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archangeldyke-all · 1 day ago

Note

I’m BEGGING for angst to fluff to casual by Chappell with Sevika

I’m PLEADING for “working opening shifts/weekday shifts when Sevika doesn’t come in at the last drop” to Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers and reader falls in love with Sevika once they finally meet. (I will physically pay you for this one xx)

ohhhh my gosh the phoebe one..... holy shit...

listen to punisher here

men and minors dni

i love a good place to hide in plain sight...

you're one of the most popular nameless faces in zaun.

you know the name of every of the last drop's regular customers. you overhear gossip and plans and drama about some of the biggest people in the city. the liquor you slide across the bar for a living makes everybody's lips loose, and you know more secrets than any one person should know.

but nobody knows your name.

customers call theiram 'chuck.'

they call you 'doll.'

you don't mind it. knowing how to go unnoticed, how to keep your head down-- that's what's kept you alive this long in zaun.

but it gets lonely.

when there's a birthday at the bar, you're the one to pass out party hats and pull out the sparklers. last year, you ate a cupcake alone on your front porch to celebrate your own.

when you bump into strangers on the street on your walks home, you apologize with a duck of your head. it's either your familiar face and the fact that you pour their drinks; or the meek way you shrink in on yourself-- but they let you go each time.

when you clock out, if you're lucky, you'll time your leaving to overlap with sevika's arrival. and, for just a moment, you can pretend that she knows you as well as you know her.

what if i told you i feel like i know you?

you've known sevika your whole life.

you're certain she doesn't recall, but when you were children, sevika caught you shivering and cold-- the cardboard box you were living in soaked through with rain. she lent you a jacket and all the pocket change she had. she even smiled at you.

you were a barback when she was running with vander. you were there when she turned her back on the man-- when she chose her city over her friend.

you were there to watch her deteriorate under silco's employ. first her arm, then the various beatings she'd be doled each month, then the arrival of the dark bags under her eyes.

on occasion, she'll get belligerently drunk, loitering at the bar far after close, there to greet you when you open again the next day. on these days, you're the one to give her a glass of water and walk her home safely. her home is always a mess. the star patterned blanket you pull over her shoulders is so old it must be from her childhood.

but we never met...

silco dies, and everything goes to shit.

there's a week there where you're too busy avoiding the grey to worry about work.

and then there's the war.

and then...

the last drop is just a pile of rubble. jinx and isha are just as dead as the bar. and sevika is named ambassador.

here everyone knows you're the way to my heart. hear so many stories of you at the bar. most times alone, and some looking your worst. but never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers...

ran and thieram rebuild the bar. they offer you a job. you're right back where you've always been-- standing behind a bar and eavesdropping on people with real lives.

from time to time, you'll hear about sevika.

sevika, who's lost everything. sevika, who lives in piltover now. the thought makes you snort-- you can only imagine the glare permanently imprinted on her face now.

sevika starts welfare programs for zaun, slowly but surely. schools open, widows and orphans are paid, and more bridges start being built across the river.

sevika doesn't smoke. sevika doesn't drink. she quit for a girl who's dead now. but occasionally you'll hear that she's been sulking around piltoverian bars, nursing a fizzy juice and looking haunted.

you'll hear that she doesn't scowl at people who approach her anymore, instead, she signs pictures of herself with a resigned smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you'll hear rumors that ambassador sevika can sometimes be heard quietly crying from her office.

sometimes, you'll walk by her old apartment. you wonder who lives there now. you wonder if she remembers those walks, if she remembers you.

you know she doesn't.

still, it doesn't stop you from crying for her.

i can't open my mouth and forget how to talk, 'cause even if i could i wouldn't know where to start, wouldn't know when to stop.

sevika's all alone in piltover and you're all alone in zaun. you wish you'd said something to her but you don't know when you could've.

maybe when you were kids, though you didn't know you were in love with her then.

maybe when you were strangers, though she would've simply laughed at your words.

maybe before she left zaun, though it happened so fucking fast.

you trail down the winding streets of the city she built, sipping on a bottle of her favorite whiskey, crying for her. for how lonely she must be. for how much she lost. you find yourself in front of her old home, like your feet have a mind of their own.

for a moment, you let yourself close your eyes and pretend that you're walking her home again. the woman you've loved your whole life-- the woman who doesn't know your name. you imagine the drunken slur of her voice, the stumble of her mis-matched boots, the warmth of her arm around your shoulders.

"dollface?" someone asks. your eyes fly open, and you blink at the woman in front of you. "what're you doin' here?"

sevika's wearing pajamas, her hair's a mess. she's got sand in her eyes that she's rubbing gently as she examines you from her front stoop.

you blink then stumble forward, reaching a shaky hand out to grab sevika's shoulder. she's real, solid and warm under your grasp. you gasp.

"have you been crying?" sevika whispers, her voice soft, her touch even softer as she reaches up to cup your cheeks.

there are a million things you want to say. i love you. i miss you. i am so sorry for you. for what happened to you. what are you doing here, don't you live in piltover? you look so tired. let me hold you, just for a day? let me tell you every single thing i love about you, i've got a list that's thirty years in the making. do you know who i am? do you know my real name? do you remember the nights you'd walk home with me under your arm? do you know those were the best nights of my life? do you remember when we were kids and you lent me your jacket? do you know i still sleep with it under my pillow?

but sevika's time with the pilties must've really softened her up, because instead of telling you to scram or spit it out, sevika reaches forward and pulls you in for a hug. "it's good to see you." she whispers against your shoulder.

you sob as you cling to her.

you don't think you'll ever stop crying.

you don't think you'll ever let go.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #first time doing a song based fic! it was so fun!! i love pheobe lol

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formerplumi · 2 days ago

Text

( crow choir. prologue ) ── fame is a fickle food. (m.s/next)

author's note at the end, pls read! (l/n) is not the direct insert.

even when she knows she’s got money stashed away, notes she’ll never use to replace the stale, gray oats she’s ploughing through with a flimsy plastic spoon, money she’ll use instead for a bottle of cheap ecstasy later instead, (l/n) doesn’t think she’s a bad sister.

even as she forces the spoon through the little mouth of her dear little (name), holding their head to keep them from babbling and gagging at the meal, (l/n) is not a bad sister.

scummy business doesn’t pay much in gotham. where pretty powder packets and cloudy liquid injections make thousands on the streets of a better city, it’s too average a dealing here. “home-made” a customer joked once, “gotham’s specialty.” (l/n) gave him a wry smile, in acknowledgment, not humor.

irritated, is an easy way to put it. (l/n) is frustrated. she used to dream of being a singer, a big, famous singer, with the voice of a nightingale piercing through the monotonous black and whites of the city with the deep blue of her solemn voice.

she had her story all planned out. young (l/n) knew only her mother and her rented apartment, forced to share commodities with a bastard child from her mother’s many affairs. but ah, she was so welcoming and kind-hearted! a true teresa, treating the kid like an angel sent just to her, performing her little do-re-mis to a giggling toddler, who pulled at her hair and pawed at her face in affection.

the vocals classes her mother weaseled her into, would have the teachers notice her wonderful voice, urging her and encouraging her to perform professionally. she’d make her way into a big gala, people would applaud, and she'd be as wealthy as the other filthy rich socialites in gotham. eventually, she’d help her mom, and her baby sibling leave the mean tenant’s apartment, and they’d eat soft bread and smooth butter, nothing like the grainy spreads on hard loafs they ate now.

but a city covered in gargoyle statuettes has no place for the dreams of a little grosbeak.

their mother didn’t come home one day. and she didn’t come home the next day either. when (l/n) opened the door on the third day in tears, hoping hysterically it was mummy dearest, she had to break down again at the sight of a stone-faced policeman.

she’s allowed to feel resentful, isn’t she? dreams punctured before they even had the chance to take flight, burdened with the duty of caring for a ditzy little kid at just eighteen.

none of her old teachers, none of the old shrinking men who regularly asked her to sing at their clubs, parties, helped. not even the slightest comfort came to the miserable, mourning girl. nobody wanted to have the stain of commissioning a helpless girl, what were they, taking advantage of a poor child’s misfortune?

in desperation, in poverty, she quit her part job as a cashier, having no time for it and turned to a less pleasant way of work. scouring through the dirty, shit-smelling allies of gotham to sell lame drugs and smoke to worse-off people.

and this… ungrateful brat won’t even eat the little food she works so hard to provide? she’s lived off her own products, hoping to dull the ache of hunger with weak alcohol, and this bitch refuses to eat?

she hates them enough to want to fling them out the window.

but… she loves them too dearly to ever try. and so, another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes goes to bed with a heavy heart, after coaxing her little baby (name)’s big doe eyes to sleep.

the police station smells like disinfectant and sounds like tv static, but maybe it’s just your dazed head making up the buzzing.

the officers tried, as gently as they could, to get you to talk, explain what happened. but they mistook your silence as numb-tongue from the shock of her death, leaving you to be with yourself for a while, calm down.

your eyes are eerily fixated on the colourful cartoon playing on a small tv they're propped you up in front of, the characters' bright voices dissolving into the ringing in your ears. you watch them harp about kindness and togetherness distastefully, lamenting their shrill songs and wishing your big sister would sing to you instead.

you feel guilty. you took her voice away. your existence ruined the hopes she had for her future, her golden days were rusted by you. it should’ve been you instead. you, instead of her.

it’s unbecoming of a child your age to chew on their nails, your sister had scolded once, scowling. but she’s not here anymore, so you occupy yourself with peeling skin off your fingers, no thought to how much it'll ache later.

your clothes feel thin, and your body’s so hot with sickness you shiver. a lady officer had wrapped a big brown coat around you, but it lays discarded at your side. you deserve no comfort.

and you repeat this day. over and over and over in your head for the next four years, and more to come. you repeat the memory of the day your little apartment world became far too big for you to handle, the memory of your faults, the memory of your sister.

you are a sickly child. you are a sick child. you deserve no comfort.

suffocation is too harsh a word to use for the luxury you're so suddenly plunged into, but it is claustrophobic and horrifyingly unfamiliar. there are far too many people in the house, stalking the too-wide corridors, under too-tall ceilings, your nerves shake whenever you walk past them.

your head spins from all the lights and paintings, carved furniture and embroidered carpets. they've dropped a little mole into a vast jungle of glass chandeliers and decorative flowers, with no hand to hold their pathetic paws and guide them around and out.

your body stays tense, strung like a bow, even as the butler weaves you with the utmost care through what seems like infinite corridors, to a pretty little door with a shining handle. you furrow your brows, to rest the contempt you hold at the polished wood, resenting the gleam of it, that which resembled his set hair and his loathsome suit.

the loathsome suit you saw four... no, twelve years too late, and vow to see as sparingly as possible.

you'd take back the vile gray oats and 'tough love' of your sister over these new inexplicable pastries and cold businessmen any day.

you miss her. you deserve no comfort.

INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! i hope this is an adequate introduction the the series, and i will expand on this significantly. future updates are fueled by reader interactions, so if you do end up liking this, please do let me know your thoughts by commenting or re-blogging.

regarding the genre, style and tropes: reader insert is gender neutral. while noir is more of a style, more present in movies than prose, i do want to attempt at at least a similar sense in the form of a writing genre. as for the "yandere" tags, i'm unsure how else to put it. i'm aware there are more niche terms that would better describe the characterisations that'll be present, but they're neither popular nor easy (for me) to describe. that aside, the traits that'll (eventually) be displayed will showcase yan-tendencies, so i hope you don't feel like i'm trying to bait anyone with tags.

thank you for reading!!

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revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

I’m here for Soundwave stealing away reader from Starscream. It’s a very likely scenario to occur if Starscream continues to be his own downfall but it’s amusing to consider nonetheless the less because he knows that is an outcome that can happen.

He absolutely would at this point if reader wasn’t fully bonded to Starscream. He’s just trying to keep Star from dragging you with him when he self destructs at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 106

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Megatron.” Turning at Soundwave’s deep voice, he waits for his communications officer to catch up to him. “A word?” Servos flexing because he can still smell you on Soundwave, he inclines his head. Starts walking again with the other mech and waits for Soundwave to begin speaking again. Because this is about you, he knows it is. And you’re a problem. The way his spark heats when you glare at him or snap back an unexpected thrill. Afraid, but willing to stand up to him for your mates, but not yourself. Why does he care when you really shouldn’t matter.

• “This is about the human. Your mate.” Ignoring the thinly veiled growl in Megatron’s voice, Soundwave nods. Carefully. If Megatron realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll never cooperate. So he waits and walks, feeling when Megatron glances sidelong at him, optics narrowed. “Why a human?” Because of the way you smile when you see him, though those have been fragile things lately because of his own actions. Because he loves the chaos of your emotions within his thoughts, those soft hands, having someone that doesn’t mind if he’s too quiet. If he’s lost in thought. The way you trace little patterns on his plating when you’re drowsy and the way you never shy away when he reaches for you. That soft voice talking to him about anything and everything. All things he can’t say to Megatron.

• “Easy to control,” Soundwave replies and Megatron’s lips twist. Because he’s almost certain that’s a lie. No, definitely a lie. Remembering the affectionate way Soundwave had brushed his cheek against you and feathered kisses against your skin. Murmuring to you as you curled into him, trusting yourself fully to his care. And part of him wonders what that would be like. Someone waiting for him, happy to see him and with no ulterior motives behind their smiles. He’s lonely, but he’s been lonely a very long time. Letting his reputation and temper keep everyone at bay.

• “The truth,” Megatron admonishes, voice soft and Soundwave vents. Tiredly reaching up to press his servos against his chassis over his cassette compartment. Can still sense your emotions despite the distance. That incomplete bond a tie to you. A way to ensure the Seeker can’t just run away with you. And a gamble that you’ll hopefully survive Starscream if he won’t stop clawing for power. If Megatron ends him once and for all because of the Seeker’s own treacherous actions, you don’t deserve to die with him. And he doesn’t know how this will work. If he‘ll be tied to Starscream’s fate alongside you if he fully bonds you or if it might spare you. Spark bonds are a taboo and who knows which or if any of the old stories are real or just legends.

• “Happier since finding them,” Soundwave admits. That isn’t a lie, his communications officer looking at him as if daring him to judge. And he really can’t. Because he understands as much as it makes him uncomfortable. Likes speaking to you despite the fact that you’re beneath him. Insignificant. “Less lonely.” And that strikes home.

• “I don’t know what that means,” you whisper and that hint of miserable fear in your voice pierces Starscream’s own worries. “I don’t know what a protoform even is.” Feels when you start to tremble and wraps his arms around you as he realizes that he’s not the only one completely lost in this. You’re worried and scared, too. “I need someone to talk to me, okay? Please?”

• “I know.” Raspy voice low as he tucks you more firmly against him, chin resting on top of your head. “We’ll do this together.” Feeling his palm sliding up and down your spine, you desperately want to believe that. That he’s not going anywhere. That he won’t panic and run again. But you’re not sure that you can anymore. “Figure it out together.” And you need to believe that so much it hurts, but can you?

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #transformers #megatron #starscream #soundwave

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back2bluesidex · 2 days ago

Text

To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5.8k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Thanks to the every possible gods out there, you are capable of keeping your poker face even when your insides are burning with rage.

Like right now.

First of all you landed in a proposition with one of the people you don’t even like, that too, with the most insufferable one in question.

Secondly, your superiors are treating him as if he has won a gold medal or something.

Min Yoongi - the man who is known for his nonchalance and quiet wisdom, can’t seemingly stop giving his gummy smile to this guy, Jeon Jungkook.

Mrs. Lee, who is probably double the age of the guy, is ogling him as if it's a zombie apocalypse and she hasn’t seen another male for thirty years or so.

When they both turn to you, you realize they are probably waiting for you to react the same way as them.

Too bad, you are not even the least bit amused.

After greeting both of the superiors, Jeon Jungkook looks at you - with those big ass googly eyes. A kind smile plays on his lips.

He extends his hand with a soft “nice to meet you.”

Well. definitely not the same. You scream internally but you compose yourself and return his smile, somewhat half-assed, as you wrap your small hand around his big veiny ones (the same hand that does those dirty deeds with others of his stature).

“Nice to meet you too.” you murmur only because Yoongi is giving you those eyes you absolutely love and hate at the same time.

Yoongi gestures to Jungkook to take the seat, “So, Mr. Jeon. I assume you have gone through our proposal already?”

“Umm.. yeah. My manager did go through your proposal and briefed me.” Jeon Jungkook says with a voice that doesn’t match that gruff, breathy one from the video.

Why the fuck do I keep thinking of the video? You inhale a long breath.

“Okay so.. Is there any question in your mind? Or do you want me to go through it all once again?” Yoongi adds good naturedly.

“Umm no actually. I came here to decline your offer.” Jungkook drops the bomb. If you are low-key happy then you don’t let it show on your face.

“W-what? Why? Is there any part of the offer that is not up to your liking? We can revise it anytime you want.” Mrs. Lee butts in.

“Uh. no not that. I personally don’t like to use the devices that your company manufactures. All of your laptops are so bulky, the chassis is always too old-fashioned. It’s not something Jeon Jungkook would use, you know what I mean?” Jungkook reasons smugly, as he leans on the backrest of his chair and crosses his legs.

You hear blood rushing to your brain and before any of your superiors can say anything you start speaking, “oh really? Must be tough to carry our laptops to a pornset or something, huh?”

You see Jungkook’s eyes going comically wide as he tries to register what you have just said.

“What? What are you talking about?” he semi-screams. His attention is now trained only and only on you.

“You know very well what I am talking about, Mr. Jeon.” you lean on the table just as smugly. Under the table Yoongi kicks on your shin but you dodge his attack at the right time.

Jungkook laughs. A big, thunderous laugh, “I don’t see it being any of your business to question what I do in my free time, is it?”

You smirk. If he thought you are going to back off that easily, he was wrong, “it definitely is not. But the fact that we chose to offer you this endorsement deal despite your current public reputation, tells a lot about our dedication towards charity.”

“Oh.. so this is a charity huh?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “sorry to tell you but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any charity.”

With that Jungkook stands up and gales at you for one last time before he storms out of the room.

Yoongi slams his head directly on the table making you wince at the loud thud.

“Y/N! What do you think you did?” Mrs. Lee screams in horror.

“What?” you shrug in nonchalance, “he was going to say no anyway.”

“Y/N” Yoongi finally says, probably after struggling not to punch himself in the face for inviting you to the meeting, “we could have negotiated if you chose to stay silent.”

“But I only said what’s true. This collaboration could have saved his face. He was the one who chose to be an ass- I mean, inconsiderate.” you argue.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show him what’s right?” Yoongi says in a sugary voice, one that’s not really good news.

“What do you mean?” you question, suspicion landing on your brain.

“You need to bring him back if you love the year-end appraisal or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” he says in a collected voice.

“What? Yoongi! You can’t do this!” you stand from your seat, and Yoongi only smirks at you.

“Oh I definitely can. I can also submit a formal complaint against you calming that you have messed up an important deal. Do you want that?”

You stay silent, questioning your life choices, your career choices. Cursing at the every god above for making you a human when you could have been a worm.

No job, no money issues, no Min Yoongi, no Jeon Jungkook - only soil and dirt.

You sit on the chair again, cover your face with both of your hands and curse “fuck everyone”.

Your eyes zero on your phone this time. The insta handle is burning too bright for the darkness of your room. Honestly, tapping the name is currently hurting your pride.

But what can you even do - you are a corporate slave after all. And the crush you have on your direct superior, prevents you from being rebellious.

But more than just that - you know you were wrong.

Your hate towards the social media influencers clan is pretty much ridiculous and apparently has no reason.

Is it due to your underlying insecurity? Is it because you believe you are inferior to them? While they make hundreds of dollars per hour, you make a dime?

You probably hate Jeon Jungkook because he is the same age of yours and yet has everything you don’t? - like an amazing sex life.

As you tap on the story, it takes you into a video with all colors of gleaming lights. Clearly a club. Loud music blares through your phone speaker, almost paralyzing your ears.

You can’t see Jeon Jungkook on the screen, obviously because he is the one recording the video. But you can hear him whooing in the background. There are some girls around him for obvious reasons.

Suddenly you feel jealous of him again.

He is of your age and he is enjoying a night out at a posh club while you are on your bed, with your ugly pajamas on and you can’t go out because you have work tomorrow.

As soon as the word “work” registers in your mind, you remember you have been tasked with bringing Jungkook back.

You look at the screen again. He has added the location, which means you can find the club, find him and apologize (oh god no!) and beg him for another meeting.

Yes. That's a nice plan. You can then mourn for your dead self-respect with a bucket full of ice-cream.

You have picked the shortest possible dress you own.

It’s a shimmery black bodycon that reaches your mid-thigh. The noodle strap of the bodycon dress gives a tempting view of your collar-bone and cleavage.

You have let your hair lose - you look the best like this. A touch of makeup and you are all ready.

You know you are attractive but will that be enough for the bouncers to let you inside that posh club? You pray it’s enough.

When the taxi drops you in front of the well-known club in Gangnam, you spot the line. And thankfully, the queue is not at all terrible.

Since the clock hasn’t hit 10:00 pm yet, the entry is free.

When you reach in front of the bouncers, they give you a once-over, then look at each other. Your hands feel clammy because they have rejected almost everyone before you. If you are not wrong then only two of the visitors were let in.

But then one of them brought the stamp out and held it in front of your face. You gave him your wrist with a squeal of joy.

You let yourself go blind and deaf with the glaring lights and loud music. Wherever you look, you see people attached to people. Some are dancing, some are drinking, some are making out, some are just standing and talking with drinks in their hands.

You don’t think you have seen this amount of strangers all year.

You will admit - you feel alive.

But no! No Y/N! You are here with a motive, you can’t let yourself be distracted!

In the story, Jungkook seemed to be close to the bar island. Even though that was more than an hour ago, you still start looking for the bar island.

“Why are there so many bars?” you mumble to yourself as you scan the entire floor. There are at least four bars here, there must be more on the upper floor.

You start feeling helpless at once. All these strangers around you, wrapped in wealth, some giving you long looks - trigger your social anxiety.

Bad decision. It’s a bad decision. You should probably just run away.

But when you are about to take an u-turn, you see him.

You see Jeon Jungkook on the dance floor, grinding on a red-headed pretty looking girl.

He looks - like a fucking wet dream.

A black baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, some bulky golden chains, his dark hair gleams under the lights. His lip ring shines directly on your eyes and you snap back.

Great. Now that you have found him.. You can proceed with your plan - which is to beg him.

Without a second thought, you start stepping on the dance floor.

There are not a lot of people, so you easily get past everyone and stand there behind him.

Your eyes drop on his ass, then his hands, his veins and you question your life choices.

Somebody just crashes on you making you lurch forward.

Your body slams against Jungkook’s back. You are about to apologize when he reaches behind with his hand and grabs your side. He grinds his ass on you without even looking at your face.

You feel nauseous. This is the second time you are meeting him and the proximity is very scandalous.

Placing your hand on top of his, you break free from his hold.

“Jeon Jungkook, can I please talk to you for a moment?” you scream in his ears.

He doesn’t stop moving, but you know he has heard you.

Jungkook slowly moves on his feet while vibing and then turns to face you.

His mischievous eyes bore into yours as he takes you in slowly. He shamelessly eyes your cleavage then looks back up your face.

“What?” he screams over the music.

“Not here. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

He smirks at you, “oh? Already? Wait- have I seen you before?”

Your blood turns cold, “no. I mean yeah. Actually-”

“You- that obnoxious employee from Techtonic? Right?” his eyes go wide.

“Obnoxious? I am obnoxious? Then what are y-” you inhale, “Yes. I am Y/N. You are right. I am from Techtonic. Can I please have a word with you?”

“No? Why would I spare my precious time on you? So that you can insult me again?” he frowns at your figure before starting to walk away.

You grab onto his hand, “Please. I am here to apologize. I promise.”

He looks back, takes a look at the place you are touching him and then looks at you, “if I give you a chance… What will you give me in return?” Jungkook challenges.

What in the world did you get yourself into?

You don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins.

I repeat - you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins then what is making you feel so lightheaded?

If it’s the spicy citrusy smell that Jeon Jungkook’s emitting then you won’t admit it even if you end up dying.

“Tell me, Y/N. What will I get if I give you another chance?” he challenges again. This time his tongue pokes out of that perfectly small round mouth and plays with the glinting lip ring.

You don’t understand the science of hearing him clearly despite the sound of loud music and the loud beating of your heart.

“I- anything. Anything you ask for.” you choke out, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Anything I ask for?” Jungkook comes impossibly close to your body.

You can see long fingers with even longer nails circling around his torso. The red-headed girl is clinged around him.

“If- If I can afford that.” you choke out again.

“Oh.. you definitely can.” he smirks like a devil. All the smug pride drains from your body at the thought of what he might be asking from you.

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers briefly as he takes your hand and guides you through the crowd towards the upper floor.

The piece of skin, where his fingers are holding your wrist - burns.

You are ashamed, nervous, afraid - all in all you want to die.

Just a week ago you were scoffing at your laptop watching this guy make fame out of a porn video and now he is leading you god knows where to do god knows what.

Before you could take in your surroundings, Jungkook slams you on the nearest wall. He wastes no time in locking you between his arms.

“You really came here only to convince me? You had no other intention, huh?” He asks with the lowest possible voice. A shiver runs down through the path of your spine.

“No. What intention would I even have? I fucked things up at the meeting so my superiors are making me clean the mess.” Your voice comes out firmer than what you thought you could manage.

“Oh? Really? But I think there is something else to it.” Jungkook comes closer to your body. His chest touches yours. You take a sharp inhale but keep the eye-contact intact.

Jungkook’s eyes dip down to your chest again as he continues, “you want what you watched in that video, don’t you?” he wets his lips once those vile words come out of his mouth.

Your jaw hits the floor almost, “what the fuck? What makes you think I want you?”

Jungkook invades whatever was left off of your personal space and whispers right into your ear, “If you accept it nicely, tell me the truth whether you got turned on or not, I will give your company a chance.”

You gulp at his offer.

If you say you were completely unaffected after watching him fucking his partner so well, then it will be a lie for sure.

So… if you swallow your pride and tell him that he indeed had some kind of effect on you - he will be up for another meeting?

“And what if I tell you the truth?” you question, looking deep into his chocolate eyes. All you see there is mirth.

“I will schedule another meeting with your company. But I will be declining you all again.” Jungkook adds nonchalantly.

You scoff at that, pushing him away and making some space between your bodies, “so you are just going to use my confession and insult me in my workplace?”

“Oooohhhh… You are not dumb, I see?” he muses, stumbling back from your body.

“Wh-what? Dumb? You thought I am dumb? Mind you, Jeon Jungkook, I get paid for doing actual work and not because I keep hollering at a dumb computer screen in front of camera.” anger flares through every vein in your body.

“And yet you came here to beg me?” he shrugs smugly.

“You know what? Fuck you and your stupid followers who feed your stupid ego!” screaming at his face, you take steps away, stomping on the floor even if your heels are killing you already.

This was a bad idea. Indeed a bad idea.

You don’t get paid for dealing with these scumbags. So it’s not your responsibility. It’s better to have your appraisal compromised than falling in the trap of Jeon Jungkook.

You imagine Jungkook’s face in the place of the ice cream tub as you stab your fork in it with as much fierceness as you could find in yourself.

Yes, you are eating ice-cream with a fork, so that you can imagine Jungkook’s face and stab in it.

“Fucking nutjob! What do you even think of yourself!” stab stab stab “Karma will hit you back very soon! You fucking asshole!” stab stab stab.

As if granting your prayers, the cosmos sends a notification to your device. You take the phone to see Yoongi's instagram handle that has sent you a text.

You start blushing instantly.

“Is this the universe’s way of making up for today’s trashy encounter?” you murmur to yourself as you open his text.

It’s a link so maybe it’s one of those cat videos he sends you the links of.

As you tap on the link, it takes to a post that has been made just an hour ago. The post - a video, containing proofs of Kim Doona (the influencer Jungkook fucked) being a high school bully. The video has texts sent by Doona to the victim, threatening her not to reveal anything.

Looks like Karma mistook the address. It should have been Jeon Jungkook!

You go to the comments.

All of their followers are going crazy, it’s just the same shit in different sentences. So you scroll past it all.

But there are two comments that catch your eye, actually one comment and its reply.

Commenter: Can’t believe Jeon Jungkook chose her out of everyone? A class bully? Really Jeon? You could do better.

Reply 1: What are you even saying? Jungkook probably didn’t even know and mind you, none of them confirmed if they were together or not. Reply 2: but girl, they f*cked on camera! Reply 3: How does that confirm their relationship? Reply 4: Jeon Jungkook has a girlfriend, I caught them at the club just a few hours ago. The proof is in my story.

Eh? Kim Doona isn’t his girlfriend? That was a rumor? He has another girlfriend who was with him at the club?

But you were at the club too, you should have seen them. Is it that red-head girl?

All of these questions swirl inside your head as you tap on the person’s story.

The video is taken amid a mass of bodies, trying to be discreet, but you can recognize Jeon Jungkook, leading a woman through the crowd.

Your heart stops beating for a moment when you realize it’s you. Your face is not visible properly, curtained by your hair, and you are thankful for that.

The video continues as Jungkook takes you towards the quiet corner. The person, who’s recording, moves too for getting a clearer view.

Now he is hiding behind the end of the wall that Jungkook had pressed you on. The video shows how he had towered you in, whispered in your ear and smirked at you. But then it gets cut right before you push him away!

“Fuck! I am not his girlfriend! Are you people blind? How do we look like a couple?!” you scream at your phone.

You decide you have had enough humiliation today. Hence, putting your phone in charge and traveling towards dreamland is a better idea.

This fiasco may die down by the morning. People will definitely defy the girlfriend theory because you two don’t look like a couple. And your face wasn’t even properly visible in the video. So yeah let sleep solve your problems.

Except - nothing solves.

When you wake up and take your phone out of charge, you grasp so hard that your phone slips from your hold and lands on the bed with a thud.

You have a thousand new follow requests on your instagram account. There are a ton of texts from various people in Ktalk and most of them have sent you insta links.

You open your younger sister’s text. She has sent everything in caps:

Y/N!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS??? [Link] YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU ARE DATING JEON JUNGKOOK????????

You type your reply:

Calm down. I am not dating that douchebag.

And then you tap on the link.

The post that the link takes you to, can rival your natal chart. It’s a detailed discussion of who you are, what’s your job, how do you look, where you have probably met Jungkook and your insta handel.

They have also attached a photo of Jungkook talking to you standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!!!” you curse and curse and curse.

Why are these people dragging you into this mess now? Why do they have to link you up with him? What the hell is even happening?

How are you even going to get to work today?

You shoot a quick text to Yoongi saying that you need a off-day today for obvious reasons. He sends one of those rofl emojis along with a thumbs up and you try not to feel down.

Yoongi doesn’t really understand what you feel for him? Does he?

You mean you are embroiled in a dating rumor with someone else and he seems to be just fine?

It’s just another confirmation that he doesn’t reciprocate your stupid crush on him.

Just when you are about to keep your phone aside and sleep some more, you get a call from an unknown number.

You don’t think much before receiving it.

“Hello, who’s this?” your voice is still groggy and your stomach rumbles as you speak on the phone.

A sweet cherry voice rings in your ear, “Hello, is this Y/N?”

“Yes. and you?”

“I am Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook’s manager.”

The remnant of sleep flies away from your eyes as the man introduces himself. Why is Jeon Jungkook’s manager calling you this early in the morning!?

“How can I help you?” you voice, not trying to mask your confusion.

“Y/N, I assume you are aware of the situation, right? I mean the rumors?”

“I am aware and currently waiting for Mr. Jeon to decline the speculations.” you state as firmly as possible.

“About that… Why don’t we discuss before revealing anything?”

You frown at that.

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? You know well that I got to know Mr. Jeon via a professional connection, there is nothing else added to it, except for the fact that I visited the club to convince him for another meeting. And all of these things happened.”

“Exactly. I know it all and I also know that it’s not nice to be dragged into this mess but we, me and Jungkook, have a proposition to make. We can use this situation for both of our benefits for strictly business purposes.”

You sigh, “I don’t understand what you are trying to say Mr. Kim.”

“Yes. That is only natural. So, why don’t we meet face to face and get down on the details of the proposition? You can bring a friend or family if you are not comfortable meeting us alone. How does lunch sound?”

You think for a moment. You could probably take Jimin with you? Even though it’s monday, he will squeeze some time out of his schedule if you promise him free lunch.

“Okay. I will send you a confirmation text in this number.” you reply before cutting the call and directing your fingers towards Jimin’s text.

He has sent you a similar array of texts, so hopefully he won’t have too many questions to ask. He will understand once you give him a brief.

“I will tell you everything, can you meet me for lunch? I need to meet Jeon Jungkook and his manager for obvious reasons. Free lunch will be offered.”

His reply comes within a few moments,

“I’m in. I will pick you up just text me the time.”

You now type a text to Kim Seokjin confirming him the meeting as he texts you the time.

Just when you are about to go to Jimin’s inbox again, another unknown number sends you a text.

Annoyance flares through your veins as you open it. It says:

“See you soon, pornaddict.

– Jeon Jungkook.”

You groan at the choice of nick name, “Fuck you, Jeon!”

You don’t understand many things.

But currently, you don’t understand why this fine-as-fuck man is Jeon Jungkook’s manager slash assistant.

He goes by the name Kim Seokjin.

When he smiles at you, you melt. And to compose your flustered state you look at Jeon Jungkook - the (current) bane of your existence.

He gives you a lopsided smile that obviously is fake, leaning down against the sofa seat absorbing as much sunlight as possible.

You don’t give him any reaction.. Beside you, Jimin introduces himself to both of the men.

“Miss Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” Seokjin says in a pleasant tone. His voice sounds like honey dripping from a silver spoon.

You nod, “Yeah. Alright, Mr. Kim, can I ask about the proposition you were talking about?”

“Call me seokjin. And sure, let’s get into the important details.” he pauses to give you a sweet smile then opens his ipad and scrolls through something. Jungkook, too, scrolls through his phone so unamusedly as if he has been dragged here without his consent.

“So, as you already know, the situation is out of hand now. We tried to take down the initial posts but the photos and videos spread like fire.” he speaks calmly. You nod along with him, Jimin too gives the older man his utmost attention.

“On the other hand, our Jungkookie has been interacting with people, who are currently embroiled in controversy.” noted: Seokjin called Jungkook as Jungkookie and he is talking about Doona.

You see Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“If it wasn’t not for you, then he would be dragged down in the mess too.” Seokjin continues, “I know it’s not nice to be the center of unwanted attention and it is already causing you damage but… we need your help. Jungkook needs your help.”

Jungkook makes a very unapproving sound from his seat.

“What help? How can I even help you guys?” you are now extremely confused. Why would Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, need your help?

“Date him.” Seokjin proposes.

“What?” you and Jimin scream in unison.

“Not for real. Calm down. I meant to say, if you pretend to be his girlfriend before the world, on social media, it will help Jungkookie in defying possible criticism and hatred.” Seokjin explains calmly.

However, you are anything but calm.

Whatever criticism Jeon Jungkook faces, it is simply his own problem. You have nothing to do with it. What is your benefit by being involved with him?

As if reading your mind Seokjin now states, “in return, Jungkookie will sign an exclusive deal with your company for not only one but any kind of future collaboration your company wants with him, that too, at a discounted price.” he winks at you.

Your jaw hits the floor.

“Hyung! What the fuck! Where is this discount coming from?” Jungkook finally opens his mouth for the first time.

“Cool. I’m in.” you reply in a heartbeat. Jimin clutches your wrist under the table.

“Y/N! Aren’t you even going to think?” he whisper-yells in your ear.

“There is nothing to think about. This is a very good deal, Jiminie. I will be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity go.” you whisper back.

“But-”

“I knew you would be an intelligent one” Seokjin cuts off your friend with a cherry tone, “I look forward to working with you” he extends his hand, you take in him with a shake. The shit-eating grin is lighting up your face.

Jungkook sits there throwing daggers at you with his eyes.

“It’s all because of you! You fucked things up!” Jungkook’s loud voice invades the serenity you were enjoying while waiting for Jimin to show up with his car.

You turn your head in astonishment and give him wide eyes, “My ears must have gone cold. You are saying thanks and I am hearing something completely different.”

“No! You are hearing it right, I said you fucked things up. Only if you didn’t show up at the club-”

“Then people would be dragging you down in twitter and instagram for fucking a school bully on camera.” you finish the sentence for him.

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirks, “you know what? I can see how bad you are down for me. Is this all a part of your plan?”

You smirk back, folding your hand in front of your chest, “FYI, your manager reached out to me to help you out. I am doing you a favor and you are returning it. Got it?”

“Again.. Again that nasty attitude of yours.” Jungkook steps towards you, “you know what… I kinda like it.”

He breathes directly on your face.

The puff of his breath lands on the apple of your cheeks making a blush creep up without your notice.

“Make sure you save my number, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” he leans down and whispers the last words in your ears and then disappears inside the parking lot.

You stand there, catching your breath and questioning your decision for the first time since the proposition landed on your lap.

But wait? What does he mean by ‘see you tomorrow’?

Somebody must have pressed a replay button on the cassette of your life.

If not then it’s certainly a deja vu, because the scene that’s unfolding is exactly the same as what happened last week.

You are sitting inside the conference room, with Yoongi and Mrs. Lee and there is Jeon Jungkook sitting right across from you.

The only thing that seems changed today is his attitude - which is a little more tamed.

And oh… your clothes too.

“This is so nice of you to come forward and ask for a meeting after whatever happened last time.” Mrs. Lee speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone. You wanna roll your eyes but decide against it.

“Ah. no no. Miss Y/N is really competent at what she does. The credit goes to her. Even though things went south for the first time, we figured out that we actually are very compatible and working together will be beneficial for both of us. Right?” Jungkook directs his question towards you.

“Uh- yeah. Hahahaha. Yeah.” you honestly don’t know what to reply. He is obviously faking it and you need to fake it too but Yoongi is sitting right beside you and he is staring at you and you are on the verge of losing your sanity.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries but I can’t help being curious if the rumors are true?” Yoongi barges in. He looks at you and then Jungkook, expecting an answer or a reaction.

Before you can say something - something you don’t even know what, Jungkook decides to answer.

“Only time will tell.” he smiles at Yoongi.

The amount of weird glances you are receiving from your colleagues is astronomical.

For most of them it’s just eyeing you up and down and for some of the brave ones, it’s throwing impromptu comments like “oh, Y/N is a celeb now.”

You want to punch them on their faces.

Nevertheless, you don’t want a new trouble right when you manage to fight one crisis in exchange for your name and relationship status.

You scroll through company social media accounts and start planning for all the new content that’s going to drop as soon as Jungkook’s done with the photoshoot.

Your phone chimes with a notification. When take it in your hand to see it’s a text from the devil himself:

“In front of the parking lot. Come in five minutes.”

Your eyes close in frustration. You haven’t even stepped into the deal properly and he has started ordering you already.

But what can you even do, you dug your own grave after all.

It takes you seven minutes to reach the parking lot - obviously because you work on the sixteenth floor and the elevators don’t run on your will.

When you find Jungkook waiting for you at the mentioned location with his bike, you find him kind of intriguing.

It’s been long, embarrassingly long, since you have had a guy waiting for you. Even though you know it’s fake. You can turn blind eye for a moment and let yourself believe otherwise.

“You are late.” he says with a pout.

You lose your sanity only a little.

“Sorry. The elevator didn’t listen to me when I asked it to run fast.” you reply.

“Haha. very funny.” he replies animatedly then reaches for his backpack and plucks out a document folder.

“What is this?” you question naturally.

“The dating contract for our fake relationship.” he shrugs, extending the folder towards you, “Hyung asked you to go through it meticulously. You can add or reduce any term you don’t see fit. We will finalize it and announce our fake relationship officially once you are done. You have time till Friday.” he recites flatly, “also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever-”

“Y/N?” someone calls you and it’s not Jungkook.

You whip your head to see Yoongi is standing a few feets away inside the parking space with keys in his hand.

Your stomach feels funny at his unreadable expression.

And then you feel a pair or lips pressing down on your cheeks.

Jungkook kisses you before parting and saying, “Hasta la vista, baby”

You freeze at your stop. You can see Yoongi’s eyes narrowing on you. Jungkook hops on his bike and leaves within a moment.

You stand there, staring apologetically at the man you like and he sports an expression you can’t comprehend.

“So.. the rumors were true, huh?” Yoongi finally voices after what feels like an eternity.

“No- I-” also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it? Jungkook’s words reel inside your head, “yes” you lie, crossing your fingers behind you.

“Congratulations” Yoongi greets before flashing his gummy smile at you and then leaving you there to look for his car.

“You really don’t care, do you?” you ask him. Even though you know he can’t hear you. There is a mixture of different emotions inside your gut and you are way too tired to name any of those.

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

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aspenmissing · 1 day ago

Text

ᴄᴀɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ

��ᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ? || 1245 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ? (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ), ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ?

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴘɪʟᴛᴏᴠᴇʀ’ꜱ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʟᴀʙ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀɴᴇ, ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏ/ɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴇᴇɴ, ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

The laboratory had seen countless innovations over the years, but none were as infamous—or as feared—as Viktor’s cane. What had started as an innocuous habit of independence had turned into a Pavlovian nightmare for Jayce and Y/N.

Jayce was the first to bear witness to Viktor's infamous cane. It happened on a seemingly ordinary day while the two were deep in brainstorming. Viktor, perched on his chair, shifted slightly as a schematic slipped from the workbench and fluttered to the floor.

Without thinking, Jayce, the ever helpful and sweet man, sprang up. “Here, let me—”

CLANK.

Jayce yelped as the cane met his shin with surprising precision. “Ow!" Jayce quickly holds his shin, rubbing it with a pout. "What was that for?”

“I do not require assistance,” Viktor said, his tone almost bored. “If I did, you would know.”

Jayce stared at him, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and indignation, as Viktor calmly picked up the schematic. “Was it really necessary to hit me that hard?”

“Quite,” Viktor replied. “You will learn.”

Months later, Y/N experienced her own initiation. Viktor was leaning against his workbench, examining a particularly intricate piece of tech when he started to wobble slightly.

Instinct kicked in. Y/N, the sweet woman she too is, darted forward, hands outstretched to steady him. “Careful, Vik—”

WHACK.

The cane struck her ankle with unerring accuracy. Y/N let out a strangled “Ow!” before hopping back. “What the hell was that for?”

Viktor straightened himself, not even sparing her a glance. “If I needed you to catch me, you’d know. I prefer to remain upright of my own accord.”

Y/N glared at him, massaging her ankle. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, but standing,” he quipped, not missing a beat.

Jayce, ever the optimist, hadn’t yet fully learned his lesson. On a quiet morning, Viktor was engrossed in adjusting the settings of a prototype. The delicate tool he was using slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

Jayce, predictably, reacted first. “Let me get that for you—”

THWACK.

“Damn it, Viktor!” Jayce exclaimed, clutching his shin.

“I told you once already,” Viktor said without looking up, “and yet you persist. Perhaps repetition will drive the point home.”

It had been nearly a year since her first encounter with Viktor’s cane, but Y/N wasn’t one to let things slide. When Viktor staggered slightly during a late-night experiment, she moved to his side.

“Viktor, I can—”

SMACK.

Y/N cursed loudly, hopping away. She looks over to see Viktor drawing a line in his journal, besides her name. “Are you keeping a tally or something?!”

“Merely ensuring consistency,” Viktor replied, deadpan as he looks down at his journal.

Y/N: II Jayce: IIII IIII I

Over the years, Jayce and Y/N had been thoroughly conditioned by Viktor’s Cane of Discipline. At this point, Viktor only needed to lift the cane slightly, and both would flinch instinctively, muttering curses under their breaths. It became an unspoken rule between them:

Do not help Viktor unless explicitly asked.

Viktor soon realized just how well they adhered to this rule. Too well, in fact. The two would often grab at each other, a frantic race to stop the other from succumbing to old habits, both knowing the inevitable pain that would follow if they failed.

Y/N, for her part, learned quicker than Jayce. Her last attempt to help Viktor had been particularly memorable. She’d darted forward to steady him during a stumble, her reflexes swift enough to dodge the first swipe of the cane.

“Ha!” she’d crowed, turning to flash Jayce a triumphant smirk.

Her victory was short-lived. SMACK.

The cane struck squarely across her two precious cheeks, the sharp CRACK echoing through the lab. Y/N’s triumphant grin vanished in an instant, falling to her knees as her hands go straight to holding the two victims of the brutal attack. Beside her, Jayce let out an audible gasp of pain, wincing as though he had felt the blow himself. Meanwhile, Viktor straightened with deliberate calm, a smug arch lifting his brow as he tapped his cane lightly against the floor.

“Hubris,” he’d remarked calmly, tapping the cane on the floor for emphasis. "Always someone's downfall."

Y/N had to sleep on her stomach that night, grumbling into her pillow while Jayce dutifully rubbed soothing oil into her bruises, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Recently, however, Viktor had begun taking his little “experiment” beyond the confines of the lab. His public “jokes” were a new form of torment, designed to test just how thoroughly he had conditioned his partners.

The trio decided to grab lunch at the bustling market square. The fresh air and lively chatter were a welcome change from the lab’s stifling atmosphere—or at least, that’s what Jayce told himself while limping slightly.

Viktor, walking slightly ahead, deliberately dropped his gloves.

“Oh, no,” Viktor said, feigning concern. “It seems I’ve dropped something.” He began bending down at an exaggeratedly slow pace.

Jayce and Y/N froze. They exchanged a quick, panicked look like two deer in headlights. On instinct, Y/N took half a step forward before remembering the last time she’d tried to help him. Her ankle still ached from that day. She quickly stepped back.

“Don’t worry,” Viktor said loudly, drawing the attention of passersby. “I can handle it myself.”

A passing couple stopped to watch, their judgmental eyes flicking between the struggling Viktor and his unmoving companions.

“What’s wrong with them?” one whispered loudly. “He clearly needs help!”

Jayce flushed crimson. “It’s not—we’re not—” He stammered, desperate to explain, but the words tangled in his throat.

Y/N crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—he’s fine. Trust me.”

Viktor straightened slowly, gloves in hand, his face the picture of innocent triumph. “Thank you for your concern,” he said, addressing the bystanders with mock gratitude. “It’s so rare to see kindness these days.”

The couple shot Jayce and Y/N a final disapproving glare before walking away, muttering under their breath.

Jayce groaned. “You know, Viktor, one of these days, someone’s going to call the Enforcers on us because they think we’re mistreating you.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Viktor replied with a sly grin. “If you two didn’t look so guilty.”

“I’m not guilty!” Jayce protested, voice cracking slightly.

Y/N rolled her eyes, nudging him in the ribs. “Keep it up, and you’re going to end up with a cane-shaped bruise on your ass trying to defend our honour.”

By the time they got back to the lab, Jayce’s nerves were thoroughly fried. He flopped onto a chair with a dramatic sigh, rubbing his face while Viktor calmly adjusted his cane, the very picture of composure.

“I don’t get why you do this,” Jayce grumbled, his voice muffled through his hands.

Viktor shrugged, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “A bit of humor keeps life interesting, no?”

Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to steal that cane while you’re napping.”

“Ah,” Viktor said, the smirk growing into a wicked grin. “Then I’d simply build a new one. With enhancements. Perhaps a shock mechanism for particularly unhelpful partners.”

Jayce sat bolt upright, his face paling. “You wouldn’t.”

Viktor’s expression turned deadly serious as he leaned on the cane for emphasis. “Try me.”

Jayce turned to Y/N with pleading eyes. “Please, for the love of everything holy, don’t take his cane.”

Y/N shook her head, muttering under her breath, “Coward.”

The three of them stood there in a silent standoff, tension thickened by a mixture of mutual exasperation and the unspoken bond of affection.

It was just another perfectly chaotic day in Piltover’s most dysfunctional genius trio.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #jayce x reader x viktor #jayvik x reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #jayce talis x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n

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bonelessghoul · 15 hours ago

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me and the devil

Pairing: frontman x f!reader Summary: when you decided to join the games, you had been so removed from the life you once knew, but when an old face turns out to be another player, it changes everything for you. Note: after getting out that little tidbit I posted prior, I finally have the guts to get this out there. Thought this would be a cute way to tie in how they may have known each other before the games :) hope you all enjoy!! wc: 4.1k

~~~

Some time ago

The sound of an ambulance and police car entering the hospital driveway could be heard beyond the sliding doors, causing your heard to perk up behind the computer you sat at. It had been a long day already so you couldn’t even hide the disappointment in your sagged shoulders when a patient had come in with two paramedics.

“Evening!” said the paramedic at the front of the stretcher.

Your tired eyes were already on the elderly man in the stretcher. His frail frame, oxygen mask, and the nasty cough rattling underneath it painted a picture all too familiar.

“Feels like this is the dozenth time I’ve seen you guys today.” you said jokingly, but also with some truth underneath of it.

As you took the report and triaged the patient, it gave you a small sense of relief knowing he could be admitted quickly due to condition. Amid the overwhelming crowds and lingering illness, you found solace in these fleeting victories—a squeeze of a hand, a reassurance that someone would be cared for. But deep down, you knew the cycle would start anew when you clocked in tomorrow.

The paramedics took him to the room and you leaned against the counter, writing down the patients vitals so you could put them into the computer once you sat down but then, the door opened again.

“Please, not another one.” you mumbled, tiredly turning to the sliding doors that let in a gust of cold air from the outside.

But for the first time that day, a smile found your lips when a familiar police officer entered the premises.

“I promise I’m not dragging in another patient,” said Officer In Ho, his wide grin softening the fatigue etched on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping the streets safe, In Ho?” you teased, shuffling toward him in your light-blue scrubs. Gratefully, you took the coffee like a kid handed a toy.

The shine of his badge didn’t escape your notice, nor did how well he looked in his black uniform. Newly promoted, his pride was evident in the way he carried himself—a gleam in his eyes, a certain confidence in his stride.

“Ah, I already did that a couple of times today,” he replied with a playful scoff. “Now my job is to make sure the hospital is safe—and ensure there are no tired nurses lingering about.”

As you sipped the coffee, sweetened with an absurd amount of cream and sugar just the way you liked it, you glanced around the ambulance bay. Feigning innocence, you shrugged.

“I’d say you’d have to arrest me then, but since I’m the only one working right now, you’d have to answer to my boss.”

In Ho laughed but tilted his head with concern. “Again? I feel like you’re here every day.”

Rolling your eyes, you retreated behind the desk to finish charting before he could distract you any further.

“Well, you wouldn’t know if you didn’t stop by every day. Don’t they track your patrol car?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

He followed, leaning his arms on the counter above your computer. His grin remained, impossible to ignore.

“Yes, but after that incident a couple of weeks ago when your patient started a fight in the parking lot, I generously offered to swing by.”

Yawning, you leaned back in your chair, coffee in hand. “I’m going to start a fight in the parking lot soon. But there’s only an hour left. I’ll survive.”

In Ho raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll clear out of your warpath.”

Laughing, you waved a fist at him. “You brought me coffee. You’re spared for now, Officer In Ho.”

A laugh bubbled in your throat, causing you to sit up and wave your fist at him.

“You brought me coffee, you are spared from my warpath for now, Officer In Ho.”

Most shifts went like this—fifteen or twenty blissful minutes of his company while his partner kept an ear on the radio. For a brief moment, you forgot you were at work. It wasn’t always this easy, though. You were good at your job, often placed in challenging situations. It was, after all, how you had met him.

Your reminiscing was interrupted by the urgent wail of another ambulance siren. Downing the rest of your coffee, you moved around In Ho as if he weren’t there, throwing on latex gloves and a fresh mask. The paramedic’s voice rang out as the ambulance doors opened.

“CPR in progress!”

You sprang into action, guiding the stretcher to the nearest room. In Ho stood outside, watching as the hive of medical staff buzzed around you. His eyes lingered on you, a memory surfacing—the day you first met.

Back then, he was a rookie cop, shadowing his unit. They brought in a gunshot victim, In Ho’s hands pressing desperately on the wound. As the stretcher came through, your eyes met across the chaos. You had taken over, applying pressure while barking orders to the team.

Now, as you jumped off the chest compressions to don a gown, you glanced over your shoulder. In Ho’s gaze was locked on you. With a quick, discreet salute, you turned back to work, your smile hidden behind the mask.

You two had met when In Ho was a brand new cop and you, a brand new nurse, when his unit he was shadowing with brought in a gun shot victim. In Ho had his hand over the bleeding wound and as the patient was brought onto the stretcher, you two met each other eye to eye as you stood on the other side of the bed and started to hold pressure for him.

To no surprise, your shift ended later than expected. Fatigue weighed heavy on your limbs as you stepped out under the night sky. Dragging yourself toward the bus stop, a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N!”

You blinked, surprised to see In Ho standing by the sidewalk, dressed in casual clothes. His shift had clearly ended hours ago.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” you asked, brows furrowing.

In Ho smiled, a touch of nervousness in his posture as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wasn’t sure if you got to finish your coffee earlier, so I thought I’d see if you’d like another drink.”

Despite your exhaustion, his offer made you smile. The thought of his presence had quickly become a comfort you didn’t want to imagine life without.

“Of course,” you said, watching his shoulders relax with relief.

Without a second thought, you took his hand, letting him lead you to a nearby bar. Together, you laughed and shared stories, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten.

But that’s all it ever was—and all it ever would be.

The coffee dates grew scarce, the nights picking you up from the hospital turned into you taking the bus, and both of you played a role in such sadness that filled its place. Your jobs were taxing but that was almost just an excuse to place on top of why he visited less and why you had taken up other assignments in the ER.

One night, you and a few of your coworkers, one of whom was a resident who was infatuated with you, went over to a local bar for soju and whatever apps you could order. It was a particularly difficult shift that warranted a drink, but when you walked in you were surprised to see In Ho with another woman.

The years of unspoken friendship, and maybe something more, shattered like glass within you. Little did you know, In Ho had felt the same when he watched the resident take your coat off for you.

In that moment though where you two made eye contact even across a crowded bar, you couldn’t help but smile a delicate and polite one. The color that had drained from his face faintly returned as he smiled back, nodding your way.

But it was the end of something you had both never had the guts to speak of out loud and that was torture in and of itself.

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

Present Day

“The first light is Red Light, Green Light.”

In a swarm of green tracksuits, you stood among the four hundred or so players that surrounded you, tucking your white shirt underneath as the heat started to beat down your neck and tied the jacket around your waist.

“It’s just a child’s game,” you told yourself, trying to push aside the unease curling in your stomach.

The unnerving atmosphere constructed around you was all tied in at the larger than life doll at the other end of the room, facing you with the eyes of something much more than it let on.

In front of you, a mother and her son bickered softly. Their interaction brought a fleeting smile to your face, but the weight of how they ended up here pressed heavy on your mind. Before you could dwell, a frantic voice broke through the murmurs.

“This is not just a game! If you lose, you die!”

The crowd rippled with uneasy laughter, shocked at the sudden turn of events. A man near the front waved his arms, shouting to be heard and you stood on your toes to get a better look.

“If they catch you moving, they’ll kill you! They shoot you from somewhere above!”

“We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” a woman asked mockingly.

You chuckled softly with her, but the player up ahead was unrelenting and you couldn’t fend off the way your nerves started to react to it.

“If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They shoot you from somewhere up above!”

While the crowd had laughed off his attempts, brushing it off and eager for the game to start, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and tried to ignore him. But the pressure to keep your movements as strict as possible nipped at your mind.

“No matter what happens, don’t panic!”

But your heart started to race just a little faster when the time clock blinked on and your five minutes began. Just don’t get caught moving and you will be fine, you told yourself.

“Green light!” the childlike voice called.

Your legs moved before your mind did, ushering yourself forward and when the massive doll had said “Red Light!”, Player 456 had commanded the group to freeze.

You’d be hard pressed not to listen as the tension started creeping up your legs.

His commands were like clockwork and despite the path you wanted to forge for yourself, you found yourself following along. The stopping and going according to the doll who’s painted eyes stared through you was already nerve wracking as is and suddenly, you didn’t mind the directions by player 456.

“Freeze!”

“Cut it out, man. You’re freaking me out.” said player 390 who stood just a few feet ahead of you now.

The rounds were intermittently paced and you were becoming jumpy with every switch between red light and greed light. No one had been caught moving yet and your eyes moved as much as they could without your face moving a muscle to scan who surrounded you now.

But then, at the sound of a shrill scream of a woman up ahead, your eyes widened at the sight of a younger girl flailing her arms around to swat something away.

You held your breath as you waited to see what would happen to her, gasping when the gunshot rang through the arena and went right through her head.

Your soul had jumped out from your skin and you worried that such a slight jolt would put you in the same fate as the girl.

But even when you thought it would keep everyone still the way it did to you, one woman screamed only to be shot as well, and that’s when everyone started to run for their lives.

It took every fiber of your being to not move with every gunshot that rang out, rapidly firing so close to you that you could hear its trajectory in the air. It made your ears ring and you couldn’t quite here player 456 anymore but the echoes of his yelling were clear.

But your legs had begun to shake, and you hesitated before moving forward again.

When Player 456 ran to the front of the group though, his shoulder just passing yours, you didn’t dare waste another second and your legs sprung back into action. The player had been right all along and you wouldn’t dare question it now.

“Everyone get into a line! Get behind someone bigger than you. We have to move before time runs out!”

There was no time to be strategic about this, merging together with the nearest line and finding yourself behind a girl about your height. It didn’t seem like a bad decision until you watched her nearly double over in pain. She was clutching her stomach, and her other hand had desperately clung to the mother you saw earlier. Your blood ran cold, hesitant to keep your hold on this girl for fear she would ruin it all, but as the next green light had been called, you noticed why exactly she carried her belly.

“I got you!” you said to her with a firm reassurance, steadying your hands on her hips as you all skidded to a halt again.

A cry came from her and your heart sunk as the mother in front of her tried to calm her too.

Your eyes were burning onto the larger than life doll up ahead as the clock winded down, hoping you three hadn’t given yourselves away.

“Green light.”

“Let’s go!” player 456, waving everyone across.

With a surge of determination, you grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her forward. The red line loomed closer with each stride. Together, you crossed it, your arm wrapped around her to keep her upright. Relief flooded through you as the mother stumbled forward to meet her, checking her frantically.

You stepped back, your chest heaving as you untied the jacket from your waist and let it fall, the heat radiating off you in waves. The moment was short-lived.

A commotion behind the finish line made you turn. Player 456 was running back onto the field. Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you watched him race toward Player 444, who was still alive but bleeding heavily from his leg.

“What is he doing?” you muttered, clutching the jacket in your hands.

The doll called out, “Red light!” You flinched, certain he wouldn’t make it. But then Player 120 appeared at the other side of Player 444, helping him stand.

“Green light!”

Cheers erupted as the three crossed the line just before the timer hit zero. You moved toward them, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Let me help!” you urged, dropping to your knees beside them.

You tied your jacket tightly around Player 444’s leg as a makeshift tourniquet, your hands trembling. But before you could take a breath, another shot rang out.

Something warm splattered across your face. Your body went cold, and your hands stilled as the weight of what had just happened sank in. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, your gaze locked on the blood-soaked fabric beneath your fingers.

“We did what we could,” Player 456 said shakily, lowering the man to the ground.

Player 120 helped you to your feet, her grip steady despite the devastation etched into her face. You slung your jacket over your arm, unable to bear the thought of leaving it behind. The horrors of what had just happened clawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved them down, forcing yourself to move back toward the others.

Player 456 caught your gaze, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. His eyes, filled with a sorrow you now understood, met yours.

“Nothing we did would have stopped them from killing him anyway.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the irony of his words striking too close to home. Player 456 didn’t know what your profession was, but you were bitterly reminded of having to tell similar words to patient families in what felt like a lifetime ago. He tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face, but you shook your head, unwilling to explain.

In that moment, you decided: whatever heart you had left wasn’t meant for this place. Whatever tether you had to the world outside had already been severed.

When everyone returned to the sleeping quarters, it came time to vote under the watchful eyes of the pink guards. But first, they revealed the staggering amount of money accumulated so far. The sight of it gripped your heart, the endless possibilities flashing through your mind. What could you do with that prize? Pay off your debts, maybe start over. But the thought soured quickly—even with that money, would it be enough?

As Player 149 and her son, 007, begged among others to be released, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze. A guilty knot tightened in your stomach. Their desperation mirrored the fear you tried to bury deep inside yourself.

The lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow over the room. The blue O and red X on opposite walls illuminated the fine line players were forced to cross after their vote. The tension was suffocating as you turned the question over in your mind: Did you want to go home? Could you even go home?

The emptiness that brought you here clawed at you, a cold, relentless reminder of what awaited you beyond these walls. The fear of returning with nothing—of your share not being enough—fueled your indecision. But was it worth dying for?

Numbers swirled in your mind, an ache reverberating through your chest. And then it hit you: the crushing weight of your debts had left you feeling dead already.

“Player 175,” the guard called.

Your heart sank as the reality of your turn struck.

Walking up the aisle, every pair of eyes burned into your back. Your chest rose and fell unevenly with each step, eager to end the torment. But even when faced with the podium, your hand hesitated over the buttons.

The image of the pregnant girl, the mother, and Player 444’s blood on your jacket haunted you. It went against everything you believed in. And yet, survival instinct whispered a selfish truth you couldn’t ignore: this wasn’t about them. It was about you.

Your clammy hand jerked forward to press the O button.

The buzz of confirmation rang out, and you grabbed the blue patch without looking back. Cries of joy and sorrow mixed in the air as the O’s pulled ahead. Returning to your place, you clenched your jaw, ignoring the murmurs of gratitude from those who’d chosen to stay.

You didn’t do it for them.

“You can’t do this! Come to your senses!” Player 456’s voice rang out, breaking through the noise.

You lifted your head to see him running to the center of the room, desperation etched into his features.

“We have to get out of here! We need the majority vote so we can go home!”

The weight of his plea pressed on you, but the arguments that followed were deafening. Player 100 shot back, “Did they put you down here to act like a player and rile us all up?”

Accusations flew, tensions rising as players shouted over each other. The pink guards stood stoically, like silent sentinels overseeing the chaos. Just when it seemed the room would boil over, Player 149 ran forward, her voice cutting through the noise.

“If it were not for this gentleman, we would not be alive! Stop with the greed and put your lives first!”

Her words brought a brief silence, but it didn’t last. The room erupted once more, voices trying to challenge each other. You had hoped 456 would give up at this rate, seeing as he stood in the center of it all with a loss of words.

But then he shouted over everyone, “I only know about the games because I already played it! Three years ago! Everyone who was with me died!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but disbelief still rippled among you and the players. If there was any hope of getting out of here, you knew he would be the right person to stay near if these dreadful games continued. But nonetheless, player 100 threw out another accusation, a conspiracy that he had been planted here and finally, the pink guards quelled the bickering and had to continue the voting.

You watched as the line of undecided players dwindled. Each vote felt like a nail in the coffin of your resolve. Deep in thought, your vision blurred as you stared at the scoreboard. A movement beside you broke your focus. Player 120 stood there, her presence steady and unassuming. She had chosen to stay.

You offered a polite smile, which she returned. The two of you stood in a shared, uneasy silence as the vote drew closer to its conclusion.

“You, uh, you were quick to try and help that player earlier. It was impressive,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the room.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… thank you,” you stammered. “Trying to tourniquet his leg wouldn’t have done much overall, I guess.”

The dryness of your tone surprised even you. Her wide-eyed reaction made you chuckle nervously. To your relief, she mirrored your grim humor with a quiet snicker.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I work at a hospital with a big trauma center. It… it wears you down.”

“I served for some time, so I understand,” Player 120 replied.

Despite your earlier resolve to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that she might be an ally. Among the ruthless others who had voted to stay, she seemed different—steadfast, but not cold.

Finally, the last ten players cast their votes. The air was thick with anticipation as the numbers on the scoreboard crept closer to a tie. Your heart pounded, a maddening loop of questions echoing in your mind. Then, Player 001 stepped forward.

You hadn’t thought of it til now how strange being player 001 must feel, the entire weight of the games future at his hand. He walked with a quiet confidence, his every movement deliberate. You and Player 120 leaned forward, watching intently as he reached the podium.

The soft buzz of confirmation filled the room as he pressed the O button. The scoreboard shifted, casting the room in a faint blue glow. The decision was final: the games would continue.

The cheers from some players were a stark contrast to the defeated cries of others. You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting to the crowd that had wanted to go home. Their anguish was a sharp reminder of what you had chosen to forsake. It was your job to heal people, to care for them in their darkest moments.

But as you turned your head back toward the front, your gaze landed on the newest arrival to your side of the games. The reveal of Player 001s face hit you like a jolt of whiplash and your breath got caught in your throat.

It had been so long since you’d seen him that, for a moment, you wondered if it was a trick of the dim light. His face was older now, shadows playing across his features in the red and blue glow. But it was him. There was no mistaking it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. The crowd around him welcomed him as though he were any other player. You stood frozen on the ground that was pulled out from beneath you, unsure whether to hide or step forward. But when he began retreating to the O side, his eyes finally found yours.

It felt like fire across your chest when you noticed that he recognized you.

He stopped mid-step, only a few yards away now. Something invisible seemed to tether him to the spot as his gaze burned into you.

“In Ho?” you whispered, the name barely audible over the noise.

You weren’t even sure he could hear it, but it slipped out anyway.

His face tensed, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. But the name had reached him.

“Y/N,” he said finally, the words heavy, almost forced.

Whatever you had thought you were fighting for before—money, survival—was irrelevant now. In Ho’s presence brought back a piece of your life you had long buried. Now, it stood before you, trapped in this brutal game of life and death.

#frontman x reader #young il x reader #in ho x reader #squid game

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 day ago

Text

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ִֶָ mullet!stan pines x farmer's daughter!reader ♡༉‧₊˚.

honestly idk what happened i just wrote this in like 40 minutes because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, i never write this fast sorry for the random but i love that dynamic 🤍

Gravity Falls market days were a real mess you’d grown up in but never quite adjusted to. the sun sat high and too mean, slanting golden light across the rows of wooden stalls and voices carried sharp over the sound of shuffling feet. you didn’t mind the noise because it made the hours feel faster.

your hands worked quickly, sorting the last of the peaches into the old wicker basket, as you clearly remembered your mom’s words “don’t bruise the fruit, honey; folks don’t buy what looks spoiled.” you smoothed your palm over the fabric of your overalls, standing up straight to greet the next customer and—

he wasn’t what you expected and you weren’t sure what to make of him. broad shoulders under a faded red jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets, huge dark bags under his eyes. he looked rough, unpolished you'd say, like he’d stepped out of a life far removed from your quiet one and found himself here by accident.

he nodded toward your baskets. “how much for the peaches?”

you sized him up. “depends,” you answered. “you actually gonna pay?”

that caught him off guard, did he really look that bad? his lips twitched into grin. “didn’t know this place came with an interrogation.”

“it’s not interrogation,” you shot back, leaning against the edge of the stall. “it’s just business. besides, you look like the type to run off with free samples.”

he laughed then. “well, guess you caught me,” he held his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. “but im starving here. what’s it gonna take to get one of—”

“ahh, you must be the scientist everyone talks about.” you interrupted him, shifting the basket awkwardly against your hip.

“uh right, that's me.”

“mom mentioned you,” you continued, even though he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. “said you were. . . weird.” the word came out of your mouth before you even realized it, and your cheeks instantly flushed. great. off to a fantastic start.

but he didn't seem offended. on the contrary, he looked amused, slightly raising his eyebrows. “weird, huh?”

“her words, not mine,” you explained quickly, though it wasn't exactly untrue. “but yeah. she said you moved out here to study something? bugs? dirt?”

he chuckled. “somethin’ like that. but im pretty hungry. so what’s it gonna take to get one of those?”

you should’ve turned him away, told him to come back with cash like everyone else. but your gut told you he’d actually gone a little too long without a decent meal. yeah, thats how bad he looked.

so you reached into the basket and handed him one.

“on the house,” you said.

he blinked at you, caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion. “seriously?”

“just this once,” you warned. “but if you come back, i expect full price.”

“aww, isn't that adorable, thank you, sweetie.” he took the peach, turning it over in his hands. “heard people here mentioning you're generous girl.”

...

the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as you ride your bicycle down the lonely country road. the day has been long, filled with selling farm food. your hat shields your face from the fading light, but a chill is settling in as the evening approaches.

the basket on your bike rattled with what was left of the day’s haul, less than you’d hoped for but enough to keep the house running another week. your legs ached from pedaling though. the cold was creeping in now.

when the headlights appeared behind you, cutting through the soft twilight, you almost didn’t notice. but then the car slowed, pulling up beside you and you heard the window roll down.

“need a lift?” a smoky voice asked.

it was him. Stanford. the same red jacket, the same grin. he surely hadn’t been expecting to see you but was damn happy about it anyway.

you hesitated as you looked at him and his car, tightening your hands around the handlebars. “and leave my bike?”

“throw it in the back,” he told you, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. “unless you’re real set on freezing out here.”

you glanced at the empty road stretching ahead of you, then back at Stanford. he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer something for nothing, but he also didn’t seem like the kind to push it if you said no.

so you nodded. Stanley gave you a reassuring smile. “hop in, toots. it's getting cold.” you let him haul the bike into the back before climbing into the passenger seat. the warmth from inside is immediate, a stark contrast to the cool evening air.

he didn’t say much at first, just flicked on the radio and kept his eyes on the road. but then, without looking over, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you.

“here, take this. it’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm.”

you took the fabric and when you putted it around your shoulders, you felt the softness of it against your skin, grateful for the gesture. “thank you,” it was too big, the sleeves hanging loose past your wrists, but it was so warm. although it smelled very strongly of cigarettes.

he shrugged modestly. “no problem. it’s the least i can do after the way you treated me last week.”

“so,” he said after a beat, glancing over with that same crooked grin. “what’s a farmer’s daughter doin’ out on the road this late?”

you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “work doesn’t stop just ‘cause the sun goes down.”

“hard worker, huh? guess your mom was right about you.”

you glanced at him in surprise and furrowed your brow. “you keep bringing up my mom like you actually know her.” you said suspiciously.

“ran into her a couple weeks ago,” he admitted. “she was real proud, talkin’ ‘bout how her daughter’s the backbone of the farm.”

heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your gaze back to the road. “she talks too much.”

“nah, she’s just proud of you.” this time, you stayed quiet, letting the hum of the engine carry you the rest of the way home.

...

the next time you see him, it’s at the farm on early morning, when dew still clings to the grass and the sky’s a pale, watercolor wash. you’d barely had time to start on your chores when that same old car rumbled down the dirt track.

Stanley stepped out, wearing that red jacket you’d given back last night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you forgot your bike.”

“you didn’t have to bring it all the way here.” you smiled shyly

“well,” he glanced around, assessing the place, “figured you could use it more than i could. besides, wasn’t much of a detour.”

in addition, it was the first time Stan met your dog as he stayed at the farm to try the freshly baked apple pie that you offered.

you were hauling a basket of fresh vegetables from the field when you heard a low, warning growl. you looked up, biting back a grin. “she won’t bite.”

“uh-huh,” Stan said, standing frozen in place as the big scruffy mutt circled him.

you set the basket down, whistling low, and your dog trotted over, tail wagging now that you’d given the all-clear. “this is Molly,” you said, ruffling her ears. “dont worry, she’s just protective.”

Stan crouched slowly, one knee to the dirt, sticking his hand out like he was afraid she might lunge. Molly sniffed him once, then pressed her head against his palm, tail thumping in approval.

“well, look at that,” he said, scratching behind her ears. his hands are so big, calloused, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. Molly leaned into his hand, letting out a pleased huff. “she likes me.”

but then Molly rolled over, flopping onto her back in the dust and he laughed. “spoiled,” he said, rubbing her belly as she wagged her tail.

“you don’t even know the half of it. she gets the best scraps off the table. mom says it’s why she’s got such shiny fur.”

Stan grinned. “lucky dog.” oh, how he wished he could be in Molly's shoes. to be needed at least by someone, to be taken care of, to be fed. “so, you sellin’ this week?”

you nodded, but your gaze drifted toward the fields. there was still so much work left to do, rows and rows of crops waiting to be picked and sorted. you sighed, already feeling the ache in your arms.

Stan seemed to catch on. “well, if you’re ever lookin’ for extra hands, i know a guy who owes you a couple favors.”

...

you don’t know why you start bringing him food. it’s not like Stanley asked for it and he’s certainly not the kind of man who’d admit if he needed it. but you, the sweetest girl in town, noticed how he looked that first day at the market, hunger written all over him like and that makes it impossible not to.

it started with a couple of peaches tucked into a paper bag which you carefully left on the counter of the Mystery Shack with a quick, “thought you might want something fresh.” but then it grew into a jar of honey. then. . . in a bundle of wildflowers tied with twine.

one day, you showed up with a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm, wrapped in an old tea towel embroidered with little sunflowers. Stanley was tinkering with something behind the counter, muttering something about journals but when he saw you, he stopped, wiping his hands on his pants.

“you know, you don’t have to keep bringing me this stuff,” he said even as he took the loaf from your hands.

“i know, yeah, but you’re always here, and I figured. . . well, everyone deserves a decent meal now and then.” he looked at you for a long moment, longer than felt normal, trying to figure out if you were pulling some kind of trick.

“thanks,” he said your name. “that means a lot.”

and it becomes a thing, fresh eggs one day, a loaf of bread the next. you don’t stay long when you drop them off, because Stanford always says he's kinda busy here, dealing with some of his "scientific research”, so you quickly greet him, maybe say some comment about the weather, but every damn time he sees you, his face softens, genuine smile appearing on it, his shoulders relax too. maybe you’re not just bringing food but something else he’s been missing.

and sometimes, Stanley feels too lonely, so he pulls out an old chair and offers you coffee, the two of you sitting on the porch while he tells you about his life.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #gravity falls smut #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #stanley pines smut #stanley pines x you #stan pines #young stan pines #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines #mullet stan #mullet stan x reader #gravity falls fanfic #gravity falls headcanons

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miniseokminnies · 2 days ago

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waste a moment —- w.jh

❅ pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader ❅ theme: fluff, strangers to lovers ❅ w/c: 5k ❅ warnings: mentions of food, stressful work environment, mentions of death (not plot relevant) ❅ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! every writer involved is so extremely talented! send over some love! shout out to @tusswrites and @haologram for keeping me sane and beta reading! ❅ tags: @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi, @crab-ranjun, @heechwe

The only sound you can hear is your own steps on the pavement as you run to your bus stop, you are late, so late. You knew the ninth time hitting snooze this morning was too many, but of course, you did it anyway. The weather outside is slowly getting colder and gloomier as the world prepares for autumn to come, so what could a few more moments in your warm bed hurt?

As it turns out, your feet, the concrete was unforgiving and your flat-soled shoes provided little cushioning. Pushing the last few blocks to your stop your lungs were starting to burn, running was not typically something you took joy in. Rounding the corner, something felt out of place.

The early morning haze was interrupted by the glow of a neon “open” sign affixed to the window of the only permanent building near the bus stop shelter. This building never stood out to you, it was always quiet and dark when you got on and off the bus. Every morning and every evening, without fail whoever owned the building got there after you and left before you. The smell of spices wafted out of the door and almost made you stop before you realized this all meant that you were even later than you thought you were. The bus you usually take was long gone by now and you didn’t even know the schedule well enough to know when the next one would arrive.

Sighing, you accepted your fate and moved toward the shelter and squatted in front of where the stray cats always play. A small orange kitten was playing with the weeds growing out from the cracks in the sidewalk. You reached out to pet him, and as soon as his attention settled on you, he flopped to the side and tried to playfully bite your fingers as you wiggled them.

You heard the bus approach the kitten trotted away toward the restaurant. Once settled in your seat on the bus you check your watch, 7:45 am and still another 15 minute bus ride to work. You sigh and prepare yourself for the reprimand you will surely get once you arrive.

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Ms. Lee,” you bowed your head apologetically, “I missed the first bus…I had to wait for the next one.” Ms. Lee, the head nurse of your unit, swiveled around in her chair.

“Well, you could have called,” she gestured to the phone at the nurse’s station, “Eunbi had to stay after her night shift to cover for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she stood up from her chair, “Get changed,” she began to walk away and turned back to you briefly, “Oh, and Y/N?” You nodded, “I’m sure you won’t mind staying late tonight to even out the shifts for Eunbi, hm?”

“Of course not,” you muttered, a certain dread settled in your stomach as you walked to the nurse’s changing room. By staying late tonight you will run into the same problem you had this morning. You don’t know the next bus after your usual one. You shuffled into the room and caught sight of Eunbi slipping into her coat.

“Good morning, Y/N!” She smiled at you.

“Eunbi, I’m so sorry for making you stay late!” You slumped against your locker, “it was a total accident I missed my bus and-”

“Woah!” She laughed and reached out to smooth her hands over your arms. “It’s totally okay, it happens, you’ve covered for me before.”

“It’s just that…Ms. Lee,” you started.

“She’s a crotchety old bat,” she rolled her eyes. “We all think so, no one else here is mad at you.”

“Thank you,” you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, “but I’m still covering the first 45 minutes of your shift tonight, don’t try to tell me no.”

“Alright, alright, see you at shift change.” She smiled and squeezed your arms before leaving you alone in the quiet room. After changing as quickly as possible you made your way back to the nurse’s station to catch up on what you missed.

“Mr. Kang in 304 has been looking for you all morning,” Ms. Lee informed you as she pushed his file into your hand, “he will only take his medication from you if you could help him right away.”

Your knock on the door of room 304 echoed down the hallway. It was still early so the quiet of a hospital before a day begins was generally still intact. You pushed through the door to see Mr. Kang propped up on his pillows, smiling at you.

Mr. Kang has been in your care since you started at this hospital a few months ago. You work in the long term care unit, so it isn’t uncommon for patients to form attachments to nurses here. He was an old man, probably old enough to be your grandpa, who became a widower years ago. A week or so before you started here he had a terrible fall at home, breaking his hip.

“Good morning Mr. Kang!” You mustered a smile.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He smiled softly and attempted to sit up straighter. You moved to his side quickly to help him with the pillows.

“So,” you sat in the chair near his bed when he was settled, “I hear you aren’t taking your pills from Ms. Lee or Eunbi?”

“Is that what Ms. Lee said?” He chuckled, “it’s not that I won't, it's just that I’m used to it being you in the morning, and when it’s not, I have trouble.”

“Be that as it may, you still need your medication, Mr. Kang.” You informed him before moving to retrieve the medication.

“It’s a bit late now,” he started, you sighed thinking he was going to try and get out of taking the medication, “but could you take me to the big windows to watch the rest of the sunrise?”

“Tell you what,” you begin to divide the pills into small cups, “take your pills, no complaints, and I’ll take you.” Mr. Kang eagerly agreed. You helped him into his wheelchair and the two of you made the short trek to the back of the wing where the big windows were.

Mr. Kang told you about how he and his wife used to watch the sunset every Saturday morning while they ate breakfast together. These mornings were the highlight of his week, he was so happy to just have moments with his wife where time didn’t matter, just the two of them. Every time he tells you this story, or something similar about his wife, you are struck with the fact that you never have the time to do anything like this. Since graduating nursing school your life has been scheduled out to the minute. This morning at the bus stop was the first time in months that you felt the urge to go against that schedule.

“It’s going to snow soon,” Mr. Kang pulled you out of your thoughts. He pointed a crooked finger at the dark clouds overhead. “Be careful going home tonight, I remember how unreliable those buses can be.”

The cold winter air stung your cheeks and whipped your hair. Mr. Kang was right, it would snow today, the day you had to stay late and miss your bus. Because of the weather the buses weren’t running on schedule, you waited for almost an hour at the bus stop and no one ever came. You had to walk home.

The snow swirled around you and made it difficult to see, you knew that you were almost home, or at least, it felt that way. You were soaked and freezing to the bone, you’d be lucky if you woke up with just a cold tomorrow. Just as the shelter of your bus stop was starting to materialize through the snow you felt your foot catch the curb in front of you. You attempted to catch yourself but there was no use, you were falling. When you open your eyes to assess the situation you realize you fell into an alleyway and were lying on the ground staring up at a few trash cans.

Just as you decided that maybe you should just lay here and die, you hear the door of the building to your left open. A man is yelling in a language you don’t understand, is he yelling at you? Before you had any time to think about that you felt a hand on the back of your coat, pulling you up off the ground.

“Oh,” the man blinked down at you, “it’s you.” With that he pulled you inside. He placed you in a corner near the front door. “Stay there.” He instructed you and held his hands out as if he was taming a wild animal. He backed away from you slowly for several steps then turned on his heel and ran into a back room. You heard him rifling through things for several minutes.

Beyond that the only sounds in the small room were the dripping of melted snow off your coat and on to the floor. You took in your surroundings, slowly dethawing. The room was actually a small restaurant, with tables crammed into the small space. The room the man disappeared into was near the kitchen, judging by the location of the window behind the counter.

“You must be freezing,” he emerged from the room with a stack of clothes, “why didn’t you take the bus in this weather?” He was scolding you like you were best friends for years.

“I’m sorry? Do we know each other?”

“No, not really,” he blinked at you.

“Then…” you searched his face.

“You get on the bus when I get off,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and in the evenings, you get off the bus when I get on.” He held the clothes out to you again, as if to remind you why you’re in his restaurant. “You’re dripping on my floor.” He mumbled.

“Oh!” You gasped and began searching for a place to hang your coat. He placed the stack of clothes on a nearby table and helped you out of your coat.

“Take them,” he gestured to the clothes with his elbow, “the bathroom is back near the kitchen, change and warm up.” You nodded at the strange man’s kindness and headed to the bathroom to change.

You peeled your wet clothes away from your skin, grateful to be rid of them. In the kitchen you heard pots and pans clanging and soon there was a spicy aroma engulfing the entire building. Once you were ready you walked back into the main dining area. The clothes he lent you were far too big for you, the sweatpants were dragging on the floor and you felt like you were swimming in the oversized hoodie, but you were thankful to be warm.

“Have a seat anywhere!” He called through the window from the kitchen, “it’s almost ready!” You had no idea what he was making or why but you would be thankful for a warm meal after the day you had. The chair scraped across the floor of the otherwise quiet restaurant. Now that you could feel your toes you took another look around the space. The neon sign that you remembered from this morning was turned off, and the windows had their blinds closed. It was like the entire building was shut off from the outside world. Seeing it this way from inside was strange, as it usually was buttoned up like this when you saw it waiting for the bus. Which would make sense, you realized, if what he said was true, that you were on the opposite side of the bus schedule on a normal day.

“I made soup,” he emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two bowls. He sat the tray on the table in front of you and contemplated sitting down for a few seconds too long for someone who made two bowls, clearly for the both of you. Finally, he plopped into the chair across from you and passed you a spoon. He moved one of the bowls from the tray so it was in front of him. You watched as he took a large spoonful, blew on it lightly, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes closed and he was obviously proud of the dish.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared at you. “Do you like spice?” he asked around the soup in his mouth, sounding muffled and panicked. You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing. His eyes grew wider than you had seen them all night and he swallowed his mouthful.

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to control the giggling, “yes I’m fine with spice. Is this spicy?”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, “it’s called Hulatang which literally means peppery and spicy soup. It’ll clear your sinuses.”

“You didn’t poison it, right?”

“What?” He looked at you bewildered.

“Well, you picked me up out of the trash,” you bring your spoon to your lips, “and I don’t even know your name.” You put the spoon in your mouth. The flavor blossoms on your tongue.

“Junhui”

“Okay, Junhui.” You nod, “can I have a glass of water?” He scrambled behind the counter to find a glass. He returned quickly.

“Is it too much?” He asked, sitting back down, “I handle spice well, so I can’t tell.”

“No, no,” you sipped your water, “it’s good, so good.” He smiled and went back to his meal. The two of you ate in silence until the bowls were empty and you felt warm from the spicy broth.

“I thought you were a raccoon earlier.” He blurted out of the blue as he was clearing the dishes from the table. “The raccoons always get in my trash, I was surprised they would be out in this weather though.” He continued, “I do worry about the cats though…”

“First snow of the year, and it’s brutal,” you agreed, “wait, you’re the one who feeds the cats!” You exclaim over the sound of the water turning on. You follow him back to the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to yell.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his task, “if I didn’t, who would?” He moved the pot he used to make the soup into the sink. You smiled to yourself, remembering the kitten you played with this morning.

“How long have you been feeding them?” You asked, helping him move glasses from the side into the sink. He smiled at you.

“Since I started renting this building,” he thought for a moment, “Almost three years ago.”

“That long?” You gasped, “I’ve only been living in my apartment near here for a few months. I just graduated nursing school and I got a job at the hospital.”

“Oh I live near there,” he nodded, knowing exactly where you were talking about, “we live near each other’s work places.” He pointed out.

“Suppose we do,” you smiled.

“What’s your name?” He asked, turning off the sink.

“Oh my God,” you blushed realizing you never told him, “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated softly as if tasting the new information on his tongue.

It has been four days since you met Junhui at his restaurant. You made sure to look for him while getting on and off the bus. He always smiled at you, no time to talk so smiles do just fine. You never did get the chance to ask him why he was still out that night.

You rolled over in bed and checked your phone. It was 10:40 am on your day off and you couldn’t stop thinking about the man who runs the restaurant down the street. It would be lunch time soon, maybe you could convince yourself to make the short trip over. To eat, certainly not to see him again.

Without a second thought you were out of bed and fixing your hair in the mirror. Once satisfied with how you looked, you threw on your coat and went out the door. The walk to your bus stop is short and relatively easy. The weather today was much nicer than the last time you found yourself inside Junhui’s restaurant.

The bell above the door twinkled at your entrance. You shifted awkwardly at the entrance of the building as the only other patron shot you curious glances.

“One moment!” You heard Junhui call from the kitchen. Soon, he appeared from the kitchen holding a tray similar to the one he brought your soup on a few days prior. He stumbled and almost dropped the tray when he saw you in the doorway. The other man in the room laughed and said something teasingly in a language you didn’t understand. Junhui glared at the man and then glanced back at you. “Y/N, do you speak Mandarin?” As soon as you confirmed that, no you do not, Junhui was uttering what you could only assume were curses at the other man. He set the plates of food on the table. “You can have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you!” He smiled at you.

You selected a table near the kitchen, the other man was at a table near the only window in the building. The two of them continued to bicker in Mandarin for a few minutes. You smiled to yourself, Junhui seemed close with him. Eventually, he broke away, and made his way to your table.

“Hi,” you smiled at him.

“Hi,” his lips broke into a small smile, “I’m sorry about him, he’s my best friend, we’ve known each other for ages.”

“No worries,” you assured him.

“What can I get you?” He bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet. He looked less tired today, his eyes were bright and his dark hair was tucked up into a beanie. You eyed the menu he still had tucked under his arm. “Oh!” He scrambled to grab it and all but threw it down on the table in front of you.

“Any recommendations?” You asked, scanning the menu full of dishes. He took a deep breath and sat down across from you. He started in on an explanation of the menu. You struggled to listen to everything he had to say because you were busy admiring him. He was so passionate about his recipes and the food he got to make.

“This one is my grandma’s recipe,” he pointed to an item on the menu and looked up at you with expectant eyes. “It’s ground pork and egg basically.”

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “Tell me how to pronounce it so I can ask for it by name next time.”

“Xiándàn zhēng ròubǐng,” he collects the menu and practically skips back to the kitchen with the promise of you coming back again. You watched him go until he disappeared then you pulled out your phone to pass the time.

“I’m Minghao by the way,” you looked up to see Junhui’s friend standing in front of you. “I’ve heard a lot about you, I hope you keep coming around to keep him company.” He smiled at you before shouting Junhui’s name and telling him something in Mandarin. Junhui responded from the back and with that Minghao knocked twice on your table and turned to leave.

About ten minutes later, Junhui reemerged to clear Minghao’s table. He began clearing it of the dishes left behind.

“Did he bother you?” He asked as he passed your table with dishes stacked in his hands.

“Oh, no!” You assured him, “he just introduced himself.” You conveniently omitted the part about Minghao letting you know that Junhui had been talking about you.

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “your meal should be ready in about ten minutes, I’ll be back then.”

As promised he returned with the food you ordered and a glass of water. He set the food on the table and sat in the chair across from you. “Taste,” he told you, he could hardly contain the giddiness he felt. It was bubbling in his chest and he bounced his knee under the table to expel some of the extra energy he felt.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, picking up your spoon.

“Hm?” He blinked, “oh, no, not yet.”

“Get a spoon,” you pointed toward the counter, “we’ll share.” He smiled widely at you and quickly retrieved a spoon. The two of you split the meal, getting to know each other as you ate. You told him all about your job at the hospital and your trouble with Ms. Lee. Junhui made a disapproving noise when you told him about what happened on the day you showed up in his trash.

“She sounds horrible,” he mumbled around a mouthful of rice.

“She is!” You threw your hands up, “we all think so, even Eunbi, who is the nicest person there.”

In turn Junhui told you about how he ended up owning a restaurant at a bus stop thousands of miles from where he was raised. He was feeling stuck in the monotony of his job, which he found extremely boring, in China. So he set out to find something new and he ended up here. He tried finding a job but ultimately decided to open up this restaurant which is like a tiny slice of home for him.

The bell above the door rang out, ultimately stopping your conversation. Junhui looked up at the customer now standing in his restaurant. He shot you an apologetic look, to which you shook your head and shooed him away so he could take care of the woman.

He greeted her as you began to stack the dishes up for him. You gave a small wave as he was getting her seated. He glanced at you and held up a finger, as if to ask you to hold on for a moment. After the woman is settled in he jogs back to the room near the kitchen and comes back with his phone clutched in his hand.

“Not to be weird,” he smiled sheepishly, “but could I maybe get your number? I’d like to continue talking to you.”

Over the last week Junhui texted you a few times, mostly to send pictures of the cats. Every so often the two of you would update each other on how things are going. On one occasion Junhui requested you come retrieve leftovers from him on your day off so you had lunch for the following day.

You placed said leftovers in the microwave of the staff lounge, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your scrubs as you set the time. You were taking lunch later than usual today so you figured it was Junhui checking in on how the food reheated after he finished up the lunch rush. The screen lit up with text messages and notifications as you pulled it out.

Junhui: today sux

Junhui: this guy just came in DURING A RUSH and screamed at me that there wasn’t a table

Junhui: i hope the congee tasted okay reheated

Junhui: can’t talk more. people are the worst!! 😾

The microwave beeps, making you jump. You opened the door and sighed, you knew that there were bound to be days where things got to be too much for him. You were no stranger to bad days, even when you’re passionate about what you were doing. It was one of those days when you met Junhui, you knew how he felt.

As soon as your shift was over you were flying out the door. You wanted to make it to the convenience store on the corner before your bus came. Your left shoe felt like it was coming untied but you didn’t stop to check, no time. Filling your arms with jelly snacks, ramen, and a few drinks you made your way to the checkout.

You made it to the bus stop with your haul as the bus was arriving. Letting out a sigh of relief you paid your fare and found a spot to sit. Feeling a buzz in your pocket you pull out your phone once more.

Junhui: if i see another person today i might lose it

Junhui: [Attachment: 1 Image]

You smiled at the picture, it was taken from the window of Junhui’s restaurant. The neon sign is shut off and the blinds are drawn already. Perfect, this meant that he was more than likely waiting for the bus already. You could just grab him and drag him back inside.

Junhui was not at the bus stop. You walk to the front door and turn the knob, it was unlocked. His forehead was resting on the counter, he looked silly hunched over it like that. He let out an annoyed groan hearing the bell above the door.

“I’m closed,” he mumbled against the counter. When he didn’t hear you leave he snapped his head up, “I said I–oh, hi.” His tone softened immediately when he saw you standing there with a plastic sack held out in front of you.

“Hi,” you hazarded a few steps toward him, “is it safe? Or are you gonna bite my head off?”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled airily, “it has been…a day.”

“I know,” you nodded, “I come bearing gifts.” You hold up the sack again, as a peace offering. He held out his hands, looking slightly childlike.

“Show me the haul.” The two of you go through the small store bought feast in the bag. Once he saw the cup ramen at the bottom he trotted to the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil.

You set aside two sets of chopsticks as Junhui plopped the noodles into the pot. He told you all about the people he saw today and about while he was grateful for the business some people could just be so draining. You agreed, you loved your job but some patients were just too much to handle at times.

You watched as he tore open the flavoring packets with his teeth. He sprinkled it over the noodles in the pot, but you were still fixated on his full lips. You know that Junhui is handsome, it’s hard to miss. But should you have been staring so intently? Probably not, right?

That was what you thought until he turned and held your gaze for several moments. He seemed to be just as frozen as you were, his eyes flicked to your lips and for a second you swore he was going to kiss you.

“Ramen’s done,” he said, barely above a whisper.

The day had been uneventful. Your job was monotonous and boring, and to make matters worse you hadn’t heard from Junhui in several days. You still saw him smiling at you from the bus stop but he seemed like he had been avoiding having a real conversation with you since that day you thought he might kiss you.

You watched the city speed by out the window of the bus and wondered if you had done something wrong. Did you read him wrong? Maybe he didn’t like you at all, you’re just some weird person that showed up in his trash one day. That day wasn’t all that different from today, it was snowing again. You were surprised that there was this much time between the first and second snow this year.

Your fingers wrapped around the cord as you alerted the driver that your stop was up next. You gathered your things and prepared for the cold walk from your stop to your apartment. Junhui was standing in front of the bus stop shelter, you knew it was him by his height and the way he shrank into himself to look at his phone. The blue light caught his features in a way that made him look almost dreamlike. The brakes on the bus squealed to a stop, making him look up from his phone.

You expected him to brush you off with a smile, just as he had every day for the last week. However, he just stood there, waiting, until the moment your feet hit the ground in front of him.

“Happy second snow!” He beamed at you. You smiled up at him, just happy that he was talking to you. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

“For what?” The bus stop was clearing out quickly, no one was worried about whatever reconciliation was happening between the two of you.

“I didn’t kiss you when I should have.” He stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He moved closer to you and cupped your cold cheeks in his warm hands. Soon his mouth was on yours and you felt so warm that it could easily have been summer. He somehow made all of the ice melt away and it was just the two of you in the world for this moment. You wrapped your arms around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.

He broke away from you and searched your face, “Date me?” He breathed.

“Date you?” You whispered, your breath turning into fog that he breathed in as he connected your lips to his once again. This kiss was more urgent, like he was trying to convince you to say yes.

“Yes, me.” He mumbled against your mouth, “please?”

“Like right now?” You reach up to kiss him again. He hummed into your kiss.

“Like right now, tomorrow, for the rest of your life if you’ll have me,” he swept his tongue across your bottom lip, which made you shiver. You accept his tongue into your mouth for only a second before he breaks away again. “Was that too forward? I just really like you.”

“No, it was cute.” You assure him. A blush crept across his cheeks, already pink from the cold.

“Cool,” he grinned, “So?”

“Oh sure,” you rolled your eyes, “but could we maybe date inside, I’m getting cold.” He grabbed your hand and tangled his fingers with yours. He began to drag you back toward the restaurant where this all started.

“Yeah, come on,” he looked back at you, “I made soup.”

#svthub #diamond life network #winter with you collab #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui fluff #wen junhui imagines #jun x reader #jun imagines #jun fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #moon junhui x reader #moon junhui imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jun #bennie’s works

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venomous-ragno · 3 days ago

Note

A soulmate AU fic with Ghost/Soap/GN!Reader where their first word is tattooed on you. Also "What kinda name is Ghost and Soap? Sounds like a Men's 11 in 1 body wash together" or something along the lines (Don't feel pressured to write this! If you don't like the premise you can just ignore this ❤❤❤)

Hello dear! I now how old this request is, and I'm sure you've either forgotten about it or given up on it.

I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had a day ofd today and checked up on this blog; your soulmate request simply sparked smth and I had to write it. Soulmate au's are one of my favourites!

Tbf, I haven't written in a long while, so I'm a bit insecure about this one despite spending all day on it. Hope y'all like this one still :)

It was ridiculous. It was surreal. It was a body wash advertisement, come to life. And somehow, despite everything, it felt perfectly, undeniably right.

Back then it had sounded like a magic trick, something that belonged in a fairy tale. You'd spent hours trying to figure out who Ghost was. Maybe that one weird kid from school? Or a character in a book you hadn’t gotten to yet? You had no idea.

There had been a point in time where you would've killed to know this "Ghost". A character made up of theories, hopes and your boundless imagination - all of it so alien you lay awake at night, caught between fiction and reality. Warmth spread from that name. Oh, how it'd keep your mind running as your fingers brushed over those letters. Careful, like a porcelain vase, too precious to even touch.

It'd have you giggle and sigh at the type of person behind these rough, uneven edges. How long would it take for them to show themself to you? Perhaps you were naive to believe it'd be soon.

The years passed, and the mystery of Ghost remained.

The second word, "Soap," arrived when you had already given up on ever finding this Ghost, nestled just above your ankle. This time, you were about to board a flight to Mexico, announcements blasting left and right, people hurrying all over the place. You noticed it almost immediately. It was a different font and unlike the first name, rather cartoonish. You stared at it, a weird mix of excitement and utter bafflement swirling in your gut. The flight attendant called out your flight number, but your thoughts drowned it out; Ghost and Soap? You thought, what kinda names are those? Sounds like a Men’s 11 in 1 body wash together!

Your friends had found it hilarious, of course. They’d joked about meeting Mr. Ghastly-Clean and Mr. Sudsy-Lad, and promised to buy you a "Ghost and Soap" bath bomb for your birthday. You’d laughed along, but a strange feeling had started to settle in you, a yearning that you couldn't quite explain. That book you'd brought along to your eleven hour long flight lay long forgotten at the bottom of your carry-on.

You were no mere teen anymore. Now you were a journalist and war photographer, intent on finding your oen truth. The chaotic energy of a battlefield somehow soothed the constant itch of the two names etched on your skin. You'd met lots of people, exchanged thousands of words, but none had felt like they belonged with Ghost and Soap. For all your eloquence, nothing could put those feelings into words. Again those voices of loved ones telling you to let go, to search harder, to do this and that. What did they knew though? What did they expect to happen, miracles?

One particularly hectic night, you were in need of one such miracle. Your ever so feverent pursuit of the truth brought quite a bit of danger along; nothing you couldn't handle, picked up a few tricks on your travels here and there. Yet this... Was much too big for any of this. There was no article to be written and no photo to be taken when sirens wailed like banshees and grey smoke drove tears into your eyes.

The city was a symphony once. A vibrant, chaotic melody of honking cars, chattering crowds, and the rhythmic clang of street vendors. Now, it was a dissonant cacophony of explosions, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the terrified cries of the few souls still daring to breathe. You? You found yourself swallowed whole by this chaos, a lone note desperately trying to find its escape in the maelstrom.

A child cried, another salve of shots silenced the sound.

Silence was eerie. Silence was deadly.

Mouth dry and nose covered, you fought against the fear that tried to take over; the adrenaline, the stomping beats of your own heart. Too heavy and too sudden was the attack. The soldier that was assigned as your bodyguard just yesterday... You'd swallowed hard when he made you promise to save yourself.

Every little sound had you stop and check corners. A wheezing breeze? Scratching along cement? Some stray cats meow nearly caused you a heart attack.

Just gotta keep moving forward, you reminded yourself, just gotta-

Breathless coughs, two. Some low murmurs. Swearing if you'd heard right. One of the guerilla fighters?

As if moving in slow motion you peaked aroung the corner. Eyes checking every centimeter of a half lit allyway-

Your eyes met his.

Heaven and hell would laugh at you for dying like this. Covered in dirt and blood, lost in a war zone of your own fault. If only you'd listened to your mother telling you to stop being so goddamn curious.

He flinched slightly, then coughed, his voice raspy but with a hint of a playful lilt. “Well, hello there.”

That doesn't sound like someone trying to kill you.

"I see you. Why don't ye come out? Am wounded anyway, won't be able to kill ye even if I wanted to."

Your brain protested. This could be a tactic. Lure you out of hiding and into the light, makes it easier to kill you.

But you moved still.

"Come on closer, will ye?"

Eyes stayed fixated on yours like a trance.

His jaw tightened when you finally knelt beside him. Only now did you notice the blood seeping through his black shirt, streaming down a toned biceps like small rivers.

"You don't look like a guerilla fighter."

He chuckled. "Ye don't look like one to me either. Can't hurt be careful though." The blade in his hand reflected the moonlight.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his. His lips quirked into a small smile, but it faded slightly as he noticed your expression.

"Everything okay?" He asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Soap. You're Soap. The Soap."

Soap's eyes widened... As if he recognised you.

The cold metal pressed to the back of your skull, a chilling whisper against the warmth of your skin. The soldier’s breath, ragged and harsh, fanned the hairs at your nape. You could feel the tremor in his hand, the desperate tension that vibrated through him, yet beneath it all, a resolve as solid as the steel he wielded.

"Step away from my partner."

The words, simple enough, landed with the force of a physical blow. They weren't a plea, or a desperate yell. They were a command, delivered with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard this voice before, but instantly, it felt so right. Like the missing piece you hadn't even known you were searching for.

The chaos of the savaged city faded into the background. All that existed was the look in their eyes, the names on your skin, and that strange, overwhelming feeling of finally coming home. Even if your soulmates smelled of sweat and gunpowder rather than roses and honey.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x reader #gender neutral reader #cod ghost #cod soap #cod mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soulmate au #request

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kisakis-boyfriend · 12 hours ago

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Now, I never played Persona 3 but the protagonist looks breedable. So The Persona 3 protagonist (the male one) investigating an haunted/creepy site only to meet an horny male werewolf reader who fucks them 🎃

Author's Note: Makoto truly is one of the hottest persona protags (possibly even one of the hottest characters in general). Not to mention both of his English VAs did a fantastic job! I could gush over Makoto all day…so I'm just going to let the smut to the talking now 😶‍🌫️

Pairings: Makoto Yuki x male reader

Warnings: Male werewolf!reader, dom/top!reader, paranormal investigator!Makoto, adult Makoto, sub/bottom!Makoto, dubcon, finger sucking, dry orgasms, premature ejaculation(?)

This was supposed to be an easy job for once. Another "haunted" old cabin, multiple eye witnesses and videos and pictures worth of "proof", only to end up being a hoax unintentionally created by some local kids. He's been there and done that, time and time again. So, this place should not be any different, right?

Well… as luck would have it, Makoto would finally encounter something paranormal — a real experience, unlike the majority of his previous calls.

That's how Makoto ended up here; bent over a desk with the air knocked from his lungs while something wet drips all over the back of his body.

Drool drips from your snarling mouth, pooling on the back of the human's shirt, while your cock drips all over the ass of his pants and slides down the sides. You keep one clawed hand on the back of the human's head, and the other on his waist to prevent him from escaping.

The scent of iron and dirt burns Makoto's nostrils, invading every deep inhale as he's just short of hyperventilating. You're obviously not any sort of spectre, nor spirit nor ghostly being—you're really more of a beast, though your features are still quite human in nature. The man's best guess is a werewolf. Whatever you are, he's seen enough to know that he doesn't want to stick around any longer.

Attempts at wiggling free don't go so well, only building up Makoto's frustration and yours. Silly as it may sound to think a beast can understand the human language, he decides to try it anyway. “What do you- hnngh… what do you want?!” he hisses, “Are you the one…causing trouble, scaring the locals?”

You almost want to laugh at that absurd question. Causing trouble, he says. “Me? Please, ask yourself who's the real troublemaker here; the dozens of humans trashing my house and surrounding woods, or me, the guy who's lived here for decades — long before that filth migrated in.” you growl. Ignorant, ignorant humans as always.

“If anyone here is a troublemaker, it's you–” your razor-like nails dig into Makoto's side, and he winces, glaring at you with the eye not covered by his hair. “walking in here with that sexy body of yours, having the audacity to bend over and pick things up and present that fine ass for me.”

The human's heart leaps within his chest, pounding away loudly while he grips the edge of the table harder. “Your job is to help people, yeah? You wanna help these people? Then…” you lean down, covering the human's body with your heat, and whisper in his ear; “…give me the relief I need to not be so fuckin' grumpy, maybe I'll let some of their idiotic actions slide, hm?”

Truly, Makoto should protest, or try to run, literally do anything to fight this situation, but he doesn't. For some reason, he feels like…like he wants to see where this goes.

When you yank his pants down and flip up his jacket, he doesn't stop you. When you rest your heavy, leaking cock in between his cheeks and groan like a perv, he's not disgusted by it. When you let go of his head and stuff your fingers in his mouth, his tongue dances in between the spaces of your digits.

It's a surprise to you too, when the smaller human man lifts his ass up, almost inviting you—giving you permission—to fuck him. And you're not about to pass up a cute slut like this.

Makoto's knees shake when you spit on his hole, giving him at least a tiny courtesy before you break his body with your cock. Your tip pushes incessantly at his entrance, adding slippery precum to it as you swipe your cock up and down, then finally slip the head in. The human flinches, nearly causing himself to choke on your fingers, but he recovers just fine and makes no signs of protest.

Soon enough, you're moving a few inches of your length in and out, enjoying the tightness around only a third of your dick. “Sho mush…sho big…” he slurs, unable to properly enunciate with your fingers keeping his mouth occupied. Little does he realize how big your full length is. You push a little more, and the human moans again, drool spilling out from the corners of his mouth while his ass stretches to accommodate the larger girth filling it up.

“Big, yeah? You think this is big, little guy? This ain't even halfway in yet~” you taunt, keeping a tight hold on his waist. At this point, you're confident that he can take plenty more without breaking yet, so you go a little harder until half of your dick is pumping in and out. “Mmm feel that? Now that is halfway in. Feels even better, right?”

“aAahAAAHhhNn–!! gHNH-!” Makoto spasms on the table, whining something unintelligible while his body twitches. Slightly concerned, you ask him what the hell that was all about, but he doesn't answer you. Frustrated, you remove your fingers from his mouth and yank his body up by his hair, forcing him to stand while you inspect the situation.

It only takes a second for you to notice the puddle of translucent white fluid dripping from the edge of the wooden table and onto the ground, with a matching fluid dribbling from Makoto's flushed dick.

“Goddamn– cummin' before me…I haven't even fucked you yet, little guy. Is it that good for you?” you laugh, pulling the human's head back so far that he's forced to look up at you, meeting your gaze with pink cheeks and cloudy eyes.

With a newfound confidence, and a newfound horniness, you decide that your little slut is more than ready to take it all in. Makoto makes a little noise at first, but when you bottom out and, finally, begin thrusting with intent, those noises turn into happy little moans and whimpers. The fucked out look on his face is proof enough that your fat cock is hitting the right places—filling his tummy with butterflies with every long drag against his walls.

Makoto holds onto your arms for dear life, taking your length like the good boy he is, while you rail him with enough force to knock him over, if you weren't holding his smaller body. “Ah-ah-ah-yes-yes-yes-!!” he stutters, smiling like he's on cloud nine. “Ah! Hard-er! Harderharderharder~!!”

When you blow your first load in him, the tightness of Makoto's ass and the strong scent of his hormones are enough to make your eyes roll back. Your hips slam into him a few times to empty all of your cum in there, and each time only brings the human that much closer to a complete mindbreak.

“Ooohhfuck… haah~ That was fuckin' good er- damn, I never got your name, did I?” The human shakes his head 'no', panting as his dick stays stiff as a board, red from cumming a second time.

He mutters something under his breath, but you can't quite make it out. You ask him to repeat it and he replies, “it'sss…Makoto…” in a sleepy, worn out tone.

“Well, Makoto, you think you're up for more?” you're asking, but not really asking…because you're going to fuck him again regardless. After all, all of these dumbass locals keep you stressed out every damn day — at this point, a full 24 hours of sex probably wouldn't be enough, much less one tiny orgasm.

Makoto lazily nods along, grinning up at you while you scratch his scalp affectionately. He has zero time to react as you begin thrusting again, ready to pound his hole until it's permanently molded to your shape.

His ass tightens around you again, and a third round of cum shoots out of his dick as it slaps against his warm body. His dick seems to stay hard even after that, turning redder by the minute, all while you ensure that his ass will be left gaping and oozing with your seed long after you're satisfied.

By the time you fill him up again, Makoto has orgasmed five times before, and his sixth nearly causes his voice to crack as his whole body convulses in your arms — his twitching cock shoots nothing this time, and the human is left with only dry orgasms for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, you have no intentions of stopping yet, even if it means your new human will fall unconscious—he'll still be your fuck doll while he rests.

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ragetears · 11 hours ago

Text

What do you need to hear right now? - pick a card!

~ this is a generalized reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t! ~

Pile 1 - Phantomwise Tarot with pyrite

Pile 2 - Deviant Moon Tarot with rose quartz

Pile 3 - Crow Tarot with labradorite

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Pile 1 - The High Priestess, Four of Wands, and the Queen of Wands reversed.

Key themes: anxiety, fear, self love, creativity, trusting yourself.

My friend - Spirit is telling you that you need to trust yourself! You find yourself hiding away from the unknown, and even the unknown within you. Tap into those darker, deeper parts that you've been shying away from. It's only by integrating those parts that you can become whole. You don't need to be afraid of your own darkness, you need to embrace it, celebrate it. Very much a commitment to yourself kind of vibe.

You need to learn to care for and love yourself, truly and deeply. You aren't nearly confident enough in your abilities - but you should be! Shed that self-consciousness, that fear, all that nasty stuff that doesn't serve you and step into the creative power that's inside of you.

For some of you this might look like practicing self love through ritual or other spiritual methods, diving deep into shadow work and/or therapy, or restarting creative projects you stopped because you weren't confident enough to finish them. (Also I feel a strong need to say this for my pagans out there - some of you should think about connecting with Aphrodite because she really would like to work through this with you.)

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Pile 2 - Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups, and the Page of Wands reversed.

Key themes: Feminine and/or intuitive power and energy, manifesting, confidence.

You are one powerful person! You are in control of yourself, capable of handling many things at once. You have all the skills and abilities you need to manifest your desires - and it's time to take that step. Two queens next to each other tells me that it's time for you to step into a more "feminine" energy. Feminine, but not necessarily in the "receptive" sense. More in an "intuitive power" sense, and for some of you this might be a transition into being your true self. For others, it's a sign to take that step into what you desire. You are in control of this journey, you can trust that you know who you are, and by doing this you are healing parts of yourself.

They key word that keeps popping up for you is "manifesting". You have such an insane ability to create your own reality and bring your desires to fruition. Now is not the time to second guess yourself. You are not taking wobbly steps forward, you're far too skilled for that. There's no room for self doubt here - you know what you desire. You're past the point of walking away from your calling. The reversed Page says you might fall down but the two Queens say to get right back up because you will succeed. You can do this.

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Pile 3 - Death, Eight of Wands, Six of Pentacles.

Key themes: freedom, excitement, relationships, rebirth, caution.

Your life is about to change, you are on the cusp of (or perhaps you've already started!) shedding all that doesn't serve you. This has been an active process that you've been heading or even working towards, not something passive that's happening to you. This won't be easy, but you already know that and you're prepared, no matter how bad it might hurt. Something new lies just beyond the horizon of this change, something better. For some of you this might be a breakup, breaking bad habits, or cutting off toxic friends or family. You know it won't be easy, but you also know that a happier, healthier you is waiting.

It's time to move on from your old life - and swiftly. Your previous situation stifled you, held you back from your true potential. Others may not understand why you needed to leave it all behind, but that's okay, you need to put yourself first. It's time for full steam ahead on your dreams, and this movement will aid you even more in shedding all that held you back. This might be a metaphorical or literal move (for some of you I'm getting cross-country or even an international move), and don't be afraid of either.

You are reborn and you have never felt lighter or more free, but don't act rashly. Humans are social creatures after all, and we are made to rely on each other. Don't be afraid of the generosity and care of others, and freely give to those around you in return with open arms and an open heart. You will need people who love and support you, and they'll need you just as much.

It may be a good idea to take a close look at your old self, your old life, and evaluate what led you here because without active work you are at risk of falling back into old patterns and into your old ways. Also I'm getting for some of you that you really need to learn how to better manage your finances specifically or you're at high risk of ending up back in your old situation, or at least a very similar one.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #tarot pac #tarot cards #tarot reading #free tarot #tarotblr #tarot reader #tarot community #free readings #pick a card reading #channelled message

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regalastor · 2 days ago

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Amor in ea Purissima Est

Lucius Verus Aurelius x fem!OC

summary: Lucius makes a new friend who causes him to reflect on his own loneliness.

author's notes: This is my first time posting my writing in years, so I would love any and all feedback! I would love to continue this story if people are interested. Lots of canon divergence is present in this fic!

warnings: discussions that hint at violence, abuse, and loss of a spouse. rating: 18+ (eventually).

It was only just over six months since Lucius’ ascension to the throne before women were being thrown at him by his mother. They had spoken at length about the loss of his wife, and his old life, but as time went on, she became more insistent that he not only needed an heir, but also he needed a companion. He knew she did not only mean the physicality of a relationship, but the trust and comfort provided by a partner. He had met with the women she’d asked him to, and sat at tables with noble families, but he had been painfully uninterested. His mother had accused him of being difficult only for the sake of disagreeing with her, and part of him wondered if that was true, but either way, he remained uninterested in his options.

“What did you not like about her?” His mother asked one day after yet another social gathering had ended. Lucius knew she was referring to his newly appointed general’s daughter; with whom he had spoken to at great length.

“It was not that I did not like her,” He thought about his words for a moment. “I have been in love, I know what it is supposed to feel like, and I will not settle for less.” Lucilla demonstrated her agreement by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

><><

Lucius grabbed the arm of the young boy and yanked him backwards, nearly knocking him off of his feet, just in time for the child to evade being run over by a carriage. The streets near the Senate building were always bustling and he could often make it through without many people noticing him at all, but it was rare to see a child wandering around this part of the city alone.

“Eyes forward around here,” Lucius said, helping the child to stand up straight. The boy blinked up at him a few times, and Lucius could tell his eyes were beginning to water. He couldn't have been older than six years old, and his chest ached a little, he hadn’t intended to scare the boy. “What are you doing here alone?” Lucius asked, looking around for any sign of parents.

“I am not alone,” The boy huffed slightly, making Lucius’ lips turn upward a little at his attitude—the boy clearly had no idea who he was, but that did not bother him in the slightest. “My mother was with me, and she told me to stay close, but then I saw-” The child’s eyes drifted towards the Praetorian Guard that was stationed outside the senate.

“The Praetorian?” Lucius asked, and the little boy nodded, his ears turning red as if he were being scolded for his disobedience. “What is your name?”

“Cato.”

“I am Lucius,” Lucius offered the child his hand; the boy shook his hand strongly, making Lucius smile slightly once again. “Come,” He gestured towards the guards, making Cato’s eyes widen. As Lucius approached the guards, Cato still a step behind him, he shook his head slightly, hoping they would get the hint not to bow, or frighten the boy. Cato looked at the tall soldiers, who were still standing at attention, with adoration in his eyes as he examined their swords and armor. “Have you ever held a sword?” Lucius asked the boy, and he shook his head.

“My father died when I was too little,” He shrugged, looking up at Lucius for a moment. The emperor reached out his hand and was quickly handed his own sword; he knelt down and held it in front of the boy, carefully keeping his hand away from the blade. While Lucius had never had kids himself, he was a part of a community for most of his life and therefore surrounded by children.

“This sword was my grandfather’s and then my father’s and now it is mine,” Lucius explained, watching as the little boy took in every detail of the golden hilt.

“Are you a gladiator?” Cato asked after a moment, and Lucius sucked in a breath at the memories.

“Once, yes, but now my purpose has changed,” He said gently. Cato’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What could be more important?”

“You, your family, your friends, the people of Rome. I have sworn to protect them and to help them all with all of my strength and power, and I intend to do so,” Lucius said, he realized he was talking too broadly and in too grand of a manner for the boy to understand, but Cato nodded along nonetheless, acting as if he was fully in on the meaning of the conversation.

“I want to be a warrior,” Cato said after a moment. “I want to protect my mother,” He said resolutely. Lucius smiled at him.

“I want to protect my mother as well,” He agreed. “We should find your mother before she worries too much about your safety,” Lucius took the sheath from the guard and wrapped it around his waist before sliding his sword into its proper place. Lucius sent the Praetorian a nod in a silent instruction to stay put. “Do you know where she may be?” Lucius asked Cato; the boy thought for a moment before nodding. He reached out and pulled on Lucius’ hand, a gesture that made the emperor’s jaw drop slightly, but one he accepted nonetheless.

“She makes medicine and stuff, and then we bring it here to sell it,” Cato explained, weaving through the crowd. Some people turned to look at Lucius, but in the clothes of a warrior, and with his hand in this little boy’s, it was very unlikely that anyone would recognize him. Lucius just followed and kept an eye on the little boy as he searched the crowds for his mother, after a while of his pulling on women’s skirts and then being disappointed by the face that looked down at him, Lucius decided to pick him up, in hopes of helping his see amongst the crowd. So, they continued wandering around the market, with Cato on Lucius’ hip as he looked around wildly for his mother.

“Mama!” Cato yelped and quickly attempted to squirm out of Lucius’ grip, causing the emperor to quickly put the boy on his feet. Cato gripped Lucius’ hand again and pulled him through the crowd. Soon, Cato was throwing himself at the legs of a woman, she all but fell down as she held him against her. She pressed her cheek to his head, and it was obvious she was crying. She must have been so scared, all the while her son was playing with swords and making new friends. Lucius shifted on his feet; he knew he should leave them, but he also felt uncomfortable leaving the child alone without explaining himself, or at least greeting the woman.

“Never, ever, do that again! How dare you run off like that?” The woman cupped Cato’s face in her hands and she ran her thumbs over his cheeks and flattened his hair like she was assuring herself that he was really in front of her and alright. Lucius could fully see her face now. She was younger than he had expected, with lightly tanned skin, light blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Her lips were plump and her face was defined, yet soft at the same time. She was stunning, and something about her made his heart beat faster.

“I’m sorry, mama, I didn’t mean to,” Cato said earnestly, and the woman sucked in a deep breath like she was trying to remain calm and not lose her patience with him. “I saw the soldiers,” The boy turned slightly and pointed at Lucius. “And got distracted,” The woman looked at him for a second before her eyes widened and she stood up quickly. She spun Cato around and pulled his back into her front, her arm wrapping around his chest protectively.

“I am so sorry, sir, if he disturbed the peace. I can promise you he is not a defiant boy, he just-” Lucius realized she thought he was Praetorian—-someone who could act violently with no justification. She was scared her son was in trouble.

“Please,” Lucius interrupted her, and he held out a hand in front of him, in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. “He has done no harm, nor is he in any trouble,” He assured the women. Her grip on Cato loosened a little. “He nearly wandered into the road, and then I helped him find you.” The woman swallowed once, still clearly assessing him. She seemed so frightened, so tense, and Lucius wondered what Cato was so adamant about protecting his mother from.

“Thank you for your help, truly,” She spoke softly. Lucius inclined his head in her direction.

“Lucius is my friend,” Cato said looking up at his mother. The woman smiled a little at that, but her eyes still seemed panicked.

“I see,” She slowly released her grip on her son fully, allowing him to stand in between the two adults. She stared at Lucius for a moment, and her heart began to beat faster as their blue eyes met. Something about him felt familiar, but that feeling of recognition was overtaken by her attraction to him. He was tan, tall, and muscular, with short, chocolate-colored, wavy brown hair and deep blue eyes. His nose was perfectly Roman, his beard was short and well-kept, and his lips were full and pink. “Well, we should be going,” She said after a moment, realizing she had most certainly been staring at him for too long. She didn’t seem to notice that he was staring back at her in order to admire her beauty as well.

“Can Lucius come to dinner?” Cato asked and the woman’s cheeks flushed.

“No, Cato, he-” The woman looked to Lucius for help.

“You are very kind to invite me,” Lucius assured. “But, I think your mother needs your help, and I have to go back to work,” He squatted down so that he was closer to eye-level with the child. He placed a hand on his little shoulder. “Protect your mother, and be strong, and you will be a warrior,” He said to the boy and Cato nodded resolutely.

“Thank you, again,” The woman said once he stood back up to his full height.

“May I ask your name?” Lucius asked just as she took Cato’s hand to guide him away.

“Anna Evander,” She smiled softly. The family name sounded vaguely familiar, but he did not recognize her.

“I am at your service, domina,” He smiled gently at her. She smiled back once more before guiding her son away.

That night, as Lucius sat on one of the many balconies in the palace, alone, all he could think about was Anna, and that maybe, he did not have to be sitting alone.

#lucius verus #lucius verus aurelius #gladiator ll #paul mescal x reader #gladiator movie #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x oc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #maximus decimus meridius #emperor commodus #emperor geta #fanfic #ancient rome #original story

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