#like it is so often that other places in the world are forgotten when it comes to these translation releases

[physalian]

On Writing Immortals

Some thoughts and suggestions

—

First of all, there’s a ton of variety, and so many different means of obtaining immortality, that any “this is how immortals should be written” advice is narrow-minded.

However, it is worth considering where that advice stems from, and that’s how an immortal behaves relative to the mortals around them. As in, if your thousand year immortal is virtually indistinguishable from their 17 year old love interest in behavior and maturity, then immortality is just window dressing on a very under-explored area of this character.

So here’s some broad strokes of different tropes

1. New immortals

These are usually mutants who just unlocked their mutations, superheroes who just got their powers, fantasy characters who just got cursed (or blessed), or mortals who have just ascended to godhood.

In this, “immortal” concerns their physicality, not so much their worldly perspective, as they were previously joe shmoe just like everybody else.

But. Because they’re fresh immortals, that sudden othering should still be a respectable part of their character. How do they come to terms with understanding that they will outlive everyone they know and love? How recklessly (or carefully) do they now act knowing that they’ll survive whatever happens to them?

Are they happy to be immortal, devastated, terrified, confused?

2. Ascended immortals who’ve been around the block

These are usually where you’ll find vampires or any character who’s tragic backstory is gaining immortality 100 years ago. They used to be just like you and me, but a century or two being stagnant while the rest of the world carries on does shit to you.

Are they jaded or embracing all the eras they get to see? Are they detached from people or have they had an endless parade of fleeing lovers? Are they a mess who can’t be alone with their own thoughts, or wizened up despite their youthful features?

3. Young immortals who were always this way

Here you’ll find young deities, popular in anime and manga who have always either been some supernatural creature, lost their memories of when they were alive and have virtually started over in this new skin, minor gods, elves, fae or whatever other fantasy race you’ve come up with.

Are they arrogant about their place on the social totem pole? Overconfident in their own abilities? What do they think of fragile mortals? Do they treat them with love or disdain?

4. Old immortals who were always this way

Gods, primordials, giants, or any of those in category for who have been around for a few millennia.

This is where “they don’t act like an immortal should” criticism often comes in. Someone who has been around this long and has never experienced the creep of time or been threatened by a ticking clock might have some detachment and ambivalence toward the fleeting whims and worries of mortals. It’s either that they’re too jaded to care, have forgotten how to care, or have never had a need to care.

Or, they care a whole heck of a lot and have been fighting this fight as long as they’ve existed.

—

I would like to also mention how their degree of separation from mortals greatly skews all of the above categories, using my own immortals as an example.

I write about vampires. Unlike a lot of vampire media, this is a vampire-dominant society. Meaning that the main characters (except the hero) are all immortal, the conflicts are all between immortals, and so are most of the romances.

The emphasis in this story is not on “how do I get this supernatural being to pass like a human and do human things to woo the very young naïve mortal hero” it’s “how do I get this idiot mortal hero to gain some perspective and respect for his elders”.

Though these vampires live among mortals, the mortals live on a vampire schedule under a vampire hierarchy. So there is no “vampire living through the rapidly changing human history of 1890-2000” (which I do love, it’s just not this story) it’s humans with immortal, unchanging vampire guardians.

This is also fantasy devoid of earth politics and history, and change happens very slowly before any big wave of industry. It’s like having an 800 year old vampire who lived from 2000BC to 1200BC vs 1190AD to 1990AD. Same amount of time, but drastically different evolution of their world within that time.

All this to say… they don’t “act” like immortals. They’re just people, on a very, very slow clock relative to only really themselves. They absolutely have their “ugh mortals are stupid and ignorant” arrogance, but they don’t have “because look what they did in the world wars” as a reason. And as far as their people go, the ones they live with, “pets” sounds insulting but it is more like a human and their pet whom they love and will inevitably, greatly outlive, and likely have multiple pets over the course of their lifetime.

So any immortal that you could write, if they’re not living on a human timeline, can, believably, still act very human, because they have no relative sense of the passage of time, no visible benchmarks they should be meeting, and likely few examples of what a “mature” version of themselves, an elder, should behave like.

—

Something I do wish was explored more, and I intend to do so myself is the concept of immortality unraveling.

They are cursed with immortality and have lived through so much and contain so many memories that they’ve basically got Alzheimer’s, and yet cannot die. Like that one sailor in Davy Jones’s crew who is literally growing into the ship. He’s a ghost, but effectively immortal in the lore.

Vampire Diaries definitely didn’t do their history homework (still mad about Vikings in Virginia and horses in America 1,000 years ago because no) or take themselves very seriously, but their infamous villainous family of thousand-year-old vampires rarely act their age.

Which in some ways I do appreciate, an implication in vampire media being that you are not just physically frozen, but mentally frozen, unable to mature, forever as impulsive and reckless as you were when you died and unable to mellow out.

But on the other hand, I would have loved to see some actual consequences on these characters’ psyches from the toll a thousand years of memories must have on a human mind. For any kind of supernatural creature.

[theyilinglaozus]

Trying to do research into the Rosmei danmei releases and learning that there was talk of a Canadian and UK distributor for them but finding nothing more to see if they had announced anything since is a pain.

There's a few novels I'm interested in but I am especially eyeing the preorder for volume one of How to Be a Villian in Real Life and the future release of Drowning Sorrows in Raging Fire.

[ruins-of-gods]

Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.

Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.

Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.

Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.

[seumyo]

the language of biting.

NOTE. a teensy bitsy suggestive!

Bakugou doesn’t always say “I love you” with words.

Sure, he can.

He has.

He does.

But more often than not, it’s in the things he does: folding your laundry just the way you like it, memorizing the exact heat setting for your tea, walking on the side of traffic when you two are out (it’s become a habit at this point, and he will get playfully physical with trying to switch places with you if you think otherwise), scowling at people who so much as glance at you too long.

The quiet, loaded things.

Acts of service.

Devotion in motion.

But when you two are alone—when the world outside your apartment fades and it’s just the two of you—his love starts to show in other, more unconventional ways.

Like biting.

It starts off soft, playful, almost lazy.

You’ll be curled on the couch, on his lap, while something plays on the TV, forgotten. Your hand will drift against his surprisingly soft hands, playing with his fingers to flex them open and close as you hum, and he’ll nuzzle closer, burying his face into your thigh or shoulder or collarbone—wherever you are.

Because Bakugou is an unreliable narrator when it comes to you.

And then, without warning—

“Katsuki!”

You gasp, as if he had just committed the most heinous crime, laughing as he runs his canines gently over your skin, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him get away with.

“What?” he mumbles, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You bit me!”

He huffs a short laugh. “Did not.”

“I felt your teeth, you maniac.”

“Didn’t bite,” he says again, leaning in to nip at your collarbone, slow and deliberate this time. “Just a pretend bite. Barely.”

You yelp and try to push him away, palms flat against his shoulders. “What are you, a dog?”

Bakugou smirks against your skin. “You don’t hear me barkin’, do you?”

“Should I take you to the vet? Get your rabies shot?”

His teeth graze you again, this time just on your aching shoulder blade that you’ve been whining about for the past few days. “Too late, dummy.”

He bites down again, this time just enough to leave a fleeting pressure—never enough to bruise, never enough to really hurt, just enough to say, Mine. His hand slides under your hoodie, not in a lewd way, but to rest warm against your waist as he presses his teeth into the curve of your shoulder.

“Why is this your favorite?”

“Because you’re soft.”

“That’s not a reason to bite me.”

“Or maybe you could just admit that I’m cute when I do it.”

“Cute? You just bit me like a teething baby!”

He quietly sighs and leans up higher, bringing his face close to yours now. “Wasn’t tryna hurt you. Just…” He pauses, nose brushing yours. “‘s weird, but I like doin’ it. That ok?”

Bakugou never bites when he’s angry. Never in frustration. Only when he’s calm, or smug, or holding you close and soaking in the way you fit perfectly in his arms. The biting isn’t possessive in the toxic way. It’s intimate. Familiar. He doesn’t even realize how often he does it.

Your expression softens at that, because of course it does. How could it not? His voice had gone quiet, and his brows were furrowed in that shy, self-conscious way that only ever comes out when he’s being sincere.

“You do know biting me isn’t how humans mark territory, right?” you tease.

His ears turn pink at the tip. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m serious. Should I be worried? Is this like… a feral wolfboy thing?”

“Keep talkin’ and I will bite harder.”

You snort and lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re still in my lap.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Never said I wasn’ lucky.”

But then, just as you relax again—he strikes. A soft, precise bite just behind your ear this time around. His canines dig in just enough to make you squirm, though there’s no pain. Just the warm press of his lips a moment later.

“Katsuki!”

You could feel him smile against your skin. “Couldn’t help it. You smell too good.”

“You are—insane. You are absolutely feral.”

“You’re still not movin’.”

“Because you’re hugging me like a bear, idiot.”

“Guess you can’t do anythin’ about it now, huh?”

And then he’s peppering kisses along your shoulder���soft ones, a little too sweet to match the devilish glint in his eye—interrupted every few seconds by little nips. Not enough to leave marks. Just enough to feel. Enough to make you shiver and laugh and squirm under his touch until you're warm and breathless from giggling.

Eventually, you push him away with both hands, heaving in breaths. “You need a warning label.”

“I’ve got a hero license. Close enough.”

“I’m gonna make you get a rabies shot.”

“Go ahead. Long as you’re there to hold my hand.”

You roll your eyes, but the affection behind it is undeniable. “You’re the worst.”

“And still your favorite.”

You sigh, defeated, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m married to someone who bites like a baby who’s just now getting their baby teeth.”

He grins, closing his eyes. “Better get used to it.”

“You done?”

“…Maybe.”

“Katsuki.”

“…Okay, okay. I’m done.”

. . .

“…For now.”

“If those leave a mark—I will make you do laundry by yourself next week.”

And Bakugou, pleased as hell with himself, gives you one final, barely-there bite to your shoulder and murmurs, “Love you too.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[bloodstainedsapphic]

the one where ellie discovers that she has a praise kink minors dni

ellie twisted one final screw into place on the new bookcase she was constructing for your shared book collections. she leaned back, letting out a small grunt once the backache from being hunched over for so long caught up to her. she wiped stray hairs from her face and inspected her handiwork.

you, being a supportive girlfriend, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "atta girl,” you commended, "looks great."

ellie's heart skipped a beat when cursed phrase left your mouth. it was innocent enough—at least the intent behind it in the moment. she glanced over her shoulder up at you, eyes wide and lips parted but not a word escaping. safe to say, all coherent thought was out the window for a fleeting moment. her rosy cheeks only deepened when your sly smile revealed that her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed. ellie would then mumble "thanks" and use her exhaustion from the manual labor as an excuse, which you accepted.

okay, maybe ellie did have an inkling of suspicion about why the phrase affected her. the heat suddenly pulsating to her lower region was answer enough.

and praise already was often sprinkled in when you two were intimate. as a treat. so it wasn't totally new. but the unexpected strike during such an innocuous moment pulled a reaction out of ellie that she hadn’t felt so intensely before. she was just too embarrassed to admit it and wasn't ready to bring it up.

this all changed, of course, during one tired, opportune movie night. sprawled mellowly on ellie's old couch, bodies barely brushing against each other, your gaze repeatedly falls on her silhouette- unable to look away. ellie's perfect smattering of freckles, round emerald eyes, soft bridge of her nose, chestnut hair curved around her jaw. ellie didn't have to do a damn thing; she was just so damn pretty.

finally, your temptation peaks, fueling your audacity to place a deliberate hand on her thigh. you squeeze it, speaking volumes about your growing need. you craved ellie. badly.

a few inelegant adjustments to remove some clothes and get into more comfortable positions later, ellie sinks back into the couch cushion, her torso bare. you take a few beats to seal the image to memory, her soft skin, the curves of her breasts and figure. your suppressed desire unleashed, starting an assault of kisses and bites everywhere on ellie that you can access. the film becomes white noise in the background, entirely forgotten.

your lips, suctioned to ellie's chest, release with a pop. you admire the masterpiece of spattered reddening marks you left all over her skin. the hand previously massaging her other breast starts to travel downwards, tracing her sternum like a trail of flames. your kisses work their way up her neck, these daintier so you can focus on savoring ellie's delicious whines.

your palm grazes the dampened fabric of ellie’s panties, taking great satisfaction in seeing her world turn hazy and glassy-eyed.

“please..please..” ellie whispered- lost for air and desperate. you smirk, feeling your fingers grow wet from her arousal.

you guide ellie to briefly lift her hips to shrug her shorts and panties off, giving you unbridled access to her soaked heat. she parts her legs further, inviting. your mouth goes dry at the sight. you dip your fingers between her glistening folds, the tantalizing movement eliciting a whine from ellie. your thumb finds her pulsing clit and starts slowly tracing circles. once you’ve worked her and yourself up, you press one finger deep into her slick center, trying not to fall apart from how worked up her cries have gotten you.

“you’re being such a good girl for me,” you muttered tenderly, lazily pumping your finger inside her.

the petname hit ellie like a lightning strike. she tells on herself with how she clenches around your digits, her hips bucking up to encourage your thrusts deeper. you turn devilishly cocky when you realize the cause of her unraveling. she’s begging you to keep talking, to move your hand faster and bring her to ecstasy. you keep up the pace, focused on stretching her out until gradually adding a second finger and curling them deeper.

“fuck, you’re taking my fingers so well,” you purr, pairing it with more light kisses and nibbles to her ear.

“mmm…oh my fucking god—“ ellie breathes your name like a prayer, her pleas tumbling out incomprehensibly.

“you like being my good fucking girl, hmm? i didn’t know just how much..you’re so fucking tight…”

your words are ellie’s downfall, a long-awaited orgasm suddenly crashing through her. her entire body shudders, and you guide ellie through the waves uttering similar, delicate phrases, reveling in how the praise undid her. “good fucking girl, atta girl…”

once the throes of pleasure grow further apart, you pull your fingers from her. you bring your wet digits up and press them to ellie’s lips, giving a quiet command for her clean up her mess. “suck.”

ellie, flushed and dumbed out from her orgasm, mindlessly wraps her pretty lips around you, tasting herself on your fingers. the warmth enveloping you is almost overbearing for your own lust. of course, you encourage her as she sucks them clean. “that’s it, my sweet girl. i’m so proud of you.”

[lvl1l1]

Come inside of my heart

domestic life with Sylus; things you do that make him fall for you all over again.

Sylus spent such a long time looking for you and once he found you, things couldn’t have gone worse. The other half of his soul having forgotten him, being disgusted by him and in a state of hurt and disbelieve he tried shutting you out in an attempt to put his walls back up.

After the rocky start the two of you had in this lifetime, he never could’ve imagined being here now, with you. You both had come such a long way, months of yearning and misunderstandings having lead up to the dynamic you wouldn’t exchange for the world now.

You’ve established yourself in his life, left traces and marks in every nook and cranny, and Sylus wouldn’t have it any other way.

You gave him something he never imagined he could allow himself to have, domestic bliss.

This man sees you as love itself, he understands you and truly sees you for who you are, so whenever you do something that reminds him you feel the same way, his heart clenches.

♪ You bring him his coffee exactly as he likes it, without him ever having to ask you.

♪ You lay his clothes out for him before he wakes up.

♪ After a rough week you make him his favourite meal and prepare a cozy night in you know he’ll enjoy.

Knowing, that you have his habits, tastes and likes memorised and that you’re in tune with them gives him the feels. Knowing, that you know him does it for him.

Sylus’s life is fast paced, filled with danger and excitement. Before he found you, he never lingered too long in one place, always on the go, busy building his empire. He didn’t have a routine. He’d eat when he found the time, he’d sleep when he wrapped up his business. So, when you showed up and you two fell into sync with one another, his daily life turned upside down.

♪ When you insisted on eating together, often sending the chefs in the base home so the two of you could prepare the meals yourselves, he felt overwhelmed with warmth.

♪ The more time you spent in the N109 Zone, the more you adjusted your own day to match his. You started taking midday naps to join him in bed when he was sleeping, leading to you staying up longer at night and spending more time with him.

You two had fallen into a pace, lead by your desire to spend time with each other and it made Sylus want to never leave your side.

The twins were Sylus’s most trusted allies, he took them in when they felt betrayed by the world, seeing himself in them. There was always a slight distance between them, yet he cared for them deeply and seeing you show them that same level of acceptance made him think, you were embracing their way of life as well.

♪ He sees the way you check up on Luke and Kieran after every mission, silently checking for any injuries.

♪ He sees the way you always try to include them and make them feel like they belong.

♪ He’s grateful to you, for being a friend to them and spending time with them whenever you can.

The twins love you and you love them, and while Sylus would never admit it, knowing that the three of you get along so well fills him with happiness.

Nothing gives him a sense of peace like the fact that he now has a place in your life. As much as you are a part of his daily life in the N109 Zone, he is a part of your life in Linkon. You grace him with this sense of normalcy that he’s never been granted before in his life.

♪ You bring him, the big, bad boss of Onychinus, along on your grocery runs. You make him push the shopping cart and tell him to grab that brand of milk you get everytime, he reaches for that box of cereal that might be a bit too high up for you.

♪ You’ve introduced him to all of your friends, even if it’s under a fake alias. You bring him along on some of your hangouts, even if you prefer not to linger for too long, just in case.

♪ You ask him to drive you to the gym and to pick you up from the library, you take him to all your favourite cafés and show him the appeal of midnight snack runs.

You’ve shown this intergalactically feared man your world and he can’t get enough of it.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, omegaverse, poly

gn reader

Thinking about Betas and how lost they are navigating the world of Alphas and Omegas. Betas, with no second gender and none of those primal instincts, who has to listen to all this mating and bonding drama without ever participating in any of it. Betas, who often find Omegas cute and Alphas hot but who feel kind of left out of the running. Betas who make great clueless friends…

“So, do you like—take suppressants for your heats or?” he asks during lunch.

You knew it was coming. You’d just had a special guest lecture about heats and ruts, and all your friends, the entire two of them, were both betas—so it was mostly all new to them.

“Dude! That’s so personal!” your other friend berates, jabbing his side and casting him a glare before throwing you an apologetic smile on both of their behalf. But you could tell he was burning with the same curiosity, he was just polite enough to look it up on his phone instead.

“M’sorry, but teach didn’t explain it well,” he apologizes while rubbing his side clear of the definite bruise left there. “Like…” He almost pouts, picking at his lunch. “What do heats actually do? Like—does it compel Alphas to—uhm… have sex with you? Or?”

“Dude!” the other all but shrieks.

“It’s fine,” you declare with a little laugh. Though it’s true what he says that it’s personal, you wouldn’t really mind disclosing some of the basics. Especially if it meant killing off a few rumors.

Though you regret it a bit once both of them end up staring at you wide-eyed and waiting.

“Uhm…” You swallow thickly—you didn’t realize it was that interesting. “So, it’s really… just a faint scent that’s caused by pheromones.” They don’t even blink as they listen, lunches all but forgotten in front of them. “All it really does is let people know when I’m—or an Omega—uhm… is most fertile.”

“Right…” One of them nods respectfully.

But the other, as usual, has more questions to ask. “So why take suppressants if that’s all it is?”

You blush. “Well, it’s kinda embarrassing to walk around letting people know such a thing…” That’s half of it. “But, uhm… well—heats don’t affect others more than it affects Omegas themselves. It’s kinda like… having a fever—but also having swallowed a lot of cough syrup. And well…” You’re really blushing now. Lowering your voice almost to a whisper. “There’s the horny aspect of it too.”

The other two blush as well. The more mature one had gone silent a while ago, but even so, it didn’t stop the other from continuing. “So, like a drug then?”

That wasn’t the worst way of putting it, so you nodded. “I guess you could say that.”

He smiles then, widely. “Sounds kinda fun!”

And the other jabs his side once more. “Dude, shut up already.” 

You didn’t think a Beta could ever do the job of an Alpha—but lucky you had two of them.

You have one of them in your mouth, suckling sweetly, hooded eyes glossy with your heat, looking up at him—your well-mannered Beta friend who barely dares touch you but is absolutely falling apart by the way your tongue swirls around his shaft, trailing veins as you take him as far back as your uvula. He’s biting his lip hard, keeping it tucked so as not to moan out the way his friend is.

He isn’t afraid to touch—or he couldn’t hold back even if he were. He’s squeezing the fat of your haunches hard enough to leave bruises, keeping you in place as he pounds you hard from behind. Unabashed groans and moans leave him, along with the slick squelches of your hole soaking and sucking him in.

“Fu-uck, can’t believe it—it’s so fucking wet—” He’s drooling and sweating, eyes misty and glued to the sight of where he’s drilling the juice out of you. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. Not that he has too much experience, but he’s never wanted to cum so badly in his entire life. “You’re so tight—squeezing me so hard!” he rambles while continuing his downright desperate pace.

“Shut up…” the other mutters under his breath but doesn’t take his eyes off you. You’re bewitching him with your gaze—round doe-eyes, blown wide with pleasure. He wonders if you even know what’s happening or if it’ll be like a blacked-out hangover in the morning. He ought to have asked more questions when he could. But he can’t seem to bring himself to care. In any case, you seem to be loving the taste of his pre, and the thought is making every part of his body buzz with warmth. You’ll probably drink his cum with the way you’re drooling and mewing around him.

It nearly brings them both to tears—it’s like the wettest dream come true as they both fill you up—one deep into your womb as he bottoms out tightly and the other down your throat with your lips wrapped all the way down at the base.

They both collapse afterward. One lies on his back and the other on his stomach—bodies stippled with sweat—both heaving.

You pout, looking at them. They must be out of their minds if they think that’s all it takes. You straddle the one on his back, both your hands around his softening dick, rubbing it back into hardness.

“Hey, hey, hey—hey, wait!” he stammers, shooting up and stopping you—both hands wrapping around your wrist to try and pry you off without prying his dick off while at it.

“No!” you whine. “Not done.”

The look in your eyes is sore enough to make any man fall to his knees.

“Please? I need more… please give me more…”

If he was blushing before, he’s full feverish now. Panning from your pouty face riddled with desperation down at his fellow Beta friend who looks back up at him with a similar expression.

We're in trouble.

♡ BNHA – ShinKami, KiriKami, KamiSero, KiriBaku, TodoDeku, loserboys ShigaDabi or DabiHawks ♡ JJK – ItaFushi, loserboys SatoSugu ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[carbonfiction]

Bitter days and bitten lips

Summary: Thinking about sharing a cold winters day in origins! Logan's cabin. (Or the lovers are loving each other sickeningly)

Can't lie i was cold and lonely when this came to be. Do with that what you will chat. once again fluff is NOT the strong suit so, go easy.. i promise smut will resume again soon :p

Warnings?: just overwhelming fluff. Reader bakes goods. reader makes a joke about him landing on his ass, Cuddles, kisses and general lovey dovey couple stuff.. Plus a teeeny moment of self doubt.

(Spoiler: Logan really likes kisses in this one..)

Masterlist Words: 1.2k (got carried away writing about boyfriend Logan.. sorry chat :/)

Thinking about the kind of days when frost gleams across the mountains. Rocks and trees covered in a dusting of snow. every step accompanied by a resounding crunch, ground slightly slippery with ice.

The kind of days when your breath puffs out as vapor and even a coat, hat and gloves don't ward off the chill.

However, inside that little cabin hidden far atop the hill, life is cosy. The fire steadily warming with a soft crackle; the little wooden pile slowly dwindling. Fingers and toes toasty warm instead of iced cold.

You adorn one of logans flannel button ups with some panties and comfortable knee highs, while logan lives in some sweats and one of his white tee's.

There's a radio playing low on the dinner table, some old music crackling through soft static serenading your actions in the kitchen. Freshly baked good filling the counters; a combination of scents wafting deliciously through the air. Bread, various pastries, and logans favorite pie all sitting cooling whilst you carefully place your cleaned bowls and utensils back in their respective places.

Meanwhile logan lounges comfortably on the couch, body sunk into the soft cushions, a book held in his grasp that he's only half paying attention to. Soft hazel gaze often flicking from the page to peek at you.

The sight, you clad in his shirt and those thigh highs he loves, wrapped up in an apron and doing something so domestic; so.. At home doing what you love in a shared space, brings a twinge of warmth to his chest. He loves you, more than he can ever express, but by god does he hope you know it.

After turning his attention back to the book, its not long before he hears the gentle sigh that releases from your chest. Fingers beginning to tug the aprons bow apart; the soft rub of fabric sounding out as you lift it off to hang on the hook. the soft click of the pantry door following, before your feet start to pad over.

You round the couch and attempt to sit by his feet silently, but logan looks up immediately, a love drunk grin lighting up his face.

"Hey darlin c'mere.." he pats the space next to him as he shifts around, book forgotten in the wake of you.

You shuffle closer, trying to tuck in besides him until he quite literally tugs your body to his. Like you weigh nothing in the world he lays back, placing you comfortably atop of his broad chest, the fire flickering in his eyes as he gazes at you.

"there we go" he murmurs quietly, a teasing edge to his voice as you squirm to wrap your arms around the bulk of him beneath you. "Snuggle on in.."

By the time your comfortable your chin sitting in the middle of his chest, legs limp between his as you rest on your front. "There's my girl" he smiles, bringing up a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. "finished keepin' us nice and fed for the winter huh?"

A smirk falls across his face as he teases, growing as your hand slaps softly at his shoulder making him laugh slightly. Faux shock filling your expression.

"I can stop and make you trek into town for goods instead if you'd like.." you grumble, trying (and failing) to hide your own sly smirk as your fingers draw circles on his pectoral.

"much prefer eatin' what my girl makes, y'know that." logan says, words falling from him so honestly that it makes you grin shyly.

And, in truth, You do, you know he is being honest wholeheartedly. From the way he clears his plates at meal time; often coming back for seconds. To the way he's damn near begged for your food for lunch when he's down working at the yard (a simple sandwich, nothing special really, apart from how he swears its his favorite thing on earth; apart from you of course) he never fails to remind you of his enjoyment.. But what's love without a little fun?

"Mhm, sure." you agree, eyes rolling playfully from under your lashes as you poke at his chest curiously. "Is it my cookin' or the threat of slippin' on your ass down the mountain that makes you say that?"

Logan's silent for a moment as he thinks, making a show of it. Then he dares a quiet hum, hands squeezing your sides jovially.

"Might be a little of both.." he smiles, teeth showing as you gasp dramatically making him really laugh. The deep rumble of his chuckle shaking your body atop of him as you pull on a grumpy little pout.

"Nah, sweetheart seriously" he grunts after a moment, sitting up a little to pull you in even closer, your head resting nearer his neck now as his voice drops in honesty. "you take care of us.. Me.. So well. More than i deserve. Cant thank you enough"

Your heart stutters in your chest, playful expression softening as you look at him. The man you have the best time calling yours, who loves so unconditionally it could bring you to tears.

"Hush" you murmur, hand moving from his chest up to place a finger gently on his lips. "None' a that, i could say the same about you.. deserve the world Logan Howlett"

"I dunno about th-" he goes to grumble, cheeks growing warm with the slightest dusty pink hue. self doubt still creeps up his spine, even as you cut him off by pressing your finger harder against him, smooshing his lips slightly.

"I said Hush.." you all but growl seriously, nipping softly at his Adams apple. "Or do i have to kiss you more to make you believe me?

Ah.. Kisses, or more specifically, your kisses. His achilles heel from the very first day your lips pressed to his. Gentle and sweet, the taste of you overwhelming his senses.

He's certain if he could choose his death, his choice would be to go by your lips.

There's a moment he relishes the feel of you, of the love you press tight to his skin. Across his collarbone, up his neck and even the scruff covered expanse of his sharp jaw.

"...suppose" he breathes shallow, shakily, as a quiet almost whine follows his words. "Kisses could work.."

You hum absentmindedly, trailing up from his jaw to softly peck at his face. cheeks, then forehead and back down the bridge of his nose. Your breath a gentle puff over his skin.

By the time you reach his lips again logan is pliant under your touch. His lashes fluttering gently against his cheeks as his hands grip tight on your waist.

which is why the soft nip of your teeth tugging at his lip draws a little surprised purr from his chest, his heart hammering quickly. The careful pain soothed by the swipe of your tongue before you kiss him properly once again.

"Believe me yet?" you whisper quietly pulling back, thumb rubbing gently over his chin.

"Might-" he pants, beginning to squirm ever so slightly beneath you. "Might need some more.. For convincing.."

You grin at Logan, wasting no time to press your lips back home against his. You'd be happy to kiss him all night if it would make him believe you.

So, you do.

Because nothing else matters but the warmth you feel at home with him; the very warmth that outweighs the bitter chill outside.

[chihomichannel]

Ember's Roar | Geum Seongje

| pairing: geum seongje x f!reader | summary:  When you seem to not be meant for a normal life, further solidified when you got caught entangled in the web of Geum Seongje’s world.  | warnings: mentions of abuse (can be triggering, please read with caution), blood, physical fights, manipulation, minor mention of suicide, violence, mature themes, strong language | word count: 5.4k | a/n: It’s finals but the pull was too strong, I found myself writing after having not written for a long long time omg. Lee jun young makes me feral yall. Anyways, hope you enjoy and here’s to more geum seong je fics plsplspls

| note: Ma Seokhee (Hayden Ma) and Hwangmo are from the webtoon of weak hero./ cross-posted on my ao3 acc

The adults always said that you were so cheerful when you were younger. They often comment on how meek and quiet you’ve become now when you used to be such an extroverted child. Tales of you unabashedly making friends with strangers you meet in transportations, in malls, in parks, and in all kinds of places, stories of dancing and singing loudly in front of everyone’s eyes and affection, long passed and buried in the years since then that you’ve forgotten how different you were back then.

But what you do remember was your dad leaving and your mom becoming sad, bitter and angry. And then she began to hit you, harsher than the times she told you off when you made mistakes. Since then, no matter how much you tried to appease her, everything you did was a mistake. And with every mistake, a consequence follows. She told you it’s because she loves you, she wants you to become a good person and for that to happen, she needs to discipline you. And that she did day after day, years after years, until you learned how to be sly enough to convince her not to do so sometimes. But you aren’t always so lucky, it’s just that you are sometimes and you like to make sure to be one. And so you became compliant and quiet, because that way, the monster that holds your mother’s heart captive won’t awaken and find a reason to hurt you. 

So you like to keep your peace. You only mind your business and stay quiet. Only keep a few close friends and aim to achieve the average, no failing grades but just enough to pass your subjects. A wallflower, a person who’s there but purposely avoids the limelight. For the most part, no one paid you any mind. You’re the person in everyone’s periphery, no one significant. 

But when you reside within Yeongdeungpo and go to school in Ganghak, you should’ve known peace wasn’t an option you could keep. Or maybe you weren’t just meant to live a peaceful life outside of home now that during the class seating rearrangement, your lucky hands picked the paper that contained the number of the seat next to Geum Seongje. That was when you learned how funny envy can be and how quick it can turn things around with a snap of a finger. But you’ve known it for years, it’s just that now you realize that this is what happened to your mother, and you could only laugh that the same thing came back years later to bite you in the ass.

And now you found yourself outside, beads of sweat slid down the side of your face with the sun high up in the sky. Gone was the comfort of the cold breeze of the AC now that Jiyeon and her minions dragged you out of school grounds, in an alleyway just beside the school premises. It has been two weeks since the seat changes. You and Seongje don’t even interact, much less see each other. The guy doesn’t even go to school much, only three times since you became his seatmate. 

You were apprehensive at first, but upon seating next to him, you both kept to yourselves. It wasn’t like you gave him any reason to bat an eye on your business. You kept a respectful distance, not even letting your eyes land on the boy, what with the ever so famous three second rule you’ve heard about. You kept quiet and did not disturb the guy in any way at all. You just wanted to live your life and survive. 

But keeping quiet wasn’t enough. Geum Seongje, despite his notorious reputation, still had girls fawning over his feet. He’s handsome, and has a disturbingly sweet smile that contradicts his violent nature. It was exactly that handsome face that drove the girls in your class insane at the fact that you, a nobody, gets to sit beside him, albeit rarely with him absent most of the time. Still, it was enough for envy to boil hot in the guts of the girls in your class. Who are you to be deserving of such a place? A place you would willingly give if they just ask. But of course, violence and evil runs deep in the roots of everyone’s feet. It is in the nature of humans to resolve into violence the second they find a reason to perform such action, no matter how unreasonable it may be.

Your quiet outside life turned to slaps, humiliation, degradation, and violence, no longer different to the tense one you have at home. All of this just because you happened to sit next to their hopeless obsession. Oh how much it made your stomach sick to be quiet. To act exactly like at home now that you can’t live as carefree outside now that you’ve become their target. With each passing day, your head went to a mantra. Just a few more and it will be over soon, they’ll get bored. Just a few more and it will be over soon, they’ll get bored. Just a few more and it will be over soon, they’ll get bored. 

But it didn’t end. And your sanity was at its wits end. No matter where you went, there was someone waiting to hurt you. But what were you to do? What could you fucking do? In your mother’s case, you love her too much to fight back. But Jiyeon and her minions? They are a lot and you were only one. Your friends took their distance, too afraid to be caught on the net of Jiyeon’s wrath. And suddenly, you found yourself all alone but surrounded at the same time. Fear turns to sadness turns to frustration and turns to anger. What are you going to do?

Seongje took a puff of his smoke, arm perched upon the railing of the rooftop, hand covered with the blood of the boy who lay squirming on the ground. He heard Hwangmo drag the boy further away from him, cleaning up after his mess. The boy had been a transferee that was stupid enough to look at him for more than three seconds. Bloodthirsty and draggingly bored, it was only fitting that Seongje had to teach him a lesson. But it was uneventful as the boy did not give a fight. And Seongje hates boring things the most. So when his eyes landed on the scene below him, at the alleyway Jiyeon and her friends dragged you to, a chuckle leaves his mouth, the cigarette vibrating along his chapped lips. With another puff, Seongje turned his full attention to the scene unfolding below. It was amusing to him, how every girl he happened to sit next to in class fell victim to bullying just because of him. He liked it, his pride and ego filled.

He watched as the girls surrounded you, Jiyeon pushing you to the ground. Everyday she torments you to no end. Follows you home, follows you to the bathroom, follows you everywhere. It was like she’s obsessed with you, obsessed to hurt you just because Seongje does not give her the time of day.

Then Jiyeon straddles you, gripping a chunk of your hair.

A match enflames.

“Who the fuck do you think you are glaring at me like that, HUH?” Jiyeon screams in your face. You must have unconsciously let your eyes look at her dangerously. You realized it was weird, right now you didn’t feel fear. And what you do feel is a small burning fire churning in your stomach. 

Is this rage?

Jiyeon pulls your head upwards by your hair and slaps your cheek, spitting on your eyes.

The fire engulfs the match.

Suddenly, the heat was replaced by a stream of cold water, drenching your upper body as Jiyeon splashed the dirty water from the bathroom and onto your face. By this point, you aren‘t hearing what they were talking about, they were just a buzz of noise as your eyes filled with red with Jiyeon so close to your face.

The fire rages high and into your eyes, and in every cell of your body.

With all your strength, you thrust Jiyeon upwards, flipping your positions so that she is facing down with your legs wrapped around her head. Using their shock to your advantage, you swung your fist into her face, her nose making an audible crack as she cried in pain “yOU FUCK-“ You took the handkerchief in your pocket and slammed and pushed it into her mouth.

You stood up, turning around to face the other four girls. They stumble backwards at your glare, your eyes that refused to meet others now seemingly burn under the darkened glare as your eyes zeroed in on one of them, running and using that momentum to kick her in the stomach, making her fall and stumble backwards.

This seemed to awaken the others from their stupor as they began to gang up on you. Grabbing your arms and hair to stop you as you began to mount on the girl you had just kicked. Their collective strength pulled you up from the girl on the ground, your legs flailing in retaliation.

Fueled by adrenaline rush, you managed to get away from their grip, immediately giving a punch on the gut of the nearest girl. The velocity to which your fist came made her curl and fall to the ground.

With three down, your eyes locked on the next girl, running to her as she began to stumble out of your way, fear flashing her eyes at your sudden violence. You used your whole body to push her on the ground, making you both fall. You felt the other girl join in, trying to push you off her friend, kicking and punching your back. But you persistently locked the girl under you on the ground, not caring of the fist hitting your sides as you clutched her hair with both hands and slamming it up and down to the hard ground as the rage in your stomach continue to burn and rage, your mind losing itself into the fight, your goal only to hurt everyone in sight.

With last two slams of the girl’s head to the ground, you let out a pained angered roar as you transferred your attention to the girl who helplessly tried to pry you off her friend. The change in attention caused her to fall to her side when you turned around to grip her leg. She kicked her leg, screaming for you to let go but the rage, the adrenaline, and the desire for revenge made your grip tight like a cobra, unwilling to relent until you get what you desire.

As the girl tried to crawl away from you, you reached forward so that you could trap her legs into your arms, using your upper body weight to keep her in place as you punched and punched her leg, not stopping until her leg stopped flailing. Whimpers and cries filled your ears, but your eyes still raged fire.

Satisfied that the four minions are done, you stood up, dangerously walking towards Jiyeon who had now sat up, looking up at you in horror “I-Im s-s-sorry” she says, putting her hand up as a shield as you continue walking towards her “Fuck! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” She screams. This makes you chuckle, grabbing a fist of her hair, slapping her face again and again, but no matter how much you slap her, the insatiable feeling never left. Unsatisfied, your hand curled into a fist, and with every rage in your body, your fists met her throat, making her let out a strangled cough. Before you could throw another punch, you felt a solid metal collide with your side, sending you flying. 

You felt a lump in your throat, coughing up blood at the sudden critical hit “You fucking bitch! How dare you fucking hurt Jiyeon like that, huh?!” It was Ma Seokhee, stalking towards you and landing a kick on your stomach. 

His kicks leaves you coughing more blood, but despite of crying, Seokhee grew unsettled when you began to laugh maniacally “Jiyeon won’t fucking date you, you turd”

This enrages Seokhee, using this distraction, you didn’t give him time to react as you kicked his leg with all your strength, making him fall to the ground. Swiftly, you grabbed his bat, wasting no time to bash it into his head. Have you not done so, you wouldn’t stand a chance. You give three more hits using his bat, stopping once he’s knocked out. 

Then you turned to Jiyeon, a hollowness circling your orbs that made Jiyeon shiver “We’re not done yet”

She cried in horror, standing up to run away when I began to stalk towards her. But your adrenaline was faster. You used the momentum of running, raising the bat high, jumping and hitting Jiyeon in the back, sending her flying as if she was the ball.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The fire dies down, the match blackened and spent.

Someone whistles “I was so sure you were gonna bash her head” Seongje chuckles. You turned sharply at the sound of his voice, your breath ragged. Your blood turns ice cold at his gaze. The adrenaline has washed off, there was no way you would win against him. Your eyes fell to the ground as quickly as it met his. This caused Seongje to scoff slightly, taking a long drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with his feet “What, don’t wanna fight me?” he mocks.

Seongje takes his time, his feet slow and his eyes piercing you with an amused, curious glare. His feet stopped right in front of you. You felt him bend down to your ears, whispering “What will you do now? Tsk-” he leaned away, head beckoning to Seokhee who remained unconscious on the ground “No matter how retarted he can be-” Seongje sighs, head shaking slightly as his gaze fell back on you “this asshole is still part of the union” 

Your eye twitched, warm tingling dread crept up your nerves, engulfing every limb, every organ, and every cell, gradually building up in every crevice of your being. Then he chuckles, his voice so loud and ringing in your ear “You know what I'm talking about, right?” he says rather than asks, a finger harshly pulls your head up, holds it firmly to meet your gaze. And the dread in your stomach morphs into reality “I’m sorry-” though he does not mean it, not when his eyes burn predatorily as if his gaze can devour you entirely “-but we can’t just let you go now that you’ve hit one of us, can we?”

———

With your luck, you often question why you have to live that kind of life when everyone else has it normal. You just wanted normal, that’s all it was. But your life was worse than extraordinary, it was dreadful. You commend yourself for not killing yourself yet.

Since that day, Geum Seongje made it clear that you are within his turf now. He has ordered you to be around him, saying that he needs to keep an eye on you. But you both knew that was an excuse, you think he’s just interested that you managed to take six people down, one of them being his own men. You weren’t particularly strong, it was just the adrenaline and the pent up anger. Students in Ganghak found out about what happened, intrigued but stayed away now that Seongje “adopted” you in his little gang of minions.

Hwangmo was at least tolerable, but Seokhee wasn’t too keen with your presence, holding a grudge he swore he will someday make you pay for. Although that couldn’t be anytime soon now that Seongje made it clear to him that he must not lay a hand on you. It was jarring, how Seongje can be so malicious but he hasn’t laid a hand on you yet, waiting for the right time to bare his fangs into his prey like the wolf he is.

You swore he would jump at the chance to hit you, but he hasn’t yet. And you will make sure he won’t find a reason to. It was already unlucky that you managed to capture his gaze, you just need to be compliant just like you do with your mother. Seongje is a whole other strength that you wouldn’t be able to manage, all you could do for now is to be quiet. Maybe he’ll grow bored of you that way.

However, you shouldn’t have been so sure it would go as smoothly as you manage your mother’s anger. Seongje is a schemer. And with that, he will make you do what he wants you to do, directly or indirectly. He makes sure of it. 

“Y/N” he says quietly, arms crossed as his eyes remain on the teacher. It was one of the rare occasions he decided to come to class “I want you to drop by this address after school and get a package, bring it to me immediately. Just give this to the cashier and they’ll give you what I need. I will be waiting at the rooftop” Seongje slides a small paper across from his desk to mine, an address written messily. You nod wordlessly, worried that you might get home late to your mother and risk her wrath while also a bit glad to not go home yet. Either way, it’s bad, so you’ll just follow Seongje’s order.

As instructed, your feet dragged you along to the bus stop, hopped on the bus, and got off three stations later. Tired, you hadn’t noticed the watchful eyes of two boys who were waiting by the bus stop. You continued along your path to the address Seongje has asked you to go to, unaware of the two who hovered over your shadow, hiding behind posts, eyeing where you would go. They kept their distance, as ordered.

Finally, you reached the building. It was a sauna spa. Entering, you reached the counter, handing the cashier the paper Seongje had given you. With a curt nod, the cashier bent down and got up not less than a minute later with a bag in his hand. He placed it on the counter, eyeing you up and down “It’s just you?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Just me” he looked at you skeptically but handed the bag anyway. It was heavy, a hunch on what it contained plagued your mind, but you ignored it. You don't need to know more details, just do what you have to do. With a small nod, you bid farewell and exited the spa shortly. It hadn’t been five minutes since you arrived. You couldn’t help but wonder if this is really just as simple as that.

The sun had begun to set and the quiet road was painted orange. The air starts to become cold with the sun beginning to hide away into the night. Suddenly, you heard a foot scrunch behind you. For a moment, your footsteps blundered to a pause, but almost as quickly, you resumed your pace. One step after another, the shadow behind you grew larger. Your steps hurried but the person behind you was quicker. Just as you were about to run, your feet abruptly halt at his voice “You’ve been way too boring, you know?”

With a sharp turn, you came face to face with Geum Seongje. He has his hands in his pockets, glasses perched up on his nose and his eyes sizing you up dangerously “Seongje?” you asked, confused at his presence. He chuckles, slowly walking towards you “I was thinking you could amuse me but you’ve been way too compliant-” he says, head tilting in disappointment “-its actually getting quite annoying” he tsk-ed, feet stopping at least two feet away from you, hands still in his pockets. His face contorted to that of annoyance, and suddenly, your confusion turned to fear. Why is he here?

“What are you talking about?” you ask, although your eyes do not meet his. You can’t, especially now that he radiates an intent to kill. Anxious, your hand gripped the bag tightly. Seongje sighs heavily, eyes looking around for any sign of an audience. Satisfied that you’re alone, he suddenly grabbed your arm “No hard feelings, just orders from above” his lips morphed into a grin, his smile reaching up to his ears. His smile was so sweet with his gums on display, but you could only feel horror at its sight. He dragged you along a closed alleyway, wincing at his hard, pressing grip “What?!” you couldn’t help but ask, trying to get away but his hold was too strong. It was like his hands were cuffs, unwilling and unrelenting.

When Seongje did let you go, it was when he smashed you onto the hard wall, the impact momentarily stealing the breath out of your lungs. Letting go of the bag, your hand gripped the wall for support, looking up at Seongje in apprehension “What was that for?” Still, he didn’t answer your question. The boy only gave you his shit-eating grin before hurriedly pouncing on you, his fists landing on your right cheek. You let out a pained gasp, your mind running miles per hour. Did you offend him? Disobey him? Did you look at him for more than three seconds? You were sure you didn’t. You meticulously made sure he would not find any reason to hurt you. So why…?

“Shit, I don’t usually hurt girls but you have to understand, Baekjin asked me to” he says as if he was sorry, but the chuckles that followed after that solidified that he was not. Na Baekjin? But why would he?

Before you could think, Seongje grabs a chunk of your hair and drags you again. But this time, he drags to the ground, pinning your arms down with only one of his, his other hand slamming into a hard punch to your stomach “Fight back, you fucking bitch. Fight back like you did, come on, I’m trying here!” he complains as he boredly throws punch after punch, warmth beginning to pool in your mouth at his relentlessness.

Triggered, the bottom of your feet meets his crotch in a hard kick. Seongje curls in pain, but he laughs. Annoyed, you slammed your forehead into his, making both of you groan in pain, Seongje backing away now that he was just hit critically twice. He laughs merrily, hand brushing his hair away from his face as I eyed him incredulously “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you couldn’t help but spit, making him even more amused. Your head still wringing from the impact of meeting his. You stumbly got on your feet, eyes never leaving Seongje. At this point, three seconds or not, it wouldn’t matter. He made it clear he wants to hurt you. So why should you comply, it’s not like he’s your mother. You held no affection for this boy, only anger.

He moans, tongue wetting his upper lips in anticipation “Yes, fuck–COME ON!” he yells, running towards you, hand curling into a fist as he goes to hit your sides. You yell in pain, arms curling around his trunks, letting him hit you as you ensured you clung on to him, using your nails to dig into his sides as you pushed yourself up to his neck, mouth finding his skin as you sunk your teeth into his flesh. Seongje lets out a pained scream, but his voice is still laced with a giddiness you couldn't understand. Your nails turned to fists as you hit his sides with all your might. You feel Seongje laugh at your futile attempts, successfully prying you off of him, throwing you back to the wall, putting some distance.

His hand found his neck, brushing it on his skin lightly and bringing his hand up to examine the blood “Damn” he says, laughing as he looked at you. Your eyes fell onto the bite mark you made on his neck, gulping as you began to realize the taste of his blood on your mouth. As he began to stalk towards you again, you got ready, expecting him to throw another punch but as you were about to hit his neck where you wounded him, his hands found yours, locking your arm with only one of his, feet locking yours as he pushed the both of you onto the wall, trapping you in his strength. You cried a pain of frustration, mouth grunting in pain when he threw a fast hard punch on your stomach then to your cheek. With you locked up, back pressed against the wall and Seongje trapping you in front with a strength you know you can’t fight against, there was nothing you could do “That all you can do?” he asks, face shoving itself in yours, forcing your eyes to meet his orbs. You chuckle, blood trickling down your mouth at the action “The fuck did you expect me to do? Beat you to a pulp?” you laugh, and this causes him to laugh too. The difference in strength was clear as day.

Seongje nods, throwing one last punch to your stomach that causes you to cough up blood. But he does not let you go, he still presses you onto the wall, hand brushing your locks behind your ear and whispers “I still have to knock you out though” and so Seongje wraps his hand around your neck, making you gasp for air. Your body helplessly flails, eyes glaring at the boy who is no longer smiling. Suddenly, you laugh, body vibrating “I-” you say, blood pooling in your mouth making it harder to speak, your hands finding his to pry it off your neck “Mom-” you choke, his eyebrows raising “What? Need your mom to save you?” 

That made you chuckle, but it seems that was one of the last few breaths you had in you. Your head began to feel lightheaded, the pain on your neck still as pressing and hard, your eyes was beginning to roll upwards when-

“Geum Seongje” Na Baekjin stands against the glow of the sunset, his face hidden in the contrast of light. He motions for Seongje to let go and instantly, his hands left your neck and backed away. You fall to the ground, gasping for air, coughing as you do so. 

Baekjin steps into the alleyway, grabbing the bag on the floor, and stopping a few feet away from Seongje. Baekjin examines him, eyebrows raised to see him bloodied when his opponent was just you “Why are you here? It’s not like you to go do the dirty job yourself” Seongje remarks, making Baekjin chuckle darkly.

“It’s just that-” Baekjin’s lips curled into a smirk as he sized up Seongje “-don’t you think it’s a bit too convenient that you were already here?”

Seongje laughs, his teeth and gums on display “Is it? I was the one who told you about this, of course I’d have my eyes on her too” You looked up, eyes darting between the two. What about you?

Baekjin’s eyes didn’t shy away of narrating his suspicions, glaring daggers into Seongje’s mirthful ones “And I told you, I already have my boys to go after her. So why is there a need for you to be here?” Baekjin’s voice held a dangerous growl “If this money had gone, you know what will happen right? Your fault or not”

The two continue to stare each other down. But you, it was then that everything clicked for you. Geum Seongje had fucking set you up.

Before Baekjin could prod further and before Seongje could implement his orchestrated plan, you spoke, not weak, not begging, but sharp “I needed the money”

The two men’s attention turned to you. Slowly, you got up from the ground, eyes hollowed as you looked up to meet their surprised and amused ones “It was easy money. I had always planned to leave, having that money would be incredibly useful” you say, chuckling slightly.

Baekjin’s eyes narrowed. He knows you didn’t, he knows you’ve been set up. But you’ve just rewritten the narrative, a factor Seongje didn’t account for in his plans. It was quiet, the silence heavy and charged. 

The silence was cut off by Seongje’s scoff, and Baekjin turned his gaze back to the boy in red blazers. Baekjin watched as the two of you stared down at each other. But whatever grudge there was between the two of you was not his business. All he knows is that you’ve just helped him mitigate the inevitable, and Baekjin recognizes this quality of yours. With a strained chuckle, Baekjin turns to you, getting your attention. “Is that so?” he nods, blinking slowly “Consider today a warning. Next time you get funny ideas, it’ll be me you’ll be dealing with”

With that, he turned and walked away.Then it’s just you and Seongje again, the air bloodied in tense silence. And when you begin to walk away, Seongje falls in pace beside you, both bloodied and dirtied up from the previous brawl “Why would you say that?” he asks.

“Why use me?” You stop, Seongje doing the same. He chuckles when you don't avert your eyes, it seems like you don’t care anymore. And that, Seongje prefers much more. 

“Was this to amuse you?” You pressed him “Or did you do this for another reason?” Seongje laughs, head looking down, lips pursed amusedly before looking back up to you “Do you want me to thank you?”

You scoff “No”

“Yeah?”

You stare at him, at his pretty smile and his condescending eyes “Wanna know what I think?” he raises his eyebrows at that, smiling “And what do you think?” his voice drawls into a smirk.

With a deep breath, you began “I think you want to run away. I think you don’t like being ordered around. I think you really hate being Baekjin’s dog because I think you want to do whatever you feel you want to do. But you can’t do shit as recklessly when you’re in the union. No, and so you want to anger Baekjin, you want to get excommunicated, you want out. But you’re also bored, but then I came along and your fucking pee brain thought I would be an easy chess piece in your own little game” Seongje’s smile widens, grinning dangerously as his eyes twinkled the more you talked. You who was meek and quiet, who kept to yourself, one day physically fought back and now even shit talks to him of all people, the person whose eyes you refused to meet, the person you were afraid of just minutes ago, the person you’re now insulting in front of his own damn face.

“You think you got me figured out?” He asks, voice laced in amusement and you scoff “Figure you out? Why the fuck would I want to do that you crazy psycho”

He bellows a laugh, looking around as if there were someone else seeing this right now “Mhm, and what? Did you think you did anything?”

“You think I didn’t?” you ask, lips curled into a condescending smirk “Yah, Geum Seongje, I lied to trap you here” His grin disappears, eyes dangerous as he stares back at you “You dragged me into this shit, so rot in it with me”

Then he laughs, much louder than the last, the loudest you’ve heard come out from him. What a waste of a handsome face, you thought as you watched him maniacally laugh “I have to say,” he starts, laugh beginning to die down as he gaze at you “I’m impressed” he chuckles, walking closer to you “You’ve become so blunt and unafraid” he curls a loose strand of your hair in his finger, making you flinch, to which he snorted “Or not?”

With a smirk, Seongje pushes your hair to the back of your neck, his calloused hands curling on your left cheek “I prefer this much better, you’re not so boring after all” he grins open mouthed, his tongue poking the side of his cheek, his thumb tracing along your jaw as he trapped your gaze in his eyes.

“It’d be fun to rot in this hellhole with you”

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat reader

Lucid Dreams llll l

Notes: this is part six to lucid dreams. Readers brother is just an oc. He isn't in mortal kombat. Read the notes on this to explain.

Warnings: child neglect, child abuse, threatening.

___________________________________________

It's been so long since you've last seen him. He's now much taller but still not quite as tall as you. And for a moment you don't recognize him. Because he's changed.

He's no longer the little four year old that you left...and your surprised that he even remembers you. But then again he's always had such a good memory....

And you wonder if he remembers everything...like how mean you were to him....

You had never really liked him.. he was what you could never be. Pure. He had purpose.

He was made on purpose.

But you? You were an accident. And everyone knew that.

Despite you being the bastard and him the true blood. He never treated you unkind. In fact he was quite the opposite. He was kind and loving.

He looked up to you. In his mind you were his sibling no matter the circumstances. But maybe that was just his four year old mine speaking.

But sadly you didn't see it like that. To you it felt embarrasseing to be seen with him.

You never wanted to be looked down on. But when you were with him. It was as if you were constantly compared.

By your father. By your people. By everyone.

So you pushed him away and tried to make it clear to him that you didn't want anything to do with him. But he still looked at you as if you held the world in your hands.

Now looking at him you truly realize how cruel you must've looked. He must hate you right?

But looking in his eyes they hold no anger or resentment in them. Only curiosity. His eyes are sharp and they're the same color as your father...and that makes you visibly cringe.

You've tried so hard to forget him. To forget the way he looks. To forget the color of his eyes.. To forget your past. But like usual it comes back to bite you.

He doesn't look like you. He's got his looks from his mother. While you got yours from your own mother.

You hear his steps on the gravel road.

"I've missed you sister." He says and his voice has now lost the baby tone. He's no longer the cute kid you once knew. Now he's a fighter. And a killer no doubt. And yet his words still sound honest.

"Why are you here?" You say. And you're voice is sharp. It doesn't sound like your asking a question but as if your commanding an answer. And you are.

You don't bother with the small talk. Why should you? You don't want him to be here. He shouldn't be here.

He smiles and it isn't his shy smile like he used to give you. No, now it's a sly smile. As if he knows you won't like his answer.

" haven't you missed me sister? Or have you been to busy with your pathetic other brother. What was his name...jason?" He says.

Now that ticked you off. Because more often then not that wasn't a reply. That was threat.

He just made it very clear that he knows how close you and jason are. His smile is still sly as he waits for your reply.

"Know your place Kion." You say. And your words shock you. Kion that's his name.

you felt like you had almost forgotten it. And yet it came back to you so naturally. And you suppose it natural. Because he is your brother.

He takes a step forward but you don't move. He examines you almost like a predator.

"I seen you kill that clown and I must say I'm impressed by your brutality. " He says.

He had been watching you. That was no surprise. But hearing how brutal you killed the joker made you want to throw up.

It's true you had killed the joker with brutal force. You wanted him to feel all the pain jason had felt. So you burned him alive. Slowly.

"Father will be pleased to know that you aren't some Saint anymore. " Kion says and his voice breaks you out of your trance.

He's right. You aren't a saint. Atleast Not anymore. Your a killer. Just like him.

You hadn't killed...until jason got kidnapped.

"It's a good thing this world hasn't turned you soft. We don't need a soft person in are clan." He says. And you already know why he's here. He's here to take you back. But still you ask the same questions you've already asked.

"Why are you here?" You say and now its your turn to examine him. You see his scars his long hair that he has pulled into a bun. Just like your father.

But you also see something else. Something in his eyes. Something that you can't quite tell yet. He's hiding something from you.

"Father wants you to come back home." He says. But you already knew that.

"Why? Why after all this time?" You say and he looks away from your eyes. He's definitely hiding something. And he knows you can read anyone. Including him. So he doesn't look at you as he speaks.

"Father will tell you when you return home." He says and his gaze still doesn't match yours.

"This is my home. And if you don't tell me why then I'm not going with you just for father to kill me." You say. Your lying you hate it here especially with your complicated life with your mother.

But can't let him see that. You can't let him see that you actually do want to go home. Because he'll exploit it.

"Father wouldn't kill you. Your still his daughter." He says and his gaze finally meets yours. Because he's telling the truth and wants you to read him so that you can see that.

"I'm not going unless you tell me why." You say and it's true you wouldn't go with him until he told you why you father wanted you now.

You know that your father probably wouldn't kill you. No, your far to valuable for that. But why did he send for you just now?

He sighs giving in. Because he knows your being honest. And he looks you in your eyes as he speaks.

"Sub-zero has taken something from us." He says and his eyes slightly change for just a moment but you see it. Then he turns his face away from you.

Now that surprised you. Sub-zero had always been like a brother to your father. And he was always very kind to you despite his cold demeanor.

"What did he take?" You ask as you look down at your brother. You can see that your question visibility makes him uncomfortable.

"Father will tell you when you return home." He says and though his voice is calm you can hear the fierceness in it. He truly isn't going to tell you anymore.

"Then I'm not returning home." You say and your lying. Because your actually considering going with him. But can't let him know that.

"If you do not come with me then father will drag you back. And trust me ,sister, you do not want that." He says and his tone is completely different from the calm tone he had before.

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes. But that's just what you want him to see. You want him to see defiance. And he does. So he begins speaking again.

"Please sister, come back if not for father...then for me." His voice is pleading and he looks in your eyes with desperation waiting for your answer.

"You stopped being my brother along time ago."

You don't know why you said that. You blame it on the horrible day you had with your mother. But you can't blame everything on her. Especially now seeing how much you've hurt Kion.

His eyes change from desperation to anger quickly. And you don't blame him. He's hurt. You hurt him. Again. And he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions. So he does what your father has probably showed him. He turns his emotions into anger.

"Do you still hate me that much sister?" He says and his eyes hold anger but there's something behind his eyes. Something behind the wall he's built.

Your quiet. you don't know what to say.... and you feel horrible...because your acting like your mother.

"Fine. If hate me that much. Then prove it." He says and his gaze is locked on yours. His eyes have that blaze look of fire in them.

"Kill me." He says and his words are so strong. It throws you off guard how serious he is.

"Kill you?" You question as if unsure of what you heard.

"Yes. If you truly hate me. Then do it. You'll be out of are clan. That's your way out." He says and his words are true. Killing him would be your way out.

Because you are blood related to your clan the only way to get out of your clan would be to kill someone else blood related.

"Don't make me laugh Kion. Need I remind you exactly how strong I am?" You say and it's a threat. A threat that you know you can make. Because you know your strong. And you know your stronger than him.

He smiles but it isn't a sly smile anymore no it's a smile that's difficult to read. But you can see it. He's masking his pain...

"I'm not going to fight you sister... if you truly do hate me. Then prove it. Kill me. I'm not going to stop you." He says. And that makes you confused. Because he sounds honest. Why is he doing this?

It's a test that's first sure. But what does he get out of this? If you kill him you'll be out of your clan but why is he risking his life?

You stay silent and continue staring at him but he takes your silence as a form of agreement.

"Go ahead sister....." He says and his head is turned to the side and he's afraid. You can see that.

And you begin looking around. This has to be a test. You know that. But happens if you fail?

He's giving you so many weak spots. Weak spots that your sure he was taught not to show.

"I'll make it easy for you." He says and he sheaths his sword. And you take a step back ready to defend yourself. But surprisingly he throws you the sword.

"Let me die an honorable death ,by sword." He says as you catch the sword. The sword feels heavy in your hands. There's no telling how many life's its taken. How many life he's taken.

Your still quiet the depth of the situation finally kicking. You lift the sword up and hold it to his neck. The tip of his sword is lightly touching his skin.

But he doesn't look at you with shock that your doing this. He looks in patient.

"No, if your going to kill me do it the right way." He says and he grabs the tip of the sword and points it at his heart.

"Breaks my heart one last time before I die." He says and that hurts you. Because you don't want to hurt him. Atleast Not anymore. And yet your still holding the sword to his heart.

"Do it." He whispers and his gaze is locked onto yours he wants you to see his pain. To see how your hurting him. And even though his eyes are exactly like your father's you can't seem to hate them.

Because they match yours.

But you can't let him see your weakness so you have to play along. You have to let him see you as heartless if just for a moment.

So you push the sword deeper into his chest. Not enough to cut him but enough to break through his clothing. Now the tip of the sword is against his skin. And if you push just a bit deeper it'll cut him.

His eyes are still looking into yours as if he's just waiting. And you see it. It's more then just this. Then just you hating him. Something happened.

"What did Sub-zero take?" You ask again and you drop his sword. It's not like you were actually going to kill him. But he didn't know that. And as the sword falls to the ground he sighs.

"That's for father to tell you." He says but his walls are slowly starting to fall and you can tell. So you push just a little more.

You put your hand on his shoulder. A comfortable touch. And you can tell it soothes him. "Tell me Kion." You say with such a soft tone that it throws him off guard.

"He killed her....." He says and his eyes fill up with tears. Tears that you know he's been holding back. Tears that he's been trained to hide.

"Killed who?" You ask confused.

his voice breaks and he's crying. It's the first time you've ever seen him cry.....

"My mother....He killed my mother."

_______________________

Thanks for reading!!

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[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤlove varies

►— pairings. al haitham, ayato, zhongli, xiao x gn! reader

►— warnings. fluff, lowercase intended, nothing that i know of

►— a/n. do i love writing other unrelated things instead of focusing on my series? ... unfortunately yes.

►— wordcount. 2.8k

►— synopsis. how did they know they were in love with you?

al haitham — when he realizes the gnawing sensations and butterflies in his stomach won't go away.

al haitham's aloof and stoic, we all know that. he spends his days reading books and doing his (scribe) duties, he has no time for love or relationships, nor is he interested. but why is it every time you're around he feels this... bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach? why is it that every time your gaze wanders off and locks eye contact with him does he feel so hot and bothered? he would push his thoughts and feelings aside, it was nothing more than a sickness of some sort.

al haitham prides himself on his logical approach to life. emotions, fleeting and unreliable, have no place in his carefully ordered world. yet, there’s a strange, persistent feeling that arises whenever you're near. at first, he dismisses it as a mild illness—a fever, perhaps? why else would his stomach churn, or his heart race every time you smile at him? why does his usually sharp focus falter when you so much as glance his way?

he tries to bury it in books and rationalize it through long inner debates, but nothing works. no sickness lingers this long. it’s only when he catches himself staring at the way your hair catches the light, his book completely forgotten, that it hits him: this feeling isn’t going away because it’s not something he can cure. it’s love, plain and simple, and it terrifies him as much as it captivates him.

—

al haitham never believed in distractions, especially not the kind that came wrapped in emotions. to him, feelings were fleeting, inconvenient, and often illogical. his days were meticulously structured—filled with books, research, and his duties as the scribe. he prided himself on being above the frivolities that consumed others, such as infatuations or love.

but then there was you.

at first, he didn’t notice it, not entirely. it started as a faint tug in his chest whenever you walked into the room, an unusual flutter he attributed to something as mundane as fatigue. perhaps he’d spent too many late nights reading. yet, the feeling didn’t fade—it grew stronger. he began to notice how his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, how he would catch himself watching the way your hands moved when you gestured, or the subtle tilt of your head when you laughed.

then came the physical reactions—an uncharacteristic heat rising to his cheeks when your smile was directed at him, the unsettling way his heart seemed to stumble in its rhythm when your hand accidentally brushed against his. al haitham, a man of reason, began to feel like a stranger in his own body.

he dismissed it all as a passing annoyance. after all, emotions were nothing more than biochemical responses in the brain. surely, they couldn’t hold sway over him. yet no matter how much he buried himself in his books, no matter how many times he told himself it was nothing, the feeling persisted.

one afternoon, as he sat across from you in a quiet corner of the akademiya library, it hit him. you were completely engrossed in a book, your brows furrowed in concentration as you absentmindedly chewed on the end of your pen. sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting a golden glow across your face. in that moment, the world seemed to slow, and al haitham found himself utterly captivated.

it wasn’t just your appearance, though that was undeniably striking. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you spoke with such conviction, the way you made him feel seen without even trying. his chest tightened as a single, undeniable truth settled over him like a heavy weight.

he was in love with you.

it wasn’t a realization that came gently; it struck him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him breathless and disoriented. love, he realized, wasn’t something he could rationalize or compartmentalize. it wasn’t something he could read about in books or explain through logic. it was maddening, infuriating, and completely out of his control.

and yet, as you glanced up from your book and caught him staring, offering him a soft, curious smile, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. because for the first time in his carefully constructed, logical life, he felt something real. and he realized he didn’t want it to go away.

ayato — when he realizes that you see him for who he is other than his position (the head of the kamisato clan.)

being the head of the kamisato clan comes with weighty expectations, and ayato carries them with grace and precision. but beneath the polished exterior is a man often lost in his own isolation, unseen for anything but his title and duty. then there’s you—someone who doesn’t bow out of formality or tread lightly around him. you talk to him as if he’s simply ayato, not the dignified lord of a powerful clan.

when you tease him over his tea choices or laugh at his dry humour, he finds himself smiling without thinking. the realization strikes during one quiet moment, when your words bring comfort after a particularly exhausting day of clan responsibilities. in your eyes, he’s not just a leader or a figurehead; he’s himself. and for that, he falls deeply, irrevocably in love.

—

as the head of the kamisato clan, ayato has always lived under the weight of responsibility. every decision he makes is calculated, every word measured. to the world, he is a leader—refined, composed, and untouchable. to many, he’s a symbol of power, a figurehead to be admired or feared. but rarely, if ever, does someone see beyond the polished façade he wears.

that’s why meeting you felt so different.

at first, he assumed you’d treat him the same way others did—with reverence, deference, and perhaps a touch of hesitation. but you surprised him from the start. you spoke to him not as "lord kamisato" but as ayato, a person. you weren’t afraid to tease him when he mispronounced a word or point out when his tea brewing skills were “not up to standard” (your words, not his). instead of walking on eggshells around him, you treated him like an equal, even daring to call him out when he tried to dodge his own sister’s scolding.

he found himself drawn to the way you interacted with him. there was no pretense, no calculation behind your words. when you complimented him, it felt genuine. when you laughed at his dry jokes, it wasn’t because you thought you were supposed to—it was because you actually found him funny. it was refreshing, and he found himself seeking out your company more and more, even if he didn’t entirely understand why.

the realization struck him one evening during a rare moment of peace. the two of you were sitting in the gardens, watching the lanterns reflect on the koi pond. you had spent the day teasing him about some lighthearted matter, and now the conversation had settled into a comfortable silence. you leaned back, gazing at the stars, your expression soft and unguarded.

“you know,” you said, breaking the quiet, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your shoulders.”

he glanced at you, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“you work so hard to maintain the clan, to keep everything running smoothly,” you said, turning to meet his gaze. “but you’re more than just the head of the kamisato clan. you’re… you. and that’s enough.”

he stared at you, his usually quick wit failing him. no one had ever said that to him before—not like this, with such quiet conviction. for a man who had spent so much of his life being seen only as his title, your words were both a comfort and a revelation.

it was then that he realized what you meant to him. you didn’t admire him because of his status or his accomplishments. you saw him for who he truly was—the man behind the name, the person behind the role. and you accepted him, flaws and all.

his heart swelled with a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name before: love. it was a quiet, steady thing, not the overwhelming rush he’d read about in novels. but it was real, and it was his.

from that moment on, he knew he would do anything to keep you by his side. not as the head of the kamisato clan, but simply as ayato, the man who had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with you.

zhongli — the way you both share a taste for the same things.

zhongli has always been drawn to the finer things in life—intricate details, carefully brewed teas, and stories steeped in history. it’s rare to find someone who shares his appreciation for life’s subtle intricacies. but when he watches you admire the craftsmanship of a simple teacup or pause to marvel at a seemingly insignificant flower, he feels an unexpected sense of kinship.

it starts with shared conversations about forgotten lore and ends with quiet strolls through liyue, where your presence feels as steady and eternal as the mountains he once ruled over. love sneaks up on him quietly, as natural and enduring as the ebb and flow of the tides.

—

zhongli has lived for countless years, long enough to see the rise and fall of nations, to witness the tides of history shift and settle. in his vast experience, he has always valued the small, refined pleasures of life: the perfect balance of flavours in a cup of tea, the intricate artistry of hand-carved jade, the quiet wisdom of ancient traditions. these are things he cherishes—things most people overlook in their fast-paced lives.

and then, there’s you.

at first, he simply appreciated your company. you had a quiet elegance to you, a way of seeing the beauty in things others might dismiss. he noticed it when your eyes lit up at the sight of a finely crafted tea set or when you lingered by a vendor's stand, marveling at the texture of a silk scarf. it intrigued him, though he didn’t think much of it at the time.

but over time, he began to notice how often your tastes aligned with his own. you never rushed through moments that deserved appreciation. you would carefully examine the details of an artifact or savor the layers of flavor in a dish, always finding something worth treasuring. the way you spoke about the world mirrored his own thoughts, as though you too carried an unspoken reverence for the things that endure.

one day, the two of you were strolling through liyue harbor, the air warm with the scent of freshly brewed tea and incense. you stopped at a stall selling old scrolls, your eyes drawn to a weathered piece depicting an ancient liyue legend. you traced the delicate ink strokes with your finger, smiling softly.

“it’s incredible, isn’t it?” you said, glancing at him. “how something so fragile can last through centuries, holding stories that might otherwise be forgotten.”

zhongli felt a warmth stir in his chest as he watched you. it wasn’t just your words—it was the way you looked at the world, the way you found meaning in even the smallest of things.

later that evening, as the two of you shared tea in a quiet corner of the city, he found himself stealing glances at you. you were deep in thought, your fingers lightly drumming on the table as you contemplated something he’d said. the golden light of the lanterns softened your features, and for a fleeting moment, he felt as though time itself had paused just for the two of you.

it was then that the realization struck him, gentle but undeniable: he had fallen in love with you.

it wasn’t a sudden or overwhelming feeling. rather, it had grown steadily over time, like the roots of a tree burrowing deeper into the earth. it was in the way you shared his appreciation for life’s subtle beauties, the way your presence brought a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in ages.

zhongli, a being who had lived through eons, understood the value of things that endure. and now, he realized, he wanted you to be part of that enduring beauty—someone who could walk beside him, not just for a moment, but for all the moments yet to come.

xiao — when he realizes he has to face the reality of losing you

for centuries, xiao has kept his distance from mortals, believing it better to remain detached. but you… you found a way into his guarded heart without him even noticing. your warmth, your laughter, the way you bring color to his otherwise bleak existence—it all becomes something he clings to, even if he refuses to admit it.

he doesn’t realise how much you mean to him until the thought of losing you becomes too real. perhaps it’s a reckless fight or the fleeting nature of mortality itself, but the possibility of your absence leaves him cold, like the world has suddenly grown darker. it’s then that he accepts the truth: he doesn’t want to face a world without you in it. and for someone who has spent so long running from connection, this love feels both terrifying and inescapable.

—

xiao has always lived in the shadows of pain and solitude. as the vigilant yaksha, he has spent centuries protecting liyue from the lingering evils of the past, all while bearing the heavy burden of karmic debt. he has kept himself distant from others, convinced that his presence could only bring harm to those who dared to get too close.

but then you came along.

you weren’t like the others who crossed his path—fearful, reverent, or merely passing through. you were persistent in your kindness, always greeting him with a warm smile and a gentle presence that never demanded anything from him. though he tried to push you away at first, you never wavered. you brought him almond tofu, his favorite dish, even when he insisted you didn’t need to. you’d sit with him in silence on the balcony of wangshu inn, content to simply share the same space.

slowly, against his better judgment, xiao began to let you in. he found himself seeking you out in quiet moments, lingering in your presence longer than necessary. he would catch himself watching the way your face lit up when you talked about something you loved, the way you hummed softly when you thought no one was listening. there was a lightness to you, a warmth he hadn’t felt in centuries, and it terrified him.

he told himself it was nothing more than a fleeting connection, something he could sever when the time came. but that illusion shattered the day he saw you in danger.

you had gone too far from the inn, wandering into an area where monsters lurked. xiao had been watching from a distance, as he often did, when he saw the hilichurls closing in around you. before he even realized it, he had already teleported to your side, his spear cutting through the air with lethal precision.

when the fight was over, and you were safe, he turned to you, his heart pounding in his chest. the sight of you trembling, your wide eyes staring up at him in shock, sent a wave of emotions crashing over him. fear. anger. relief.

“why didn’t you call for me?” his voice was sharper than he intended, laced with a desperation he couldn’t hide.

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground.

his chest ached at your words. didn’t you realize that you were never a bother to him? that he would come to you, no matter where or when, if it meant keeping you safe?

that night, as he watched you from the shadows once more, the realization hit him like a dagger to the heart. he cared for you—more deeply than he had ever thought possible. and that care came with a terrifying truth: the more he loved you, the more he had to lose.

xiao had always prepared himself for the inevitability of loss. as an immortal, he had outlived countless humans, watched friends and comrades fall to time and battle. he had sworn never to let himself grow attached again, never to open himself up to the kind of pain that could crush him.

but with you, he realized, it was already too late.

the thought of losing you, of watching you disappear from his life, was unbearable. it was a reality he had spent centuries avoiding, but now he had no choice but to face it. because in loving you, he had also given you the power to break him.

and yet, despite the fear, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. because even if his love for you brought him pain, it also brought him something he hadn’t felt in centuries: hope. hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to face the darkness alone anymore.

ote: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

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[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[strwbabydoll]

The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

001 | 01 | 02 | 03

masterlist

- - - - - -

Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her. 

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it. 

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him. 

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him. 

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room. 

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

 He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl. 

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way,  and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him. 

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and  jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her. 

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

[erwinsvow]

“rafe? can you come over? i think i’m in trouble.” your phone call to rafe is as cryptic as you’ve ever sounded, and you never call him with such a vague message. 

“m’coming. stay there, don’t move.” he hangs up before he can ask you any more questions, mind spinning with a thousand thoughts while he speeds over to your place. are you hurt? was it because of something he did? 

he doesn’t hesitate a second, letting himself in and heading up to your bedroom, finding you sitting on the floor near your bed, wiping your eyes and staring down at a piece of white plastic in your hands. the world stops spinning for a moment when you look up at him.

rafe crouches down to you, bringing you into a hug while you cry on his shoulder. it’s not until you pull away, looking down at the stick—a pregnancy test, he realizes with his heart dropping into his stomach—that he understands what’s going on.

the two of you remain like that, silent, staring at each other, while your eyes well up with tears and you chew your cheeks with anxiety. he knows you, knows you’re terrified he’s gonna up and leave, terrified that you’ve somehow disappointed him. 

“hey, hey.” rafe tilts your chin with his hand, making you look up at him, using his other hand to wipe away your tears. “s’gonna be fine. we’re gonna be okay.” 

he’s actually saying it to reassure himself too, heart thudding in his ears. you, pregnant. he should have expected this, from how often the two of you fuck around with a condom long forgotten. it’s never gotten to this point, so the thought had sort of slipped away.

sort of. he can’t deny that it’s all too easy to cum inside you when you’re begging for it, that it’s his own choice too. the idea of you pregnant was a scary thought before, but now that it’s actually happening, actually a reality, it doesn’t seem that way. 

a vision of you—belly swollen and walking around in a pretty dress, your only care in the world what kind of baby clothes you want to buy and what color he should paint the nursery—dances around in his head. he feels his shoulders relax, his grip on your hands tighten.

“it’s gonna be okay, kid. we’ll go today, get the paperwork and get married. we can do all that wedding shit later. and we can find our own place, for the three of us. i’m gonna take care of you, alrigh’? you won’t have to worry about a damn thing.” he runs a hand through his buzz, settling on the back of his head. “well, besides the baby, i guess. and, uh, i can fit a carseat in the truck. i bet wheezie’s crap is still in tannyhill, somewhere.. i'll have to find it. and tell your parents. shit.” 

your breathing evens out, staring up at your boyfriend with big eyes. he brings you into a kiss, whispering more reassuring words against your skin.

“we’re gonna be fine, okay? you and me,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. you melt into rafe’s touch.

“rafe?”

“yeah, kid?”

“is this a bad time to say april fools?”

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ when you unexpectedly go to their practice room and hear them talking about you - RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre fluff, crack pairing riize x reader request by: @ladylilith

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

"Yeah, I know, she's just too cute… I can't stop smiling when I see her. Sometimes I just want to grab her cheeks and…"

Shotaro froze for a few seconds, realizing you were standing at the door of the practice room, smiling at him. He let out a nervous laugh, wondering how long you'd been listening.

"And what?" you teased, walking toward him with a grin.

"…and kiss them, like this!" He said, wrapping you in his arms and showering your cheeks with kisses as both of you laughed.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

You had decided to visit Eunseok’s practice room since you hadn't spent much time together lately. As you got closer, you heard his voice and quickly realized he was talking about you.

"I miss her so much…"

"How long has it been since you last saw her?"

"I think it's been a week, but god.., I miss hugging her. I've never felt like this before…"

"Aww, Eunseok, why don't you say these things when I'm around?" you murmured as you entered the room, arms open for a hug.

Eunseok smiled instantly when he saw you, walking over quickly and wrapping you in a tight embrace, planting a kiss on your head. "Here you are."

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

"Y/n? Oh yeah, she's so beautiful. I can't help but feel a bit nervous when I see her… Can you really tell?"

Sungchan had messaged you saying he really wanted some pastries, but because of rehearsals, he didn’t have time to go buy them. So, you decided to surprise him by bringing them to his practice room. What you didn’t expect was to overhear him saying that about you, making your cheeks flush.

You walked into the room, trying to appear calm. When Sungchan saw you, he froze, wondering if you had heard everything he said. You simply handed him the pastries, pretending as if you hadn’t overheard a thing.

ᯓ★ WONBIN

When you heard Wonbin mention your name in the conversation he was having with the others, you stopped near the door to listen.

"Ah… I miss y/n. If I could hug her right now, I think it would recharge all my energy."

After hearing that, you didn’t hesitate to rush into the room and wrap your arms around him from behind, making him jump in surprise. When he realized it was you, thanks to the mirror, he turned around to hug you back, looking excited to see you there.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

"Me? I wouldn’t trade y/n for anything in the world. You might laugh, but I feel like she’s the love of my life… I don’t know how to explain it, but I know I want to be with her forever."

You had decided to drop by Seunghan’s practice because he had forgotten his charger at your place. What you didn’t expect was to overhear such heartfelt words from him the moment you arrived. Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened. When Seunghan noticed you walking into the room, crying, he quickly approached you, laughing softly as he gently stroked your head, realizing you had heard everything.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

Sohee often struggled to express his feelings when you were face-to-face, which is why it surprised you to hear him talking about you when you visited him in the practice room.

"Yeah, I know, she’s perfect. I don’t know how I got so lucky… Maybe I’ll stop by her place after rehearsal. I need to see her."

When Sohee turned around and saw you standing at the door with a huge smile, he froze, his cheeks heating up quickly. You walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the lips, while he continued to look at you, still stunned and a bit embarrassed that you had overheard his confession.

ᯓ★ ANTON

"Y/n? Yeah, she’s really sweet… but we’re just friends."

"But don’t you like her? Why don’t you ask her out?"

"Well… yeah, I like her, but I want to ask her out in a special way, although I’m not sure how…"

Anton fell completely silent when he noticed you standing in the doorway, realizing you had heard the entire conversation. A bit nervous, he walked over to you, while you could hear the other members chuckling at the situation.

"Oh, y/n… how long have you been standing there…?"

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