Seungkwan's voice filled the mic.

"Alright, team, let's get this W. Kitsunya, you got my back, right?"

"Always, Boo," you replied smoothly, earning a groan from Mingyu.

"Can you two not flirt on comms?" Mingyu teased.

"Jealous, Mingyu?" you shot back. "Don't worry, you can watch and learn how it's done."

But before Mingyu could retort, Wonwoo's dry voice cut in. "Can we focus on the game instead of this middle school banter? Some of us actually want to win."

"Relax, Jeon," you quipped. "You'll still bottom frag no matter how focused you are."

The chat exploded with laughing emojis and "OOF" comments as Seungkwan cackled. "Oh my god, she really said that!"

"Funny," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone calm but with a hint of sharpness. "At least I don't need an entire fanbase hyping me up to stay relevant."

The mood shifted slightly. Mingyu let out a low whistle, and Seungkwan muttered, "Yikes, is it getting warm in here, or is that just me?"

Your grip on your mouse tightened. "Oh, I'm sorry," you said, feigning sweetness. "Is my relevance bothering you, Jeon? Don't worry, I'm sure someone out there appreciates your minimalist personality."

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Big words for someone who spent the last week crying over an edited gameplay clip."

"Okay, timeout!" Mingyu cut in. "Can we save the passive-aggressive flirting for later? We've got a match to lose."

"I'm not flirting," you and Wonwoo said simultaneously, which only made Seungkwan laugh harder.

Chat: - "WHY DOES THIS FEEL LIKE A KDRAMA?" - "Enemies to lovers speedrun when???" - "Wonwoo is spicy tonight, ngl"

As the matches continued, the banter between you and Wonwoo escalated. When you missed a critical shot, he chimed in, "Nice aim. Were you aiming at the sky for inspiration?"

"Bold of you to assume you'd know anything about aim," you shot back after watching him miss an easy shot of his own.

Seungkwan and Mingyu had a field day moderating the chaos.

"Guys, if you kill each other, can I have your streaming setups?" Mingyu joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Not unless you learn how to aim first," you and Wonwoo snapped in unison, which made everyone lose it.

Chat: - "They're SO ANNOYING TO EACH OTHER I LOVE IT." - "Can someone clip this toxic energy? I'm obsessed." - "seungkwan is the only one holding this team together lol."

After the stream ended, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Fighting with Wonwoo was mentally exhausting, but you had to admit—your streams were a hit whenever he was around. The audience loved the dynamic, and a small part of you found it... entertaining, in a frustrating way.

Still, you were determined not to lose to him, whether it was in gameplay or banter. If Wonwoo wanted a war, you were more than ready to bring it.

Little did you know, Wonwoo was thinking the exact same thing.

Absolutely, the unresolved tension between Jeonghan and MC is still lingering in the background, simmering beneath all the chaos of gaming streams and playful (or not-so-playful) fights with Wonwoo. Here's how that thread can weave into the story while keeping it naturally integrated:

The banter between you and Wonwoo was in full swing during a round of Valorant. Jeonghan, ever the observer, stayed quiet for most of the game, only chiming in occasionally with sarcastic one-liners that set the group laughing.

However, every so often, you caught him cutting in with comments that felt pointed, though they were disguised under his usual casual tone.

For instance, when you accidentally botched a round by peeking too early, Jeonghan couldn't resist.

"You're usually so composed, Kitsunya," he remarked, voice smooth. "Guess all this stress is getting to you."

Your throat tightened for a moment, but you didn't let it show. "Or maybe it's because I'm carrying half of this team. Can't relate, though—I wouldn't know what it's like to sit back and let everyone else do the work."

Mingyu wheezed into the mic. "Oh my god, she went there."

Jeonghan only chuckled. "I must have touched a nerve. Relax, it's just a game, sweetheart."

The word hung heavy in the air, and the chat exploded.

Chat: - "sweetheart? HELLO???" - "Did anyone else feel that dagger???" - "Kitsunya is DONE WITH HIM LMAO."

You stayed professional, though your grip on your mouse tightened. "Relax? I'm so relaxed," you shot back. "It's not like I'm the one stalking people's streams to stir the pot."

The silence that followed was loud. Wonwoo laughed softly. "Alright, that was savage."

Jeonghan let out an amused hum but didn't respond directly. His lack of a comeback only added fuel to the tension.

You ended the stream with your usual closing remarks, ignoring the way your heart still raced from Jeonghan's presence. The moment you were offline, you leaned back in your chair, letting out a groan of frustration.

Why was he still getting under your skin? Why couldn't you just forget what happened? It wasn't like he'd even acknowledged it outside of these subtle, cutting moments.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A message from Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: You've been sharper lately. Don't let it ruin your aim.

You stared at the text, unsure whether to laugh, scream, or throw your phone out the window. Instead, you settled on typing a curt reply:

You: thanks for the unsolicited advice, boss. ill try not to let your words haunt me.

You hesitated before hitting send. Was that too much? Too little? The overthinking was exhausting.

No reply came. Typical.

Jeonghan continued to act as if nothing had ever happened. He still handed you ridiculous tasks—like picking up coffee from the other side of the city—but now, there was an added layer of... something. Whether it was tension or amusement, you couldn't tell. At one point, while delivering a report to him, you accidentally brushed past his desk. The proximity made your pulse quicken. Jeonghan looked up, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Careful," he said smoothly. "You're spilling your coffee." You glanced down, realizing you'd almost tipped the cup in your hand. "Right. My bad." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. "You're distracted. Anything on your mind?" You shot him a glare, but it lacked your usual fire. "Nope. Just trying to make sure you get your perfectly brewed coffee without having to lift a finger." Jeonghan hummed. "Good. Keep up the hard work, sweetheart." There it was again—that word. It set your teeth on edge, but you refused to let him see how it affected you. Instead, you plastered on your best fake smile and left his office without another word.

Jeonghan reclined in his sleek office chair, the dim glow of his second monitor lighting his face as he watched the stream playing out in front of him.

Seungcheol was supposed to be live, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and instead, Jeonghan found himself once again on your stream. He didn't know how or why he ended up there, but he wasn't about to click away now—not when you were in the middle of what seemed to be an increasingly fiery exchange with Wonwoo. "You call that a headshot, Kitsunya?" Wonwoo's voice cut through the audio, calm and sharp as always. "Maybe you should stick to being a cheerleader for the team." Your scoff came out quick and biting. "And maybe you should stick to solo play since clearly you don't know what teamwork means. What are you, allergic to assists?" The chat exploded with laughter and emotes, and Jeonghan couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. You were quick, sharper than most, and he hated how entertaining it was to watch you put Wonwoo in his place. Wonwoo's response was dry, but there was a hint of amusement. "Big words for someone whose accuracy is about as consistent as Mingyu's cooking skills." "Oh, that's rich coming from the guy who got sniped by a bronze player last week," you shot back effortlessly, the grin evident in your tone. Jeonghan's jaw tightened. He should have closed the stream. He should have focused on his work. But instead, he found himself gripping the edge of his desk, irritation bubbling under the surface. Since when had you and Wonwoo gotten so... close? "Sweetheart, don't you think you're taking this roasting thing a little far?" Wonwoo said casually, the pet name clearly meant to get a rise out of you. You didn't skip a beat. "Don't call me sweetheart. I'm not your sidekick." Jeonghan's smirk vanished. He'd been calling you that for weeks now—using it as a way to get under your skin—but hearing it from Wonwoo suddenly made it feel... wrong. Why did it bother him so much?

Jeonghan sat in his office, staring blankly at the report in front of him. The words blurred together, meaningless against the din of his own thoughts. He clenched his jaw, shoving the papers aside as his mind betrayed him yet again, wandering back to the stream last night. To you and Wonwoo, bickering with that effortless chemistry that felt so... natural. Too natural.

The knock at the door startled him. He straightened, a carefully neutral expression slipping into place.

"Come in."

You entered, your movements brisk as you carried a stack of documents. "Here's the draft you asked for," you said, your tone cool.

Jeonghan's eyes lingered on you for a fraction longer than he intended. "Morning, sweetheart," he said, the words coming out smoother than he felt.

You froze for a split second before shooting him a glare. "Don't call me that."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. "Why not? You didn't seem to mind when Wonwoo called you that last night."

You blinked, confusion flickering in your expression before it hardened into annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he replied, his tone calm but biting.

"Jeonghan," you snapped, crossing your arms as you stared him down. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "I don't have one. Just an observation. You looked... comfortable with him."

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn't back down. "So what if I was? Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something darker, something raw. "I don't need to keep tabs. It's obvious."

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. "Obvious?"

"You're distracted," he said, his voice softer now but no less cutting. "Is it him?"

Something inside you snapped. "If you have something to say, Jeonghan, say it. Stop with the mind games."

His expression flickered—anger, frustration, guilt?—before it settled into something unreadable. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he looked at you with a rare vulnerability. "You've changed," he murmured, almost to himself. "You're different around him."

You inhaled sharply, his words hitting deeper than you wanted to admit. "Don't act like you care," you said, your voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

His eyes darkened. "And what if I do?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss. Finally, you turned on your heel, your heart pounding as you headed for the door.

"You kissed me," his voice stopped you cold, low and quiet but filled with an edge that cut through the air. "And then... you act like it meant nothing."

You froze, your hand hovering over the doorknob. When you turned back to him, your eyes were blazing. "You think I don't know that? You've been shutting me out ever since, Jeonghan. So don't you dare act like I'm the one who walked away first."

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, taut and trembling.

Jeonghan stared at you, his carefully crafted mask crumbling. "Maybe I thought it would be easier," he admitted, his voice rough. "If I pushed you away. If I let you go."

Your throat tightened, but you refused to let him see you falter. "Well, congratulations. It worked."

Before he could respond, you turned and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his head tipping back as he stared at the ceiling. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts a mess of regret and longing.

What the hell am I doing?

He was the one crossing that barrier, when he has been pushing you away on the past few weeks. Over and over again.  

The week had been chaotic, as usual. Between balancing work, streams, and trying to ignore the mess of emotions that had been haunting you since that damn drunken kiss incident with Jeonghan, you barely had time to breathe. Friday rolled around, and you were finally looking forward to a weekend of peace—just you, your PC, and maybe a new game to dive into.

That was the plan, at least, until Seungcheol called you earlier that week.

Monday

"Hey," his voice was casual, but you could hear the grin behind it. "I'm throwing a party this weekend. Just a small thing, you know, close friends and streamers. You in?" You hesitated, already knowing what your answer would be. "Thanks for the invite, Seungcheol, but I've got plans this weekend. Sorry." "Come on," he replied smoothly. "It's been a while since we all hung out. You could use a little break, don't you think?" "No can do," you said firmly, giving a polite laugh to soften the rejection. "But have fun." He didn't push further, just chuckled and left it at that. You thought that would be the end of it. You thought wrong.

That should've been the end of it.

It wasn't.

By the time Wednesday came around, Seungkwan and Hoshi had picked up the torch where Seungcheol had left off.

Wednesday  

The VC comms were alive with chatter as you queued up for another Overwatch match.

"Okay, but seriously," Seungkwan's voice broke through the din, incredulous and a little too loud in your headset. "Why aren't you coming to the party?"

"Yeah," Hoshi chimed in, just as exasperated. "What's so important that you're ditching us?"

You groaned, adjusting your mic as you loaded into the game. "I told you. I have plans."

"Plans to do what? Sit at home?" Seungkwan asked, disbelief coloring every word.

"And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped as you lined up a headshot on an enemy.

"It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said, as though he'd just diagnosed you with some grave illness.

"You're turning into Wonwoo," Seungkwan added, laughing.

"Leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in dryly, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement.

"Listen," you interrupted, your patience thinning. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?"

But they didn't drop it. Of course, they didn't.

Thursday

By the next evening, their campaign of peer pressure had reached ridiculous heights.

You were halfway through a stream, your chat buzzing with energy, when Seungkwan's voice came through the VC again.

"Alright, hear me out," he began, his tone taking on that wheedling edge that set your teeth on edge. "What if we make a deal?"

"No," you said flatly, sniping an enemy with practiced precision.

"You didn't even hear the deal!" Hoshi whined, sounding genuinely offended.

"I don't need to," you retorted, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no."

"Okay, fine," Seungkwan said dramatically, as though he were deeply wounded. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up."

"Seriously?" you muttered, incredulous.

"And maybe," Hoshi chimed in, "we'll tell everyone about that time you ulted yourself into a wall."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" you snapped, finally losing your cool.

"Fine," Seungkwan relented eventually, though the grin in his tone was unmistakable. "But we're not done with you yet."

In the middle of your stream that evening, as you queued for an Overwatch match, their voices rang out over the VC comms. "Okay, but like, seriously, why aren't you coming to the party?" Seungkwan started, his tone incredulous. "Yeah, what's so important that you're ditching us?" Hoshi chimed in, sounding equally offended. You groaned, adjusting your headset as you focused on loading into the game. "I told you, I have plans." "Plans to do what? Sit at home and stream?" Seungkwan pressed. "And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped. "It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said. "You're turning into Wonwoo." "Hey, leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in from the other side of the comms, calm but with a hint of annoyance. "Listen," you interrupted, trying to steer the conversation away. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?" But they wouldn't let up.

Thursday Night By the next night, their persistence had reached new heights. As you streamed another late-night session of Overwatch, the VC comms lit up once again with Seungkwan and Hoshi's relentless chatter. "Okay, hear me out," Seungkwan started, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "What if we make a deal?" "Absolutely not," you replied instantly, sniping an enemy on-screen with precision. "You didn't even hear the deal," Hoshi whined. "Don't need to," you said, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no." "Fine," Seungkwan said dramatically. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up." "Seriously?" you muttered, your tone dripping with disbelief. "And maybe we'll tell everyone about that one time you accidentally ulted yourself into a wall," Hoshi added with a snicker. "Will you two *shut the fuck up*?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin. "It's been three fucking days of this. Take a hint." The chat lit up with laughter and emotes as your viewers enjoyed the chaos.

Chat Highlights: - "LMAOOO THEY'RE SO RELENTLESS 💀" - "Poor Kitsunya can't catch a break." - "I stan the peer pressure."

"Fine, fine," Seungkwan said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn't done. But for the rest of the night, they managed to keep the nagging to a minimum—at least, until the match ended.

Friday Morning

You woke up to your phone vibrating on your nightstand.

[#general] - 8:13 AM pledis_boos: [image attached of your Overwatch avatar] Look at this, Hoshi. Doesn't this remind you of someone? ho5hi_kwon: Yeah, someone who doesn't know how to have fun. pledis_boos: Right??? ho5hi_kwon: Definitely not naming names though.

You groaned, burying your face in your pillow before tossing your phone aside.

DM from [fuckass bitch dickhead] - 8:30 AM  Wonwoo: You're coming to the party, right?

You blinked at the screen, caught completely off guard. Wonwoo never texted first unless it was something gaming-related or directly relevant to a stream.

You: why do you care?

It took him a full minute to reply, which in Wonwoo time meant he was probably rolling his eyes at your response

Wonwoo: I don't. Just figured someone should ask before Seungkwan harasses you into blocking him. You: hes not that bad Wonwoo:  Don't lie to yourself. I heard him last night practically begging you to show up. It was embarrassing. For you. You: why are you bringing this up anyway? didnt peg you as the party type. Wonwoo: I'm not

You waited, watching the three dots pop up, disappear, and then pop up again before his next message finally came through.

Wonwoo: I just think it'd be funny watching you try to survive a party without gamer brain kicking in. Bet you'd get the itch to stream mid-conversation and ditch. You: are you serious right now? Wonwoo: Completely. You: wonwoo i swear to god  Wonwoo: What? Did I hit a nerve? Can't handle the idea of touching grass for once? You: if this is your idea of convincing me its not working fucker Wonwoo: Good, because I don't care if you go or not. You: THEN WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION???" Wonwoo: Because it's fun annoying you. Isn't that what friends are for? You: i fucking hate you you should just die Wonwoo: No, you don't

You glared at your screen, scrolling through your options for a witty comeback.

Wonwoo: Look, if it's about him, don't let it stop you. Your fingers froze mid-type. You: what are you talking about Wonwoo: Don't play dumb. You: im not Wonwoo: Sure. Anyway, just saying—if you're scared of seeing Jeonghan, you should just suck it up. You can always leave early if it gets awkward.

Your stomach churned at the mention of his name. So Wonwoo noticed? He's always been perceptive.

You: youre insufferable Wonwoo: I try. So, see you at the party? You: still not going :p Wonwoo: Liar.

And just like that, he went offline, leaving you with nothing but your reflection in the black mirror of your phone screen and the uncomfortable knot tightening in your chest.

By noon, after hours of fighting with yourself—and your growing suspicion that Wonwoo might actually have a point—you gave in.

DM to Seungcheol - 12:47 PM You: fine. ill stop by for a bit Seungcheol: Knew you'd come around. See you there.

You sighed, already dreading what you'd gotten yourself into.  

The Party - 8:30 PM

You weren't sure why you let yourself be talked into this. The thrum of music greeted you as soon as you stepped into the lavish apartment Seungcheol had rented for the evening. It reeked of overpriced cologne, faint perfume, and an energy you couldn't immediately name but recognized as too much.

Seungkwan was the first to spot you.

"YOU CAME!" he shouted, practically launching himself at you. He'd always been the overly enthusiastic type, but tonight, his excitement seemed to border on hysteria. "I knew you'd show up! You look so cute—who are you trying to impress?"

"No one," you muttered, brushing him off with a half-smile. "I'm here because I promised Seungcheol. Don't get weird about it."

"Sure, sure," Seungkwan replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He glanced over your shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. "By the way, guess who's already here."

You kept your expression neutral. "Who?"

"Jeonghan," he whispered, his voice practically dripping with scandal. "And some girl."

Of course.

You scanned the room, your eyes immediately landing on him. Jeonghan stood near the bar, drink in hand, with a girl perched close, leaning into his space like she belonged there. He looked effortlessly put together in a dark button-up, his signature smirk in place as he responded to something she said.

"Why do you even care?" Seungkwan teased, following your gaze. "Wait. Don't tell me—"

"I don't," you cut him off, turning away sharply. "I need a drink."

Seungkwan giggled, but he let you go. You made your way to the kitchen. The faint sound of laughter and conversations faded as you poured yourself a drink and leaned against the counter, hoping no one would bother you.

"Called it."

The voice came from behind you.

You didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Wonwoo," you sighed, turning just enough to glare at him. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark hoodie and jeans making him look out of place among the more dressed-up crowd.

"What?" he asked, sipping his drink. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Against my better judgment," you muttered.

Wonwoo raised a brow. "And yet, here you are, pretending you're not dying to check if anyone's noticed you."

Your cheeks heated. "I wasn't—"

"Save it," he interrupted, smirking. "You're bad at lying."

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip of your drink. "Why are you even here? Didn't think parties were your thing."

"They're not," he said, shrugging. "But someone's gotta keep you from self-destructing."

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned.

"You're welcome."

Later That Night

You thought you were doing a decent job of avoiding Jeonghan until he appeared out of nowhere, stepping into your path as you tried to slip away from the main room.

"Leaving already?" His voice was smooth, a little too casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something sharper.

You froze. "Jeonghan."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Didn't think you'd care."

"Touché." His lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me?"

You glared at him. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Maybe." He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the drink in your hand before returning to your face. "Someone thinks you're trying to prove a point by showing up tonight."

"Let them think whatever they want," you said, your tone colder than you intended.

Jeonghan smirked. "So it's not about her?"

"Not everything is about her," you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. "And if you're just here to play games, don't bother. I'm not in the mood."

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned in, his voice dropping low.

"You think you know the game we're playing," he murmured, "but you don't. Not yet."

Before you could respond, he stepped back, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

From across the room, you caught Wonwoo watching, his expression unreadable.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you turned your head, it felt like someone's gaze lingered a second too long—whether it was Jeonghan's cryptic smirks or Wonwoo's occasional glances, like he was trying to piece something together.

But you didn't have time for either of them. Not tonight.

Not until Wonwoo found you again.

"Drinking alone?" he teased, appearing in the hallway where you'd gone to catch your breath.

You scowled at him. "Are you stalking me now?"

"No," he said easily, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. "Just thought I'd find you sulking somewhere. You're predictable."

"And you're annoying," you shot back.

"Funny. Didn't stop you from talking to me."

You opened your mouth to retort, but he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost teasing tone. "Let me guess. He said something to piss you off."

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, tilting his head toward the party behind you. "Jeonghan. You've been dodging him all night, but I saw the way you tensed up earlier."

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of how close he was. "It's none of your business."

"I know," he said, his gaze sharp, searching. "But it's entertaining. Watching you flinch every time he's near."

"Go to hell, Wonwoo," you muttered, turning away.

You barely made it two steps before his hand caught your wrist.

"Let go," you hissed, yanking your arm, but he didn't budge.

"Why do you let him get to you like this?" Wonwoo asked, his voice calm but cutting.

"He doesn't," you snapped, though even you didn't believe it.

Wonwoo's grip loosened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked. "You're such a bad liar."

Something about the way he said it—like he knew exactly which buttons to push—made you snap.

You shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. "Why do you care, huh? You don't even like me."

"You're right," he said, recovering quickly, his smirk widening. "I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't have fun messing with you."

"Oh, screw you—"

Before you could finish, he closed the gap between you, his hand cupping your jaw as he kissed you.

It wasn't gentle.

It was heated, rough, and full of the frustration you both seemed to carry whenever you were around each other.

You didn't even realize you'd kissed him back until your back hit the wall, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair.

The kiss was deep, his tongue licking at your bottom lip, seeking for entrance to your mouth. Without even thinking to process things, your mouth responded almost too immediately while his tongue explored yours to a rhythm.

He kissed you good, and you can't even deny it right now. Your heart was beating fast—faster than you'd ever imagine. 

Make-out sessions like this was never a problem to you, but why are you feeling something different now? 

This damned man. 

And just like that, you were out of breath. With Wonwoo leaning his face closer as if he doesn't want you to get away just yet, you didn't mind. You were too into the kiss that you weren't even trying to pull away.

The kiss was messy, electric, and entirely unexpected.

"Wonwoo," you managed to gasp when he pulled back just enough to let you breathe. Your lips glossed with both of your salivas. 

"What?" he murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing yours. His eyes locked to yours then dropped to your swollen, plumped lips. He looked at you differently—at least now.

"This—" You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "This doesn't mean anything."

"Obviously," he said, smirking again. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, silencing whatever protest you might've had.

Wonwoo pulled you into a nearby room—thank god it was even vacant. The whole time, he didn't even lean away from the kiss. He kissed you as if he was trying to swallow you whole. But then again, it was hot as hell.

"So fucking sweet," Wonwoo thought to himself as he carries you on the hips and places you on the nearby table. He stood in between your legs.

Screw it, you can't even think right now—not when his hands keep roaming around your hips. It sent a shiver to your spine. It's like his hands were touching you through your dress. Is that even possible?

The way your tongues swirled, entangling to each other was felt incredibly good. 

"So soft," he murmured in between the kiss. And he's doing it again. His head kept pushing towards you when you're not even trying to move away. 

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, while your legs found itself encircling his waist. You swore you can feel Wonwoo's smirk that always made you want to punch him in the guts for. But now, you find it attractive for once.

Feeling his bulge like this, you're soaked. Fuck, you're so wet it felt like you were pissing through your underwear. It's been like this since he placed you on the damned table.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo pulled away for you to catch your breath—partly to catch his breath. He stared at you, his eyes moving to your already swollen lips glistened with his saliva while you panted crazily.

"You're wet." Shit. He noticed? Yeah. He noticed

You couldn't reply. It's like the words got stuck in your throat. You wanted to retort. But it'll all be useless.

"...Fuck you." Really? That's the best you can say? You earned a smug scoff from Wonwoo that's for sure.

He just stared at you with a somehow teasing look on his face. But you were too embarrassed to even speak again. So why the fuck did you speak again. 

"H- help me..." You mumbled, eyes turning away and cheeks heating up.

Wonwoo's smirk widened, but he raised a brow, looking at you with innocence as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Help you with what, exactly?" He knew exactly where to push your buttons.

"Such a fucking tease," you muttered under your breath. He knew that. 

"I can't help you if I don't know what it is."

"F- Fuck me.. Wonwoo." Your words came out in a stumble. You went from fuck you to fuck me, that's a revolution.

Wonwoo chuckled, but then his gaze darkened. You couldn't quite point what is. A look of lust? Or is he teasing the fuck out of you again? "Come again?" 

"Wonwoo, please.." You sighed, head dropping to his shoulder with frustration. You're so wet you want to start touching yourself. It's like your pussy is on damn fire. 

But Wonwoo won't budge until you state exactly what you're asking for.

The heat of your body radiates his when his lips found your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin that sent electric waves through your body. That was your final test. 

Your hand moved under your dress and you started rubbing your wet clit through your underwear. 

Wonwoo leaned back just a little, looking down at you with a smirk on his lips. You swore you'd kick his balls after this.

Your fingers moved under your underwear and that's when you insert one finger in. You held back the moan, biting your lower lip.

"Shameless slut. That's hot," he says kneeling down as he looked up at you with the same gaze he had earlier. "Need help?"

"P-please..." You replied, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were so frustrated you can punch his damn handsome face right now. 

"You're really ruined." He unzips your dress from the back and removed it. Fuck he found your bra really cute. He spread your thighs open before he starts working on it, his lean fingers entering your slippery, glossed pussy. "What the fuck? It swallowed right in, babe." You couldn't tell if the pet name was to annoy you or what. Doesn't matter, cause your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The same fingers he used for typing on his keyboard were inside you right now. 

This shit feels too good to be true. 

"So wet for me, huh?" he started moving his fingers deeper. You were so wet that his finger slipped in your pussy almost too easily. 

Wonwoo reached that one spongy texture. "Fuckk.....!" You moaned out, panting crazily.

His fingers fucked your pussy so well with his thumb running circles on your clit, you squirted. He's moving his fingers in and out of you so fast that you almost reached the depths of heaven. 

You came. His hand soaked with your fluids. He pulled out his fingers and licked it. "So pretty seeing you like this. You're sweet, Kitsunya."

Before you can even get back from pleasure, his head was in between your thighs, already licking your pussy clean. And he received a harmonious moans out of you. He loved the sounds you made. He can listen to it all day.

Then his tongue entered your pussy. 

"Wonnie... S- so good.. Don't stop." You panted, the sudden nickname making him throbbing hard below. While your fingers entangling through his soft locks, pulling his head so he could reach deeper. And then you came again, on his face, moaning like crazy.

He licked all your fluids before pulling away, licking his lips as he stood up again to look down at you.

"You taste so fucking sweet." He held your chin—making you look up at him as he captures your lips again, tasting yourself. 

Wonwoo was devouring you at this point. His tongue working in your mouth. While his hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, and the other already unclipping your bra.

Then he carried you onto the bed, dropping you on the mattress without pulling away. He started taking his hoodie off while you messily unzips his pants. He helped you pull it down. 

He was fucking huge. You knew it already when you felt his bulge earlier, but didn't imagine a length like this.

He pulled away, his cock throbbing with pre-cum. You stared at him, panting, cheeks fucking red.

"Safe word?" He asked, his hands massaging your breasts. You forgot to think for a moment.

"Fox." You replied and he smirked. 

With that settled, he spread your legs open—leaning in between your things. His fingers prepping your pussy.

Once wide enough, his tip was placed on the entrance of your pussy, rubbing your clit. he was leaking already.

"F- fuck me rough, Wonwoo." You said, begging like you never usually do. 

And that was his last straw. He slammed his cock but entered you slowly, your moans filling the room. "So fucking tight, the hell?" 

"Y- you're too fucking big," you muffled, tears of pleasure running down at the stretch.

He pulled his cock and slammed it in you again, this time, it felt good it already reached your g-spot. He was huge.

After a few slow thrusts, Wonwoo felt you adjusting to the stretch, and that's when he started roughly fucking your pussy. You held onto him for your dear life, moaning loudly this time. 

"Your pussy is swallowing me so fucking well." He muttered, grunting when he felt your walls clenching around his cock. "Don't fucking cum until I say so."

He took it out before you can even come. You cried. 

Then just like that, he slammed his cock in you again—hardly that the sounds of your skin slapping to each other filled the room. 

He thrusted in and out so fast you were begging to cum with tears running down your cheeks at the frustration. 

"Wonwoo, please..!" You moaned out, head going back as your fingers dug onto the flesh of his shoulder. 

Wonwoo didn't stop entering you fastly, his hips moving crazily fast, his cock reaching your g-spot. "Don't fucking.." he grunted out. "..cum yet."

You squirted. You were sobbing, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good yet frustrating at the same time.

But the way he's ramming into your pussy was enough to cloud all the frustrations away. 

He shut you up when he captured your lips—tongue kissing you too well. He felt your walls clenching around him again. "Cum all over me, baby." 

"I'm cumming!" White fluids almost pushing his dick off. And not long after, he took out his cock and his hot load went all over your stomach. You were panting crazily, covering your face with your hands.

Wonwoo patted your head. He didn't call you names anymore either.

Being called "slut" never made sense to you. He didn't repeat it either.

You went in the shower first, your vagina and legs were so  sore you felt numb. And when you finally went out—the room smelled like sex and his faint cologne. You didn't look at him until he threw your dress to your face.

You glared at him, covering your body with the towel you were holding as Wonwoo enters the bathroom next.

In the bathroom, Wonwoo was still hard. He just couldn't help it. When you came out of the shower smelling good as fuck, shit... You were even prettier without make-up on. Thinking of it makes him want to fuck you again.

But now, he just had to settle back. This was nothing. And yet he's fucking his hand at the thought of you.

When Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he looked entirely different. The stark simplicity of his black t-shirt and sweatpants did nothing to diminish how effortlessly good he looked. 

His glasses caught the faint light of the room as he fixed them, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the bed and sat at its edge, towel slung lazily over his shoulder.

"Jerk," you muttered under your breath—though not quite loud enough for it to sound like a challenge.

He arched an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. The silence stretched, the air between you heavy.

He looks hot. 

The thought crept in uninvited, but you shoved it down quickly, pretending to fiddle with the zipper at the back of your dress.

It wasn't cooperating.

Wonwoo noticed. He stood silently, his presence looming behind you. Without a word, he reached for the zipper, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled it up smoothly. 

You caught his reflection in the mirror—the sharp lines of his face, the faint furrow of his brows, and the way his eyes lingered, just for a moment, before he let go.

"You didn't have to," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"I know," he replied simply, stepping back. His tone was devoid of sarcasm, yet it felt loaded with unspoken meaning.

He handed you an oversized jacket without waiting for you to ask. "Here."

You took it wordlessly, slipping one arm in, then the other, the fabric engulfing you like a shield. As you turned back to the mirror, fixing your makeup and on  attempting to dry your hair as quick as you can, you felt his eyes on you.

Your gaze flickered up to the mirror, catching him already staring.

He didn't look away.

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, and you quickly broke eye contact, muttering something incoherent as you turned toward the door.

"Wait," Wonwoo said, his voice low, stopping you in your tracks.

You barely had time to react before he closed the distance between you, his hands bracing lightly on either side of the doorframe, trapping you.

"What?" you asked, your voice wavering more than you'd like.

He didn't answer right away. His gaze flickered over your face—your swollen lips, the faint color in your cheeks, the way your breath hitched as he leaned closer.

"Nothing," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just wanted to see if you'd leave without saying goodbye."

"I should've," you shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you.

"Maybe."

And then he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower, deliberate, as though he was testing just how far he could push you. His hands slid to your waist, tugging you closer, and you melted against him despite every voice in your head screaming at you to stop.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, lips tangled, the world outside fading into irrelevance. 

The kiss involved your tongues again, your head hitting the door behind you—while Wonwoo was pushing his head closer to you again. 

But eventually, reality crept back in.

"I—" you started, putting hands on his chest to push him slightly away just enough to catch your breath.

"Yeah," Wonwoo said, his voice equally quiet, though his smirk lingered.

You didn't bother finishing your sentence. Instead, you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding and your mind racing. 

The oversized jacket he'd given you hung loosely over your dress, a silent reminder of whatever had just happened.

The noise of the party hit you like a wall, jolting you back to your surroundings. You avoided eye contact with anyone as you wove through the crowd, heading for the kitchen in search of water—or an excuse to keep yourself busy.

But then you felt it.

A pair of eyes.

When you glanced up, there he was.

Jeonghan.

He stood near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, a drink in hand. His expression was unreadable, but the slight tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes told you he'd noticed something was different.

Your lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, your pulse racing.

Wonwoo stayed behind, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His hair was still damp, his smirk a little too self-satisfied.

He watched the closed door for a moment longer before turning back toward the bed, dropping the towel onto the chair in the corner.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checked the time.

A message popped up from Seungkwan in his DM.

Seungkwan: Bro, where tf are you? Jeonghan keeps asking about Kitsunya. Says she's acting weird. Did y'all fight or smth?

Wonwoo stared at the message, his smirk fading into something more contemplative.

"No," he murmured to himself, tossing his phone onto the same bed you two had sex on. "We didn't fight."

The party could wait. For now, he needed a moment to think—or to figure out why he'd let himself care.

You had barely taken a sip of water when a voice interrupted your solitude.

"Long night?"

You froze, clutching the glass tighter. Turning slowly, you met Jeonghan's gaze. He stood a few feet away, his usual confident demeanor wrapped around him like a second skin.

"What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He stepped closer, his expression soft but his eyes sharp. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I don't follow."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying you. "You're wearing someone else's jacket."

Your stomach dropped. "So?"

"So," he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile, "it's not like you to borrow things. Especially not from... whoever it is you've been sneaking around with tonight."

Your cheeks burned. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Jeonghan's tone was light, teasing, but his gaze pinned you in place. "You've been avoiding me all night. And now you're practically running from the room. It's not hard to connect the dots."

"Drop it, Jeonghan," you snapped, your voice low.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he leaned down slightly so his face was level with yours.

"I will," he said softly, "when you stop looking like you've just been caught."

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he straightened and walked away, leaving you alone with the weight of his words.

Back in the room, Wonwoo debated rejoining the party. The chaos didn't appeal to him, but the lingering hum of your presence in the space did.

He'd kissed you twice.

Three times, if he counted the one that had blurred into more than just kissing.

And now, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

When he finally pushed himself off the bed and headed back into the main area, the atmosphere was heavier than before.

The music was loud, but the tension in the room was louder.

He spotted you almost immediately, standing near the kitchen entrance talking with Woozi. Jeonghan was a few feet away, talking to someone else, but his attention kept flicking to you.

Wonwoo's jaw tightened.

Woozi excused himself by patting you on the head. "I'll be over there with Hoshi if you ever need me."

And you hummed, nodding as he walked away.

"Having fun?"

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a party," he said dryly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you think?"

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Jeonghan appeared.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his smile as sharp as ever. "Didn't expect to see you hanging around here."

Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze steady. "Didn't expect to see you keeping tabs."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Just looking out for my friends."

The unspoken implication hung in the air, and you felt yourself shrinking under the weight of it.

"Sure you are," Wonwoo said, his tone light but his posture tense.

You couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to get some air," you muttered, brushing past them before either could stop you.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, cutting through the heat that had built up inside.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Running away again?"

You turned to find Wonwoo behind you, his hands in his pockets and his expression unreadable.

He's been around you since the night had started.

"Don't you have better things to do?" you asked, your voice sharp.

"Probably," he said, stepping closer. "But this seemed more interesting."

You sighed, turning back to the view. "What do you want, Wonwoo?"

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. "You tell me."

You frowned, glancing at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you've been acting like I'm the problem when you're the one running circles around yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "You're mad at Jeonghan, mad at me, and probably mad at yourself. But you're not doing anything about it. You're just... stuck."

His words hit a little too close to home, and you hated how right he sounded.

"So what?" you snapped. "What do you want me to do? Forget everything and pretend like it doesn't matter?"

"Maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Or maybe just stop pretending you don't want something different." 

Your breath caught as he closed the distance between you.

How can he see right through you? it was unfair.

"Wonwoo—"

He kissed you again, cutting off whatever you were about to say. This kiss wasn't rough or teasing—it was deliberate, almost careful, like he was testing a boundary he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross.

You didn't even try to pull away. Allowing him like you both were a couple or something. 

This wasn't even anything to begin with. And that's exactly the problem.

His hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with delicate kisses. 

You were kissing him back, deepening the kiss.

He tilted your head a little to the side to get a better angle of the kiss, while your hands hesitated if you should wrap it around him or not. 

Screw that, you did anyways. Something felt different. The same feeling hit you like a truck.

Maybe it's because you were in the public, making out with the same man for the past few hours. It was electric—the way he kissed you.

When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours.

"You can keep running," he said quietly. "But I'm not going to chase you."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone under the stars.

He kept saying that, then why is he always around you? You sighed. 

This was an unknown feeling you never had when you were around him or his circle

When you returned to the party, Jeonghan was waiting.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze too sharp to be casual.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stepped closer, his smile softening. "You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks," you said quietly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice.

But as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, you couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen more than he was letting on.

And if he had, what would he do about it?

a/n: writing 10,000+ words every other day is not as easy as i thought. i feel stupid for even thinking that. balancing school, work, and life is exhausting tbh. BUT i hope i can make it up by updating a chapter ! might take me a while to write a new one but i swear i wont leave this work unfinished. (its exam week so yeah i've been really busy)

i will be posting (if i can by this week) the req actor jeonghan x actor reader i swear it'll be worth it. im battling writers block and due homeworks with my sucked up job.

if you want to be added to the taglist, reblog / comment on this post / teaser / part-time lover masterlist and you'll automatically be tagged on every chapter.

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere (thankyou for reblogging !)

[cool-fancier]

Whispers Between Us

An Yujin x Female Reader

Synopsis: During a heartfelt visit, unspoken tensions between you and Yujin ignite into something deeper, turning fleeting moments into an unforgettable, slow-burning love story.

Word Count:3.2K

The cool air clung to your skin as you approached the dorm building, the city lights casting a faint glow on the streets below. You clutched your phone in your hand, rereading Gaeul's text for what felt like the tenth time.

"Come over tonight! The girls miss you, and honestly, so do I. It's been too long. We need some bonding time!

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Gaeul had always been your biggest cheerleader, your confidante, and your best friend wrapped into one. Being only a year younger, the two of you had grown up inseparable, sharing everything from childhood secrets to late-night talks about dreams and fears. Now, with her thriving as a member of IVE, you cherished every opportunity to spend time with her and her friends.

But tonight, there was something else lingering in the back of your mind—someone else. Yujin.

The memories of your quiet, intense fling with Yujin played in your mind like a film reel, each scene more vivid than the last. It wasn't something either of you planned; it just happened. A connection that neither of you could ignore, no matter how much you tried to convince yourselves otherwise.

The door swung open before you could knock, and Gaeul's beaming face greeted you. "Finally!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "I was starting to think you got lost."

"You know I wouldn't miss this," you said, squeezing her back. "Besides, you'd hunt me down if I didn't show up."

"Damn right I would," she laughed, tugging you inside. "The girls are super excited to see you. It's been forever since your last visit."

The moment you stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the dorm wrapped around you. Wonyoung was stretched out on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels, while Rei and Liz were huddled together, arguing over the rules of a card game. Leeseo was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her phone in hand, scrolling through social media.

"Unnie!" Wonyoung called out, her face lighting up as she jumped to her feet and rushed over to hug you. "You're finally here!"

"Finally," Rei echoed, smiling as she set her cards down. "Gaeul's been talking about you nonstop."

"It's been too quiet without Gaeul's sister around," Liz teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at their welcome, but your eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where Yujin stood leaning casually against the wall. Her gaze met yours, and in that instant, the air between you seemed to hum with unspoken tension. She didn't rush over like the others, but her small, knowing smile sent a shiver down your spine.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice cutting through the noise like a thread pulling you closer.

"Hey," you replied, your pulse quickening.

— — — — —

It all started on one of your earlier visits to the dorm. Gaeul had invited you over to celebrate a milestone in the group's journey, and the night had been filled with laughter, food, and music. You remembered feeling a bit out of place at first, watching the girls interact with such ease, their bond palpable. But Gaeul made sure you were included in every joke, every story.

That night, you had stepped out onto the small balcony to get some fresh air, the city lights twinkling below like scattered stars. You leaned on the railing, letting the cool breeze wash over you, enjoying the quiet escape from the lively chatter inside.

"You okay?" a voice had asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to find Yujin standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the warm light from inside. She stepped out, joining you at the railing, her shoulder brushing against yours. The casual contact sent a small thrill through you, though you quickly pushed the feeling aside.

"Yeah, just needed a breather," you said, offering her a small smile. "It's a little overwhelming, but in a good way."

She nodded, her gaze drifting out over the cityscape. "I get that. Sometimes, it's nice to just...be still."

The two of you stood there in silence for a while, the sounds of the city below filling the quiet. It was a comfortable silence, one that didn't need to be filled with words. But eventually, Yujin spoke again, her voice softer, more introspective.

"You know," she began, "it's rare to find someone who doesn't expect anything from you. Someone who just...lets you be."

You glanced at her, noticing the way her brows knitted together, as if she were wrestling with thoughts she wasn't used to sharing. "I guess we all need that sometimes," you said gently. "Someone who sees us for who we are, not what we can do for them."

Yujin turned to face you then, her eyes searching yours. "Yeah," she murmured, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. "It's nice. Being around you feels like that."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. And before either of you could second-guess it, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. It wasn't planned or rehearsed; it was spontaneous and real, a quiet confession shared under the stars.

When you pulled back, her eyes were wide, filled with uncertainty and something else—something that mirrored your own feelings.

"I..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," you said, cutting her off gently. "But I'm glad you did."

That moment was the beginning of something neither of you could define. It wasn't a relationship, but it wasn't just a passing fancy either. It was something more, something that lingered in the stolen glances and secret smiles you shared whenever you visited the dorm.

— — — — —

Back in the present, the living room was alive with laughter as the group dove into a game of charades. Gaeul was your partner, and her over-the-top miming had you laughing so hard, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"Come on!" Gaeul groaned, flailing her arms as she tried to convey octopus. "You're supposed to be good at this!"

"You look more like a flailing chicken," you teased, wiping your eyes as you guessed correctly at the last second.

The room erupted in laughter, and Gaeul threw herself onto the couch in mock defeat. "I can't believe you got that."

But even amidst the fun, you were hyper-aware of Yujin's presence. She was watching you from across the room, her eyes soft but intense, as if she could see right through the façade of the game to the emotions you were trying to keep hidden.

"Truth or dare?" Wonyoung called out, shifting the game to a more playful and dangerous territory.

When it was Yujin's turn, she glanced at you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Dare."

Wonyoung grinned, leaning forward. "I dare you to tell us about your first kiss."

The room erupted into cheers and teasing, but Yujin kept her gaze on you, her smile turning softer, more intimate. "It was...unexpected," she said slowly. "But it felt right. Like everything else disappeared for a moment."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the glass of water in your hands.

— — — — —

The tension between you and Yujin had been simmering all night, and when you slipped away to the kitchen for a moment alone, you weren't surprised when she followed.

Her hands were on your waist before you could turn, her body pressing gently against yours, grounding you in the present.

"I've been waiting for this," she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game," you murmured, though you didn't move away.

"Maybe I like the danger," she countered, turning you in her arms to face her. Her eyes searched yours, filled with longing and something deeper.

Her lips captured yours in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was a release, a culmination of every stolen moment, every unspoken word. Her hands slid under your shirt, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as the world outside the kitchen faded into insignificance.

"Yujin," you gasped, breaking the kiss to catch your breath, your forehead resting against hers.

"We can't keep pretending this doesn't matter," she said, her voice trembling. "Not anymore."

"I know," you whispered, your hands tightening around her.

— — — — —

The laughter from the living room faded into the background as you stood in the dimly lit kitchen, Yujin's hands resting lightly on your waist. The warmth of her touch seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the moment. Her eyes, dark and filled with unspoken longing, held yours, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world didn't exist.

"We can't do this here," you whispered, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed the conflict within you.

Yujin's lips curled into a soft, teasing smile, her thumb brushing gentle circles against your hip. "I know," she murmured, her voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. "But I couldn't stay away."

Her words wrapped around your heart, tugging at the very core of your resolve. The tension between you had been simmering for months, unspoken but palpable in every glance, every accidental touch. And now, here you were, on the precipice of giving in.

You leaned in slightly, the space between you diminishing until her breath mingled with yours. The air grew thick, charged with anticipation. Before you could think better of it, Yujin's lips brushed against yours in a tentative kiss, a soft press that quickly deepened. Her hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, slow and deliberate, as though savoring every second.

The sound of muffled laughter from the living room was a distant hum, barely registering over the pounding of your heart. Yujin's fingers slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine through the thin fabric of your shirt. Every touch sent sparks skittering across your skin, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing second.

"We'll have more time later," Yujin whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with restrained desire.

You nodded, breathless, reluctantly pulling away. "We should go back before they notice."

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, filled with a promise that sent your pulse racing. With one final glance, you both stepped back into the living room, trying to mask the heat that still simmered between you.

— — — — —

Gaeul greeted you with a wide grin as you rejoined the group. "There you are! We thought you got lost."

"Just needed some water," you said, settling back down beside her. "What's next?"

"Codenames," Rei announced, holding up the box with a triumphant grin. "Let's see who the real spymaster is."

The group quickly divided into teams, the energy in the room shifting as everyone focused on the game. Gaeul was beside you, her competitive spirit coming alive as she strategized her next move. Wonyoung's exaggerated guesses had everyone in fits of laughter, while Liz's dramatic clues left the room in suspense.

But even amidst the chaos, you couldn't help but feel Yujin's gaze on you. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and the world around you would blur, the tension crackling between you like a silent current. Her subtle smiles, the way her fingers tapped against her knee, as if itching to reach for you, kept your heart pounding.

"Gotcha!" Gaeul shouted, breaking your reverie as she pointed triumphantly at the board. "We win!"

"Luck," Rei groaned, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Pure luck."

"Skill," Gaeul corrected, winking at you. "Right, sis?"

You laughed, nodding. "Definitely skill."

As the game wound down, the energy in the room shifted, growing more subdued as the night stretched on. One by one, the girls began excusing themselves, retreating to their rooms.

"I'm exhausted," Wonyoung yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "I'm heading to bed."

"Me too," Liz added, nudging Rei. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Night," you and Gaeul called out in unison, watching as they disappeared down the hall.

Soon, it was just you, Gaeul, and Yujin left in the living room. The atmosphere was quieter now, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound filling the space.

"I think I'll head to bed too," Yujin said softly, standing from her seat. Her eyes met yours for a brief moment, a silent promise lingering between you. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

— — — — —

As Yujin disappeared down the hall, the dorm fell into a deeper silence. You leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly, the weight of the night pressing against you. Gaeul shifted beside you, her gaze steady and knowing.

"You think you're being sneaky, don't you?" she teased, her voice light but filled with amusement.

You turned to her, eyebrows raised in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She chuckled softly, nudging you with her shoulder. "I've known about you and Yujin for a while now."

Your heart skipped a beat. "You... you knew?"

Gaeul nodded, her smile turning softer, more affectionate. "Yeah, it wasn't that hard to figure out."

"But how?" you asked, still processing her words, your mind racing to all the moments you thought you'd been discreet.

"There was this one night," Gaeul began, settling in comfortably, "when Yujin and I had a little to drink. Just enough to get her talking. She's pretty weak to alcohol, you know."

You nodded, listening intently.

"She started talking about someone she had feelings for. She didn't say your name at first, but she kept going on about how this person made her feel like she could be herself, like she didn't have to be perfect all the time." Gaeul's eyes twinkled with the memory. "And then, without realizing it, she said your name."

You sat up straighter, shocked. "She did?"

Gaeul grinned. "Yeah, she didn't even notice. But I did. And from then on, I started watching. You guys weren't as subtle as you thought. I even caught you making out in the kitchen once."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Gaeul!"

She laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "It was gross but in a cute way. Honestly, I just want you to be happy."

A warmth spread through your chest at her words. "Thanks, Gaeul."

She smiled, leaning her head on your shoulder.

— — — — —

Once the dorm had quieted down, you found yourself standing outside Yujin's door, your heart thudding in your chest. The anticipation of being alone with her again filled you with both excitement and nervous energy. You knocked softly, and Yujin opened the door almost immediately, her eyes softening as she took you in.

"Hey," she said, her voice quiet and inviting.

"Hey," you replied, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from a small lamp casting warm shadows on the walls. It felt cozy, intimate—a world away from the bustling dorm outside.

Yujin closed the door behind you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Instead, she reached out, her fingers intertwining with yours as she guided you to sit on the bed. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the weight of everything unsaid but understood.

"What are we doing?" she asked softly, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath, meeting her gaze. "I don't know," you admitted, squeezing her hand gently. "But I know I don't want to stop."

Yujin's smile widened, her eyes glistening with something unspoken. "Me neither," she whispered, leaning in slightly, her forehead resting against yours.

Before either of you could say more, the door burst open with a loud bang, and Gaeul marched in, grinning from ear to ear. She threw herself onto the bed between you two with all the dramatic flair of a little sister who knew exactly what she was doing.

"What are we talking about?" Gaeul asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she wiggled her way between you and Yujin, making herself comfortable.

"Gaeul!" you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-exasperated, as she sprawled out across the bed, pulling the blanket over herself.

"What?" she said innocently, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm curious."

Yujin chuckled, shaking her head, clearly amused. "We were just talking," she said, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

"Mm-hmm," Gaeul hummed, snuggling deeper into the blanket. "Sure, sure. But seriously, I'm glad you guys found each other. It's cute. Gross, but cute."

Before you could respond, the door opened again, and Wonyoung peeked in, her eyes lighting up when she saw the three of you. "Ooh, a secret meeting? Without me?" she pouted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Rei followed close behind, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on in here?"

Liz and Leeseo appeared right after, each carrying their own blankets and pillows, grinning as they entered the room.

"Sleepover in Yujin's room!" Liz announced, dropping her pillow onto the floor and flopping down.

"I knew something was up," Leeseo said, setting her blanket down and joining Liz. "You guys can't hide anything from us."

You exchanged a glance with Yujin, who looked equally surprised and amused by the sudden invasion.

"This wasn't exactly planned," Yujin said, but there was no trace of annoyance in her voice. Instead, she smiled, scooting over to make room for the others.

"It is now," Wonyoung declared, climbing onto the bed next to Gaeul. "There's no way we're missing out on the fun."

Rei grabbed a spot on the floor, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied grin. "This is perfect. We haven't done a proper sleepover in ages."

Gaeul turned to you, her expression smug. "See? It's not just me who thinks you two are cute. Now, let's make this an official sleepover."

You couldn't help but laugh as the room filled with chatter and the sound of blankets being spread out. Yujin leaned in close to you, her voice low enough for only you to hear. "Well, so much for being alone."

You smiled, squeezing her hand. "This isn't so bad."

Yujin's eyes softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It's perfect."

As the night wore on, the room became a cozy nest of warmth and laughter. Gaeul told embarrassing stories from your childhood, Wonyoung shared funny anecdotes from their tour, and Rei attempted to start a pillow fight that quickly devolved into chaos.

You leaned against Yujin, her arm draped around your shoulders, feeling the weight of the day melt away. It wasn't the private moment you had imagined, but it was something even better—being surrounded by love, laughter, and the people who mattered most.

And as the early hours of the morning crept in, you realized that these moments, chaotic and unexpected, were the ones you would treasure the most. Together, with Yujin and your newfound family, everything felt right.

The future could wait. For now, this was enough.

[selineram3421]

👁️

You're Off-key

Part 1

Prologue

Reader X Gravity Falls

Warnings ⚠

⚠ italics=thoughts, swear words, some or many book of bill spoils, blood, mentions of a concussion, minor panic attack, we pacing now lol, ugh Disney mention ⚠

Ow..

You woke up in pain and the sunlight hitting your eyes.

Everything hurt.

Like a lot.

Geez.. You thought with a groan. Why is everything so bright? What is this vividness? Disney?

Sitting up, you notice that you're still in the woods and it's around noon or at least in the afternoon. Rubbing the back of your head, you try to remember what happened.

I was in the woods..with spaghetti and..my best friend was going to take my picture. Ow-!

You hiss and you pull your hand away from your head, finding blood once getting a look at it.

"Oof ok, time to go get help.", you said to yourself and stood up.

Like any gamer out there, you checked your surroundings before checking your inventory. So far you were deep in the woods that looked oddly..cartoonish? And you had a backpack nearby with a water bottle, phone, and wallet inside.

Where's my flashlight? Wait, I had a flashlight? Also, where's by bestie?

Every time you thought about it your head would start hurting.

"Never mind that, I have to get moving before it gets dark out.", you sighed and began walking.

In all honesty, you did not know where you were going. Just picked a direction and decided that was good enough. Maybe you'll find civilization or maybe you're walking deeper into the woods. Who knows!

My brain is a little optimistic right now. You thought. Or maybe it's due to lack of sleep.. I was driving the whole time.

Then you started getting a little clumsy.

Tripping, swaying, falling flat on your face a few times, and overall just feeling drained. Also, you kept hearing maracas? Was that some kind of bird or something?

Ah, wait. Wasn't that the Hide Behind? You remembered about reading it in Journal 3 and that scene when Mabel says maraca owl. Maybe it is a maraca owl or maybe it's the tall thing that follows people.

Currently, you were laying on the ground because you fell..haha. AGAIN.

Thank Glob you landed on grass this time.

Ok. Do I or do I not take a nap? Probably not the best choice because I might have a concussion. Hm..the choices.

Deciding on one last try, you push yourself off the ground, take a quick sip of water, and continue on your journey! Nothing was gonna stop you now-!

Oh, a bird!

Then you ran into something, fell back and hit your head on the ground.

It was silly because it was kinda like a light switch.

You were awake and then you passed out,

Ha!

⯅

OW! How many times am I going to wake up in pain!?

"Great job Dipper! You killed someone!", a feminine voice said.

"They aren't dead! They just hit their head and passed oUt after they fell!", another voice says with a slight voice crack.

"Haha ha!", the girl laughs. "Your voice cracked."

Slowly waking up, you feel a type of rocking motion, like you're in a car or something.

A car!?

You sit up quickly. Too quickly and almost fall out of the golf cart but someone manages to pull you back to the seat.

"Whoa! Careful, you do not want to fall out of this thing when going almost full speed.", the female voice says next to you.

Looking over, you find a brown haired girl wearing a keyboard sweater.

"Hi! I'm Mabel! I have a pet pig named Waddles!!", she introduces herself loudly.

You feel your head hurt at her polite screeching.

"Ow. Hold on, give me a sec.", you say and rub your forehead.

"Uh.. Mabel? It's not a good idea to be loud around someone who just woke up after hitting their head.", the guy says, who you are assuming is driving the golf cart.

"Oops.", the girl, Mabel, smiles at you sheepishly. "My bad."

You wave her off.

"It's fine, I've dealt with worse.", you reassure.

"Let me start again.", she says and extends a hand for you to shake. "I'm Mabel and the one driving the golf cart is my twin brother, Dipper."

"STOP THE CART!"

The golf cart screeches to a stop and you hobbled your way out, beginning to pace back and forth.

Holyshitthisexplainsalot!That'swhyeverythingwassobrightandcartoonybecasuethisisfuckingDisneyshit!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH-!

"Uh..you ok there?", Mabel asks.

"Um? Maybe? I-", you begin but then panic about what to say next.

Shitshitshitshit! Think of something! Anything!

"I don't remember how I got into the woods..", you say and cringe.

Yeah! Nice job! Now you're suspicious! YA DOINKUS!

"O..k, so you hit your head harder than we thought.", Dipper speaks up. "Let's get you patched up and see what we can do from there, ok?"

Pros: Going with two of your favorite characters will lead to adventures. Cons: They might try to read your mind to see if you're a threat and might threaten you with some random weapons..

.....

"I guess I can go with you guys until I can go to the hospital or something.", you say and finally stop imprinting foot prints into the dirt.

"Cool!", Mabel cheers. "Let's go! I've got Mabel juice in the fridge and I wanna see if the new dinosaurs inside taste different!"

"That's not how that works.", her brother mumbles and puts the golf cart in drive.

Hopping back on, you notice your backpack was opened.

"Uh? Who raccooned into my pack?", you asked.

"Racooned?", the Pines driving asks.

"Dug through your stuff? That was Dip.", Mabel says, completely understanding what you meant.

"Oh, sorry.", Dipper pipes up. "That was to see your ID, nothing else. I mean, wouldn't you try to identify someone after they passed out randomly?"

He is kinda right.

"Understandable racooning.", you say and start to brain storm ideas for a plan on how to stay under the radar.

Ok, so I might have/most likely freed Bill and now I have to do something about it before he's running wild around Gravity Falls again...fun.

You sigh and just decide to sit back and enjoy the ride for now.

Jerk didn't let me keep the pictures.

The sun was starting to set, within a few minutes you saw the Mystery Shack in the distance.

23 1 12 11 9 14 20 15 20 8 5 16 9 14 5 19

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@diffidentphantom @sleep-7372 @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mspurpl3 @+?

GF List🏞️ | YO-🎹

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Twenty

Summary: Geta & his reader are finally wed, Geta remembers when he first saw reader, when he first wanted her.

Notes/Warnings: 18+, p in v consensual sex, squint dommy/darker Geta, squint breeding kink, mentions of voilence, dated views of marriage..man/women dynamics, flashbacks in italics. I give a backstory to the little girls (from the deleted scene…included in the collage) seen tossing flower petals. Mixed in some traditional Ancient Roman practices with some bits that are the “writer” in me. Enjoy!

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” : “Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia." traditional Roman wedding vow, stola & palla: parts of women’s clothing in Rome.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback are all welcome. 💐 (sorry for the delay on this chapter) Thank you for reading! ❤️

You bathed once again, fresh braids with new ribbons twined your hair. You ignored the sliver of red that remained Tertia’s dagger near your heart. It was vivid and red but had not drawn blood.

You were grateful no damage by the grace of the gods had been done to your wedding clothes. Through the pain during the violent attack you saw the stars. You were still unsteady by the attack. You wondered how long she had been planning it. The thought made you ill.

Stirring in Geta’s arms was truly a gift. A soft look had come from him. His eyes like warm like a summer’s soil despite his sharp appearance; the finely crafted ebony lines that traced his eyes or powder that dusted his smooth face. His softness, made your affections for him to grow.

*******

The spice of incense filled the air. He stood waiting for you. He had wrung his hands behind his back in anticipation. It had felt like this day was longer than most in his life. His eyes settled on the follows Mila and Flora had sprinkled in their wake.

He had always thought, Caralla would be impulsive and marry. It would be a scandal. It would have been frowned upon and it would have been nulled. There would have been a lot of drama.

As he grew into a man, first son his mother reminded him of the importance of marriage and having a heir. His father when not beating on him and Caracalla, more him would speak of expanding the empire. It was the only thing he was ever in agreement with his father.

He wanted Rome to be as large and as powerful as possible. Marriage and having a heir bored him. It made him vulnerable. He never wanted that. And yet a solid party or particularly in fight in the arena pleased him. Punishing foes in it brought an invigorating enjoyment to it.

It was in his royal box, when everything changed for him. A gentle breeze swirled into the royal box; it drew his attention away from his gladiator that was astride a rhino. He watched as a stray strands blew into your eyes. You were as delicate as the petals that were now thrown at his feet.

The room brightening, he looked up as Aelia holding a robust torch stood a safe distance behind you. The sight of you with the crown and gold veil obscuring your face made his heart skip.

*******

Candles flickered, the scent incense swirled in the air. Distantly, the small coin shifted in your shoe as you walked. You focused on the one you held. As Aelia, followed with a brilliant torch which brought a great warmth as she followed close.

Just ahead of you; you saw as the little girls who were always called upon to toss flower petals. They were always called upon when needed, last you saw them was when Rome was seeing off General Acacius. He was atop his large, strong horse that he would ride to his ship. Now they were there for you. The petals you saw underfoot, were lovely and rich in color.

The two girls were sweet, well cared for. Aelia, was a mother to them. From the handful of moments, you had seen them with her. The whispers you had heard, spoke of their parents having taken ill and Aelia had taken up the care of them.

Geta, had bestowed them to her. Though, it was well known that she carried out all of her duties for Geta and Caracalla; along with the duties of the little ones. Usually, you saw them helping with the culina. Helping to clean and gather the fruits and nuts for Geta, Caracalla and now for you to enjoy. Their clothes for this grand day was even lovelier than ever.

Finally, glancing up you saw that you had reached where Geta stood, the sight of him before you stole your breath. He looked absolutely magnificent, your heart squeezed with excitement.

********

As you drew closer, he remembered the stolen moment. He had needed some air, Caracalla was being particularly excessive with his drinking so he needed to just step away. Hearing voices, he paused in the shadows. It had not taken him long before he realized it was your voice he heard. As he heard how you knit words together kept him listening. It made him more curious about you. He was certain the gods chose you to be the embodiment of the poetry and art he loved so dearly. The more he heard you speak, he knew he had to have you. And now he did.

******

Gently, you opened your veil. The material was as soft as a breath. You barely felt it. Blinking, you looked and met his eyes. A warmth, a happiness came over you. A soft smile curled his lips.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” You whispered, offering a gentle hand to him.

He gently took your hand in his. “Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

With his other hand, he easily slid a far grander ring upon your finger it nestled the one he had given you prior nicely.

“My heart.” He whispered.

His soft words made your eyes water.

Gently turning his hand you placed the ceremonial coin into his palm. It had been made during the time of his father. On the side opposite his father’s face was one of venus. Now, that he would lead as emperor, a coin would be made in his honor.

Once in the city walls of Rome, you had seen and even used a coin that had the profiles of both him and Caracalla. It had an astonishing resemblance to the both of them. You would have had never thought, one day you’d be in the same space of them or even come to love of them.

Your affection for him continued to grow. He had chosen you to be at his side; yet there was a distant tingle of apprehension. Silently, within your heart you gave prayers of gratitude to the gods, goddesses. Yet, you wondered what they chose for the both of you.

*******

As you drew close, he could barely discern, your silhouette under the delicate golden colored veil. How delicate you were at this moment, made him pause. This was it. A new life for him was beginning and he felt exhilarated.

His mind’s eye easily knew the curve of your lips, the apple of your cheeks and the vibrance of your eyes; he grew hungry for the feel of you.

He gently took your hand in his. “Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

You easily revealed yourself from behind the veil and his breath caught despite all the tribulations of the day, you were his beauty.

Your voice soft and ever so pleasing to his ears.

Easily, he placed your hand within his. Barely pausing, he slid a far grander ring upon your finger it nestled the one he had given you prior nicely. You were now, his wife…his empress; and the spoke the part that remained.

“My heart.” He whispered.

As he saw tears in your eyes, he longed to brush them aside with his thumb, or even kiss them away.

He was ready to truly lead and have you at his side.

*******

He had held above you the cake, easily crumbling it far above your laurel crown and the animals had been given to the gods, goddesses; now the celebration was in full swing. The finest foods were displayed and passed around on beautiful plates. Music filled and swirled in the fragrant air.

“Blossom, you are now the empress of the world.” Geta’s whispered in your ear, he brushed away some crumbs of cake he had broke above your head, as he did he saw a shaving from a walnut that lingered on one of your shoulders.

A flush filled your cheeks as you turned to look at him. “As long as I am by your side, that is all that truly concerns to me.”

He smiled. “You will always be my sweet blossom.”

You nodded.

He reached and held your hand, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “Does this all please you?”

“I don’t know where or what to enjoy first?” You confessed. “But the dancers and singers are lovely.”

“They are. They arrived from one of our new providences.”

You nodded.

Sitting back he smiled, pleased. Many a wonderful tribute had been made to the two of you. Despite Thraex and his attempt to dampen the mood of this union, the people in attendance appeared happy.

He would have to keep an eye on that power hungry senator.

Your brother and his continued to get along, this helped his spirits. That illness that had taken ahold of his brother could let itself known at anytime and was violent. He had worried it would bring a sourness to Caracalla since they both knew that the marriage would mean. At the moment, he saw him smiling and enjoying the company of a dancer that swished closer to him. A large plate of food sat in front of him and had a wine in hand. He could see just how content he was, this meant the night would end well considering how badly the day had begun.

Silently, in his heart he spoke prayers for his gratitude over how well had turned. He could have lost you. Glancing at you, he squeezed your hand that he still held. He was also beyond grateful that his brother’s illness had not brought a shadow of madness today.

Taking a sip of his wine, he felt good.

*******

Excitement tingled within you, as you stood in the middle of the chambers that the two of you now would share. Your laurel crown and veil sat beside his at a nearby table. You still marveled at how you had kept it atop your head the entire evening during the festivities. You had stood up and sat, a handful of moments, had it remained unwavering.

Glancing, at his grand bed which looked far bigger than he had previously, you longed for to join with him as a man and wife did. Idly, you wondered if it would feel different since you two were now married.

You watched as Geta, took a hold of the ceremonial dagger. His clothes swung and flowed as turned back to you. There was a twinkle in his eye that shone as brightly as his good mood.

He reached out and pulled you to him by the knotted belt that had hung from your waist. Seeing, feeling that small display of strength pleased you.

“My wife, my empress.”

“I am.”

“With slice of this dagger, I cut to free you from your previous bonds of life.”

“Yes, my sire.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“It You will free you to be my wife, mother of the children we will surely have, empress of the Roman people and so that you can accompany me the underworld when death has come for me.”

“Free me, my love.” You replied softly.

Once again nodded. Your heart beat harder as he tugged harder on the belt, pulling you even closer. He rose his hand that held the dagger, the belt hung tautly onto you. Lowering the sharp blade it easily sliced the knot at the center of the belt.

You wilted into one of his waiting arms as the belt then fell to the ground at your feet. His eyes met yours as he looked down at you. A smile curled his lips. He brought the dagger up once more. He glanced at it and then you.

“My brother in one of his fits, would have wished me to plunge this into your heart.”

“Yes. It would have been your right. He suspected, I wanted to take you from this world.”

“Yes.”

He threw the dagger into the shadows of the room, the metal clanking against the floor as it tumbled. He brought a hand to your throat.

“I would have much rather stolen your breath with hands around your subtle throat.”

“I would have let you. To perish by your hands would have been a great pleasure.”

His words, the look that entered his eyes made your heart thud harder. A sharp, aching need to feel and have him above you grew between your legs. His lips curled from a smile into a smirk, as you felt as his thumb caress your throat. You trembled gently.

“I still wish to steal your breath but only as our passions are met and we become one.”

“Then do not delay our passions any further my husband, my emperor.”

********

He did not know what had taken him over. The dark edge that had first emerged between the two of you brought an exquisite contrast to the warmth and love he felt for you.

“You are beautiful.” He breathed. “Get onto bed, I don’t want to wait.”

He loved seeing the dusting of pink that reached your cheeks. You slipped from his arms and your wedding clothes, he loved being able to see your curves once again especially as you were crawling over the expanse of the bed.

******

He pulled himself free of the many layers that covered him, before finally crawling over and settling happily between your legs. With a smirk still across his face, on he relished the sight of your legs opening wider for him. Moving just so, he captured your mouth with his. He could taste the fruit and sweets, you both indulged in. Though they tasted better on your lips.

As he kissed you still bracing himself on the bed, he reached down. Laying a hand on your soft mound, he allowed his thumb to graze your special bud that was nestled at the apex between your legs.

“Geta.”

His stomach tightened in pleasure at how his name was a mixture of a purr and a moan.

“Did that feel good blossom?” He met your eyes, he could see the fire of your passions in them.

“Yes.” You licked your lips.

He needed to watch as you writhed under him once again. His thumb grazed you once more.

His desire, knotted in his stomach. Biting back his own moan, he wrapped his fingers around himself.

“We will become one blossom, my empress.”

“Yes, yes please.”

Gently he rubbed his tip against to soft petals that were you. Were as dewy as a spring morning. He loved knowing he was the cause of this. Taking a breath, finding your entrance with the greeting of gentle snugness he then slid into you. He finally could not contain the moan that erupted from him. You felt amazing.

******

Pleasure ripped through you as you felt him enter you. Moans, whimpered poured from your lips. As your eyes met, you felt as he took a hold of hip and soon the passions ignited between the two of you. Lips met, both of you moved together and moans became you one.

“Perhaps this time, since we are man and wife, your belly will take my seed.” His voice was deep and raspy in his pleasure as he spoke in your ear.

“Yes. Yes.” You moaned softly, writhing in his arms.

Thoughts barely filled you. The pleasure was intense.

“Call out for me, wife. Call out for me.” He urged.

Distantly, you felt as one of his hands drifted between the two of you. Next, stars burst as if from the heavens as his touch sent off your pleasure.

“Ooh Geta.” You called out. “Geta!” His name burst from deep within you. You trembled.

“Look at me.” His hair was a mess and wild, like true fire and his eyes matched it.

He moved what felt like deeper within you. It made you call out in pleasure, as his fingers dug into your hip.

Through your half open eyes, heavy with bliss you watched as he arched between your legs, your name one mingling with his own moan. He choked, gasping for air and called out as you felt his seed spilled, filling you.

********

Stirring, a soft sound came from you. Your eyes fluttered open to find Geta holding your hand. The rings were flush as they fit snugly on your finger.

“Something drifting in your mind?” You asked softly.

“I am fond of this. This is very pleasing to me.”

You smiled. “I do like these rings you chose for me. They are truly beautiful.” Any words you could express would truly pale to how you actually felt.

You glanced up at him. It gave you the view of how he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss just above the rings.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

*******

Aelia, fluffed the purple. The vividness of the purple palla contrasting the whiteness of the stola, made you truly feel like the flowers Geta always compared you to.

“They will love you, girl.” She whispered. You met her eyes and nodded.

“Don’t make her nervous, Aelia.” Even with the trumpets as loud as they were, you could still hear the jest in his voice.

“Far from it sire.” Her whispered.

You met her eyes over your shoulder, you shared a fleeting nod.

His hand met yours and squeezed.

“Yes, sister.” Caracalla, quickly added. Dondas, followed with a chirp as if to agree. “They had better. Or I will have their heads taken.”

You looked in his direction, just to his own laurel crown. You were not completely comfortable with this new dynamic to your relationship of sorts. You did not wish to upset his temperament. “Thank you.” You replied softly.

*******

“Citizens of Rome!” The herald called out.

Silence fell over the crowd, high and low born alike.

Your stomach twisted. You reached and squeezed Geta’s hand, he replied with his own squeeze once again.

“Today is a day of celebration. We are in the presence of Emperor Geta and his wife, the empress….”

The excitement pounded in your ears that you could barely hear as he announced you.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringwhore @justalittlebitshy @littlemissholy @ruinedbythehobbit

[mykingdomforapen]

This is going to be such a longshot, but...there is a fanfic that I read back in 2008 that has stayed in my heart for the past 17 years. I read it when I was a child and ever since I have always remembered it as the fic that has stayed with me , deeply, for years and years and years to this day. I am a 30 year old woman and I still think about scenes, moments, catharsis from the fic. I admit I can't remember everything, but what I do remember is vivid and so touching. And I can't find the fic anymore.

It was an Avatar: The Last Airbender fic, and it was on good ol' fanfiction.net. It was finished before Book 3: Fire was released, so it might have been 2007 when I read it if that's the case. Either way, it was finished before 2008. It was a take on what Book 3 would be like, and it was a Zuko joins the Gaang fic. The fic itself I remember was titled "Book 3: Fire," which naturally was a very popular fic name. I do have a vague memory of the author's name, it was something like xcgirl08 or something. I remember wondering if their username had something to do with cross country, and if 2008 was their graduation year. But I can't remember if this is exact.

I have so many good memories of this fic. I remember leaving a comment at 13, then another at 17 being like "weep weep I am an OLD AND GROWN SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD WOMAN, BUT I STILL LOVE THIS FIC" etc etc. I might have left another one after that too, but I can't remember. Anyway, I was certain that I had added it to my Favorite Stories list, but I can no longer find it on there. It is possible that this person removed it, which would make me sad because I was feeling like rereading it after many years without, but I understand that is a thing that happens, especially with FF.net.

But if anyone might have on the SLIM SLIM chance of having read this fic too, or know if it's still floating out there somewhere, I would love to know. This fic really does have such a special place in my heart, and although it's been a very long time since I reread it, I still credit it as one of my favorite fics ever.

Some scenes that I remember vividly rewiring my brain:

Zuko and Katara were at one point captured and forced into a Coliseum-esque gladiator match with a dragon. They defeat the dragon and it was thrilling, but I think they showed mercy to the dragon and didn't kill it.

Afterwards, they were taken back to their cells, and Zuko finally tells Katara the story of how he got his scar. After he tells her the story, Katara's first words to him were like, "You lied to me, Zuko." Zuko goes ??? and Katara says, you told me that it was a scar of shame. But you were so brave.

In this fic, Ozai DID kill Ursa after she secretly saved Zuko from getting killed

In the grand final battle in the Fire Nation capital, I believe Katara was the one battling Azula, and she had ended up killing Azula. Azula's sort of concluding scene is dying, and in the afterlife she is her innocent and unburdened childhood self reuniting with her mother

Ozai and Aang were battling it out and at one point Zuko gets in between Ozai and Aang before Ozai could keep attacking Aang, urging his father to stop. Ozai sees Ursa in him, and in a moment of humanity and grief and conviction, surrenders to Aang instead of killing his son.

If i remember correctly, in an epilogue of sorts, Sokka gives Zuko a wolftail haircut

[lakesparkles]

Why are you here? (One shot)

I finished the niche oneshot scene with Thanos and Seo-wan!

Please read it below, if you want:

(NOTE: This is an AU that may make sense only to me ^^’. Everything between [ ] is Thanos speaking English)

 That was a good day. Yes, it was.

 Thanos walked around, almost aimlessly, repeating that same phrase in his head. He even brought his thumb to his lips, biting his nail lightly in concentration.

 What he knew was that there were good days and bad days, no matter your situation.

 He'd heard about that a long time ago. When he was a kid, very young. He had vivid memories of that time, not being able to stand spending an entire day inside a classroom. He wasn't usually a good student: skipping class in the bathrooms to smoke weed; running away from school when the staff didn't pay enough attention; taking out his frustration, even in a good-natured way, on people who didn't deserve it.

 When he started coming home with a black eye more often than not... It started to become a problem.

 It was around that time when he heard about the good days thing.

 He heard that from…

 Thanos stopped in mid-step, suddenly frustrated. He could remember the conversation itself perfectly, but not who he was talking to. It was an adult, yes. Someone much older than him. He put his hand on the back of his neck, frustrated by how the gesture hadn’t been able to make his memories clearer.

 It was with... His mother! Yes, of course, who else would it be?

 Then he started walking again with slightly unsteady steps.

 That day, years back, his mother had explained how necessary it would be for him to know the difference between a good day and a bad day. Thanos didn't pay much attention, because he thought he was about to get another scolding. However, what she explained was that a good day didn't always feel like one. It just needed to be better than a bad one. If he didn't feel terrible most of the time, it would be good enough.

 And now, at that moment, he was having a good day too. His heart was beating a little faster than usual. He was sweating cold, but only a bit. He felt nervous, but not too much.

 So it was a good day.

 "Mr. Choi!"

 He looked back reflexively, regretting it a second later. With a grunt, he lowered his shoulders and started walking again.

 "Mr. Choi? Are you okay?"

 He knew those nurses too well to know that this one wouldn't give up until she got an answer:

 "[I'm great, perfect even!]" He spoke in English, still with his back turned, but waving his right hand in the air. "I'm just going straight to my room, nothing else, señorita!"

 "When you say it like that, I think you're up to something," The nurse said with a small laugh.

 "No way! Me? Never!" Thanos laughed back, increasing his pace so that she wouldn't catch up with him. "[Goodbye!]"

 He arrived in the room a few moments later, satisfied that he had managed to (literally) escape a conversation. He just didn't feel like it. Not at all. To tell the truth, his head started hurting again, so it seemed like a good idea to just go back to his room.

 Without thinking much, he walked over to his bed, throwing his weight on it and feeling the bed frame creak. Some roommate - he didn't care enough to remember his name - complained about the noise, saying that he would end up breaking that thing.

 Thanos paid it little attention, ignoring him and stretching as dramatically as he could. An involuntary yawn even came out of his mouth, it was as if he yawned more often every day.

 Something about that place was that they always tried to keep their patients busy. Maybe so that they wouldn't even have time to think. Thanos had a theory that it would fix him, but in the end, he managed to appreciate the little free time he had in the afternoon. He didn't have a damn thing to do, but he could sleep.

 After five minutes, he realized that he wouldn't be able to sleep.

 So he sat up awkwardly on the bed, rocking his body from side to side.

 He felt like his head was about to explode. He could barely keep his eyes open, so he grunted loud enough to make it a problem for everyone there. Apparently, that automatically caught someone's attention.

 "Were you cursed too? It happened to me on that last mission, remember? Next time, it's better not to cross that bridge," The man in the bed closest to his own spoke in a neutral tone, but clearly confident about what he was saying. 

 That was the funny part! So Thanos smiled, turning towards him:

 "Oh yeah, dude? Do you know if the nurses would give me a healing potion twice in the same hour? It's a healing potion you say, right?" Thanos scoffed, even though he knew that Seo-wan (one of the only names he memorized from there) would take everything completely seriously.

  "Nurses?" The other seemed confused, however. "What are you talking about, bard Su-bong?"

 "Su-bong!?" Thanos exclaimed with the same intensity as someone who just received a slap in the face. "My brother, I already told you that I'm Thanos!"

 "You are not," Seo-wan laughed lightly. "Thanos is just a fictional character, I think you're a little confused.

 "Huh? That you are aware of- Ah, fuck it!" Thanos cut himself off and preferred to move on to the next subject before he got bored.

 First thing, however, he got up from his own bed, pretending that his legs were not wobbly and weak. In a few steps, he reached the other's bed, making himself comfortable and sitting next to him with a smile. Seo-wan returned it with the same gesture, despite poorly disguising his discomfort with the sudden proximity.

 Seo-wan could always maintain the appropriate posture, but Thanos was good at observing people. Even though he'd known Seo-wan for a few days - a little over a week -, he could capture all the little details: the way his shoulders tensed; him changing the focus of his vision to a random point before returning to Thanos out of pure politeness; how he licked his dry lips, something he rarely did.

 Seo-wan couldn't say that explicitly, but he didn't want Thanos there. That fact wasn't enough to make Thanos leave, but it didn't feel good either.

 "Are you bored too?" Thanos began, elbowing him lightly. "I tried walking around, there's no shit to do."

 "I kinda like it," Seo-wan shrugged. A simple statement, with nothing more to add.

 "How so? Damn, I feel like-"

 "Why are you here, bard Su-bong?"

 Thanos opened his mouth to answer, but he was too surprised to form any coherent thought. Since he had been admitted to that place, he hadn't seen Seo-wan acting like that - so direct. His gaze was fixed on Thanos, who had no choice but to stare at his dilated, almost intimidating pupils.

 "What are you-"

 "You're not like this!" Seo-wan didn't even allow him to finish his meaningless question. "I know you'd rather be hunting wild boars during these hours. Or anything else. You're always in someone's company for that too."

 "You're talking nonsense," Thanos looked away, not really knowing what the hell he meant. Usually, Seo-wan's analogies were weird, but understandable. If he tried a little, he could translate half of the words in his mind. Today, his head hurt like hell. "And, like, duh! Now I'm in your company, nothing new, right? Why are you surprised? Do you happen to like watching me?"

 "A little, yes," To his surprise, he received an immediate confirmation. "You're one of the only people here who can hear me too!"

 "Everyone here can hear you, man, they just pretend you don't exist," Thanos shrugged only to finish after a short pause. "Because you're a fucking weirdo."

 "That's not true!" For the first time, Seo-wan raised his voice. "The sorceress told me about everything they did to me! She gave me some instructions on how to end this specific spell... But I still haven't managed to fully unravel the enigma..."

 "Sorceress, [right...?]" Thanos remained serious, unimpressed. "Come on, man, do you know what I mean? It's impossible to understand anything you say!"

 Seo-wan seemed to give up on the little argument, making an impatient "tsk" as he lifted his chin and closed his eyes, to see if Thanos would simply stop existing.

 Thanos was about to make another joke, but suddenly stopped.

 It was a simple gesture.

 For a few seconds, Seo-wan raised his hand to his nose, scratching it lightly. There was something in the way he did it, mixed with the way his nose moved... Even Thanos's head stopped hurting for a second.

 He had to admit to himself that Seo-wan always made him feel strange. It was like that ever since he first saw him sitting around in the halls of the psychiatric ward. His gaze met his and Thanos noticed every detail at once, from his faint freckles to the way Seo-wan always kept his hands moving, restless. He was stupidly familiar, and Thanos knew why.

 It was at that moment that he realized that maybe that wasn't going to be a good day after all.

  "Hey, Seo-wan... Wizard, whatever," Thanos remained seated in the same place, even though he looked away and forced a more serious tone of voice. "Why are you here again?"

 Seo-wan hugged his legs and rested his chin on his knees, a little distracted during the short time Thanos had been silent:

 "Hmm? I'm just a little tired."

 "No, that's not it! Not in this bed, why are you here in general?"

 "In this region?"

 "That 's it."

 "I need to defeat the fire dragon, I thought I already told you that."

 Thanos nodded slowly, his gaze completely unfocused. But, of course, he didn't find much sense in what he heard, so he continued:

 "And why do you need to do this anyway?"

 "Isn't it obvious? It destroyed everything I had!"

 "The fire dragon…?"

 "Of course! I've been training for years, I don't think I've ever been so close to achieving it! That excites me, you know? I've focused on this for so long that I don't even know what I'm going to do next. Trying to figure it out thrills me even."

 "I see," - Thanos lied, despite being entertained. He hadn't even noticed the small smile that appeared on his lips. Now that he looked at him, he realized that Seo-wan seemed to be relaxed for the first time that afternoon, even releasing his legs from his own embrace and sitting up straight next to the other.

 "And you, bard Su-bong? Why are you here?"

 With a sigh, Thanos took the weight off his shoulders, already anticipating that very question:

 "Look, there's not only one reason."

 "I could notice."

 "Fuck you," Thanos pretended to be upset. "Dude, I have a huge list. Do you want it in alphabetical order or what? Sure, man, if you don't mind listening to me for a long time! Such an honor, I know you won't mind!"

 Fulfilling his goal, he heard Seo-wan laugh lightly. It didn't necessarily sound like his laugh, but it was close enough to make his heart ache.

 The comparison hadn't been a good feeling. Nor a bad one.

 And the worst part was that Thanos wasn't just lying for the sake of it. He really didn't know how to answer Seo-wan's question. ‘Because it's the first time I've spent more than a week sober in the last decade' could be a good start, but he didn't have the patience to go into any details. He didn't want to tell him more about his headache that wouldn't go away. Or about the chills he still felt days later. Or how ironically he felt exhausted and discouraged all the time. Or about all the times he'd yelled at some nurse when he regretted having gone there in the first place.

 It wouldn't be worth it.

 So maybe he could tell Seo-wan about everything he'd been through until he got there, but it wasn't like Seo-wan would understand or even believe it. Sometimes, even Thanos wondered if his memories were true. If he hadn't created another reality just to pretend that none of that had happened to him in the first place.

 However, what ended up coming out of his mouth was:

 "I miss someone."

 It wasn't the answer Seo-wan was expecting, he could judge by his mouth slightly open in confusion:

 "Really? Who?"

 "Uh..." Thanos scratched the back of his neck in reflex, not sure if he wanted to be honest. "A guy I met a few months ago. You don't know him."

 "I know but... He ended up here in this village? Are you looking for him around here?"

 "That's not exactly it," Thanos knew he was nowhere to be found. Not anymore.

 "Are you running away from him?"

 "No!"

 After realizing that his answer was louder than expected - even making Seo-wan's eyes widen slightly - Thanos stood up with a quick movement. Standing up, he dramatically cleaned an invisible mess from the hideous pants he was forced to wear there.

 "Bard Su-bong, did I say something that-"

 "[Relax, man, you're fine!]" Thanos raised both arms in the air, doing a few turns and turning his body in the same place. "He has nothing to do with you! I'm going to sleep now, okay? Or my head will disintegrate for real."

 He knew that Seo-wan knew he was lying. And he knew that Seo-wan knew he knew. Even so, he walked to his own bed and threw all his weight on the mattress again. Then he buried his face in the pillow and remained still. He couldn't see anything around him anymore, but he heard Seo-wan sigh and clear his throat, probably changing position and going to lie down too.

 But Seo-wan didn't say anything.

 This was wrong, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

 With another sudden memory, Thanos remembered how Nam-gyu would have followed him at the same moment, complaining and whining for Thanos to spill the beans. Nam-gyu could be insufferable when he wanted to, he lost count of the last time he could even think without that bastard's voice ringing in his ear nonstop. If Nam-gyu were there, he would have a worse headache and could already give up on his possible nap.

 But Seo-wan didn't say a single word, too polite to bother him.

 This bothered Thanos immensely.

 He thought about how Seo-wan had the same hair color as Nam-gyu, only much shorter. He also had the same faint freckles. He scratched his nose the same way. He sighed like him.

 But he was far from being Nam-gyu.

 So he concluded that his mother was right all those years ago. Today was indeed a good day.

[readychilledwine]

Hello. I hope everything this going well with you. I have to say I fell in love with your book boyfriend post and... It got me thinking on an idea I hope you can write for me.

So reader is the daughter of either feysand, necessian Or gywnriel ( sorry if I got the spelling wrong) and she is reading books which are way more smuttier than what the ladies read. And the dad is just not having it and momma is having that moment where she believes she raised her child the right way and is encoraging her.

Thank you and i hope you have a great weekend ❤.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Summary - After finding his daughter in the "I don't want Cassian to know I'm Reading Smut" Pose, girl dad Cass loses his cool

Warnings - girl dad cass, mentions of knife play and kink, smut

A/N - Happy @cassianappreciationweek! I should have posted this for family day, but day 7 it will be 💕

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

"No," Cassian muttered to himself as he saw his daughter in an all too familiar pose. "No. No. No. No. No!" Each no grew louder as he observed her. The soft flush on her cheeks, the subtle way she bit her lip, the way her eyes were wide with excitement.

That pose was one Nesta mastered. One of the many he had named, and seeing his babygirl, his little y/n sitting in it had his heart feeling as though a Naga had ripped it from his chest. He stormed his way to her, ripping the book from her lap and gasping at the filth before him. "Y/n! What is this?!"

You were in shock, tea stilled near your mouth as you blinked at your now empty lap, "Um, my book?"

"This isn't literature! This is! This is! Oh, Cauldron! No!" Cassian could look away from the words, could stop reading the sentence about the mysterious warrior using his dagger for obscene acts on the young maiden. He could stop the way his gut twisted with each word. "This is worse than what your mother reads!"

You stared at him, wings twitching, "Dad, I'm 27. If I want to read smut, I ca-"

"You can not," he cried. "Not my daughter. Nope." His head was spinning as Nesta came into the room, looking between you two. He turned on her so quickly, striding to her with two steps and holding the book to her pointed nose. "What is this!? Who gave my daughter this?"

Nesta couldn't hide her smirk, those silver eyes lighting up as she took the book, "Oh, this is delicious. Who is this by, my sweet dove?"

"Some new author. They just go by Yarrow."

Nesta nodded at your answer, sitting next to you on the couch, "And you understand this is dangerous in real life?" She was satisfied with your nod before pulling you into her so both of you could read the scene being painted before you.

Cassian felt the air leaving his lungs. His throat grew tight as he tried not to scream. "Nesta, we need to talk," he grit out. "Now, please."

His mate held her finger to him, grabbing your pressed flower book mark from Aunt Elain before setting the book on the coffee table. "Yes?"

"She can not be reading this shit, Ness. She needs to read... Anything but that." He motioned towards the book he desperately wanted to throw into the fire. "This is completely inappropriate for her at her age."

Nesta only hummed, "She is reading books similar to what I did at her age. I do not understand what you are so upset about." You glanced between both of them, suddenly feeling so small, so insecure. "I would rather she is reading these things than going to pleasure halls and-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Cassian's tone grew sharp. "Do not even joke about my daughter doing something like that. Do not put it out into the world."

"It's a book," you whispered. "It is just a book. I like how the author writes. I love their use of language and structuring. I enjoy the way they build worlds. Yes, there is smut, but the world building in this series is fantastic. Everything is vivid, well layout, clear, consistent. I really enjoy the story. The smut is just a bonus."

"It's very well written," Nesta hummed. "Graphic without teetering the line of uncomfortable."

Cassian glanced between the two of you again, "I do not like it." He began to pace, "I am not comfortable with her reading garbage."

You shrunk slightly, "It's a fantasy series about found family, finding inner strength, and healing, Dad."

"It's a smut novel!"

"It's her choice," Nesta growled back. The room grew cold at that. Cassian sitting in a mix of fear and respect as he stared at his wife. "She is a grown female. If she wants to read smut, that is her choice. This is a much healthier option to so many other things she could be doing to explore her sexuality, Cassian. We should be proud this is the method she has picked and not whoring herself out."

Cassian seemed to pale at that. The image of you doing what he had done as a young male, racking a body count with different fae every week, scarring his mind. He didn't want that. He wanted better for you.

He picked up the novel, "This isn't the only type of smut you read, correct?"

"No," you answered softly. "I prefer dark fantasy, but I do soft things too. I just finished one you might actually like." You ran to your book shelf, grabbing the novella. "It's about a warrior and a lady. He partakes in a knights contest and she offers him her favor. Very strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn."

You handed the book to your dad, smiling as he looked at the romance novel hidden behind a black leather cover.

"I also have this one about a couple who met over summer, fell in love, she went away for something, family stopped their communication, she comes back, they're still in love," you ran back to grab the other book. "There's a super passionate rain storm kiss. It'd be neat to have that some day."

Cassian rolled his eyes as the books slowly piled up. The novels varied from great adventures with a kiss of smut to downright no plot. He let his eyes go to Nesta, watching as she stared at you with a look of pride, love, and admiration. "Hey," he whispered to his wife. "That's your hard work, Ness."

Nesta sighed dreamily, watching as you grabbed a 10th book and physically crawled into Cassian's lap, telling him about the fae King of Night who forced criminals into bargains before falling in love with a siren.

Cassian tugged the bond, sending his white flag to Nesta, a silent "You win," as you settled into his lap, showing him how the author of the first novel had built her world, the maps included, and the brief history that went into the fantasy smut novel.

He found himself in the same spot hours later, you asleep on his chest while he read a soft romance novel and Nesta read something that had her eyes going wide.

He decided then that perhaps this wasn't so bad. There could be worse things than having a daughter so much like her mother.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlestw01f

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 14.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.15.

word count: 6,5K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen as beta reader and co-author of nsfw scenes. Big decisions are made as we inch toward the ending, more big decisions to come in the next chapter. This one has a bit of angst and making up :')

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A crumpled piece of paper stared at her from the desk, almost offensively. Don’t come. Ekko had been very clear about what was happening in Zaun—how they needed help and supplies—and yet, at the same time, he’d written, “Don’t come.” The words, scratched out in haste and frustration, outlined the chaos unfolding in the Undercity, painted in vivid, heart-wrenching detail. He spoke of the Chem-barons pushing harder, of the Grey spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, but it was the final sentence that cut deeper than the rest: Things look bad, but don’t come.

It was an incredibly stupid thing to say to someone whose first instinct was to do the exact opposite.

She knew how to sneak in unnoticed. She knew how to blend into the Undercity’s shadows, how to remain invisible on its streets even while carrying a massive bag filled with meds and supplies. She knew where to leave the packages and how to find Vander if the need ever arose. Her wardrobe even included the most inconspicuous clothes for this exact purpose, and she had practiced her most inconspicuous stroll to match. Yet nobody wanted her to go.

Ekko had told her not to come. Jayce would probably say the same. Was it fear for her safety? Or was it a plea for her to stay out of a war that had already begun to consume everything? Viktor—though he hadn’t said it so firmly—had shown it in his eyes. More than anyone, he didn’t want her to go. He’d all but forbidden her. The same way she had tried to forbid him from using the Hexcore.

Her chest tightened as she thought of his fractured resolve, of the utterly betrayed look on his face when he had found her clutching onto Jayce in the lab. How she had cried her heart out to Jayce, how she had confessed her complete, unfaltering devotion to Viktor. And yet it was Viktor who should have heard those words. Not Jayce. And certainly not like that. Not stolen or overheard in a desperate attempt to turn him away from his goal. He deserved so much better. He deserved to hear it in the safety of their bed, spoken with love and certainty—not anguish.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed the paper on her desk, her mind returning to the fleeting moment when Viktor had said, I am happy. How quickly that happiness had faded, replaced with another want—one far more dangerous and unapproachable than the concept of being loved. Or perhaps, she thought bitterly, they were equally alien to Viktor.

A knock on the door wrenched her out of her own head.

She glanced around her apartment, taking in its natural state of controlled chaos. Papers were scattered across her bed and floor, a few too many cups for one person splayed across various surfaces, clothes draped haphazardly over the chair. A scented candle burned faintly on the table, its singular ember a small, grounding presence in the midst of her internal monologue.

She sighed, stretched—she’d been sitting in the same position for what must have been two hours—and walked toward the door on wobbly legs.

When she opened it, Viktor stood on the other side, and her first thought was whether he had felt the same as she did now when she had shown up at his doorstep after their week apart. She mirrored his movements from that moment, fighting the immediate urge to pull him into an embrace. Instead, she settled for a gentle chin tilt, a silent beckon for him to come inside.

Wordlessly, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find his gaze fixed on the floor. His trembling hand gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles white with tension. He looked awful—worn, hollow somehow—but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Before she could form the words to greet him, he suddenly clutched onto her like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

“Forgive me,” he whispered desperately against her neck, his voice raw and unsteady.

His cane clattered to the floor. Viktor clung to her with so much need, his breathing laboured and erratic, as though every exhale cost him more than he could bear. Renly froze for a moment, startled by the sheer force of his grip, but instinct soon took over. She raised her hands, resting them lightly on his back, feeling the faint tremor coursing through his body. His arms encircled her neck, holding her so tightly it almost hurt, as though letting go might shatter him completely.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his anguish. "I’m so sorry."

Renly’s fingers pressed gently against the fabric of his coat; her touch uncertain but steady. "Viktor," she began softly, but he interrupted her with another broken apology, his words tumbling over one another like a prayer.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered again, the sound of it splintering her heart.

She tightened her hold on him, grounding him as best she could, though she couldn’t understand what he meant. Her mind spun. He did it, didn’t he.

"Viktor, talk to me," she said, her voice calm despite the storm she could feel radiating from him. "I’m here. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pressed his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven on her skin. She could feel his weight bearing down on her, not just physically, but emotionally, as though the very act of standing upright was too much for him.

"I’m afraid," he murmured at last, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

"Afraid of what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

"Of losing you," he admitted, his words breaking into a sob.

The sound sent a sharp pang through her chest. Viktor, who always carried himself with an air of precision and control, now stood before her utterly undone. He was a man stripped of his defences, standing on the edge of a precipice with nothing left to shield him.

"You won’t lose me," she promised, her voice firm despite the tears welling in her own eyes. "I’m right here, Viktor. I’m not going anywhere."

But he only clung tighter, as though her words weren’t enough to break through the crushing weight of whatever he was carrying.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. "I’ve done something… something I cannot undo."

Her breath caught. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands moving to his shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his face ashen with guilt and fear.

"What did you do?" she asked, the question gentle but unyielding.

Viktor shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought I could… fix—," he said, his words halting, as though even admitting it out loud might unravel him completely. "But I… I made a mistake, Renly. A terrible mistake."

A cold dread settled in her stomach. He did it. At least attempted it. She could feel her hands trembling—not just with fear, but with anger. Betrayal coursed through her veins, sharp and biting. How could he?

The thoughts poured into her mind, gnawing at each other, each one more vicious than the last. He’d gone ahead in his anger, in his stubbornness, and risked everything. Risked his life. Left her teetering on the brink of losing him entirely.

And for what? Because what she offered wasn’t enough? Because her care, her devotion, hadn’t been enough to make him stop, to make him reconsider?

The realisation burned her, stoking the flames of her own insecurities. She could feel the edges of her composure fraying as she stepped back from him, her arms dropping to her sides. The absence of her touch seemed to hit Viktor like a physical blow, his gaze snapping up to meet hers, wide and filled with something that might have been regret—or terror.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice colder than she’d intended, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Viktor flinched, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words pressed him further into the ground. His lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, as if reaching for something—her, maybe—but they didn’t move.

“I…” He muttered another apology, his voice barely audible, before finally forcing out the words. “The Hexcore. It… it nearly destroyed me.”

Nearly was an understatement. It had destroyed him—briefly—and then put him back together. Or rather, he had put himself back together with the last ounce of his will, while being consumed and pulled apart in every direction.

In that moment, a fleeting thought had crossed his mind, as one of the possibilities presented to him was an end. An end to his pain, to his indecision, to his fear. A blissful nothing had glimmered faintly before him, just within reach, offering peace and absolution. To become a part of the Arcane, forever forgotten and undisturbed.

Wrenching himself away from it had been the hardest thing Viktor had ever done—until now. Now, standing before Renly, he was faced with something even more daunting: proving his worth to her again. Explaining, somehow, that he had found all the answers he thought he needed, only to realise that none of them mattered without her. Explaining that he had stepped away—not because she was a consolation prize—but because she had always been, and would always remain, his first choice.

Emptiness echoed through Renly’s mind. Her anger faltered quickly, replaced by despair. She had despaired for him so deeply. Part of her wanted to reach back out and shield him from the world, to gather him in and protect him. But another part of her was so deeply wounded by the possibility—one that had never come to fruition yet had still clawed a gaping hole in her—that he had chosen otherwise, even briefly.

She willed her legs to move and passed him wordlessly on her way to the kitchen, granting him only a fleeting moment of her hand resting on his shoulder. She put the kettle on and pulled out two cups to later join her ever growing cup display across the apartment.

Viktor dragged himself behind her, eventually slumping into the chair like a defeated dog. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until she finally placed a steaming cup before him and took a seat across the table, facing him directly.

“All right. What happened?”

“Renly, I—” Viktor sniffled, struggling to gather words that would make sense. “I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Viktor. It already happened,” she said, exasperated, her voice tinged with annoyance. But seeing how he shrank under her scolding, she softened, reaching out to take his hand.

“I was so angry,” he admitted, his voice low and trembling. “With you, with Jayce. I suppose I felt exactly how you are feeling now.” He looked up, meeting her eyes with raw vulnerability. “I… I touched it. And it just devoured me. Broke me. Showed me what I could become—and the price for it. And I realised… I hated it.”

Renly held her breath, her hand retreating from his. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Well, slightly,” Viktor winced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s mostly my mind that’s hurt. My pride.” He thought of the way the Hexcore had terrorised him, its merciless grip, and how he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full truth.

“I can’t believe you threw it all away on a whim,” she blurted, unable to keep the accusation from slipping out.

“It was not a whim!” Viktor’s voice rose, but only briefly, before it broke into a sigh. “It was a promise of something better. For you. For me. Mostly for me,” he admitted, his gaze falling, his thoughts spiralling into incoherence.

“Viktor.” Renly’s tone was heavy, her emotions warring within her. “I can only imagine… No, actually, I can’t imagine what you feel every day.” She stopped him with a sharp look when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I’m so sorry that I don’t know. I was… I was afraid to lose you too.” Her voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried to hide.

“Renly,” he said, his words weighed down with difficulty, yet he forced himself to continue. “I would understand if this were something you cannot forgive.”

“Viktor, how can you—” she began, but the tears rolling down her cheeks choked the words in her throat. She raised a crook of her elbow to cover her eyes, desperately trying to steady herself.

A hysterical thought shot through Viktor’s mind—that this was their teary goodbye—and for a moment, he was certain he’d start crying as well. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat gathering under his lids, when her hands found him again. Her weight settled on his lap, her face nuzzling into his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, a full-blown cry that dampened his sweater and neck. “You’re so… good, and I haven’t told you,” she said, her voice breaking as she wiped her tears on him. “I didn’t know what I would do if you…” Another sob tore through her, ugly and raw, overblown with all the feelings she had bottled up for far too long.

 Viktor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer as he tried to suppress his own tears. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and he whispered hoarsely, “I know.”

And he did. He knew it with a clarity that terrified him. That feeling of being so completely entwined with someone else, so dependent on them for a piece of his own happiness—it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Never in his life had he allowed himself to need someone like this, to let someone burrow so deeply into the carefully constructed walls around his heart. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He didn’t want to.

“Will you…” His voice wavered as he pulled back just enough to meet her swollen, tear-streaked face. “Will you have me back?”

Renly blinked at him, her brows knitting together as if she wanted to argue, to challenge him, to tell him just how wrong he was. She’d never gotten rid of him in the first place. But the words didn’t come. Instead, her trembling hands cradled his face, and she leaned in, pressing a sloppy, tear-soaked kiss against his mouth.

“Yes,” she muttered, her lips brushing his as she spoke the word straight into him, warm and raw and final. “Yes.”

Viktor shuddered under her touch, relief washing over him. He kissed her back, softly at first, then with more urgency, needing to feel the truth of her words. It wasn’t elegant or perfect—it was messy and desperate, as he swallowed her tears down as if they were his own.

Wordlessly, Renly took his hands and guided him toward her bedroom, minding all the obstacles along the way, her movements impatient. Viktor stepped carefully behind her, taking in the clutter of random objects. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there; she had just added more colourful lamps.

Once they had reached the bedroom, she pushed the door shut before pinning Viktor against it, her hands reaching for his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss. He gave away a startled gasp, as she bit his lower lip and slid her palms underneath his shirt. His coat, long abandoned on the hallway floor, left him wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, and they gave off a faint metallic smell of blood and gear oil from the lab.

Viktor let out a chuckle, as her needy fingers rushed to undo his buttons and rush him out of the layers, scratching his chest with her fingernails by accident. With almost restrained movements, he did the same for her, as if his regard for clothes had vanished, and he only obliged because of her decency in not ripping the fabric right off his back.

With their mouths still glued together, Viktor let his weight rest on her, as he backed them toward the bed, positioning himself to sit first and pull her into his lap. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a tight embrace, his forehead resting in the curve of her neck. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed in deeply through his mouth and nose, hoping to keep her scent with him forever.

Renly ran her fingers down his spine, the bolts embedded in it, as she gently detached all the parts that corseted Viktor’s frame, rubbing her palms flat along the dents and marks it left in his skin. He let out a relieved exhale, as her mouth came back to his into a messy open mouth kiss, his hands pressing on her shoulder blades. Her lips needy, giving away moans of urgency, as if there wasn’t enough of him.

She stood up, guiding him with her, before she leaned down to take off his leg brace with a few quiet clicks and placed it by the bed. Viktor felt her hands sliding down his thigh, her fingers pressing gently around his knee. She then returned to level with him and licked the seam of his mouth as she unbuckled his belt.

Viktor hesitated; his hands travelled to steady hers before she could pull his pants down. There, below the layer of material, was the very proof of his infidelity, of his weakness. The purple, fluorescent vein that burned itself into the fabric of his flesh—a forever reminder of a moment when he almost let himself be corrupted.

She squeezed his palms and broke the kiss with a sigh. Her hands then cradled his neck, pulling him in so she could ghost his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids, his moles, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, the spot under his jaw, his neck, with her lips. A silent signal of acceptance, of forgiveness, of the fact that nothing had to be forgiven in that moment. Viktor’s hands hovered in the air patiently until her last kiss, when they rested on her hips, curling under the waistband of her pants.

They rid themselves of the last bit of clothing together, Renly’s eyes lingering for a moment on the alien string in Viktor’s body, his own eyes closed as he slid her pants off with the dull movement of his palms, cradling the skin of her legs. Standing close, but not close enough, Viktor reached out to slowly pull her flush against him. Their mouths came together wrenching breaths out of each other, his thumb stretching the muscle of her cheek as he sunk his tongue in her, breathing heavily through his nose, pressing his chest, his groin, his legs to her and her to his chest and groin so he could feel her naked against him.

Renly’s arms cradled his waist, her palms splayed flat on his back pushing him in, her teeth bringing blood onto his tongue. The fleeting moment of loss was gone, but the feeling of it still present, as they met each other truly for the first time—in hunger and longing, both searching for absolution in each other’s bodies.

Viktor lowered himself back to the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss only to sit her on top of his thighs, her legs straddling him tightly. He clung onto her for balance and for kindness, all their rituals previously established now abandoned for the sake of the urgency of feeling one another, sealing all the things that were close to breaking. He searched for consent in her eyes when his cock found her entrance, and she gave him a silent eager nod against his nose.

Viktor pressed himself in and paused mid-movement, noticing a wince cross her face. “Are you alright?” Of all things, this couldn’t hurt—it mustn’t.

“Yes… ah, yes,” she breathed into his mouth, sinking onto him up to the hilt, the stretch so gratifying she could cry again. A quiet ‘yes’ kept falling from her lips as Viktor’s hips thrusted upwards, their lips and noses bumping against each other in erratic rhythm.

She steadied herself, gripping his chin with one hand and his shoulder with the other, letting him take over, when his hand seized her palm and guided her fingers between them, where their bodies met. A bead of sweat travelled from the pool of her collarbones, down between her breasts, down her belly, to where she touched herself for him.

Her brows knitted together, her mouth hung open between quick breaths, waiting for him, when Viktor cranked his neck to rub his face against hers whispering, “Come on my cock, lásko.”

A full body shudder went through her, as she leaned her weight on him, her thighs clutching around his hips, his bones digging into her flesh, her walls clenching and she muffled a cry of completion into his mouth.

Viktor groaned soon after her, the tightness hugging his cock almost unbearable, as he spilled himself inside, caging her body with his arms, his tongue and teeth dragging across her shoulder. He then collapsed them to the side, still buried within her core, his waist resting on her thigh, his legs curled up under her bum, face nuzzled into her neck.

He kissed her again, his arm stretching out to grab the pillows from the bed head, one to tug under her pelvis as he rolled them over onto it, the other propped under his knee as he hooked his leg underneath hers, their bodies still connected. His tongue exploring her mouth, slowly this time, when his cock slipped out of her, and she let out a disappointed gasp.

Splaying his body on top of hers, their stomachs pressed against each other, he kept kissing her until he felt himself grow hard again. Her belly began to raise and fall more frantically, his own abdomen flexing as he propped himself on one arm and spat into his hand. He reached between them to cup her cunt and rubbed it gently, the slick spreading around her entrance.

He gave his cock a couple of wet strokes to then cage himself around her, one hand above her pressed into the mattress, the other entwining their fingers together, pinning her palm next to her head.

Gently and slowly, he entered her again, his movements soft so she could get used to him once more. The feeling of her walls around him washed over his senses, their scents mixing together, his hips rolling languidly against hers with reverence, as her body accepted him fully. In a pledge of utter devotion, Viktor murmured between his gasps, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she immediately whispered into his mouth. Viktor was being careful and precise, drawing out her pleasure and prolonging his. He wanted to savour the slide of their bodies melting into one, memorizing every moan that fell between them. Their noses pressed together, breathing heavily, her brows furrowed, mouths agape as their lips brushed against each other with each push of his hips.

His movements grew more intense, though the pace remained the same. Each slow deep thrust he gave her made her gasp quietly, as his cock kept hitting the right spot. He released her hand to slide his palm between them, his fingers finding her cunt, spreading her lips before resting on her clit. He rubbed it lazily, timing the action with the rolls of his hips and building the pressure withing her as her walls begun to clench around him desperately.

Renly dug her nails into his hips, her brows scrunched together, her mouth panting, breathless, and Viktor only smiled and whispered a quiet, “Yes, you are doing so well.” Her thighs squeezed his hips as she reached another climax, her head lifting from the pillow, crying out into his mouth.

He carefully worked her through the orgasm, before picking up the pace of his thrusts to reach his own completion, her name falling from his lips in a quiet chant. Her walls squeezed against his cock, his arms wrapping around her, face buried in her neck, gasping and panting. His movements grew sloppier the closer he got, when he finally spilled himself inside her with a loud groan, his body collapsing onto hers.

For a moment they both breathed heavily, their stomachs connected, rising and falling together. Then, Viktor rolled off her, pulling her with himself to give her a kiss sealing his devotion to her. He withdrew his cock with a quiet sleek sound, letting his seed leak out between them.

He felt her arms tightening around his neck, her breath growing unsteady, and the flutter of her heartbeat. Then he noticed her chest trembling next to his and pulled back to look at her, only to see tears streaming from beneath her closed eyelids.

“Did I hurt you?” was his first instinct to ask as he eased himself out of the vice grip of her thighs to cradle her face against his chest. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no—” Renly croaked, laughing through her sobs as she dampened Viktor’s chest. “I just feel… empty.” Empty of pain, of anger, of the horrible dread she’d felt when he crossed her doorstep. Empty of doubt and insecurities. All the empty space left to be filled with something new.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she chuckled, trying to wipe her tears away with her hand, but there were too many. “It’s never happened before. I’m so sorry.”

“Lásko, it’s normal. Cry it out—it’s… beautiful,” Viktor murmured against her ear, his fingers combing gently through her hair. He felt his ribcage swell with contentment, a feeling of utter peace flooding his body from head to toe. Her tears felt like a silent confession etched onto the skin covering his heart.

“What is this?” Renly sniffled again, quieter this time, as she began tracing circles in the damp patch on Viktor’s chest, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

“Temperance,” Viktor mused, cradling her to him as though she were a precious gift. “We’ve been… reforged in our heat, tempered in your tears.”

His words left her gaping into the space in front of her, tracing lines between Viktor’s freckles and moles with her fingers. Silence followed for a while. It was comfortable, with something unfolding. Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.

When a yawn tore her mouth apart, Viktor nudged her gently with his chin and asked, “Shower?”

“Yes, shower.” Renly stretched across the bed, pulling Viktor along with her. She grabbed his hands and pulled them above their heads and pressed her toes on his feet, drawing a low chuckle from his throat.

They did all the things they usually did, but somehow it all felt new again—in a new space, with a new emptiness to fill. Renly let the shower run until the water turned warm and prepared fresh towels for them.

They stepped into the shower together, the steam curling around their skin. The first blast of water hit Viktor’s shoulder, and he winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Too hot?” Renly asked with a smirk, already reaching for the handle to adjust the temperature.

“Do you usually scald yourself in the shower?” Viktor teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up despite the discomfort.

Renly rolled her eyes, turning the dial until the water was just shy of lukewarm. “Better?”

“Much better,” he said, his tone playful. “Though I’m still recovering from the trauma.���

Renly huffed a laugh and grabbed a bar of soap from the shelf. “I’m afraid you’re going to smell like a coconut,” she said, holding it up as if presenting evidence of her crime.

“Good,” Viktor replied without hesitation. “I love coconut.”

She grinned, shaking her head slightly before beginning her task. Her hands glided over his arms and chest, the soap lathering into creamy bubbles as she worked. She moved with deliberate tenderness, kneading his muscles as though to coax away every last knot of tension that had taken residence in him. Viktor let his eyes drift shut, exhaling as her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his back.

She hesitated when her hand landed on his thigh, the oppressive purple vein even more visible on his flushed skin. Feeling the hover of her touch, Viktor took her palm in his and kissed her knuckles. “It’s alright.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, and then a thought popped into her head. Of course, it did—it had always hurt.

“No. It just feels… strange.” Viktor pulled her in and wrapped her arm around his neck. “I’ll have to get used to it. It’s a small price.”

When she reached up to wash his hair, he leaned into her touch like a weary traveller finding solace. Her fingers threaded through his damp curls, massaging the soap in gentle circles over his scalp. Every now and then, Viktor caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her fingers and wrists in a gesture that felt reverent. The simplicity of it—the quiet intimacy—made Renly’s chest ache in the best way.

When she finished, Viktor turned her by the shoulders, swapping places with her under the stream of water. He took the soap from her, his hands warm and sure as they smoothed over her skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if mapping her anew. The steam curled around them, the water running in rivulets down her back as he pulled her flush against him.

When he reached her hair, his fingers worked through the strands with a skill that surprised her. His thumbs pressed into her temples, eliciting a soft moan as her eyes fluttered shut, rolling back in her skull.

“Good?” he murmured, his voice low and rich.

“Perfect,” she breathed, leaning into him.

They kissed lazily under the stream, the water running between them as their mouths met in unhurried synchrony. Their hands found each other’s skin, not in hunger this time but in care—an exchange of solace, of connection. Every touch felt like a quiet vow, a promise that they didn’t need words to seal.

When they got back to bed, which had been changed by Renly’s insistence—Viktor said he didn’t mind, and he really didn’t—she started to drift off almost immediately. His hands traced the lines of her tattoo, lingering around ‘his place’ in it. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and asked, “You’re going to Zaun, aren’t you?”

“Will you hate me if I do?” Renly murmured, barely keeping her eyes open.

“No. Will you let me come with you?” Viktor’s voice was low and steady, though there was a hint of something uncertain beneath it. He truly couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in there, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her constantly looking over her shoulder to see if he was safe if he went with her.

She shifted slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Viktor, you know I can’t do that. You will suffocate.” It was a statement that carried no judgment and no guilt. It was just a statement, saying the obvious, and yet—it made Viktor feel like he was just about to suffocate.

He inhaled sharply, but his hand gently found its way to hers, his fingers threading through hers. “I can wear a mask. But… we can talk about this tomorrow.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, a subtle gesture of reassurance. “Just know I’m ready to come with you.”

***

As they walked, Viktor’s grip was tight on Renly’s hand. Their morning was quiet, almost warm, until she made him laugh by dropping half of her sugar dish into his coffee with a smirk. He glanced at her with concern when he saw her putting on her Zaunite clothes, but dared not say anything.

They arrived at the lab together, and Jayce, relieved to see them both, looked up. "Mel fought off the council," he said, almost hopefully. "For now, the Hexcore is to remain as an 'on hold' project. We’re to seal it and put it away." Viktor sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through him. Renly placed a hand on his shoulder, cradling his cheek gently with the other.

She moved on to pack a bag with supplies, medications, and gas masks for her trip to Zaun. She felt Viktor’s eyes lingering on her the whole time; she knew exactly what he wanted to do and say, and all the bones in her body ached with that knowledge. Jayce glanced at her and asked, "Are you going?"

Renly replied with a weak "yes," her gaze flicking over to Viktor. He shifted his stance on his cane, his voice soft as he spoke, "Renly… please take me with you. I cannot bear it." The weakness in him tore him apart. The weakness of his body fought the weakness of his pride, and his fragile heart—one that had only just reconciled with Renly’s—beat unsteadily in his chest when he saw her eyes, an apology pouring from them.

"Viktor, I beg you. Please, don’t make me choose," she replied, stopping her packing for a moment. She took his hands in hers. "Because if you make me, I will stay, and you will resent yourself for it."

"I will resent myself either way," he whispered weakly, the shape of his mouth askew as he tried to hold all of his weaknesses back. And even though he knew that none of the options presented to him in his agonizing journey through The Arcane were acceptable, for a fleeting moment, he longed for his body to be whole and able.

"I will go." Jayce’s voice was firm and present, so present, in fact, that both Renly and Viktor turned their necks to look at him.

"Jayce, you can’t—" Viktor shook his head in disbelief. He took a step forward toward Jayce, as if trying to physically stop him.

"I will go, and I will come back—with you." He gripped Renly’s shoulders while making his plea. "I’ll deliver you to Viktor’s doorstep, unharmed, I promise." And that promise was meant for Viktor, as Jayce turned his head to look at his partner.

"I… Jayce," Viktor’s words failed him. He knew, of course, that this was the solution to their conundrum. He admired Jayce so deeply in that moment. And even though his mind still whispered horrible insults to himself, he exhaled a breath of surrender. Because he trusted Jayce.

"I told you. You don’t have to carry this alone. And you don’t have to carry this—" Jayce pointed to the bag, "—alone. This is what I can do." He said, his face painted with a reassuring smile, as all three of them stood in a small circle, as if there was no grave danger before them.

Viktor pulled Jayce into an embrace, his voice barely a whisper as he said, "Please, bring her back to me." Jayce hugged him tighter, knocking the breath out of Viktor’s lungs.

They all packed the necessary items into three convenient bags. Jayce’s hand rested on Viktor’s shoulder from time to time, as if to reassure him he would be true to his word. When everything was ready, they stood before the front door, staring at the floor. Viktor let out one last sigh before kissing Renly deeply, for the first time on full display in front of Jayce.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to his wrists. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.” Renly let out a shaky exhale, then opened her eyes and cradled his face.

“Viktor, I admire you. I respect you. I adore you; I love you so much my heart aches.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and kissed him again.

They were startled by a muffled choke coming from Jayce, who had been completely forgotten in that moment. “Guys, this is so beautiful,” he said weakly, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to hold back one, maybe two tears.

Renly and Viktor exchanged an embarrassed chuckle, the tension of the moment dissolving. Jayce wiped his eyes, smiling apologetically as he slung one of the bags over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s get moving before Viktor convinces me to restrain you and keep you safe here.”

Renly stepped closer to Viktor one last time, smoothing a hand down his chest. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, leaning in for a final, tender kiss. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

Viktor nodded; his throat too tight to speak. He held her hands in his for a moment longer, his grip unsteady but firm. “Be careful,” he managed to say, his voice breaking just slightly.

Renly squeezed his fingers before letting go, turning to Jayce. He gave Viktor a reassuring nod as if to silently repeat his earlier promise. “I’ll bring her back,” Jayce said softly, the sincerity in his tone like a steady anchor.

With that, the two of them stepped through the door. Viktor stood frozen as he watched them go, his cane trembling slightly in his hand. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room like a final note, and for a moment, he stood there in silence, staring at the empty space where they had been.

The sound of his own sob startled him in the silence. He tried to shy away from it by hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, but it was a futile attempt. His shoulders shook as a full-blown wave of weeping overcame him. The weight of everything—the worry, the helplessness, the love that threatened to swallow him whole—poured out in sobs that filled the empty hallway. His heart, so fragile and raw, cracked under the pressure of letting her go.

He clutched his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright, tears streaking down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. Viktor rarely allowed himself to cry, but now, in the solitude of the lab, there was no one to witness his unravelling. No one to judge the vulnerability that poured out of him in rivers. For the first time in so long, he let himself feel everything, unrestrained and unapologetic.

He cried out all his anger, cried out his leg, his spine. He cried out the unbearable thought of Renly getting hurt—or worse. He cried out the failure of his dream, the loss of Rio, his lungs, himself—every oppressive thought that gnawed at him, every splinter in every bone of his body. When his throat began to burn, a thought ignited weakly, like an ember. You are good at something. Wiping his tears away, chuckling at the absurd of his outburst, he turned back to the lab and sunk back into work.

[zyoumeval]

dark paradise

possessive behaviors, yandere, manipulation (caleb being caleb)

some scenes are based on <homecoming wings>, dark paradise by lana del rey

there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody — it won’t leave my head.

your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

“All I see is your face, Caleb…”

You grunted lowly as your hands brushed your face in turmoil. Your mind raced with the memories you shared with Caleb for your whole life, it’s like… there was no situation where Caleb’s not there. Of course, he had been by your side whether it’s physically or just through the phone to accompany you.

You chuckled grimly, “Funny, you were engrained to my entire soul and you left just like that… turned to dust as my whole world crumbled down.”

The vivid image of the blowed up house where Caleb and Granny were inside still haunting you every night. Sleep was no longer an option as your head turned into overdrive to replay the memory again and again. Sometimes, you would see Caleb standing in front of you and kneeling down to cup your cheek with his warm hand saying:

‘Why are you crying, pipsqueak? Don’t waste your tears and keep moving forward.’

You wanted to scream.

How could you move forward when there’s no ground to run on?

every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise. no one compares to you

You’ve tried to gather yourself to stay strong after the tragedy. It was torture, to hold on to the shared memories between you and Caleb, to keep reminding yourself about the harsh reality where the world no longer held them in its touch.

You went on and thrived the path as a hunter, the dream that always supported by them. Which assured by Caleb amidst your hesitation to take the test a while ago, he believed in you.

That’s why, you honored them by facing the cruelty of your reality head-on.

You’d stare into the sky at times, hoping you’d see a glimpse of Caleb parting the clouds with his plane — bringing light back into your life.

But all you see was void.

all my friends ask me why I stay strong, tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on. that’s why I stay here

A whole year of your determination to move on vanished into thin air as you saw Caleb standing in front of you adorned the Fleet’s Colonel uniform.

He found out about your cover like playing hide and seek. The man that interrogated you was not the man you grew up with, although, the warmth that slowly became unfamiliar finally returned to you.

Just like that, gravity took a hold of you back to the ground from the endless torment.

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

The man in front of you was not the same person you remembered.

“You think I’m not myself?” He tilted his head to the side, “What makes you think I’m different from the ghost of the past? Do you ever wonder if this is me, when I’m no longer bound to the role I’ve ever played in?”

“You are! You’re not my Caleb, this is not him!”

Caleb took steps forward and you kept taking steps back, “I’ve always been like this, pipsqueak.”

He caressed your cheek before he gripped your jaw firmly but still with a hint of gentleness. “Look at me in the eye and see the truth. There’s nothing different.”

“You…!” You gritted your teeth as you bore deep into his eyes. His purple eyes exuded firmness and anxiousness, as if he was desperate to make you believe in him. Your shaky voice escaped, “You are…”

“Believe in my words when I say this. You’re my whole world and I will give you everything that you’ve ever wanted,” Caleb furrowed his eyebrows and smiled a little, “I will protect you, I will love you with all my heart that no one else will. I will always be by your side as we have this future together.”

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

The returning presence of Caleb brought you calmness despite the growing awareness. You noticed how he had been protecting you in ways that were different from what normal people would do, how he had been reliving the faint memories back to life with different approaches, and how he looked at you with deeper feelings coming from his soft eyes.

But the thought of losing him again scared you to death, you wouldn’t let that happen again.

In the end, you devoured rationality as your heart took the lead towards his embrace.

“Never disappear on me again.”

He chuckled and nuzzled your hair, pulling you closer to his side. He smiled when you snuggled to him.

“I never intended to leave you, pipsqueak. I’ll always be here. Always.”

[stxrsniolo]

⠀⠀ ⠀✦ ⠀ :⠀⠀somnium⠀ ⠀💭 ⠀ . . .

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 notes : dear reader, this story will unfold over approximately 15 chapters, all of which have been meticulously outlined by yours truly (aka me, yes). it’s a slow burn between the characters, filled with a little bit of everything—from scenes not suitable for sensitive audiences to purely comedic moments, and even the classic teenage drama you’d expect from characters navigating this stage of life.

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 pairing : dreambound!matt x lucid dream!reader

Chapter 01: The Dream That Changed Everything

matt was cranky as hell these days, his sleep schedule more like a roller coaster than anything resembling normal. living in LA with his brothers, nick and chris, in a fancy three-story crib, you'd think life was all sunshine, right? wrong. especially when you're one of the sturniolo triplets, where every day's gotta be content for their youtube channel, which had more followers than some small countries.

"hey, matt, you look like you got hit by a truck," nick said, his voice dripping with that LA cheer, as he watched matt drag himself into the kitchen like a zombie.

"yeah, well, i feel like one," matt grumbled, his Boston accent thick, "can't sleep fah nothin'."

chris, now hustling with his fresh love clothing line, was busy sketching new threads but still threw in, "maybe you need some new pajamas, bro. cotton or silk?"

matt just rolled his eyes, pouring himself coffee strong enough to wake the dead. he hated coffee, but he needed this boost for real. "i need more than pajamas, i need like, a new brain or somethin'."

the day dragged on with matt filming bits for their vlog, his heart not in it. he was trying to keep up appearances, but his mind was racing, lost in the haze of sleepless nights. they talked about random crap, from the latest video game drop to chris's newest hoodie design, but matt's responses were half-assed at best.

"matt, you okay?" nick asked during a break, concern piercing through matt's fog.

"yeah, yeah, i'm good. just tired, ya know?" matt forced a smile, but even to him, it felt fake.

the sun set, painting sky in hues of orange and pink, but all matt saw was the dread of another night of tossing and turning. he went through his night routine, hoping tonight would be different.

and... finally, after what felt like an eternity of staring at the ceiling, sleep came, pulling him into a dream so vivid, it was like stepping into another universe. he found himself in a surreal landscape, part urban, part wilderness, with skyscrapers touching the clouds but rooted in a forest floor.

and then he saw her. a girl, with eyes like emeralds and hair that seemed to move with a life of its own. she was there, walking around with an edge of caution to it. she looked at him, her gaze wary, as if she was deciding whether he was friend or foe.

"hey, you lost or somethin'?" matt asked, his accent even more pronounced, making his words sound thick with caution.

"nah, just enjoying the view," she replied, her accent sharp, her tone guarded. "i'm heist, you look like you could use some fun though. but, you know, if you're not up to no good..."

heist... what a weird name. but he brushed it off.

"me? nah, i'm just... tryin' to figure out where i am," matt said, his eyes scanning the dreamscape, half-expecting it to dissolve or change into something less welcoming.

there was a moment of silence, both of them sizing each other up, the air thick with unspoken questions. and without a word, heist turned and ran, her voice echoing in her quick, "gotta go!" her movements were fluid, almost ethereal, as she darted through the dreamscape, blending into the shadows and light.

"hey, wait!" matt called out, his voice a mix of confusion and intrigue.

he chased after her, not out of malice but driven by an inexplicable pull towards this mysterious figure. the chase was like a dance, with heist always one step ahead, her laughter a taunt, a challenge, a melody in the wind.

they weaved through the dream city, up staircases that led nowhere, down alleys that twisted into themselves. every time matt thought he had her, she'd disappear, only to reappear in his peripheral vision, her laughter both a beacon and a warning.

finally, in a moment of stillness, with heist cornered against a dream wall that shimmered like water, they stood there, breathing heavily, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of wariness and curiosity.

"why you runnin'?" matt asked, his voice softer now, the chase having burned away some of his caution.

"why you chasin'?" heist shot back, her tone sharp but her eyes softening just a bit.

but before any answer could be given, the dream world began to dissolve, and matt woke up with a start, his heart racing.

the room was dark, silent, the quiet of Los Angeles outside his window. yet, in his mind, heist's laughter lingered, a reminder of a chase so vivid, it changed everything.

©𝗦𝗧𝗫𝗥𝗦𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢 | my little stars: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid

[bruh-anator3000]

Another quick fix of Death and the Wolf. Honestly, I wrote this based on a headcannon* and wanting to tie in some more details to this story, but this could honestly be read separately.

Warning: Weed, chronic pain, cancer mentions, they were roomates? Omg they were roommates. Sexual suggests/comments but its all fluff, Wade trying his best and slightly ooc but thats how pain is, Logan's emotionally constipated, and can't get high. No pronouns used for reader. Written in an hour-ish

*h/c: as incredible as Deadpool is, sometimes the cancer really wears his body down. The best cure? Getting stoned.

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Reader

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It's not uncommon for you to wake up before the other two. Sleeping wasn't a strong suit of yours, and the couch bed wasn't supportive. It was weird, however, when it was just you for longer than an hour. Usually Logan would've rumbled and grumbled his way through for a morning whiskey.

It would've been something you brushed off and ignored. Let them sleep in, and possibly have the apartment to yourself, but this case didn't feel right. Setting your coffee mug aside, you quietly call for Logan and Wade as you open their bedroom door.

You peek your head in, and find an unusual scene. Logan was awake, his arm wrapped around Wade while reading some book he must've found on the floor. Wade was curled into his side, eyes squeezed shut as his chest rose and fell with huffs.

"Hey," You start softly, announcing your presence. It felt weird interrupting a moment like this, seemed very intimate, but Logan didn't shoot out of bed and start cussing, so maybe it wasn't as inappropriate as you guessed. "Everything okay?"

Logan glanced over, shaking his head. He cleared his throat, planning to explain. Wade beat him to it.

"He pegged me so hard last night," Wade chuckled, wincing slightly. He sounded out of breath. And he wasn't turning around to give you vivid detail of such a night - like he would anytime he had sex.

"His pain's flaring again." Logan rolled his eyes. His hand wrapped around his shoulders gently pats his side.

"Am not." Wade quickly covers, but you've decided Logan was the truthful one a long time ago. "I'm always in pain, I eat pain for breakfast. I don't..."

He tried to roll onto his back to prove his independence. To show off that he was stronger than whatever his body was going through. The second he pulls away from Logan to demonstrate such, he's crying out with a short but loud groan.

The guttural shout made you wince. This has happened before. Wade will never admit it, but his body is his number one enemy. He thought he could laugh this off and pretend nothing was happening, but when your body is at constant war with cancer, you're going to feel it. Invincible as he may be, not even a man like him could escape the chronic pain.

"I'm not in pain." Hoarsely, he whispered. Logan propped himself up by the elbow, holding his chin. Watching this argument crumble into dust.

"So... you don't want to get high?" Sweetening the honey pot, you carefully step into their room and start searching Wade's bedside table.

"I never said that." He slowly, stiffly turns to watch you.

"I guess I'll get stoned by myself." Finding the collector's Wolverine lighter he bought as a joke, you set it aside and keep looking for his stash.

Logan snorts, watching Wade pout. He gets out of bed next. His plain tank and sweatpants fit comfortably around his frame. He walks around the bed and joins your side.

"Check the bottom drawer, under the panel." The grump suggests as he scoots the covers off of Wade, revealing his unicorn printed sleepwear. You do as he says, pulling the bottom of the drawer up. A small mesh bag of maybe four joints sit there. You'll have to get him more soon.

"Up, up," Logan slides his arms under the poor man's stiff body. One supporting his back, the other beneath his knees. Lifting him out of bed like a pretty princess.

"Oh yes," Wade rests his head on his chest. Really mushing his face into Logan's pecs. "Hold me tighter, you big old man!"

"I will drop you." Logan threatens, with no real intention of doing such. The idea alone makes Wade whimper and shut up.

He must be in a lot of pain.

Grabbing the sack of joints, you follow the two. Thankfully, due to your fantastic sleepy skills, you didn't fold the couch back up. Any other day, Wade would've been frustrated and Logan probably would've yelled because he stubbed his toe on the damn thing. But today, it was perfect.

You help Logan situate Wade, placing all your pillows and then some behind him to assist him sitting up. Logan lights a joint, not without smirking at the novelty Wolverine lighter. 'Cheap gimmick,' he would mutter.

"Can we watch Gossip Girl?" Wade leans into your side, his scarred face looking redder than usual. He was really in for it, crazy inflammation.

"You can't get a woody, though." You warn, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. "You need to relax."

You search through the recently watched playlist, the scent of weed building. Logan takes the first hit. He always insisted he did. 100 something years in smoking, he knew how to 'start a joint properly.' As if that was a real concern to either of you.

Wade shifts over slightly, turning his head to Logan. Smiling while Logan sighs, shaking his head before doing Wade's favorite party trick. Taking in a lungful and a half, he blows it all out through his nose, smoke curling up and wisping at his side burns.

It made him look like a feral beast. Breathing so hot, he was huffing out smoke. Like a sexy dragon. Wade loved it. Logan only did it because Wade loved it.

"You sexy minx," He puckers his lips, waiting for his hit. "My turn!" Logan chuckles and holds the end of the blunt to Wade's lips for him. Encouraging him with a soft 'there you go,' as Wade filled his lungs as much as he could. He wanted to be so stoned, he forgot what the word 'pain' even looked like.

Finally, it's passed to you. Plucking it from Wade's lips, you take a small hit. You weren't trying to speed run the high. The apartment quickly filled up with smoke and the scent of marijuana. It didn't stop until Wade was red eyed and pretty much passed out on your shoulder. You were out a long time ago, anyways.

Logan was the only sober one left. Unfortunate. He wanted to get stoned, but his system would need at least 200 edibles for him to feel something. He kept his arm around Wade, his hand on your shoulder.

Sighing with a hint of relief. He had been worried all morning. It wasn't normal to wake up to a silent Wade Wilson. Wasn't normal to see him crying first thing in the morning. He was in pain, and Logan didn't know how to fix it. And that killed him.

He hated when either of you were hurting, emotionally or physically. He couldn't help. He could bandage any wound but he wouldn't be any calmer. There were several days where he wished to just share a part of his healing factor with you. Days like these, he wanted to somehow absorb Wade's pain. He could handle it. Nearly 200 years of living, he would put up with the pain because he thought he actually deserved it.

Wade may be a talking dick, but he didn't deserve this. He was a kid. You both were kids to Logan. Everyone was to Logan. Young, dumb, broke,

"High school kids," Wade mutters a tune, finishing Logan's thoughts somehow. Execpt he knew you two were older than college students. The high school bit seemed out of place.

"Go back to sleep, Wade." Logan rumbles, deep in his chest. Pulling him closer, and taking you with him. Gossip Girl played quietly, but he didn't care.

He had you and Wade piled onto his side. That's all he needed.

[ultralightpoe]

Judge The Cover - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Me????? Writing something and then disappearing for months at a time??? WhaAaaTtt? Never. This is the second part to Buy The Book, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3272

Warnings: Concussions?

Requests: OPEN (Working on them. I swear)

Main Masterlist

Previous Chapter : Buy The Book

Next Chapter: ~~

[Thank you for the gif @starscreamloki ]

Enjoy!

The first year you had been published had been a bit of….. Well a mind fuck. There was no other way of describing it. 

Your agent had told you not to expect much from it. “These things take time. Try not to get ahead of yourself. It doesn’t mean you failed.” And you had taken those words to heart, you had kept your part time job in the mornings so that you would still have income as you continued to write. But there was no time taken. 

Within a week of being publicly released it seemed to launch quicker than anyone thought it would. It took less than 2 weeks of it being out before you realized that the stares you were getting at the supermarket were from readers, all excited to meet you. Face after face, book after book being signed. It was…. Not what you had pictured. 

It’s safe to say that you had always thought you would publish something more serious when the time came, nothing with a 6 pack on the cover…..and yet….. The Frost Soldier had his 6 pack on every cover and it was taking the world by storm. 

But it was the dreams that came with your writing that drove you nuts. So realistic that you would have to check every window 6 times before going to bed and adding three new deadbolts to your door like you were waiting for him to come get you. 

Because for some delusional reason there were moments you swore that he was real…. And there was a part of you that was terrified that you were feeding into the delusions of the man with the sign and it wouldn’t be long until you became the man with the sign…. Or a version of him anyways. The vivid image of you covered in grime and filth as you warned the world of the dangers ahead, beer bottles from your long night littering the sidewalk. 

But the realistic dreams fed into the books, and you kept publishing. Every mean glare was written to an ounce of perfection as you recalled his stormy eyes. Every gentle touch was portrayed with a thunderous heartbeat. And people ate it up. 

You regret that.

You regret everything.

But anyone who is tied up in the back of a warehouse would tend to regret every single thing they had done so it wasn’t like you were defying cliches here. In fact you were going through the motions of every single stage of grief. 

Stage One. Denial. 

You had taken to blinking slowly at the figure before you, trying to wake yourself up from the dream you were having so that you could rush to your computer and type it all out. When he didn’t vanish with the slow blinks you simply sped them up, resisting the urge to tap your feet together like you were Dorothy in the wizard of oz.

“You’re not real.” You mutter, throat raw and head pounding as he tilts his head with a raised eyebrow. As if he were judging you. Maybe he was, for how bad your voice sounded or maybe because your first words spoken were challenging his existence. “I must have inhaled drugs. I’m hallucinating. Which is the cause of the headache.”

“I think the cause of the headache would be the concrete you slammed into.” He huffs, crossing his arms over each other and letting the metal one glint in the light above both of you, eyebrows pulling in for a look you can’t recognize. “With the way your skull snapped against the concrete I was worried you wouldn’t even be able to remember your own name.”

There is a spark that immediately lights up in your mind at his words, hearing them move you can practically imagine the way the scene would play out. You’d have him in a set up just like this one with his leading la-

“You’re already thinking of quoting me for that next book, huh?”

That excited spark dies into a bitter taste of wanting to punch him, and your hands pull a bit until they catch at the plastic zip tie he had used to keep you there, biting into the skin as you sneer. “You’re not real.”

A gasp draws from his lips, he stands straight up and begins frantically patting himself down. “I’m not?! Oh my god. I must be a ghost.”

“You’re mocking me.” You laugh, it sounds bitter and cold. “My own dream is mocking me.”

“Am I what you dream about?” The smirk that slides itself across his face makes you blush and sneer in the same go, wanting nothing more than to turn away but not willing to break eye contact before him. When you don’t answer he places a mocking look of hurt on his face, eyebrows pinching together and his eyes full of light. “I’m not?”

“Nope.”

“No?” He chuckles, walking closer a bit and crouching down so that he could look up at you rather than the reverse, the blue of his eyes practically making you shiver. His smirk grows as if he can sense the change in you, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead you get a simple, “Do you know your name, Doll?”

The nickname sent a stutter through your heart and almost caused your skin to heat up, the anger that began to process managed to speed up that heat until your entire body was flush with it and you bite out “Do you?”

“Do I know your name or do I know my name?”

“You pick.”

“Well… thanks to you oddly enough, I managed to find my name. Which means I know yours.” He smiles, all toothy and proud of himself. “Yes to both.”

“You’re not real.”

“You keep saying that, it’s getting tedious at this point.” 

“Fuck. You.”

“I’m sure you would.” His smile widens as he stands back up and strides to the table in the corner where an array of weapons currently sat. “And thanks to you I’m sure half the world would too.” 

“No-”

“No? A very quick no at that?” He turns, pretending to look shocked. “Oh my, you might not remember who you are. You don’t remember the novels you’ve written? With my 8 pack on the covers?”

“It was a 6 pack and they weren’t yours.”

“An imitation of mine and they were definitely 8 packs.” He argues back, tilting his head as your mouth opens for the rebuttal until he shrugs and speaks before you get the chance. “Doesn’t matter though, because I’m not real….. Right?”

A slow blink, you can’t seem to look anywhere else as he awaits his answer. 

Stage Two. Anger. 

“I’M SICK OF THIS!” You yell out, pulling at the ties on your wrists frantically as you scramble to get up. “LET ME OUT!”

“And now she’s mad.”

“YOU DUMB FUCKER! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL TEAR YOU APART WITH MY BARE TEETH-” Yelling doesn’t seem to be convincing him to let you out, but it feels great, like some of the tension in your body is releasing. “You stupid fuck.”

“Brilliant. Any more words you got for me?”

“Shithead.”

“Coming from the author that managed to find 13 different variations for my pulsating member I expected…..a little more.”

“People are going to be looking for me.”

“You’ve written so many books about me and you think I haven’t already thought of that?” He huffs, looking almost offended as he easily picks up one of the knives on the table, twirling it through his fingers. “Here’s the thing, doll-”

“I’ll break your fucking nose.” You sneer out, the threat empty but the scorn in the tone enough to make him nod slowly. 

“I believe that you think you can. And I’m proud of you.”

“Oh you’re such a-”

“But I have a slight problem. You see I didn’t want to do this either…. But your novels have become a thorn in my side.” He pauses then, waiting for you to argue once more, when you don’t he clears his throat and continues. “You see for some reason you have been writing about me….. And your accuracy has hit every nerve of mine that I didn’t even know I had.”

“Including the 6 pack?” You snipe, the thumping in your head fighting off any embarrassment you might have felt, and the annoyed look he gives you as he narrows his eyes has you fighting off a laugh. 

“I just need to know where you are getting your information from.”

“My information?” He nods. 

“On you?” Another nod. 

“You think I’m being fed information on you?”

“How else would you know my every move and all the details of my missions?” You have no clue how to answer any of this. Are you supposed to admit that you have been dreaming of this guy for years? That you see him every night and that’s why you managed to write his every move? Would he even believe you?

“I’m waiting.”

“I have no answer. I haven’t been fed information.” It should be a given, and you were pretty sure you were having a stroke at this entire interaction. “I didn’t know you existed at all. Jameson Boone is a figment of my imagination built off a poster of-”

His eyes spark a bit when you stop short, memory flashing to Redmayne with his detailed drawing as he scared people walking to their classes. Campus Crazy, that was what people had always called him, and yet he had managed to get nearly every detail of Jameson's face down. Not the eyes though. Those were far more striking than anyone could have drawn. 

“Poster of? I’m waiting here Edgar Allen Poe.”

“There was a poster, back in college. This guy claimed that his family had been killed by this random person- well you- and he was warning us. Government assassin or something. He called you-”

“The Frost Warrior?” 

“No. Jackass.” You snap, narrowing your eyes. “Copyright and all that.”

“Oh?”

“It was….” God your head was pounding, were the lights really that bright? You close your eyes for a second, trying to relieve the pressure from the pounding in your head, cringing a bit. 

“You can’t sleep.”

“I’m not trying to sleep.” 

“You are.” 

“You’re not real.”

“And we are right back to where we started. Sadly.”

Stage Three. Bargaining. 

Your head was pounding, your back and wrists beginning to hurt from the chair you were in. You had no clue where your shoes were and honestly you had hated the outfit picked out for you this morning. 

Honestly? You were surprised you had fought the waterworks as long as you did. 

“Please.” You start, a couple droplets falling from your eyes as your face screws up before you finally give in to the onslaught of tears, tasting the salt of them as your body begins to rock with the sobs. “Please please please.”

“Okay, just take a breath-”

“I’ll do anything. Just please let me go.” You beg, opening your eyes to let the tears fall as he watches you. A mix of disgust and unease written on his face. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“I don’t want to do this.” He murmurs out, and the disgust seems to heighten as his eyes flick to where your wrists are bound to the chair by zip ties, a cringe making it’s way to his face. “But I need to know.”

“I’ll give you anything you want. Please.”

“I just need to know who your informant is, doll.” He sighs out, squatting down so that he is looking up at you and you can no longer avoid his eyes, and then he surprises you by reaching a flesh hand up to wipe his thumb across your cheek. “Is your head hurting?”

You were a wimp to nod your head as more tears fell, so pathetic and yet the second the words passed his lips you found yourself doing just that. Letting his hand rub at your cheek while you try to close your eyes once more. 

“Tell ya what…” He starts, making you open your eyes once more. “You tell me what ya know, and I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t have an informant.” You cry out. “Before today this was all fake. I wrote books inspired by the Campus Crazy!”

“The campus crazy?”

“He had a sign, he drew himself of this Winter Soldier character and I was struggling to write this stupid project for school and-” And before you know it the room spins, the lights hurting your head far too much as you lean forward. 

The man before you seems to know what’s about to happen as he stands to take a step back right before you empty your stomach on the floor before you. 

Stage Four. Depression. 

Fine. 

You will die here. It would be fine. 

Either the frost warrior - no, the winter soldier- would kill you for what you apparently knew, or the embarrassment would take you. 

“Sorry.” You blurt, still crying, then in a weird whiplash of anger you follow it with a “Fuck you. Let me go.” 

“Oh, she’s feeling it now.” 

“I’ll bite your face off.” Truth was you were doing your best to fight another wave of nausea. And the small childish part of you wanted to aim for his boots this time. “I don’t know anything. You are not real.”

“Then we have a slight problem, considering I am very much real and you have the accuracy of a gypsy fortune teller in your writing.”  

“You’re not supposed to say gypsy anymore. That’s not cool.”

“Noted. No more gypsy jokes.” He nods, toeing at the concrete beneath him. “Y’know, Stevie once got us tickets to this circus in town and when we went I coughed up 2 dollars for a fortune teller.”

“2 whole american dollars?”

“I’m ignoring that.” He huffs. “But you know what she told me?”

“That you would one day kidnap a poor helpless yet beautiful author who really wants some headache medicine and a donut.” 

“She said I would live a long happy life.” 

It's quiet for a moment while you blink at him before nodding slowly. “If…. If what I wrote in those books to be true-”

His head tilts, like a cat watching a mouse play before striking. 

“Then you would be…. 104 years old…..”

“103.”

“Well….. At least she got the long part right.”

He laughs a bit, his eyes sparking with something as you fight off a giggle yourself before closing your eyes to fight off another wave of nausea. 

“Alright. Alright. We have to figure out something here.” 

Stage Five. Acceptance.

“We have an issue here.” He huffs out. “Because you claim to not have an informant, but you have managed to out every move and tantrum I have pulled. And I can’t have that if I’m going to continue my task here.”

“I won’t write.” You gasp out, eyes widening at your own words before nodding. “I swear it. I won’t write again. I was already planning on not writing. I won’t.”

He narrows his eyes, watching you. 

“I’ll never write. I won’t.” 

“That seems like an empty promise.”

“It isn’t.” You shake your head. “I’ll farm in Alaska.” 

“Ignoring you being so willing to give up your career, it wasn’t your writing I was worried about.” He huffs. “I mean that was gonna be easy. I’d have just taken part of your ear and promised to come back for the rest if you ever wrote anything else about me.”

“Dick.”

“The problem is, other people want you-”

“Not to brag but I get a lot of swipes on tinder.”

“-For information.” 

“That too…. I guess.”

“I was hoping with all the things you’d written that you would have some sort of survival instinct. But instead I found a death prone squirrel.” 

“Oh bite me you two pack wannabe.”

“8 pack.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” You sigh. “You’re gonna kill me? You were planning on killing me this entire time, right? But you wanted to find out if you had a mole first!”

“Wasn’t my plan.”

“You are such a bitch. Just do it. Just kill me bro.”

“Bro?”

“And right after you can go fuck yourself.”

“I could just get one of your many fans to do that instead.” He smiles. “You really talk me up.”

“Just. Kill. Me.” You seethe.

“I don’t want to do that. If you shut your trap for a second and let me explain-”

“Blah blah blah blah-”

“Do you know how many government officials are hunting me? How many assassins will be coming for you for information?”

“I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

“You do!” He snaps. “You do. And I don’t know what to do with you now. I have things I need to do and you’re a risk.”

“So…..”

“What do we do here?”

Silence fills the room for a moment before a bitter laugh slips past your lips as you blink at him. “You’re asking me?”

“You’re the one with all the answers. What would the frost soldier and his little flame do?”

“Team up to take everyone down.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you saying you want to team up with me?”

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“God my head hurts.” You whine, turning away from him. “I want to sleep.”

“Okay. What did you have the winter- Sorry- Frost Warrior. What was he gonna do next?”

“I….. I wasn’t gonna write anything next.”  You admit. “Everything I wrote didn’t work, and I couldn’t fall asleep without seeing… you and I was so tired of facing you in my dreams. Because you weren’t real.”

“You have no clue where I was going next.” And when the word no nearly passes your lips you stop because you knew it was a lie. 

You knew his every move, and you hadn’t even known he was real. 

“Alaska.” You sigh. “Jameson Boone was heading to Alaska to find a witness with a lead.”

“And you wanted to go be a farmer…. Let’s make it happen, yeah?”

- 

The email is sent from a library computer that took so long to load you might as well have just sent a letter. 

Santana. 

Sorry for being MIA, I was thinking about our last conversation and the books. I have a lead on an idea. Have been following it, but I am sure you are going to love the next Frost Warrior novel. This lead makes him feel like he’s come to life. 

Lost my phone. Luv u.

And even lying to Santana in the email felt wrong, because you knew you would never write another frost warrior novel, BUT you were following a lead in Alaska, even if it was slightly against your will. “If she doesn’t read how fake that sounds she’s stupid.” Jameson Boone huffs, taking the seat next to you with a hat on his head while he glares at the computer. “What is it that made you hate the books you wrote?”

“You?” You smile, knowing he would take the bait and glare. He does, which pleases you to no end when his eyes narrow and he glares. 

“Is this how it’s gonna be this entire trip?” 

“Probably.” 

And you preen at the way his glare deepens before he rattles headache medicine in the bottle before setting it in front of you with a bottle of water and a white container of food from the breakfast restaurant across the library. 

“Eat up. We have a bus to Alaska waiting for us, Tolkien.”

-

TAGLIST:::

@vicmc624 @scott-loki-barnes @fanfictionreaderfan @ada728 @queergalpal97 @knowingnothingnoel @maxine-marigold

[ravenromanova]

Come back to me pt.2

Pairings: 838 Wanda x Female reader. 616 Wanda x Vision

Warnings: Nothing really for this one. But in the next parts there will be smut. i’m just getting the scene right now. this one might be a little short sorry :/

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

Taglist ~ @wandanatlov3r @sparklymoonenemy @tigerlillyruiz @weeeeeeeeee3 @dark-hunter16 @alexawynters @leenasayeed

~

Part 1

”I’m bringing you home Malysh” She said as she closed the portal and walked over to where you were laying. For a moment you thought you were still dreaming. That was until you felt Wandas hand on your cheek ensuring you she’s real.

“Where’s home?” You asked after finally coming to terms with the fact that she’s really there. She smiled softly before she reached her hand out for you to take. You rubbed your eyes and then slowly grabbed her hand before you got out of your bed.

“You’ll see soon malysh” Wanda said softly before she flicked her wrist and opened up another portal. You were still very confused and not 100% sure you weren’t dreaming as you walked through the portal.

When the both of you walked through the portal you were met with vivid colors and a more beautiful universe. The universe had much brighter colors than yours did, the sky was a different shade of blue and everything just seemed better. Wanda led you from where she had made the portal to the little house she had bought in a woodsy town in upstate new york.

Once you walked into the house you immediately took a few moments to look at the decorations. The house was small but cozy with a soft furniture that complimented Wandas style. The walls were painted a light green, there were beautiful paintings varying from van gogh to flowers. You smiled as you took in all of the decor and for some reason you felt at home right away. Wanda smiled as she watched you wonder around and take everything in.

“This is home malysh” Wanda said once you took a moment to take everything in.

“It’s beautiful Wanda” You mused with a smile still holding her hand.

“I bought this house right after you passed…You had mentioned to me how much you loved this house one day as we drove past it. So i bought it to honor you after the accident.” She said softly leading you to the sofa and sitting down. You sat on the soft dark green sofa as you listened. The story made your heart break and your eyes well up with tears as she spoke.

“I’m sorry” Your words caught her off guard. “I know it isn’t my fault for ya know dying but im sorry that we never got time together and you had to come to a different universe for me. I honestly dont think im worth all that” Wanda squeezed your hand softly for reassurance and shook her head. Her eyes were soft as she looked at you and shook her head before speaking.

“Darling i would cross any timeline and go to any universe to find you again. I know im not your Wanda but i still love you the same. And if its any consolation i know your Wanda feels the same but is just too scared” She said with a certain sadness in her voice that made your heart break a little more.

“I know this is all a little weird but if you want i would love it if you stayed here…with me” Wandas voice wavered as she spoke almost as if she thought you’d say no. You smiled and grabbed her hands and rubbed your thumb against her knuckles.

“I’d love that…There’s nothing for me in my universe. I have no family, Wanda chose Vision as you already know, I dont really have any friends on the team besides nat so yea i’ll stay” She smiled brightly at your words and moved in closer before she brought you in for a passionate kiss. You knew that you probably shouldn’t stay that there would more than likely be repercussions of your actions. But right now in this moment you couldn’t care less because you felt so loved by her.

*Back in 616*

Wanda wondered the compound hoping to find you but had no luck everywhere she checked. She sighed as she wondered back to your room to see if maybe you were in there.

“Y/n? You in there?” Her soft voiced echoed through your room. After a few seconds of waiting and no response she used her powers to open your door. Wanda sighed when she entered and saw you weren’t in there. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before age went to sit in your bed. She then saw the stuffed unicorn she bought you for your birthday one year and grabbed it. Wanda smiled softly as she held the stuffed animal.

That’s when she decided she was going to try to find you using a location spell. So she closed her eyes and focused on finding you. What she saw made her heart stop. You were sitting on the couch with her only… it wasn’t her it was a Wanda from another universe it looked like.

“What the hell” She whispered to herself as she saw the two of you walk around a small cottage looking house. Wanda’s heart stopped when she saw you leaning in for a kiss. You were giggling at something the other Wanda had said and it was just like when the two of you would hang out together.

Wanda sat there on your bed for what felt like forever watching you and other her interact. Her heart filled with joy at the look on your face. You looked happy with other her. But as Wanda continued to watch she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. She has always loved you but never had the courage to say anything so when Vision asked her out she didn’t think twice. Everything was great with Vision at first till she noticed how distant and quiet you got around her. As the days went on she tried to find the strength to leave Vision and tell you how she felt but she never did.

Twenty minutes passed before Wanda got up and knew what she needed to do. She left your room and then went to her own to change and collect her thoughts. After she got dressed and calmed her anxious mind down she opened up a portal of her own.

*818*

Once she conjured the portal she walked through and entered a world that looked like her own but yet it was vastly different. She looked around for a moment before she saw a red trail that resembled her powers. Her brows furrowed as she followed the trail for what seemed like forever.

When she got to the small cottage looking house from her vision the red trail ended. Wanda froze as she stood outside the house the house. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind was racing. What if you were mad at her? What if you were happy with this Wanda and didn’t want to come back? Should she just leave to be?

Her heart stopped when she heard your laugh from inside the house. The laugh sounded real and genuine… She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ruin your happiness for her own selfish reasons even if she wanted to fix things.

*Inside the house*

You and Wanda were sitting down on the couch watching friends giggling at the antics of Joey and Chandler when Wanda felt something off. She tended under your touch as you laid on her chest and when your eyes met hers they were red.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” You asked placing your hand on her cheek growing worried. She didn’t respond as she grabbed the hand that was on her cheek.

“You need to go outside. She’s here” She finally said after her eyes went back her their normal green.

“W-Who’s outside?” Your worry and concern kept growing as you spoke.

“Just go Malysh” She said with a sad smile on her face. You could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t gonna listen to your protests so you nodded and headed words to the door.

Your hands shook a little as you twisted the door knob. And once the door was opened and you saw who it was your heart stopped and tears formed in your eyes.

“Wanda?” Her eyes meet yours and it felt like all time had stopped. “What are you doing here?” You asked walking down the steps.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you how i felt before. I’m so sorry y/n please please come back to me “ She pleaded holding onto your hips once you were in reach. Your hands found home on her reddened cheeks and you gave her a sad smile.

“I-I don’t know if i can” Wanda could hear her heart breaking at your words. It was in that moment that all her fears came true.

~The end of part two~

A/n sorry for the cliffhanger :) well not really but i promise the next however many chapters will be so much better and filled with so much more angst and fluff! I just needed to set the scene you know? ANYWAYS i love y’all