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peanutpinet · 2 months ago

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BABE!!!! We absolutely need a second part to Little Things, we need to know how their relationship develops and see Sylus fall in lover with reader's soul. PLEASE BABE PLEASE!!!

Welcome to My World - Sylus x Fem Reader (Sequel to Little Things)

Request: Craving for a sequel to this w/ reader actually going back to her world and sylus just defying all odds shshshshs these kinds of fics are so interesting love em <3

A/N: Just a lil something for those who wanted to see what would Sylus be like if he were to actually come out of the screen and into our world (still having his evol but is not addressed). Also if anyone is a Kpop fan, I just want to say, do have a listen to Aespa’s Welcome to My World. It embodies this fic so much and am putting some of the lyrics into the story! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Also, if you haven't read Little Things, the "first part" of the story, do have a read. Will be link here. But you don't have to read it and can just read each of these fics seperately

Warnings: Fluff but mainly ANGST, Isekai Theme, Will be Going back and Forth between LADS universe and our universe, slow burn because Sylus is tryna find you :))

Funfact: I remembered the TV Show: Westworld and how the characters of the game gain conciousness when writing this fic

Songs to listen to: NCT Dream - Broken Melodies, Aespa - Welcome to My World, NCT Dream - Like We Just Met

N109 Zone - 01:48 AM

It was in the middle of the night. When all are asleep, people in the N109 zone, those in the shadows have only started to wake up and get on about their day, including Sylus. Slowly awakening from his slumber, Sylus saw the girl that was beside him, fast asleep. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady motion; indicating that she was in a deep sleep.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to scootch a bit closer and caressed the girl’s cheek. But as he did, the girl immediately grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked awake. “Who the fuck…w-where am I?!”

Hearing the girl’s words, Sylus knew. “You’re not her…”

Real World - 09:28 AM

You woke up with a pounding headache but slowly regained your consciousness, you noticed how the bed wasn’t as big nor was it as warm as when you were used to. Jerking up, you took in the room you were in. The bright white ceiling was the first thing you see, the smell of alcohol and blood was faint but you could smell it, and then you heard a beeping noise which made you turn and saw that your hand was hooked onto a monitor and an IV drip.

Whipping your head around, you search for your phone until you find it and immediately look at the date when you suddenly get a notification from both Instagram and Twitter mentioning the new update for Love and Deepspace.

“I’m back…” you sobbed yet your fingers glided across the screen of your phone, pressing the game that you swore you were in

As the game loads, you see the cutscenes of all of the characters and can’t help but feel emotionally overwhelmed whenever you see Sylus’ cutscenes.

Once the game loaded and you could hear that cafe jingle along with those familiar red eyes, you tried to see whether or not anything had changed in the game other than the new updates but when you clicked on his tall figure, the lines he said were nothing out of the ordinary. Even in the text message icon, you couldn’t text him like you did when you were in the game.

“Was it all just a dream?”

“Y-you’re awake!!” you heard someone talk and as your eyes looked at the doorframe, it was the nurse

You soon found out that you had been in a coma for a little over 2 weeks yet it felt like you were in the game for 2 months, maybe even more. Your best friends came to visit you every day and now that you’re awake, they were bombarding you with food, life updates, and all.

For once, you actually didn’t feel as lonely as you were when you appeared in the game.

Maybe it truly was all just a dream…

From a distance, a black crow was watching your interaction with your friends from a tree that was just outside of your window. After some time, the crow eventually fled and flew away from the tree.

N109 Zone - 04:18 AM

Sylus was beyond pissed. He took MC to where he took you in the beginning to get your evol and aether core checked but additionally, he wanted to know if you were truly not in the MC’s body. Sylus’ worker questioned as to why he brought MC again to check her evol and aether core, confusing the Onychinus’ leader.

Even when the two came home, the twins didn’t notice any difference from MC. What’s wrong with everyone? You’re not MC and it goes the other way as well. Why were the twins pestering MC who to Sylus, was not you.

“But boss, Miss Hunter and you have known each other for over 2 months now. What do you mean she’s not her?” Luke questioned, genuinely confused at his boss’ attitude

“She’s not. Have you forgotten who taught you both how to cook the simplest meal? The one that bought you those bulletproof vests?” Sylus demanded, something, anything about your sudden disappearance or at the very least, anyone other than him remembering your existence

“It’s Miss Hunter, though?” Kieran replied, making Sylus groan. “Just, leave me alone for the next few days” Sylus left the room and walked past MC who grabbed his wrist, making his brow arch in confusion.

Sighing, Sylus turned to see MC. “What is it that you want?”

“Where are you going? I went through all the trouble to get the N109 zone and I want answers regarding the aether core” MC demanded but Sylus just chuckled and used his evol to remove MC’s hand from his wrist

“You already have the aether core you’re looking for. Why don’t you go back and ask your doctor about that? I have other matters to attend to. Like why are you here instead of her” Sylus mentioned, walking away until MC talked to him

“You’re always mentioning her but you never mentioned her name. Who are you exactly talking about and what does it have to do with me?” MC questioned and this time, Sylus grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the nearest wall

“Don’t tempt my patience. I only have so much left ever since your attitude shows up instead of something else I want. From here on out, I could care less about your little quest. You can even have that brooch you’re wearing to get in and out of the N109 zone without getting harmed. But I want you to leave. Go back to your doctor, that fish man of an artist, or fake hunter for all I care. When I come back to this place, I hope that you’re not here anymore. Or you’ll hurt even more” Sylus warned, releasing MC as he went who knows where.

Sylus went into his car, the car that you love to drive in. Though you were just a soul in MC’s body, he could immediately tell the two of you apart. What scent do you like, the small trinkets that you would buy to keep his things more organized, some small keychain plushies that he would put on his keys which is in contrast to his scary look.

You might just be a soul that just so happens to be in MC’s body, the body of a person he should’ve been interacting with, the one he should’ve been bound to. But why does his heart feel incomplete? Why does his soul long for your own.

Gripping onto the steering wheel, Sylus looked at the plushie you put in this car. It was a koala, one of your favourite plushies, because you told him that you looked like a koala when Sylus carried you around. “I swore to you that if this were to happen, I would find you. Regardless what happens, I will find a way to get back to you. Our stories’ unfinished, sweetie. Wait for me. I’ll do anything to get back to you”

Real World

It’s been several months since you woke up. You still played the game but not as often anymore. You got a job at your friend’s office as a secretary. It pays well, you and your friend are roommates, life has been going fairly well that you barely played the game that provided you comfort.

One day, however, there was a bouquet of red Carnations mixed with pink Camillas on your desk with a note attached to it. “I hope this gets to you. If this ever reaches you, it means that I’m another step closer to seeing you again. There’s this uneasy feeling I’ve been feeling since you were gone. I promise I won’t stop finding you”

Confused, you asked everyone, including the delivery man who delivered the flowers to you but no one knew where it came from. It didn’t even mention your name and only a description of you.

Brushing it off, you thought it must’ve been some kind of prank until several more flowers reached you. One after another, there were notes along with the flowers which all made your heart clench because whoever this person was, it seemed that either you left a very deep impression on them or this was some sort of stalker.

“Did the first one reach you? I’m getting closer”

“I hope that you’re eating well. Wait for me”

“It seems that you’ve forgotten about me once more. No matter, I’ll be sure to jog your memory once we meet again”

Another year has finally passed and the bouquet and notes kept on coming until you saw the flowers and notes that came in. Instead of the usual red Carnation or pink Camillas or even sometimes Forget me nots, this time it was a bouquet of black and red roses with a note of a familiar handwriting and scent.

“I’ve finally found you. You said that you were worried about me finding the real you but to me, you’re just as perfect as your soul. Your face, your body, it matches your soul perfectly. And even though you might’ve forgotten about me, I assure you that my love for you is still the same like we just met. Perhaps in the game, I would allow you to go live your life without me because it’s safer for you. But here, looking at you, I can feel myself coming alive once more. Whether you try to move on, I know that there’s a lingering feeling behind your pretty head thinking of the possibility. And you would be correct, sweetie. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. For there is no love greater than mine.

P.S: we should thank Mephisto for always managing to find you when I couldn’t

-Sylus”

You were in shock. Sure, there was a small voice, hidden behind all your to-dos, your schedules, your wants, likes, needs. A faint voice telling you of the possibility that perhaps Sylus was the one to send you all those flowers and notes but you were in your world, the real world. You would lock that faint voice and never think about it again. You were realistic. There was no way that a fictional 3D man would send you all of that.

And Mephisto? He’s a bird. A mechanical bird that is tied with Sylus. Everything seemed ridiculous. You couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day until your boss called you for a sudden meeting outside of the office and at a restaurant.

The restaurant was filled with high-class people, some were doing business with another while others were simply finding ways to spend their money. Suddenly, it reminded you of the time when you were in MC’s body and Sylus would take the two of you out to dinner.

Remembering Sylus, the flowers, and the note, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom but in reality, you decided to log into the very game you downloaded to seek comfort. The nostalgia was coming back. They made a new update and introduced a new male character. Once your game loads, Sylus is still in the game and when you poke him, thinking that he’ll respond like how he would when a player hasn’t logged in for so long, he surprises you.

“You’re probably wondering why am I not responding to you in a way that you expect. Well, why don’t you check my messages on the message feature, sweetie?” Sylus mentioned and immediately, you went to open the message feature in the game and once again, you were shocked with what you read on the screen that you had to cover your mouth.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kitten? I’m sad that you’ve forgotten about me but I’m genuinely happy with how you’re living your life so far”

“But if I were to tell you that I want to be apart of your life here, would you accept me?”

You were given the chance to answer him, to reply to this sudden message but your boss had already called you back and unfortunately, you had to go back to the table and sit beside your boss.

As you were about to sit down, you heard that familiar soothing voice that always calms your nerves; especially when you’re in the N109 zone. “Is this your secretary that we’ve been waiting for?”

Immediately, you looked up and met with those soft bright red eyes behind small glasses. The white hair you’ve gone through with your fingers was styled like how you first met him. The figure sitting in front of you was wearing a soft grey sweater and black jeans.

And that smile, that smile that you’re so used to seeing everyday is now showing in front of you again. “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. Shall we begin the meeting?”

Throughout the meeting, you tried your best to pay attention and jot down all the notes you needed. You struggled for a moment and even towards the end, you stutter your thank you and goodbyes until the white-hair man called you.

“Waiting for someone, sweetie?” you heard that damn voice as you could feel all hairs on your skin stand up

Turning around, you finally got a good look at him. All of his 190cm height was towering over your figure. Your actual real-life self and not the MC you created in the game.

On one side, you wanted to talk, to question him if all of this was just another one of those visions you used to have. On the other, you wanted to jump at the man in front of you. To cry in his arms as he holds you close. But nothing. You were frozen in your spot as this Sylus look-alike smirked at you and held his index out which suddenly a black crow rest on.

“Is, is that…” you managed to utter, making the man in front of you chuckle

“Mephisto. An actual crow this time” he said, extending his hand out so the black crow was within your reach

Extending your own index out, the black crow, Mephisto went onto your index and you instinctively stroke its head. “We never stop looking for you, you know”

You look up to see those eyes that once were filled with rage now filled with sadness. Sighing, you tried to remind yourself that this is the real world, not your game.

“I'm sorry, sir. You must've gotten the wrong person. I don't think we’ve met before this meeting today. Your bird must be very friendly to have gone on another person’s hand” you mentioned, intending to return the black crow, still not believing that the man and bird in front of you are who you think they are

But instead, the man in front of you turned and took something from his pocket. “Is that so? Well then either you don’t want to remember what we’ve been through or Mephisto might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then how about we reintroduce ourselves to one another?”

“I’m Sylus, this is Mephisto. We were from a faraway land called the N109 zone. For the past year, I've been building my multimillion security tech company” Sylus mentioned, extending his hand out, revealing the brooch that you once wore as a promise to Sylus to stay by him

Shocked to see the brooch, you stutter at your words but Sylus noticed this and gently took one of your hands which you didn’t deny. “I meant what I said and I’m keeping my promise. My only regret is I couldn’t come find you sooner”

“H-how? This has got to be a joke. You’re not real. You’re not actually here. I must be dreaming again. I’m going mad” you started to lose your mind but Sylus pulled you into a hug

“Tell me this isn’t real then. Tell me that you don’t see me. Tell me that you don’t feel this warmth we both have wanted for a long time. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll gladly walk away from you so that you can continue to live your life as is but don’t expect me not to want to be a part of your life. Don’t think that even if I walk away today, I won’t try my best to still keep an eye on you” Sylus stated, whispering into your ear, kissing right below your ear

Taking in his calming leather scent, you slowly sob in Sylus’ chest as he strokes your head, calming you. “You’re such a stubborn crow” you finally hug Sylus, indirectly accepting him back into your life

“I know. But it’s worth it. I finally get back to you. Though I can’t offer you as much as I would when we were in the N109 zone, I do promise you that I will be here this time. I’m not letting you go that easily. So, you’re willing to let me back?” Sylus asked, making you chuckle

“Welcome to the real world, my world, Sylus” you said, getting on your tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss but instead, Sylus turned his head, held your neck and leaned for an actual kiss

A/N: Ngl, I was simping over my own writing of this. Where can we find an irl Sylus T^T

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adelheidvonschicksal · 6 months ago

Text

⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand. You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol.

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head.

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say?

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns.

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago.

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death.

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home.

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did.

In that way, you were a fortunate person.

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions.

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says.

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels.

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline.

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically.

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often.

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck.

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done.

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving.

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them.

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later.

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet.

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you.

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser. Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you.

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day.

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush.

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in.

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside.

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want.

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous. There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings.

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime.

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him.

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness.

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side.

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar.

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief.

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door.

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day.

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants.

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time.

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive.

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association.

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him.

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs.

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else.

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work.

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him.

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop.

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey.

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?”

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage.

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin.

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided.

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away.

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer.

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his.

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate.

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.

“My weakness—”

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—”

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes.

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond.

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion.

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss.

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away.

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs.

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?”

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips.

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses.

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace.

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you.

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong.

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high.

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought.

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side.

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place.

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back.

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you.

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands.

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years.

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room.

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses.

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head.

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin.

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans.

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth.

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down.

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly.

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there.

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again.

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds.

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face.

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt.

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole.

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you.

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily.

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens.

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out.

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind.

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore.

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back.

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power.

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?”

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been.

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit.

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...”

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines.

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan.

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance. You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce.

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll.

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out. As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him.

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him.

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts.

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit.

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm.

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you.

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you.

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms.

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you.

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning.

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties.

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier.

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy.

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft.

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts.

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round.

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it.

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic.

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand.

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you.

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain.

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly.

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you.

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow.

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep.

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants.

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars.

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

#xavier x reader #xavier smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnd smut #xavier love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads smut #notsfw #adelssmut

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sunluvbot · 11 months ago

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✮ my favorite ao3 enhypen fics ✮

|| updated 11.19.24 ||

*disclaimer: all of these fics are mxm & contain smut (mdni!!!)

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jake ˎˊ‐

✮ - oh, is it love? by malamyszk

✮ - like a prayer by achoome & pinkfire

✮ - all i want for christmas (is you, tree farm guy) by malamyszk

✮ - mixed up by pinkfire

✮ - a haunting (and now you’re mine) by malamyszk

✮ - but no one’s supposed to, they just want to by malamyszk

✮ - what the water gave us by malamyszk

✮ - like there’s no one other than you (and our kids) by malamyszk

✮ - you’re the warmth in my chest (let’s light a fire) by mooniik

✮ - that’s how the light gets in by ponyohoon

✮ - have to pay by pinkfire

✮ - i’ll be like one of your girls (or your homies) by ponyohoon

✮ - curiosity killed the… dog by pinkfire

✮ - surfacing by enhasjaeyun

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jay ˎˊ‐

✮ - primus inter pares by justlookagain

✮ - can’t control my body by geminicat

✮ - always home by amoreyen

✮ - the virtruvian man by yvth

˗ˏˋ jay + jake ˎˊ‐

✮ - he my best friend, yeah we not a couple by devianthee

✮ - we got seven seconds left in heaven (then it’s back to life) by devianthee (pt. 2 of he my best friend, yeah we not a couple)

✮ - one more time by orphan_account

✮ - tricked my treat by midge03

✮ - nirvana in different skin by celestefics

✮ - good for you (series) by wwisteria

✮ - open up your soul a little more, flood it by worldstar

˗ˏˋ jay + sunghoon ˎˊ‐

✮ - head shot-drank by scarletsunbeams

✮ - cotton, kfc and a mother’s sickly love by midge03

✮ - from the top (to the bottom, what is this?) by midge03

✮ - insouciance by etudeism

✮ - kiss it better by anonymous

✮ - leave it like an unmade bed (keep it messy) by ponyohoon

˗ˏˋ jake + sunghoon ˎˊ‐

✮ - all was golden in the sky (when the day met the night) by anonymous

✮ - all day (burn me) by anonymous

✮ - littering is butch (no not really) by midge03

✮ - it’s just a “bro” thing by anonymous

✮ - footsteps by nicoismysenpai

✮ - sink or swim by ponyohoon

✮ - 1-800-want u by devianthee

✮ - long haul by untilitbreaks

˗ˏˋ sunghoon + sunoo ˎˊ‐

✮ - anything but mine (1/2) & you were never mine (but do you remember?) (2/2) by darlingriki

✮ - fever by reesablue

✮ - love the way you wear that by eatcereal

✮ - want you (to want me too) by collectingseaglass

✮ - i wanna be in the sequel by merodies

✮ - can’t leave you alone by misocarmine

˗ˏˋ heeseung + sunoo ˎˊ‐

✮ - eat me softly by gemxblossom

✮ - this kind of love is getting expensive by pinkfire

✮ - yours for the weekend by anonymous

˗ˏˋ sunoo + hyung line ˎˊ‐

✮ - bad behavior (one-shot series) by sunoosphere

˗ˏˋ jay + jake + sunghoon (mxmxm) ˎˊ‐

✮ - use me, defuse me by devianthee

✮ - just between you & i by enhasjaeyun

✮ - adventures in shame by myathewolfeh

✮ - fifth wheeling by wwisteria

✮ - pass your boy the heatwave by devianthee

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jake + sunghoon (mxmxm) ˎˊ‐

✮ - fresh paint job, check! by worldstar

*note: as you can tell, i’m a heejake enthusiast and heavy heejake reader LMAO also malamyszk is the BEST heejake writer in the entire world so please show their works some love!! let me know if all the links are matched up correctly, this took me a while to do so there may be some mistakes. i’m not sure if you need an ao3 account to access these, but the link should bring you right to the fic!*

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun #heeseung #heejake #jay enhypen #jay smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #park jongseong #lee heeseung #kim sunoo #sunjay #jayhoon #jayke #heesun

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months ago

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Whalien52 (m) | pjm

you’ve been working for the New World Order as an assassin for years, guarding secrets without batting an eye or asking questions. But when a striking pink haired man shows up at the headquarters stealing information, he makes you question everything. With all of humanity at stake, what will you do?

→ Pairing: Jimin (kitty gang!jimin) x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, dystopian + angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 10.6k → Warnings + triggers: changing povs (between reader and Jimin), action, weapons, guns and swords, blood (it’s not in extreme detail or anything, but blood is mentioned a few times), death (people are dying, but no important character dies!!!), wounds, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, sickness (cancer due to radiation), mention of a cure and treatment for said cancer. Explicit smut in the form of unprotected sexy, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, degrading names, multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing. → Author’s note(1): okay, so I’ve been struggling a lot with this one too, lol. I miss writing sappy romance I think. This isn’t sappy, and I’ll hardly call it romance, well, it’s in there, but there’s honestly so much action in this one, compared to the Yoongi one. It’s also more fast paced, and shorter. I hope it’s alright! It was fun to write, even though I know nothing about writing action, I hope I did it well! And to everyone who’s scared or reluctant to read it because there’s angst and it’s kinda heavy/dark themed— IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. There, I spoiled the ending for you 😇 + This story is a gift for my friend @remmykinsff! Thank you so much for sharing your Kitty gang Jimin folder with me, and letting me use you for motivation and inspiration to get out of my writer’s block 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]*: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue *this story is technically a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is also a spin-off from another one-shot (that got a sequel, so a two-shot?). The characters and the story are the same, but the first two stories takes place before this one, and it’s with Yoongi x reader (not the same reader though).

It’s raining again. Lately, it’s always raining. The rain is everlasting, it seems, drenching the city in a ceaseless, oppressive downpour. The Capital is perpetually shrouded in darkness and gloom, a place where the sun is a distant memory. You’ve grown accustomed to it, ever since you were recruited by The New World Order to guard their secrets. You’ve been trapped in this godforsaken city ever since. Do you like it? Not really, but it’s a job that pays well. They give you a roof over your head and enough to survive—luxuries in this ravaged world.

You came from nothing, clawing your way up since the war began, fighting for every scrap of existence until The New World Order caught you. They gave you a choice: die or work for them. You chose to live, naively hoping that working for them wouldn’t be so bad. But it turns out, it can be quite bad. You’ve done unspeakable things to keep their secrets safe. You’ve killed for them, just as you had killed for yourself before they found you. Now, you don’t even flinch when you have to eliminate someone who gets too close to the truth. Part of you wonders what these secrets are, but you’re not interested. It’s just a job, nothing more.

Tonight is another shift. You head to the New World Order building, ready to patrol the city under the cover of darkness. First, you gear up: leather pants, a basic white shirt, and a black leather biker jacket. A belt around your waist for support, with a strap around your thigh that holsters your gun. A small knife is sheathed at your back, just in case.

You glance out the window. The world outside is as bleak as ever; night has fallen, and the rain taps a morose melody against the glass. You sigh, watching the neon signs flicker, casting a purple and blue glow that dances across your room. Grabbing your keys, you lock the door behind you and sprint down the stairs. This apartment is nothing special, but it’s a step up from the streets where you once lived before the war. It’s a small comfort in a world gone mad.

The rain soaks your skin, but you don’t bother with an umbrella. It’s just rain. You run down the dimly lit main street, the few wandering souls avoiding eye contact as they scurry to obey The New World Order’s curfew. Your boots splash through rain puddles on the unpaved, muddy road. It doesn’t take long to reach the towering New World Order building—its looming presence still sends a shiver down your spine, but you step inside anyway. Scanning your security card, you brace yourself for another night of duty.

You start your shift monitoring security cameras and patrolling the eerie hallways for any sign of suspicious activity. As you return to the front desk, you catch sight of a man attempting to bypass the card reader.

“What are you doing here?” you growl, your hand instinctively hovering near your gun.

The man fumbles with the machine, clearly lacking a security card. Desperation edges his voice as he yells, “I want the data that The New World Order is keeping from us!”

“You’re not getting that,” you reply coldly, assessing the intruder. He seems harmless, more frustrated than dangerous, so you relax, slightly.

“Do you even know what it is that you’re protecting?” he spits, abandoning his futile attempt to climb the machines as the alarm blares. The piercing sound echoes through the corridor, and you quickly pull out the phone issued by the New World Order to silence it.

“I don’t care what I’m protecting. You’ve got no business here. Now leave,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You shouldn’t be so blind to the secrets you’re safekeeping for them,” he hisses, making another hopeless attempt to scale the security machines.

His efforts are laughable, a pathetic display of defiance. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.” This is his final warning. If he doesn't heed it, he’ll meet the cold, indifferent justice of your gun. So be it.

He freezes, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he gauges your resolve. Your unwavering stare breaks his spirit, and he quivers in fear before backing off. Without a word, he turns and bolts, likely retracing his steps. Fool, you think, watching him flee.

The encounter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s not the first to suggest you should question your work and the secrets you guard. Maybe you should. But you know the moment you do, you’re dead. You’ll lose everything you’ve achieved and everything you hold dear. That fear keeps you in place, and you reckon that’s the point of it all—the New World Order instills fear in everyone, ensuring their control remains absolute.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in there alone?” Bora asks, her voice tinged with unease. It’s understandable—years of meticulous planning and reconnaissance are culminating in this moment. Whalien52 is about to attempt the impossible: stealing the cure for cancer that The New World Order keeps hidden away.

Jimin isn’t scared. He’s accustomed to these kinds of missions, though this will be his most significant one yet. A good kind of nervousness tingles through him, a mix of excitement and determination. “Yeah, Hobi’s done plenty of research. I know exactly which room to hit,” he says, flashing Bora a reassuring smile.

He gets why she’s scared. Bora and Yoongi have been through hell, and with both of them sick, finding the cure is personal. Yoongi’s condition has worsened over the years, a stark reminder of the injustice that The New World Order perpetuates by hoarding the cure while people die from radiation-induced cancers. The thought makes Jimin’s blood boil.

It’s this anger that led him to join Whalien52 after meeting Jungkook in the wasteland, a desolate remnant of what the bombings and wars left behind. The new government organization threatens to transform the remnants of humanity into a dystopian nightmare—if it hasn’t already.

Jimin thrives as an assassin, driven by a relentless quest for truth. The thrill, the chase, the stealth—it’s all part of the adrenaline rush he lives for. But beneath the excitement lies a deep-seated hatred for the rich elites who hid in their bomb-proof bunkers, safeguarding their technology, only to reemerge and rebuild a civilization for themselves amidst the ruins. Their swift reconstruction of the Capital stands as a bitter reminder of their enduring power.

The injustice has turned him bitter. It’s why he’s vowed to do everything in his power to change the world, to help Whalien52 make knowledge free and accessible to everyone, not just the rich. The gap between rich and poor has become a chasm, with only the vetted elite allowed to live in the Capital. The rest of humanity is left to fend for themselves, struggling for survival in a world that hopes they’ll destroy each other.

Jimin won’t stand for it. This mission isn’t just about stealing a cure, or getting data on possible treatment—it’s about justice, about leveling the playing field, about giving hope to those left in the dark. And he’ll see it through, no matter the cost.

Yoongi comes up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this for me,” he coughs, his voice so raspy it sounds like he’s been smoking forever.

Jimin places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting briefly to Bora before settling back on Yoongi. “We are doing this for you. But I’m also doing this for everyone else,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion and a glimmer of hope. “You’re not the only one suffering from cancer because of the radiation. We want to help everyone; we can’t just let people die.”

Yoongi flashes a soft smile and sits down to rest, the effort of standing too exhausting for him now. Jimin will do this for him, for Bora, and for the rest of humanity. He doesn’t mind risking his own life in the search for a cure—he might need one later himself.

“I’ll go get ready,” he says, turning away from Bora and Yoongi. He walks past Jungkook and Taehyung in the dimly lit hideout and heads into his room. He pulls on his leather pants, a white shirt, and then his favorite leather bomber jacket, adorned with pink, silver and purple sparkles. The jacket complements his pink fluffy hair perfectly. He retrieves his gun, tucking it into his back pocket—risky, he knows. Then he picks up his katana, swinging it over his back into its sheath. The sword, his preferred weapon, feels reassuringly familiar.

Now he’s ready. Ready to infiltrate the fortress of secrets and retrieve the cure. Ready to fight for a future where knowledge and healing aren’t hoarded by the few. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the mission ahead, a mission that could change everything in this dystopian nightmare they call life.

He says goodbye to everyone, hugging each of them tightly, aware that any moment could be his last. This mission is perilous, and while he has infiltrated The New World Order before without getting caught, this time is different. He will be venturing deeper into their stronghold than ever before.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Jimin strides outside to his motorcycle. The powerful machine, stolen from the Capital, gleams with a sleek, futuristic design. Its pale metal body has an industrial look, and its size dwarfs Jimin as he mounts it. Neon lights flicker to life as he revs the engine, the bike purring beneath him. With a flick of his wrist, he speeds towards the Capital, sand flying from the back wheel.

He knows he must be cautious once he enters the city. Stealth is crucial to avoid detection and successfully infiltrate The New World Order’s building. Failure means everything will have been for nothing.

The rain is endless, a perpetual downpour that defines the Capital. He doesn’t know why it always rains here, only that it does. The empty streets are illuminated by the neon signs adorning the various buildings, casting a colorful glow in the darkness.

He parks his motorcycle near the New World Order building, at the secluded back entrance where security is minimal. This is his best chance.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

It’s all or nothing.

It’s getting late, and the monotony of patrolling the building is wearing you down. The nights are usually quiet, save for the occasional curious stranger trying to access the information you guard. You sigh and head back to the surveillance room, your eyes scanning the screens for anything unusual. Suddenly, you spot a figure moving on one of the monitors. A shot of adrenaline surges through you, breaking the dullness of the night.

The absence of triggered alarms tells you the intruder is a professional. No amateur could bypass the sophisticated security systems. The thought excites you, your heart rate spiking as you dash through the corridors, your hand hovering near your gun. You search each room hastily, growing more anxious with every empty space, until you reach the final room—the one that holds the most guarded secrets.

You pause outside the door, peeking in cautiously.

Inside, a well-defined man with pink, fluffy hair, leather pants, and a sparkly bomber jacket stands with his back to you, working at one of the computers. This is the information hub, where all vital data is stored. This is bad, but you have the element of surprise. Steadying your breath, you draw your gun and step into the doorway, your voice commanding, “Freeze!”

The man doesn’t freeze. Instead, you watch as he swiftly pulls a USB drive from the computer, moving with a grace that is almost dance-like. Before you can react, he glides across the floor and stands before you, a sword at your throat. A thrill of excitement runs through your body.

You stand still, a smile twisting on your lips, locked in a standoff with the pink-haired intruder. He’s chosen the wrong weapon to threaten you with. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” you laugh, despite the blade pressing against your throat, your gun aimed at his chest. Who really has the upper hand here?

“Oh, I have a gun too,” he smirks, his voice sweet but laced with danger.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe, standing your ground.

“Getting information,” he replies matter-of-factly, not even breaking a sweat.

“You’re stealing. I can’t allow you to leave,” you spit, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Do you even know what kind of information you’re guarding?” he challenges, his words striking a chord. He’s not the first to ask you this today, and it makes you pause. “I know nothing, and I don’t care,” you respond after a moment’s thought.

“You really should,” he says, stepping closer until your gun is pressed against him. He doesn’t seem afraid, almost as if he’s an adrenaline junkie like you. But no, he’s not scared. He’s reckless. Your finger hovers near the trigger, but something makes you hesitate. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t like it.

His eyes, dark pools of obsidian, glint with amusement. He chuckles, and before you can react, his boot slams into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the cold, hard floor. Your gun slips from your grip, clattering away.

The man towers over you, his boot pressing down on your pussy, the katana poised at your throat, its cold blade grazing your skin. You raise your arms in a defensive pose, trapped and weaponless. He smirks, waving your gun tauntingly.

“You’re guarding information that can save humanity. What you’re doing is sick,” he spits, pressing his boot harder into you. Why does that feel hot? Why do tingles shoot through your body? Damn it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you growl back, genuinely confused. Your mind feels hazy with adrenaline and something else.

“The cure for cancer,” he snarls, his anger palpable.

Your eyes widen. The cure for cancer? You’ve heard whispers, but you didn’t know that’s what you were guarding. You know there’s treatment, but the New World Order has been hoarding those as well, making treatment inaccessible for the common people.

He presses his boot into you even more, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through your body.

“Oh my god. Are you getting turned on right now?” His voice drips with dark amusement, mocking you.

“Fuck no!” you yell, even as your body betrays you, responding to the pressure of his boot. You know you’re aroused, but you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I can smell you from here. There’s no point in lying,” he chuckles, lifting his boot from your crotch, though his sword remains at your throat.

You hate how observant he is, and you need to change the subject, to find a way out. You growl, “I’m not. And you’re not getting away. I don’t care if it’s the cure for cancer or whatever you’ve stolen.”

“I have my katana at your throat. I’m sure I’ll make it out just fine,” he replies, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got what I came for,” he says, smirking down at you. “I’m flattered you’re turned on. Maybe if we met under different circumstances,” he adds, his eyes glinting with dark lust. “You should look into the secrets you’re guarding,” he says, withdrawing his katana and retreating, tossing your gun far out of reach.

You scramble to your feet as soon as he’s gone, snatching up your gun and bolting after him through the corridors. He’s silent, almost ghost-like, but you chase him nonetheless. He can’t leave with the vital information. The New World Order will have your head if they find out. You hear the click of a door—it’s the backdoor. You rush outside, the heavy rain stinging your face as the neon lights flicker on the deserted street. You catch sight of his motorcycle’s tail light disappearing into the rain.

Fuck.

As soon as he crosses the threshold between the Capital and the dystopian suburb, the rain ceases abruptly. He twists the throttle of his motorcycle, speeding through the desolate landscape back to the hideout. His heart pounds, but he doesn’t look back. He doubts he’s being followed.

The journey back is swift. As the hideout comes into view, he decelerates, parking his bike with a sense of triumph. He’s relieved not to return empty-handed and, more importantly, to have survived the mission. Reflecting on the encounter, a smirk forms on his face. You were easier to deceive than he anticipated. A part of him hopes to see you again, intrigued by your reaction to seeing him.

He wonders if he could sway you, make you see the truth about the secrets you’re guarding for The New World Order. Could he enlist you in his cause? The thought intrigues him, though he doubts it. You seemed too ignorant, too indifferent to the atrocities made by the regime.

The night is still young as he dismounts his bike and strides toward the door. It opens easily—unlocked, as usual. They really should lock it; you never know who might come by.

He’s greeted by a flurry of curious eyes as his friends jump up, their eagerness palpable. “Relax,” he gestures, “sit down.” Reaching into the pocket of his leather pants, he pulls out the USB drive. The tiny piece of tech holds the key to saving the world— the cure for cancer. Something they had all doubted, but had uncovered through relentless investigation, exposing the dark secrets of The New World Order.

He strides over to Namjoon, whose eyes glitter with excitement, his fingers itching to grasp the device and run an analysis. Jimin hands him the USB drive with a proud smile. “Here,” he says, “I hope everything’s on there. I was interrupted while pulling the data.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon responds, already heading into a back room, eager to delve into the contents.

Jimin collapses onto the spot Namjoon vacated, feeling the weight of their stares.

Bora clears her throat. “You said you were interrupted?”

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckles, revealing his crooked teeth. “A security guard. But she was easy to handle.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained and raspy.

“It was,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. In truth, it had been almost too easy. He can’t shake the thought: had he overlooked something, or was fate simply on his side this time?

Jungkook’s questioning stare pierces through Jimin, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to share how you made his blood boil with adrenaline and lust. He doesn’t even know your name, but you ignited something within him, a cocktail of emotions in mere moments. He’s both intrigued and captivated by you.

Time blurs as Jimin waits, lost in his thoughts until Namjoon reenters the living room. The look on Namjoon’s face is enough: it’s not the cure.

“This data isn’t complete,” Namjoon groans, frustration etched across his features as he waves the USB drive. He paces anxiously, “It has some information on cancer treatment, but the data on the cure is fragmented. Jin, can you take a look at it? All I see are molecules. I don’t know what to make of it,” he adds, his voice tinged with nervous laughter and defeat.

Jimin’s stomach sinks, a heavy weight of disappointment and anger settling in. He had hoped to secure all the needed information, but now they’re still unable to help Bora, Yoongi, and countless others suffering from the cancer that The New World Order likely caused. The thought sickens him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were behind everything—the war, the slaughter of mankind. Sometimes it feels like The New World Order is playing a sick game of battle royale with the world’s population. People fight desperately, both for information and survival, in a world where information and treatment are hoarded like treasures.

Jimin’s mind races, thoughts swirling with the grim reality: when people are dying and sick, they become desperate, willing to do anything to stay alive. He feels a bitter mix of anger and sadness, questioning if he was delusional to think it would be easy to obtain the cure or even secure vital treatment information. The hope that things could change for the better feels like a distant dream.

Jin takes the USB drive, slipping it into his pocket, and gives Jimin a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his patient and study room. Jimin feels a gnawing sense of inadequacy, berating himself for getting caught and distracted by you. He wonders if he should attempt to sneak back into the New World Order building, determined to obtain the missing data they desperately need.

“I’ll go back and see if I can get the remaining data in a few days,” he declares, his voice tinged with deflation but underpinned by a strong current of willpower. He can’t afford to fail again. The mission is too important, the stakes too high.

It’s been a few days since the pink-haired guy infiltrated the New World Order building undetected, slipping through your fingers like sand. The incident has left you feeling weird and anxious. You expected The New World Order to contact you, reprimand you, or worse, eliminate you. But there’s been nothing—no messages, no ominous visits. Maybe they don’t know about your slip-up yet? Or perhaps they’re biding their time.

Your phone, a sleek piece of tech courtesy of The New World Order, vibrates in your hand. You unlock it, and a text message glares back at you.

New World Order: Come to the headquarters in 15 minutes.

That’s all it says, nothing more, nothing less. You gulp, feeling your palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is how you die. Thrown off the tall building. You’ve heard stories, and they’re not nice. The tales of disappearances and silent executions run through your mind, making you shiver with nerves.

You lace up your boots with trembling hands, each loop a countdown to your potential demise. Trudging down the stairs of your dark apartment, you step into the rainy street. The city around you is a dismal sprawl of neon lights and shadows, a perfect reflection of your inner turmoil. You try to calm your racing heart, but it’s a futile effort. Every step feels heavier, every breath more labored as you make your way to the New World Order headquarters, fearing that this is the end.

You reach the New World Order headquarters, a monolith of cold steel and glass looming above the city. For a moment, you let the rain caress your face, cleansing you of your sins. Maybe they won’t mention anything? Clenching your fists, you walk into your workplace, passing through the security scanners, the impassive front desk, the sterile halls, and finally to the elevators. You step into one, the doors closing with a cold finality. The elevator ascends, a silent reminder of the 30 floors that separate you from potential death should you be pushed out. You close your eyes, banishing the thought.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing an amble-lit hallway adorned in red and gold. The color scheme feels both luxurious and ominous, a blend of future opulence and ancient dread. The red rug underfoot seems out of place, a relic amidst the high-tech surroundings. It suddenly hits you—it might be there to hide a certain color of liquid. No, you shouldn’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

Each step down the hallway feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, the silence thick and oppressive. Your breath quickens, your hand hovering over the handle of the door at the end. This is it. Just get it over with.

With sweaty hands, you push open the door and step inside. A tall man in a black suit stands with his back to you, staring out of the tall windows. The view overlooks the bleak, rainy city, a desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The room is deathly silent, save for the patter of rain against the glass. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

He doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, his presence as cold and unyielding as the cityscape beyond. You gulp, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to speak, waiting for your fate to be decided.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the tension-filled room. The man’s attention snaps to you, and he turns on his heels with a sinister smile. “Y/N!”

The way he says your name sends shivers down your spine, raising the hairs on your body. An urge to flee or jump out of the window floods your senses, but you force yourself to steady your resolve.

You recognize him as the head of the organization, though his name remains a mystery, like everyone else’s in this godforsaken place. Faces are familiar, but names are a dangerous luxury.

“Glad you could make it. Take a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of his imposing wooden desk, an artifact of richness you could never dream of affording.

You gulp, a slight ringing in your ears accompanying your erratic heartbeat. Your palms are slick with sweat as you move to sit down.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice calm and commanding as he paces the room.

“Yes,” you manage to say, gulping again as you track his movements.

“Good,” he replies, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“I saw the surveillance footage from the break-in a few days ago,” he begins, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. Fear knots in your stomach, paralyzing your muscles as you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You remain silent, too scared to speak, knowing that he already knows everything that happened.

“You’ve gone soft. If this happens again, shoot the intruder, or you’ll be the one staring down the barrel of a gun,” he says, his voice sharp and precise, each word like a blade against your throat. A chill runs through you, and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You’ve messed up, but somehow he’s letting you off with a warning—something you didn’t expect. A small part of you dares to breathe a little easier.

“Now leave before I change my mind,” he hisses. You flinch, your body reacting instinctively as you rush to the door. Bowing quickly, you slip out without a word. Outside, you realize you’ve been holding your breath and you gasp for air, your hands trembling.

You know you have to do your job better if you want to survive. The threat lingers in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder about the secrets you’re guarding. What could be so important? Maybe it’s time to investigate—time to find out if this job is truly worth risking your life for.

Your boss won’t find out, right? You gulp, pushing the thought away. You need to know. You’ve done your job blindly for so long, but the time has come to uncover the truth. You know the higher-ups won’t give you any information, even if you asked, which is why you find yourself downstairs in the control room.

You locate the computer you usually use, turn it on, and log into the company drive. Your fingers tremble as you navigate through multiple folders, delving deeper into the rabbit hole. You uncover information you never imagined existed. Details about how and why the war started shock you—who knew a failed peace treaty could lead to such global devastation? The realization hits you hard: the war was actually orchestrated by a few countries aiming to seize power when the peace treaty collapsed. Those people now form The New World Order. A chill runs down your spine.

You stumble upon a folder detailing the side effects of radiation, studies on various cancer treatments, and ultimately, a cure for cancer. Disbelief floods your mind as you stare at the words on the screen. You blink, hoping the text will change, but it remains. The next document reveals their sinister plan: to keep this life-saving information hidden, ensuring only the rich survive while letting the rest of humanity rot and die.

This is what the pink-haired man wanted you to know. Regret and anger churn in your gut—you should have listened, should have questioned everything from the start. You feel sick, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth. You close the computer, resolve hardening within you.

As you leave the control room and head home, your mind swirls with thoughts. You need to figure out what to do with this explosive information before your shift tonight. The rain continues to fall, each drop a reminder of the world’s decay. You realize now that your role in The New World Order’s scheme is far more sinister than you ever imagined.

Jimin has to obtain the missing piece of data his group needs for the cure for cancer, or at least information to develop new treatments. Ever since the war started, all research and treatment for cancer have been inaccessible. Late at night, at their hideout far from the Capital, Jimin prepares for his mission. He looks at Bora and Yoongi—Yoongi, in particular, has deteriorated, and Jimin fears he doesn’t have much time left. The urgency gnaws at him; failure is not an option.

He doesn’t know whether he hopes to meet you at the New World Order headquarters or not. The thought of you makes his heart race, but he knows that if you get in his way, his mission might fail. He sighs, waving goodbye to the group, then steps outside. The night is oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and rain. He puts on his helmet, the world narrowing to the visor’s view, and straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, vibrating through him, merging with the adrenaline surging in his veins.

It’s now or never.

He twists the accelerator, the bike surging forward into the darkness, toward the lifeless, desolate Capital. The neon lights flicker ominously as he speeds into enemy territory, a lone figure against the backdrop of a crumbling dystopia.

The room is dark—just the way you prefer it. Your eyes, adept at seeing through the gloom, catch every detail, including the pink-haired intruder hunched over a computer terminal, stealing vital information from your employer. Silently, you watch him, observing his methodical movements as he navigates the screen. The monitor casts a ghostly blue light, making his hair shimmer with a surreal purple hue. You can’t deny he looks striking.

Tonight, you decide not to intervene. After your own clandestine investigation into your employer, you understand why he’s after the data—why so many risk everything to steal it. The New World Order’s secrets are dark and twisted, and the pink-haired man’s quest suddenly seems justified.

Minutes tick by in silence, the intruder’s focus unbroken. His sparkly bomber jacket gleams faintly in the dim light. Finally, he seems satisfied, pulling a USB drive from the terminal. The moment he turns around, you flick on the lights.

Yellow fluorescent tubes flicker to life, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. He freezes, one hand instinctively hovering over the katana strapped to his back, the other gripping the USB drive.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, blocking his escape.

He hisses, scanning you up and down before his features relax into a smirk. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you gonna try to stop me again, pretty?”

Your eyes sparkle at the compliment, much like his jacket, and you chuckle softly. “Nah,” you shrug, but straighten your posture, exuding confidence.

He quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

You take in his appearance—black leather pants hugging his thick thighs, lace-up military boots, and that unmistakable sparkly bomber jacket. With a soft, yet sultry smile, you reply, “I finally opened my eyes to what’s really going on. What’s truly been happening, and I don’t like it one bit.”

His shoulders relax further, and his hands withdraw from the katana and the gun stashed behind his back. He eyes you with a mixture of caution and intrigue, seemingly pleased by your revelation.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go?” he asks, ensuring he hasn’t misheard.

“Yeah. But actually…” you begin, drawing out your words to capture his attention as you step closer, batting your eyes at him. “I have more information back at my apartment that you might want to see. I can take you there. Show you.”

You can’t help the way your body responds to him—you want him, and you want him bad. It’s true, you do have valuable information at your place, but your ulterior motives are undeniable. The risk is immense. The moment you make this move, you’ll become a wanted criminal, hunted by the New World Order. But the thought of remaining complicit in their schemes sickens you. You crave freedom, and he might just be the key to it.

For a flicker of a second, you catch him stuttering, but he quickly collects himself, smirking back at you. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a teasing move, and you feel a tingle between your legs.

“Let’s go then,” he says, brushing past you and out the door. You follow closely, aware of the cameras tracking your every move, but you don't care. Time is short; the New World Order will come after you soon, so you need to be quick.

The pink-haired man leads the way through the dim, familiar halls to the back door. The green emergency light flickers ominously overhead. He pushes the door open, and the bleak night greets you with flickering neon lights. His sleek silver bike stands nearby. As you approach, he hands you his helmet and lets you straddle his bike, taking the place behind you. His body presses close against your back, and a surge of arousal courses through you.

You turn the bike on, and it roars to life. With a swift movement, you speed through the empty, rain-soaked streets back to your apartment. His arms wrap securely around your torso, and it feels nice. His head rests against your shoulder, and you catch a whiff of his scent—like fresh cotton on a summer's breeze, something you haven’t smelled in a long time. You long for it.

It doesn’t take long to reach your apartment. You turn off the bike, parking it out of sight from prying eyes. He gets off first, then you remove the helmet and jump down. Neither of you speaks as you walk up the stairs to your first-floor apartment. You quickly unlock the door and push into your dark space. The lights are off, and the place is messy with clothes strewn about, but you don't care. The apartment is a tiny one-bedroom, an open space where the kitchen, living room, and bedroom blend together. It’s small, but it’s home.

“Welcome,” you whisper, closing the door behind you, sealing both of you in a cocoon of secrecy and danger.

The tension between you feels thick as you make your way inside, heading straight to your desk and rummaging for the flash drive you’ve hidden. The man’s eyes follow your every move as you open a drawer and pull out the drive, smirking as you wave it in the air. “This has more information on it that I think you’ll need.”

He stalks closer, his smirk widening. In the minimal light, he seems even more predatory than before. The look in his eyes suggests he wants to devour you right then and there.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks, standing mere millimeters from you, your noses almost touching. His warm breath fans your ear and neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Take me with you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes roam your body, lingering on your eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and collarbone.

“Hmm,” he hums, his hands landing on your hips. You feel the warmth of his fingers through your leather pants.

Your breath quickens, and you feel like you’re crumbling beneath his stare, utterly aroused for this man whose name you still don’t know. The mixture of arousal and adrenaline makes you feel almost high.

You close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s quick and needy, and he responds immediately, pressing his body hungrily into yours, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist above your pants. His lips are soft, but his moves are hard and hungry.

He moves his lips to your ear, kissing and licking it, then trailing down to your neck. He marks it with his teeth, eliciting a needy moan from you. The world outside your darkened apartment fades away, leaving only the desperate, electric connection between you.

“You’re really something,” he pants into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine and all the way to your core. “I want to taste you, and I don’t even know your name.”

You chuckle, the sound strained and laden with lust. “It’s Y/N,” you manage between pants. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jimin,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck before biting gently.

Fuck.

“I want you, Jimin,” you groan as he pulls back slightly, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“But we don’t have much time,” you say breathlessly, the urgency of your situation seeping into your voice. “The New World Order will be looking for me soon.” You fumble with your pants, dragging them and your panties down to expose yourself to the cool air of the apartment.

In one fluid motion, Jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you with a teasing lick of his lips. “No worries, I can be quick.” Without another word, he dives in, his mouth sealing around your wet heat.

You gasp his name, your legs turning to jelly as your hands find purchase in his pink locks. His tongue is relentless, strong and skilled as it laps over your clit and teases your entrance. The obscene noises he makes against you only heighten your arousal, your breathing growing shallow as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Your back meets the wall, and you do your best to hold yourself up as he devours you from the floor. His mouth works you expertly, sucking and licking, driving you closer to the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens, your body trembling with the impending climax.

Jimin grunts into your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit, and the world shatters around you. He sucks hard, creating a perfect seal around your sensitive nub, and the coil in your stomach snaps. You come undone on his tongue, panting furiously as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Even as you orgasm, he doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing its assault, his nose pressing against your clit. You grab his hair, trying to pull him away as your sensitivity peaks, but he holds you there, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation and back into the abyss of pleasure.

His face glistens with your slick, and you think he looks beautiful, so you grab his sharp jaw and pull him up for a kiss. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his plush lips.

You break away and say, “I really want to return the favor,” your hands toying with his pants as you brush against his already erect dick.

He pushes your hand away gently. “It’s okay. You said to be quick, so you can do that another time.” He kisses you again, trailing down to the other side of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear. “I really just want to fuck you now.”

You’re drenched, dripping with arousal. His words render you speechless; you bite your bottom lip and nod, anticipation coursing through you.

The sound of his zipper sends a thrill down your spine as he opens his pants. He drags his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It’s thick and of an average length, and the sight makes you salivate. You wish you had time to take him into your mouth, but that’s a pleasure for another time, like he promised.

The head of his cock is red, with a bead of precum at the tip. It looks beautiful, and your pussy clenches around the emptiness, eager to be filled. You can’t wait to have him stretch you, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. It’s honestly been years, and as you realize this, you think he should have prepared you more. But you don’t get to mull over it for long; you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, and in one fluid motion, he pushes inside you.

You moan his name as he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist, driving himself deeper into you. You feel so fucking full, it’s delicious.

“Fuck. I forgot about a condom,” he pants, slamming you hard against the wall. He stays inside for a moment before beginning a relentless rhythm of thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “I’m clean, and I can’t get pregnant.”

He just grunts in your ear, then starts nibbling on it. The pace he sets is quick, hard, and dirty—unforgiving. But you don’t mind; you're pressed for time anyway. The pleasure is intense, and the way he growls into your ear makes the knot form in your stomach again.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he growls, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanted this right from the start, didn’t you?” His voice is low, dangerously so, making you even wetter because he’s so right.

“Such a fucking slut for cock,” he pants, his tongue trailing along your neck. “No one in this godforsaken city to satisfy your needy pussy.”

You clench around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his sparkly jacket.

“Fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans, his hips working overtime to pleasure you, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

You moan in response, releasing a wave of liquid around his cock, making the glide even smoother.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he says, licking your neck again. “I’m gonna come too.”

With a rapid burst of thrusts, he spills his warm seed inside your still-pulsating pussy. For a moment, you rest your foreheads together, panting for air. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he hungrily kisses your lips.

You feel a mixture of your essences trailing out of you, pooling on the floor or your panties—you don’t really care.

As you struggle to steady your breathing and rapid heartbeat, a pounding on your door shatters the moment. It's not gentle—it’s hard and oppressive, sending a terrible shiver down your spine. The New World Order. Your mind turns razor-sharp, senses heightened. Jimin quickly softens inside you, then pulls out, your legs falling to the floor, dripping semen as he pulls up his pants and grabs his gun and the hard drive.

You do the same, hastily pulling up your pants as the banging continues. The door handle rattles, but it doesn't open. Thank fuck you locked it.

“We have to leave,” you pant, your heart in your throat. You fumble for your phone, then throw it into your room—you don’t need it; they can track you with that.

“No shit,” he grunts, running a hand through his disheveled pink hair.

“We gotta jump out the window,” you say, fear in your eyes. You know it’s only a matter of time before they break down the door.

You grab Jimin’s hand and pull him to the window beside your bed. Thankful that you live on the first floor, you make the jump first, landing on the dirty ground. Jimin follows, landing more gracefully. You hear the brute force of the door breaking, and you startle, fear coursing through you. But Jimin is quick, pulling you to his bike, shoving his helmet onto your head. He straddles the bike, and without much thought, you climb on behind him.

You lean against him, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. He turns on the bike, and you hear shouting and gunshots from your apartment as Jimin speeds down the rain-soaked streets. You lay your head against his back, closing your eyes against the chaos behind you.

Jimin parks his bike in front of the Whalien 52 headquarters, and you dismount first, removing the helmet and handing it to him. He follows suit, and you both stride into the building. It’s well past midnight now, and as you walk into the headquarters with Jimin, all eyes turn toward you. The tension in the room is palpable; they’ve likely been anxiously awaiting his safe return.

“Hi,” he says casually, plopping onto the couch with a soft thud.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung strides up, pointing at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. The woman who got in my way last time,” Jimin shrugs as if this is information everyone should already know.

“So you decided to take her home?” Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I helped him gain extra information. And I want out of the New World Order,” you say, crossing your arms, not flinching under their scrutinizing stares.

“You’re the enemy though,” Yoongi joins the conversation, his voice strained with a cough.

“She really isn’t. Do you even know how much she’s risked just by coming here?” Jimin retorts, defending you without fully understanding why. He knows you can defend yourself just fine.

“I have a target on my back now. So I want to help you guys. Make things right in the world. That’s what you want to do, right?” you ask, scanning the open living room space.

The room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows, amplifying the room’s tension. Each member of the group seems to wrestle with their thoughts, eyes flicking between you and Jimin. Finally, Seokjin steps forward, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

Seokjin approaches Jimin with an intense gaze. “Did you get all the data?”

Jimin nods silently and hands over both the USB drive and the flash drive you gave him in your apartment. Seokjin’s eyes light up with a rare glimmer of hope as he takes the hardware and retreats to his makeshift lab.

You slump down beside Jimin, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Jungkook steps forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Whalien52, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, offering a tired smile, then lean back against Jimin. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you both allow yourselves a moment of rest. But Jimin’s mind races with concern. How quickly will the New World Order track you down? Did they follow you here?

Time becomes a blur in the dimly lit room. You drift off to sleep on Jimin’s shoulder, and his eyelids grow heavy as well. Just as he’s about to succumb to slumber, Seokjin bursts into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“I’ve sequenced a cure from the data,” he announces, his voice brimming with joy. “And treatments for various cancers too.”

The room erupts in cheers and laughter, a collective sigh of relief and celebration filling the air.

“I’m preparing the cure for Yoongi and Bora now,” Seokjin adds, his pride evident.

Jimin feels a surge of relief and accomplishment. They’ve finally done it. You’ve secured the cure for cancer. Now Yoongi and Bora can be saved. And perhaps, just perhaps, they can save the rest of civilization. But first, they have to deal with the looming threat of the New World Order.

The battle is far from over.

It’s been a few days, and the absence of the New World Order’s presence is unnerving. You expected them to chase you and Jimin out of the city, but they haven’t. This silence feels ominous, a dark cloud hanging over your newfound sanctuary.

You’ve settled into the daily routines of Whalien52, where hope and caution dance a tense waltz. Seokjin tirelessly crafts cures and treatments. Yoongi and Bora, the first recipients, show promising signs of recovery, their improvements a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The group celebrates these small victories, buzzing with a cautious optimism that almost feels too good to be true.

In these days of uneasy peace, you’ve found roles within the group. Namjoon introduced you to his intricate tech—ingenious weapons and machines designed for survival. Taehyung showed you around the small town that Whalien52 calls home. On the horizon, the Capital looms like a dark sentinel, a constant reminder of the lurking threat.

Despite the calm surface, the air is thick with anxiety. The lack of action from the New World Order feels wrong. Yoongi polishes weapons with a grim focus, and you’ve all had tense conversations about the impending attack you’re sure is coming. Jungkook echoes your concerns, insisting on readiness.

Hoseok monitors the New World Order’s communications, but all he gets is an unsettling silence. This lack of intel twists your stomach into knots. Each passing day, the tension ratchets up. The quiet eats at you, turning every creak and rustle into a potential threat.

Weeks pass, and the tension in the headquarters is palpable. You’re all on edge, constantly looking over your shoulders. Every sound is magnified, each one making you jump, hearts racing with the fear that the New World Order has finally come for you.

Everyone is exhausted, sleep deprived and on edge, each day a relentless battle against the looming threat of the New World Order. You long for an end to this tense limbo, for the chance to truly rest.

Yoongi’s condition has worsened, and Seokjin’s latest research scatters your fragile hopes. “This isn’t a cure,” he admits, deflated. “It’s just a temporary fix, a treatment.”

Yoongi coughs weakly but manages a smile, hugging his girlfriend Bora tightly. “But it helps,” he says softly. “A cure was always a dream. There’s never been a real cure for cancer, and maybe there never will be.”

Bora kisses his forehead, her eyes glistening with determination. “The treatment is helping,” she insists, caressing his cheeks. “Maybe Seokjin can alter it, make it better, stronger?” She turns to Seokjin, who nods, already lost in thought, considering how to enhance the treatment. You all want to help, driven by a fierce collective will to save Yoongi.

You walk over to Jimin, giving him a soft kiss, seeking a moment of solace. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the room. Bora screams in pain, and chaos erupts. You all drop to the floor, hearts pounding in sheer panic. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence, broken only by Bora’s agonized cries. You can’t see her or Yoongi, shielded by the couch.

Frantically, you search for Jimin, and his hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. The connection is a lifeline, a brief reassurance amidst the terror.

More gunshots pierce the air, and you hold your breath, praying Bora is alright. Your heart races, the reality sinking in: the New World Order is here, ready to kill you all.

With steely resolve, you clench your free hand, feeling the cold metal of your holstered gun against your thigh.

It’s time.

Time to make a stand.

Time to fight back.

You look at Jimin, your eyes wide with panic as your heart pounds in your ears. He army crawls to your weapon stash, grabbing an arsenal: a rifle he slides over to Yoongi, a gun for himself, and his sword, which he straps on while still lying on the floor. Jungkook, with his tattooed hand, clutches a rifle down his length of his body. You scan the room for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Bora’s screams have diminished to grunts of pain. Yoongi drags her towards Seokjin’s room, leaving a trail of blood. An eerie silence falls as you watch them. You hear Yoongi's voice from Seokjin’s room, explaining that Bora’s wound is a flesh wound, pleading for Seokjin to take care of her. Yoongi crawls back into the living room.

“Is Bora okay?” you ask, sweat beading on your hairline, your breathing quick and shallow.

“Yeah. Seokjin’s got her. Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi are in there too,” Yoongi grits his teeth, his face pale with anger.

Jungkook crawls over to join you, “I guess it’s the New World Order knocking down our doors.”

“We have to fight back. Or die trying,” Yoongi spits, his anger palpable. “I’m sick and tired of them. We need to overthrow them,” he says, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You’re all on high alert, fighting for your lives.

The door bursts open, a harsh light from outside flooding in as heavy boots stomp on the floor. You count six people by the rhythm of their steps and then a seventh, moving slowly and deliberately. Ominous, and just by the sound of the boots, you know who it is—the leader.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun. The footsteps grow louder, the moment drawing closer. You roll onto your back, raising your gun for the inevitable confrontation.

Suddenly, you’re yanked by your legs, sliding across the floor with a yell, losing your grip on Jimin’s hand. The leader looms over you, a shadow of dread, as you prepare to fight for your life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Y/N. Nice to see you,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. You don’t know his name, but you remember him all too well—the leader of the New World Order, the man who had last spoken to you in his office after Jimin’s initial attempt to steal information from your former employer.

You gulp, pointing your gun at him.

He tuts dismissively, “You know that’s useless,” and with a swift kick, he sends your gun skidding across the floor.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he hisses, his hands casually resting in his pockets while his men, guns trained on you, stand menacingly behind him.

“What you’re doing is sick,” you fume, anger bubbling within you.

Suddenly, Jimin rises, his gun aimed directly at the man before you.

Recognition flickers in the leader’s eyes, “Ah,” he chuckles darkly, “so this is the man you left me for.”

Jimin grunts, “Hands off her.”

“Protective, huh?” he laughs, a cold, mechanical sound that sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes dart between Jimin and the leader, anxiety tightening your chest. You don’t know who will be quicker on the trigger. You hold your breath, terrified for Jimin’s safety. Your heart pounds so loudly it nearly deafens you.

A gunshot echoes through the room, followed by a heavy thud. Your heart sinks as you see the leader still standing. Fear grips you, paralyzing you from turning around to check on Jimin. You feel a scream or a sob rising in your throat, maybe both.

Then, you hear the sound of someone standing up and Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension, “You are one sick bastard. Keeping vital information to yourself, letting people die of cancer and radiation.” His voice is thick with anger and disdain.

The leader turns his attention to Yoongi and chuckles again, a sound you’ve come to loathe. “Only the elite deserve to live. I don’t mind letting people die to create the perfect world.”

You scoff, the revelation of his twisted ideology making you nauseous. The horror of being part of such a sick scheme churns in your stomach.

As you try to glance over your shoulder to see Jimin, one of the leader’s men grabs you, yanking you into a sitting position. Panic surges through you, but determination hardens your resolve. It’s time to fight back, no matter the cost.

Finally, you spot Jimin lying on the floor. There’s no blood, thankfully, and his hand is giving you a thumbs up. Relief floods your body, momentarily pushing back the fear.

“You are so sick,” Yoongi spits, his voice a raw edge. “You killed so many people, for what? Utopia?”

Your old boss nods, chuckling darkly. “Too much freedom breeds murder and chaos. I needed a clean slate,” he shrugs, strolling past you towards Yoongi, who keeps his rifle trained on him. “People need order. Someone to follow. When the weak and poor have died off, I’ll guide the rest into a New World Order.”

Yoongi spits on the floor, “Over my fucking dead body.” His index finger twitches towards the trigger, his stance solid and ready.

You stop breathing.

Yoongi fires, but your old boss is faster, landing a shot in Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi hisses, dropping the rifle to the floor.

“I told you it’s useless,” your old boss sneers, chuckling. “Next time I’ll aim for the head.”

Time stretches and warps as he paces the room, taking stock of you all. You’re at a standstill, trapped in the crosshairs of his malevolent gaze. Jimin remains prone, waiting for an opportunity. Yoongi grunts in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. Jungkook lies still, eyes flicking between you and the leader.

It feels like game over.

You’re all going to die.

Your old boss paces slowly, chuckling, reveling in your predicament. “I wonder who I should kill first…” he muses, dragging out the words as he turns towards you. “Your boyfriend, maybe? How do you feel about watching him die?”

Your heart pounds wildly.

You struggle against the grip of the man holding you by your hair, pain searing through your scalp, but the thought of Jimin’s death is unbearable.

The leader strides towards Jimin, raising his gun. Your breath catches in your throat, terror gripping you as you watch. You scream with all the force in your lungs, a primal sound tearing through the air as you close your eyes, bracing for the worst.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of three gunshots fills your ears, and you scream even louder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you call out your lover’s name. More gunshots follow, and the man holding your hair lets go, dropping you to the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to blink them away, desperate to find Jimin.

But you don’t see him.

Panic surges through you. Where is he?

Your gaze shifts, and you see your old boss, his head snapped back from a point-blank shot, blood pooling beneath him. You gasp, turning your head just in time to see familiar lace-up boots moving purposefully across the room. Chaos reigns. Bora stands in the hallway, a rifle trained on the lifeless body of your boss. She was the one who shot him?

Jimin moves through the room like a lethal dancer, his katana slicing through enemies with precision. Jungkook is on his feet too, methodically picking off the men from the New World Order. Amid the chaos, you see Bora approach Yoongi, who is clutching his shoulder.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks, her voice strained but determined as she examines his injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pants, noting the bandage on her thigh, stained with blood. “You should lie down.”

“I could say the same to you,” she chuckles, raising her rifle to take aim at another man.

How many are down now? You scan the room, counting seven bodies sprawled on the floor.

“Is it over?” Seokjin calls out, peeking from his room down the hall.

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, clapping his hands together, trying to shake off the tension.

The room falls into a tense silence, the aftermath of the battle settling over you like a shroud. You push yourself up, your body aching and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Jimin meets your gaze, and you feel a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage.

For now, you’ve survived.

You rush over to Jimin, pulling him into a tight embrace, relief flooding through you. “I’m okay, babe,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. Thank God.

“We need to take the fight to their headquarters. They’ll be coming for us anyway. Better to surprise them,” Yoongi declares, his voice grim.

“Don’t you think they’d anticipate that?” Jungkook counters, eyeing Yoongi critically. “And you’re in no condition to fight, hyung.”

“The fuck I’m not. It’s just my shoulder. I’m fine,” Yoongi pants, picking up his rifle.

“Let’s go,” Bora interjects from behind Yoongi, her voice determined.

Yoongi spins around, his mouth agape. “You’re staying, babe. Your leg—”

“This is as much my fight as it is yours, and Seokjin patched me up,” she retorts, her stern look brooking no argument. Yoongi deflates, conceding to her resolve.

You all huddle together, gathering weapons for the imminent battle. Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stay back, while the rest of you head outside to your vehicles.

You and Jimin mount his bike, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora take the car. Jimin hands you a helmet, then puts on his own before revving the engine. The bike purrs to life, and with a roar, he accelerates toward the Capital, Jungkook and the others following in the car.

The journey is a blur, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets as you navigate the desolate streets. The Capital looms ahead, a monolithic reminder of the oppressive regime you’re up against. You skid to a stop in front of the New World Order headquarters, jumping off the bike with Jimin close behind. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora emerge from the car, weapons in hand, steely determination etched on their faces.

The rain-soaked mud reflects the harsh glow of neon lights, casting eerie shadows as you steel yourselves for the fight. The headquarters stands ominously before you, a fortress of tyranny that has caused so much suffering. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around your gun.

It’s time to end this.

“Follow me. The building is massive,” you say, leading the way into your old workplace. Navigating the familiar lower floors is swift; they’re almost deserted. Jimin dances with his katana, each swing mesmerizing, cutting down any opposition with ease.

Clearing the lower levels quickly, you ascend the stairs, banging open doors and moving through the less familiar upper halls. The men from the New World Order fall easily; many surrender, unwilling to defend a crumbling regime.

Finally, you reach the top floor, the office of your now-dead boss. Stepping inside, you look out through the tall windows overlooking the city.

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice echoing in the silence.

The horizon flickers with a strange yellow glow.

Jimin, his katana sheathed on his back, joins you. “Is that the sun?” he asks, his eyes following yours.

“I think it is,” Bora says, intertwining her fingers with Yoongi’s.

“Now that the New World Order is gone,” Yoongi muses, “won’t another group try to take its place?”

“Maybe,” you respond, lost in thought.

Jungkook chuckles beside you. “We’ll make sure no one does. All information will be free and accessible.”

“Aren’t we just like the New World Order then?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jungkook replies firmly. “We’ll let people live freely, with no ‘order’ imposed.”

You all hum in agreement, turning your gaze to the horizon. For the first time in a long while, the oppressive clouds of the Capital part, slowly revealing the sun. The relentless rain stops, and you feel the air shift—this is a new beginning.

→ Taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @11thenightwemet11 @haru-jiminn → Disclaimer: the photo of kitty gang Jimin is a concert photo by a fansite, and I’ve been trying to reverse google search the image to find the fansite/photographer, but without luck. I can see on the original that the fansite name is something along the lines of ‘CelestialYM9999’ but that show on results on google either. If you know the fansite, please let me know so I can credit properly (my photography brain really wants to give proper credit). → Author’s note(2): what do you think? Please let me know! A big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜 Now, I can’t wait to write something that isn’t action— back to my sappy romance writing! I think one of the mermaid fics is next on my list ✨

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nomazee · 8 months ago

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bite my tongue, chew on ice

true to your word, you take dan heng out for breakfast after he spends the night taking care of you. it would be nice if you weren't so distracted by the way he looks at you and the stirring in your stomach.

dan heng x gn reader — 1.4k — sequel to this fic, introspection, aggressive pining, sweet and sappy oh my god it's so sappy, reader is trailblazer and this is set somewhere vaguely in canon, just stupid and cute, lots of feelings and thoughts,,,

notes: i love you dan heng hsr,,, i will love you forever and ever dan heng hsr

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

You always make good on your promises. That’s the one thing you take pride in.

The morning after your drunken spree in Belobog, the memories of the night come flooding in, vivid enough to strip you of your remaining dignity (which isn’t much). You bore yourself to Dan Heng, sweaty and vomiting, and he’d seen more of you in one night than you ever planned on revealing to him.

Embarrassing, yes. But you promised to get him breakfast as payment, and you don’t take breakfast (or promises) lightly.

With minimal nagging, you manage to pry him out of his room, shutting down his remarks of it’s too early, I don’t need breakfast, are you sure you sobered up, do you need an antacid, do you even have money? in favor of linking your fingers with his and dragging him into the cool morning air of Belobog.

(His hand doesn’t pull away from yours. You could swear that he squeezes back, the jutting knuckles of his hands digging into yours as he tightens his grip when you stumble just a little bit on the pavement.)

When the both of you eventually get settled across from each other in a booth, a glass of water for each of you as you browse the menu, you notice the disgruntled expression on Dan Heng’s face. You can’t help but pry. It’s in your nature, whatever parts of it you have an inkling about, and with Dan Heng, your curiosity is always on high alert.

“What’s wrong? You look like you hate this,” you can’t help the way your anxieties seep into your words. You take a tentative sip of your water (no ice, lukewarm, gross), trying to cover up the sweatiness in your palms as you beg and pray that he won’t just stand up and leave and call this breakfast a mistake.

“No,” he says, a leading tone in his voice. His eyes trail along the unsteady movements of your hands, as your fingers go to tap against the smooth glass of your cup. “You just… beat me to it. I was supposed to check on you this morning and get you water. I didn't think you would be awake this early. I thought I had time.”

Your chest tightens and blooms and flourishes with fondness. It’s a feeling so intense that it leaves you dizzy, your gaze goes distant, your fingers stop thrumming against your cup and your other hand tightens into a fist in your lap. It’s an exercise in restraint, to stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing Dan Heng by the shoulders and shaking him around until you never have to feel this affection again. It’s addictive and beautiful and horrible.

Your lips part, wanting to say something but all of the vowels and consonants play dissonant keys on your tongue. Instead, you settle for a smile, bashful and fond, fond, fond of Dan Heng and that furrow between his brows when he thinks of what to say, the way he’s staring at your hand against your cup. You want to know what he’s thinking, to let your hand slide across the table, hold his forearm and feel the skin and the life underneath, have him do the same to you. The cancer of all worlds sits in your chest, but you hope he finds it to be kind and gentle, you hope he tames it into something good.

“Dan Heng,” you start, letting that sick sick affection seep into your voice like rainwater into the cracks of pavement, and you can’t get enough of the way his name sounds against your teeth. “You’re so stupid. And sweet,” you tell him, trying not to melt into the floor. “I didn't think you’d still try to take care of me in the morning. I assumed that watching me throw up everywhere kind of, um, turned you away.”

“You didn't throw up everywhere,” he corrects, because he’s stubborn and always tries to debate you on stupid things, “And it wasn’t that bad. It didn't bother me. It was just you. It… came naturally.”

And he can’t bear to look at you. He rips his eyes away from yours and you can see the way his face warms up, visibly red and blotchy on his cheeks and neck. Naturally. It comes naturally to him. The care, the hotel mouthwash, checking on you and making sure you laid on your side. He says it came naturally.

You feel sick, and in love, and isn’t that all just the same? The smile doesn’t leave your face, and your cheeks hurt and you fight off the urge to hide your face in your hands and run away like a baby. You’ll face your fears, damnit, even if your fears are just the beautiful man in front of you and the feelings blooming on the right side of your chest, just above your heart.

“This is me taking care of you, then,” you tell him, trying to get across some semblance of warmth in your tone, trying to get him to understand that none of this is a joke to you, it never has been. You feel choked up, words strumming against your vocal chords. Too many to use, never enough time to say anything. A glance to the side confirms that no waiters are coming to take your order, but the laminated menu in your hands became obsolete the moment you sat down and looked Dan Heng right in his pretty eyes.

“You never eat breakfast,” you continue, “I don’t think I’ve really seen you relax. You should try knitting.”

His expression only turns more bashful, if possible. His mouth twists into something displeased, but lightheartedly so. “I tried knitting.”

“No way.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, the warmth in his face only building as he struggles to meet your eyes. “It was just for a bit, and I was never good at it. After March joined, she kept making me try the same things as her. Knitting, cooking, sewing… she said that she thought it would help me figure myself out.”

“Oh my god, Dan Heng. She was so right.”

Dan Heng makes a discontent noise, something like a mindless murmur of annoyed words, but by the way his lips twitch, you can tell he’s a little bit amused. And so are you, because the image of Dan Heng sitting next to March 7th with a tangle of yarn in his lap is a little too hysterical.

He has this stupid smile on his face now, and you could almost call it lovesick, the way he keeps looking back at you with his hand still covering half his mouth, like he’s ashamed of the way he’s softening. You like him soft, you like him malleable, warm like this with the window next to you streaming pale yellow light onto the table and the crown of his head. A sick, sick, in-love part of you wants to squish him in your hands like a slime ball and toss him around the room and play catch with yourself. You mean this with love, of course.

“Dan Heng,” his name, again, falls off your tongue, “I’m not actually that hungry. Can we go back to the parlor car? And I’ll— I can cook you something. Whatever you want.”

He pauses, and you can see him flitting through potential responses. You’re half-expecting him to make some sarcastic quip, like You shouldn’t be anywhere near a kitchen or Any food that comes from your hands will probably be inedible or You have many skills, and cooking is not one of them. Instead, he looks at you, a contemplative look in his eyes. He’s thinking, and that’s always a dangerous thing.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, finally looking at you, finally holding your gaze with the same warmth spreading through your palms. You want— you need— you’re craving nothing more than your hands on his and his mouth against yours. He’d be an awful kisser, you’re sure, awkward and clumsy, but you’d be just the same.

“Can I—” you start, cutting yourself off but letting your awful lack of self-control take over. “Can I kiss you? Do you want that?”

And he’s too lovely, too stupid and funny and his face hasn’t cooled down for a moment and the sides of his neck are still flushed red. “Not here,” he tells you earnestly, and you see his hand twitch just a little bit against his face. “Once we get back, you— you can do that.”

It’s a promise, and Dan Heng is starting to get good at those.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fanfic #dan heng fluff #dan heng hsr x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #dan heng fic #hsr fic #honkai star rail fic #im missing tags let me think (im the biggest tag spammer on earth)#dan heng #honkai star rail #trust that my 1k follower roman colosseum amphitheatre battle will be happening soon

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thisisnotthenerd · 3 months ago

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with misfits & magic season ii coming out on 9/25, it's time for a spreadsheet update!

links to the relevant sheets:

thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats: the og spreadsheet. where this all started.

d20 episode randomizer: watch orders! go here to see all of the episodes listed in various ways, and to pick a random episode!

d20 seating chart stats: the table and how it plays out every season. check the compiled chart for basics on each character

anyways, on to the stats!

general stats:

total episode count: 251, spread over 22 seasons.

there have been 8 main cast / intrepid heroes seasons, that make up 147 of the 251 episodes, or 58.5% of the total count. if we include oneshots in this count, the count goes up to 151 of 251, for 60.1%.

total runtime: 541:54:53. that's 3 weeks, 1 day, 13 hours, 54 minutes and 53 seconds of dimension 20.

average runtime: 2:09:32. the median is 2:08:32, which i thought was funny. the episode that's closest to the average, with 2:09:33, is 'the house always wins' from a starstruck odyssey.

some more recent updates: never stop blowing up has the third-shortest average (1:49:18), following fantasy high (1:39:43) and coffin run (1:43:16).

nsbu is the shortest of the 10-episode seasons, with a total runtime of 18:12:59. compare that to the longest 10-episode season, the seven, with a runtime of 23:55:12.

for mismag, this is our first sidequest sequel season. aabria is the first guest dm to get a sequel season of her own (matt is a little diff by virtue of brennan running acoc). it's the first KOB sequel season as well--that speaks well for d20 expanding their game systems.

mechanically, they're now using a version of nsbu called never stop making magic, so i'll be tracking stat explosions this season as well. i do think d20 is leaning towards expanding the systems they use, so we'll see how they continue to expand going forward.

it's also the first odd-numbered sidequest season, with 11 episodes. by december 5, we'll have had 16 episodes in the world of mismag, which is just under a main cast season.

player stats:

aabria's back in the dome for her 7th season, and 4th as the game master! with an 11 ep season she's up to 59 episodes, and remains the most common guest on d20. at this point she's the second in-house dm. she has the Q4 10-ep season on lock. the first sidequest sequel season is hers.

brennan is up to 21 seasons and 257 episodes (including time quangle and mismag ii). he now has 2 seasons on the right, evening his split out a little bit (3:2)

lou has dethroned ally and taken the top player spot, with 12 season and 187 episodes. he has a new fave seat, with 4 seasons in L1 as well as R3.

erika isn't far behind aabria, with 47 episodes and 6 seasons. they're split between L3 and R2 (2 each)

danielle's joining the ranks of what i consider the recurring guest cast, with 3 seasons and 22 episodes under her belt. she's behind rekha and izzy (tied with 36), erika, and aabria.

production notes:

in terms of production, the release of the time quangle episodes puts us at 45-46 episodes for 2024, depending on when the december releases start. this also sets us at a total of 268 episodes by the end of 2024.

if we include all of the adventuring parties, adventuring academies and various other d20 auxiliary content, 2024 might take the cake for the most total episodes, dethroning 2021.

i'm guessing that this was the first season filmed after brennan's parental leave, so they're probably still 6 months to a year ahead of the releases

production calendar is looking like main cast season in Q1-Q2, varying number of sidequests/oneshots through Q2 and Q3, with aabria/another guest dm in Q3-Q4. depending on when aabria's season starts, they may start the intrepid heroes' season in Q4 going into the following year. general disclaimer that this is just a guess.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 statistics #dimension 20 meta #thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats #never stop blowing up #d20 episode generator #misfits and magic #magical misfits #aabria iyengar #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #erika ishii #danielle radford #mismag #mismag ii #misfits and magic season 2

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miyacults · 10 months ago

Note

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

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missmaniac25 · 5 months ago

Text

Ateez Scenarios - Realising you're in love with your best friend Part 2 (the confession)

Behold! The sequel that nobody asked for but I had to write anyways!

Each member’s part is between 600 - 700 words This does link to part 1 but I’m sure you could read this as a stand alone if your heart so chooses I don't think there's any warnings but let me know if I missed anything

Hongjoong:

Another night, another successful snack run. You and Hongjoong tumble back into his studio as the clock reaches two in the morning. Like normal, you’re both a little giggly and a little bit chaotic as you flop onto the couch whilst Hongjoong takes his chair.

“Throw me a chocolate milk, please,” you ask before Hongjoong dives, almost literally, into the packet before tossing one your way.

However, you were not ready for it when he tosses it your way and it lands on your head with a thunk before falling off of you and onto the floor.

“Ow.” Is all you manage to get out before your best friend is kneeling in front of you, still giggling, but clearly concerned.

“Are you ok? I really didn’t mean to throw it so hard.”

It must be the lack of sleep that makes you decide to play it up.

“Oh, the pain!” You pretend to be wounded. “Oh, the betrayal! How could you do this to me?”

Dramatically you place the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress and it causes your best friend to laugh even more.

“Oh no!” He mimics your tone. “I’ve fatally injured the most important person in my life! How will I ever earn their trust again!”

You go still at his words. Does he even know what he just said? Does he know how much it tugs at your heart strings when he says things like that?

“I’m the most important person in your life?” You dare to query, knowing that he might retract his words now that he was being confronted with them.

A faint blush appears over his nose and along his cheeks. At first you think you’re imagining it.

“Um, yeah.” It’s as though he’s suddenly become sober, the giggle disappearing from his voice. “You are. I thought you knew that.”

The two of you watch each other in silence for a short while.

“Does your head actually hurt?” He finally asks, bringing you back to reality.

“I mean a little.” You playfully lift your eyes as if you’ll be able to see anything and you succeed in making Hongjoong giggle again. “Do I have a boo-boo?”

He swats your hand away and takes a closer look.

“There’s a bit of a red mark, oh my soul, I’m so sorry!”

You muse that it’s really ok, you should have been paying more attention aways.

“Wait, I know how to make it feel better,” Hongjoong tells you, shuffling closer.

You’re about to ask what he means when he gently places a kiss on your head, assumedly where the chocolate milk had hit you. It lasts only a second but it feels as though every moment you’d ever shared with your best friend is captured in that second, in that action.

“Do you feel better?” He asks as he moves away.

You shake your head.

“Do you need another one?”

You nod.

There’s a smile on his face as Hongjoong kisses your head again, a little longer this time and your eyes flutter closed. You almost tell him not to stop when he pulls away.

“And now?” Hongjoong is still smiling, almost as if he knows where this is leading.

“Still not better,” you say, opening your eyes. “But I think I know what will help me.”

There’s no pull back from Hongjoong as you gently guide him down. There’s still a gap between the two of you. But after a breath, you feel his lips against yours and the rest of the world is forgotten.

You don’t know how long the kiss lasts for. All you know is that you’d give anything to have him kiss you like that from now until forever.

Little do you know, Hongjoong feels exactly the same way.

Seonghwa:

“Ok, ok, enough!” You plead with the people around you. “Damn, I’m crying I’m laughing so much!”

An evening out with your friends had been exactly what you’d needed to relieve yourself of the stress you’d been feeling. The banter dies down for only a short time before someone else strikes up a new conversation and the commotion begins again.

Next to you, your best friend sits uncharacteristically quietly. He’s barely spoken the whole evening, opting rather to sip continually from his glass. You don’t think you’ve even seen him smile.

After wiping away your tears, you affectionately nudge your shoulder against his. Seonghwa peers over at you and his expression softens ever so slightly.

“Hey, everything alright?” You ask, trying to be as subtle as you can be.

“Hmm,” he hums and you know he’s lying to you.

You nudge him a second time and this time he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, what’s up? I want to help you feel better.”

Seonghwa gazes around the table, almost willing all of the other people to go away. His look isn’t lost on you.

As discretely as you can manage, you take your best friend’s hand and stand up, pulling him away from all the noise and outside of the restaurant. Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate to go with you, trusting you completely.

“Alright.” You place yourself in front of him. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“Hwa…”

He sighs, his eyes darting to look at anything but you.

“It’s just…” He pauses and then finally gets the courage to look at you. “I didn’t intend for everyone else to join us tonight. I actually wanted it to just be you and me.”

To say you’re confused is an understatement.

“But I thought that you invited them?”

Seonghwa rubs his hands overs his face with a groan.

“They invited themselves. I mentioned to them that I thought about going out this evening with you and suddenly everyone was tagging along. I didn’t know how to say no to them or to ask you out alone.”

You try to find a middle ground; a positive for him to focus on.

“Is it really so bad to be with them though? We haven’t seen them in a while and you and I hang out together a lot just us.”

“But I…”

He stops himself short. There’s an emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite place. Is it desperation? Is it longing?

Gingerly, he holds one hand out to you. You take it without thinking twice – you’d trust him with your life.

“I like spending time with just you,” Seonghwa admits. “I like when it’s only you and me laughing until it hurts. I want to be the one making you laugh like that, not someone else.”

The world stops spinning. The only thing you can focus on is Seonghwa – the beautiful features of his face, the feel of his fingers brushing yours.

“I was going to tell you something else tonight but I wanted it to only be us,” he continues. “I wanted it to be… romantic.”

You react before you can think.

“Should we leave then?”

You’ve clearly taken Seonghwa by surprise but you’ve also done the same to yourself.

“I mean, if you still want to… spend time with… just me.”

Your confidence quickly dwindles with every word you say and you wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“Yes.” Seonghwa finally smiles for the first time that evening and it makes you smile too. “I’d love that.”

You both waste no time going back inside, gathering your goods and quickly paying for your part of the meal.

You don’t know where Seonghwa is planning on taking you or what’s about to happen. All you know is that you can’t wait to spend time with him and only him.

Yunho:

‘Damn it why didn’t I wear something warmer?’

You internally curse your circumstances as you stand outside with the rest of your friends. The little fire that they’d made to roast marshmallows was not big enough to give you any kind of substantial heat. To be fair to yourself, it’d been sunny when you’d left your home that afternoon, but as the night had closed in, the temperature had taken a dip.

“You ok?”

You turn to find Yeosang. He glances at how you’re rubbing your hands over your bare arms over and over.

“I mean I’m a little cold,” you confess but try not to cause a fuss. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He tuts quietly before shrugging his jacket off and holding it out to you. Adamantly, you try to refuse him but he’s insistent and eventually you end up with the garment hanging over your shoulders. And you have to admit, you feel much better already.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Yeosang smiles before turning back to the conversation happening around you.

It’s only a little while later when you feel someone poke you in the ribs. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“What was that for?”

Yunho appears next to you, a whisper of a laugh on his lips. The flames of the fire reflect in his eyes and you catch yourself before he notices you staring.

“Just wanted to get your attention.”

Ever since a few weeks ago, you’ve had to be mindful of how you act and talk around your best friend – any small slip up could reveal your new feelings for him. But when says things that like, it makes it so much harder.

Luckily, he doesn’t give you too much time to dwell on that as he notices your attire.

“Is this your jacket?” He asks you, brows furrowed. “I don’t recognise it.”

“Oh, it’s not mine. It’s Yeosang’s.” You tell him honestly, thinking nothing of it. “I was cold and he gave it to me.”

You miss the way Yunho’s jaw goes stiff; the burning in his eyes, not from the fire in front of you.

“Why didn’t you ask me for my hoodie?”

You almost laugh until you finally register his expression and how tense he is next to you. As you’re about to tell him that he just wasn’t around, he grabs your hand and leads you away from the group. When it’s just the two of you, Yunho quickly removes his own hoodie, telling you to put it on instead.

“Yunho, what are you doing?” It’s your turn to be confused. This is weird and you don’t know what to make of it.

“I don’t want you wearing anyone else’s clothes. Please just wear my hoodie.”

“I still don’t understand what…”

“I’m in love with you!”

The confession hangs in the air. It’s a glass bubble that if it’s not caught, it’ll shatter. You want to tell someone to pinch you just to make sure that this isn’t a dream.

“I’m in love with you.” Yunho’s hand clamps his hoodie tightly. “And seeing you wear someone else’s clothes is making me go insane, ok?”

It’s incredible how hastily you pull Yeosang’s jacket off of your shoulders and reach out for Yunho. He beats you too it though and gently pulls the hoodie over your head, just like he did the day you realised you liked him more than a friend. You let him help you put it on properly and he takes his time pulling it down over your torso.

“I suppose I should go give this back to Yeosang.” You say, fiddling with the jacket you now hold.

Yunho smiles mischievously and tugs at his hoodie on you, gently forcing you closer to him.

“Or we could make him wait a little longer.”

You feel his hands on your sides and you finally get the confidence to look him in the eye. There’s that feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you agree, finally giving in to everything you’ve wanted to do for so long now. “He can wait. I’ve waited long enough for you.”

Yeosang:

Your anxiety was almost palpable as you knocked on the door to Yeosang’s apartment. There was already music playing just loud enough to be heard outside and you could hear the voices of some of your friends. Normally, you wouldn’t be so nervous about going to your best friend’s birthday party. Hell, under normal circumstances you would’ve been the first one there. But there were two things that had held you back.

The gift. You’d taken a gamble getting this but you’d banked on the fact that he would get the inside joke.

Your feelings for Yeosang. They’d morphed into ‘more than friends’ and you were certain that he could tell and that the vibes were off between you now.

Jongho was the one to finally open the door and let you inside, calling into the apartment so that everyone knew you were here. No room to hide now.

Throughout most of the evening, you’d managed to avoid Yeosang until it came time to open the presents, and you found yourself seated next to him on the couch.

‘He’s so beautiful,’ you mused to yourself before shaking yourself back to reality.

The tension in your body only grew as Yeosang opened every gift until only yours remained.

“Hmm, I wonder what this is?” Yeosang said carefully pulling the paper away from the small box.

You held your breath.

It was a candle. A custom scented candle that you’d had made using a combination of his favourite smells. Something sweet, fresh and a little bit earthy.

Yeosang was quick to pull the candle out and sniff it, a smile on his face.

“I love you.” He looked over. “Thank you.”

No one else seemed to have heard it and at first you weren’t sure you had either. The way Yeosang casually went back to telling everyone about the joke of the candles, you debated whether he had realised what he’d said at all.

The party goes by in a blur after that and when you come to your senses again, you realise that everyone has now left expect for you and the two roommates. Yunho and Yeosang look around their apartment and you quickly jump up to help them start the cleaning up process. They try to dissuade you but you’d do anything to stop from thinking about what happened earlier. With your help, the job is finished in no time at all and Yunho declares that he’s going to bed, leaving you and Yeosang alone.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he tells you.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Right now or…”

For a moment you contemplate abandoning this conversation and just going home never knowing. But you can’t.

“When you opened my gift, you said that you love me.”

Yeosang opens and closes his mouth, forehead creased as he thinks back.

“But I do love you,” he says, again far too casually for your liking. “You’re my best…”

“But do you just love me as a best friend or do you love me love me?”

You didn’t mean to cut him off. You draw back with a soft apology.

“Look, I’ve been a little in my own head about us, our relationship,” you confess. “I just need to know how you feel about me.”

The two of you stare at each other. There’s muffled noise from up the passage but neither of you register it until Yunho’s head pops into the doorway.

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” he says, causing you and Yeosang to whip your gazes to him. “I just thought I’d let you know that he does feel the same way, he’s just really bad at expressing it.”

With a curt nod, Yunho disappears again, leaving you to deal with that bomb shell.

When you look back at Yeosang, you can see red creeping up his neck and ears.

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he says in a whisper before raising his voice again. “But I do love you. I love you love you.”

You’re quick to wrap your arms around him and breath him in. He smells like clean linen.

“Good. Cause I think I love you love you too.”

San:

It’s Friday evening and it is finally time to open another letter. This had become your routine ever since San had gifted you the shoebox filled with white envelopes just over half a year ago. It lived on your coffee table in your lounge which is where you now found yourself after a long week, ready to be comforted by the words of your best friend. Although he wasn’t away at the moment but he was still busy – this would have to do.

‘Week 23’

Hastily you open the envelope and pull out the letter.

‘To my best friend

I can’t believe this is already the 23rd letter I’ve written. Kind of wild. It’s also very late right now so I apologise for the choice I’m about to make. I probably won’t remember that I wrote this tomorrow when I wake up but I feel like I have to tell you. We’ve known each other for a long time now, you’re my best friend. I’d even say you’re closer than a best friend. You’ve seen parts of me that no one else ever has and I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the secrets I’ve told you. So, I’m trusting you with one more.

I don’t want to just be your best friend. I want us to be more. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now but for the sake of our friendship, I’ve kept them to myself. But I can’t do it any longer. If you don’t feel the same way, you can throw this letter away and never mention it again. But if by some small miracle you do, come find me. I’ll be waiting for you.

All my love

San.’

The thumping of your heart in your chest is the only thing keeping you from thinking that this is a dream. The implications of his words swim around your head. He gave you this almost six months ago. He wrote the letters before then. How long has San felt about you the way you feel about him?

You almost fall over yourself as you get up and gather your belongings. You can’t wait a second longer. You’re going to find him.

You knock rapidly on the door to the apartment. Theres a sense of urgency that drives you forward buzzing through your body; what if he’s changed his mind since then?

It’s Mingi who opens the door.

“Hey, what are you…?

“Is he here?” You don’t even let him finish.

“We just got home, what do you… ok never mind.”

Mingi lets you shove him aside and move into their home. With determination you make your way to San’s room, knocking again and letting yourself in when no one objects. Time stands still when you see him. San smiles at you, saying something about how he’d hug you but he’s been working out and he doesn’t want to gross you out.

“Do you still…” You stop yourself short, looking down at the letter. “You said…”

There’s a confused look on your best friend’s face when you look at him again so you hold the paper out to him. San takes it from you and realisation washes over him as he reads it.

“Do you still feel that way?” You finally manage to ask, dreading what his answer could be. All of this could end up being a huge mistake.

His eyes meet yours, expression sombre.

“You didn’t throw it away.” He states calmly.

“No.” You shake your head a little. “I came to find you.”

Slowly, a smile breaks out onto San’s face and you find yourself wrapped in his arms. Finally, the sense of urgency that had been driving you till now dissipates.

It’s an unspoken agreement that things are different now but you don’t care. Best friends, more than best friends. As long as you’re close to San, that’s all that matters.

Mingi:

To be honest, it’s been a little weird between the two of you since that night. Normally, Mingi would message you every day, even if it was something stupid like a meme or a joke. The past few days there’s been nothing but radio silence from him. At first you tried to contact him but when you got no reply, you lost a bit of hope and decided that it wasn’t worth hurting yourself even more.

The thought of reaching out to one of your mutual friends had come to mind; even that seemed like crossing a line now.

It’s been almost a week since you’d last spoken to Mingi. The entire world feels out of order as you try to busy yourself with anything other than the thought of him, the thought of losing him. Despite the fact that it’s getting late into the night, your apartment feels like a cage so you pull your shoes on and head out. There’s no destination in mind. You just know that you have to move.

You’re stopped dead in your tracks though when you get to the street only to find a familiar car parked out front and your best friend sitting in the driver’s seat. Mingi runs his hands through his hair and you reason to guess that he’s been doing that for a while, judging by the way it stands up in various directions.

A little voice in the back of your head tells you to run back inside and avoid him forever. A debate begins inside of yourself but before you can make a decision, Mingi’s noticed you standing and staring intently at him. You meet each other’s eye. He reaches over and opens the passenger side door without a word and you need no further invitation to climb in.

For a short while, he just drives. It seems that without having to tell him, he’s understood what you had wanted to do before you’d run into him.

“I’m sorry.” You break the silence. Truthfully, you don’t know exactly what you’re apologising for but it feels like the right thing to say.

“No, I’m sorry.” Mingi says. “I’ve been a jackass.”

“Yeah, you kind of have.” There’s a bubbling of anger inside of you. “You just… disappeared on me, Mingi!”

Timidly, he looks over at you. It’s clear he’s trying to figure out how to explain himself but the words just aren’t coming out. The car rolls to a stop as he pulls off the road and switches off the engine.

“Look.” You shift in your seat so that you can face him before you continue. “If what I said made you feel uncomfortable then I’m sorry. We can just pretend that it never happened and go back to… before that happened.”

On top of the anger, desperation is starting to build. You can’t lose Mingi over this; not over your mistake.

“I can’t forget about it,” Mingi all but whispers. “How do you forget the person you have a crush on saying that you’re perfect?”

It takes a second for it register in your mind.

“You’ve been avoiding me because you like me?”

Mingi seems almost ashamed as he looks down, hands twisting over the steering wheel as he grips it.

“I panicked.” He confesses. “I didn’t think that you meant it like… that. I still don’t think it.”

If you hadn’t been hindered by the space of the car, you’d have thrown your arms around him and held onto him tightly. Instead, you reach for the hand that’s closest to you, pulling it off of the steering wheel and into your lap. The action is enough to get his eyes to lift and look at you.

“Mingi. I did mean it like that. I thought you were avoiding me because you didn’t like me back.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, now clasping your hands in his.

“You don’t have to apologise.” In a moment of bravery, you raise his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Wooyoung:

You wait impatiently on the pavement. He was meant to be here eight minutes ago, not that you’re keeping track of the time or anything, but with no word from him you’re tempted to just abandon the ride and go back into your building and get lost in a series. But as you peer down at your phone for the hundredth time, the roar of an engine catches your ear.

You’d know the sound of Wooyoung’s motorbike even in your sleep.

He screeches to a halt in front of you, the kickstand hitting the ground without even turning the engine off and he takes your helmet off of his arm and practically shoves it onto your head. He then hastily ushers you onto the seat behind him before taking off again once your arms are loosely around his waist. Honestly, you don’t know what the big rush is for. There’s nowhere you two need to be; this was just meant to be a casual afternoon ride to unwind after one hell of a week.

Tap tap.

Your grip on Wooyoung’s body tightens just before he accelerates. If you could get away with doing this with him any other time you definitely would. Despite how affectionate your best friend was, you never pushed yourself onto him, so these stolen moments while he rode you to who knows where were everything.

It’s five minutes later when Wooyoung pulls up next to an open park.

“Come on, we have to go!” He all but shoves you off of his bike, grabbing your hand after you’ve taken your helmets off and pulling you forward.

“Wooyoung, what is the rush?” You say exasperated but you let him haul you along.

The other people around you are a blur as he forges on, leading you down path after path.

“I don’t want us to miss the sunset!”

You want to shout at him. All this hullabaloo for a sunset!?

Once he’s dragged you to the top of a small hill and parked you on a bench do you let loose.

“Wooyoung! You infuriate me!”

At first, he looks a little sheepish but it turns into a naughty smile after only a second.

“Maybe but you still love me.”

His words shut you up immediately.

Wooyoung places himself next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder. You shuffle a little closer to him but not enough to make any difference.

“Are you going to tell me what’s so important about the sunset now or should I just guess?” You query.

“Just cause…” He trials off but you feel him tap your shoulder twice.

“Why do you do that?” You gaze up at him. “Tap me even when we’re not riding.”

It’s Wooyoung’s turn to shuffle in his seat, unintentionally edging himself closer to you.

“It’s how I let you know that I love you.”

Once again, you’re left stunned at how casually he says those words.

“Do you mean it?” You dare to ask, your gaze focused on him and only him.

The sun in front of you continues its slow descent.

“Always.” Wooyoung looks at you, his eyes glancing down at your lips ever so quickly.

Despite what he says, there’s still a part of you that thinks he doesn’t mean it. He’s only saying it because he’s your friend and there’s nothing more to read into.

You feel something on your shoulder.

Tap tap.

‘Love you.’

Your breath catches in your throat as you think back on all the times your best friend has done that simple action. All the times he’s confessed and you just didn’t know.

“I love you too,” you tell him.

Wooyoung smiles, pulling you closer to him and finally pressing his lips to yours. Even while you kiss, there it is again.

Tap tap.

You’ll never think of it the same way again.

Jongho:

“Did you switch off all the lights in the lounge?” You ask as you put away your clothes.

Jongho appears from the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth still, mumbling words you don’t understand.

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

Jongho, holds up one finger telling you to wait before he disappears again.

As far as sleepovers with your best friend went, this was not out of the ordinary. A little bit of chaos, a little bit of humour. A whole lot of unresolved feelings from your side.

You’d accepted your fate of only being Jongho’s friend and nothing more, and opted to never let him know how you really feel about him.

Jongho returns again to tell you that he did switch off all the lights, he’s not an idiot.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you laugh before a pillow is abruptly thrown your way.

It’s harmless fun but damn it does it break your heart to imagine him doing this with anyone else.

You return the pillow to where it belongs on the bed, slip under the covers and snuggle in for the night, ignoring those feelings welling inside of your chest.

“Do we have plans for the morning?” Jongho asks as he too climbs into the bed.

“Nope. Not unless you want to do something.”

“The only thing I want to do is sleep in.”

You hum in agreement already looking forward to it.

The room goes dark and you feel Jongho settle down next to you; you facing him, his back to you. The proximity is something you’ve been acutely aware of since that cold, rainy morning. It hadn’t happened again that he’d pulled you that close to him and you weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Jongho says, turning over to face you even though he can’t see you.

“I’m not thinking loudly.” Your attempt to deflect doesn’t work on your best friend.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

A part truth is better than nothing, you decide.

“There’s this boy that I like. But I don’t think he wants to be anything more than friends. And everything we do together, I overthink it wondering if he’d rather be doing it with someone else.”

You wonder if you’ve said too much – if you’ve given the game away. Then you feel an arm over your torso and Jongho pulls you closer to him, holding you against him. You don’t dare to breath.

“Whoever he is, he’s an idiot if he doesn’t want to be with you,” he says. “I’d always pick you.”

You’re dead certain that he can feel how fast your heart is beating. A thousand thoughts begin to fly through your head all at once.

How can he just say something like that? Does he know that it’s him? Will I ever be able to get over him now?

“You’re thinking too loudly again.” He sighs as he soothingly rubs his hand over your back. “Talk to me.”

“Do you promise not to get mad?”

“Why would I get mad?”

“Because you might not want to be my friend anymore if I tell you.”

His movements cease for just a moment and then he promises.

With a deep inhale, you tell him the truth.

“It’s you.”

You wait for him to turn you down. To get up and leave. For the end to begin.

“Thank goodness,” Jongho utters quietly and at first, you’re not sure that you heard him properly. “I was about to get mad that it was someone else.”

“You… you like me?” You ask, still wondering if that is what he really meant with everything he was saying.

His body vibrates as he laughs quietly.

“Do I need to make it clearer? I’m infatuated with you.” Jongho places a kiss to the top of your head. “I meant it when I said that I’d always pick you.”

He snuggles you as close as he can and you finally let your mind go quiet.

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ok enough tags it’ll get to who it needs to #and i hate cross tagging so #miss maniac’s writing #all the pirates

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smilesatdawnmain · 6 months ago

Text

Ultimate Au Guide (LMK)

All my Lego Monkey Kid Au’s in one big post. ( i don't wanna talk about how long this took me. don't ask me. I'll cry...)

Warning: this thing is huge

This consists of current Au’s, future Au’s, Au’s of Au’s, and anything in between!

Current Au’s;

Taken

Summary: Wukong and Macaque unknowingly have twins. Before they can realize this miracle, one (MK) is Taken away to the human realm by Nezha. All to prevent the Jade Emperor from killing this child and starting another war.

This story focuses on Qi Xiaotian, the Monkey Prince, and young “human” orphan MK as the two try to reunite while also avoiding every third party force trying to use the two for their own personal gain.

Fanfic: Yes here is the link

Ships:

Red x Xiaoxiao (Xiaotian the twin, not MK) but… you know, there might be some MKxRedSon. (It’ll be dramatic, trust me)

Shadowpeach

FreeNoodles (Tang X Pigsy)

AzureLion x Ao Lie

My art:

First (From old account. It's crazy how much of a change my art and character design has come from this first post)

Older designs I really did love Xiaoxiao's outfit here though. I should bring it back. Maybe as his "he's discovered himself" outfit XD

This should lead to all art

Fanart:

forever-in-dreamland

shiomik

pumpk1nappl3p1

litt1e-prince

litt1e-prince (Xiaoxiao's room!)

sketchskelonkey

cinnamelrollin

jeez-a

clementine-shine

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6 or 7 /10

------

The Day the World Eclipsed

Summary: After losing his Mate and child 500 years ago, a miracle occurs when Sun Wukong is gifted with the return of his child, Qi Xiaotian. His little Star, his everything, Wukong dedicates himself to being a better Father and man. This is all tested when he is reunited with the reincarnations of his companions to the West and his long-lost Mate returned from the grave. Custody battles and shared parenting can be such a messy thing~

Fanfic: Yes, here is the Link

Ships:

-Shadow Peach (past mention, and then very slow burn forgiveness)

Spicy Noodles (possibly future, still under debate)

My Art:

First Piece (Still on my old account)

If I had to pick a cover for this au, it would be this (also on old account)

Older MK sneak peak

This will lead to all other art

Fan Art

lagt-duck

dumbbitch2-0

a-small-tired-lonely-potato

crypticpaw

litt1e-prince

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4 or 5 /10

----

The First Gift

(One shot) (This does have a sequel underway)

Summary: A peek into Sun Wukong and Macaque's life before they join the Brotherhood to take down the Jade Emperor. Wukong's got a big plan under his sleeve, and Macaque has no idea. With the help of the Brotherhood, Wukong is positive his plan to ask Macaque to marry him will be flawless. (Spoiler; it isn't)

Fanfic: Yes, here it is!

Ships:

Shadowpeach

My Art: Amazingly I've never drawn anything for this one

Fan Art: None

Status: Completed

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0/10 (it's super Fluff)

-----

Tragedy of Six

Summary: The world was never the same when The Lady Bone Demon attacked. By her hands, many were injured, and many more were killed. The Brotherhood could not escape this touch, losing their children to her conflict. Yet unknowingly, these same children survived. They are being raised by The Lotus Prince Nezha, who is being forced to train and prepare these children to be soldiers for the Lady Bone Demon. (And inspired Fic on both Taken and "Blood and Bones" by EmerialynCodeVenice)

Fanfic: Yes, here is the link

Ships:

Shadowpeaxh

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Sandy X The Huntsman Spider

Any future ships with the 6 kids are up for debate and what the audience likes best

My Art:

Link This should lead to all art

Fan art:

violetjedisylveon

Status: Uncompleted

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 9/10

--------

Fix and Mend

Summary: Macaque is trying to find his way in the world and his current place in life. Getting himself a part-time job at Pigsy's Noodles he discovered two very interesting facts. 1, Wukong clearly has the hots for him, and 2, MK is secretly dating Red Son. Now he just needs to figure out what to do with these two tidbits.

Fanfic: Yes, here is the link~

Ships:

SpicyNoodles

ShadowPeach

My Art:

I amazingly only drew one thing for this one so far

Other Art:

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 1/10

----

Choose Your Own Adventure

Summary: This is a Tumblr-focused Choose Your Own Adventure. Completely decided by the votes of the audience. The first two are basically a test to see how well I can do something like this.

Fanfic: No, but it is here on Tumblr

-First Adventure (Completed)

Second Adventure (In Progress)

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

----

Future Au’s:

Fading Moon

Summary: MK believes he is a normal human boy, with a normal human Dad, and normal not ancient Uncles. That is until he meets Red Son, the Demon Bull Prince, and the truth of his heritage starts to unfold. As well as discovering the unfortunate fate of his Baba, a person MK had never had the chance to meet until he was 19.

Fanfic: Not yet? A have a lot written for this though

Ships:

Traffic Light Trio~ (Red Son X Mei X MK)

Sandy X The Huntsman Spider

ShadowPeach (Past mention)

Macaque X Erlang (Not sure what this ship is called. Present mention.. and.. toxic version of it. This story is a whirlwind people)

Free Noodles~ (Slow burn~)

My Art:

I do have a master post just for this au since I plan it to be more tumblr focused for now Link

Fan Art: None currently

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6/10

--------

The Second Gift

(Squeal to The First Gift)

Summary: Being together with Wukong could bring Macaque no greater joy. No means or way could make his life better than where it was. After a strange occurrence with his magic, Macaque realizes happiness can always grow.

Fanfic: Not yet but it is slowly getting there~

Ships:

Shadow Peach

Gajasimha shipping (Azure X Yellow Tusk)

My Art: None yet

Fan Art: Nada~

Status: Still in progress

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0/10 FLUFF BABY~

-------

Missing the Then and Now

Summary: Macaque wakes up with no memories of where he is, or WHO he is. The explanation for this is a large and very deep injury that wraps around his entire skull. Almost like something squeezed until he popped. Now, however, he finds himself on a ship with some Monkey Kid, his family and friends, and a sun-kissed Monkey King who won't stop looking at him. And what is worse, none of them want to explain how he got this way.

Fanfic: Nothing yet. But man the word doc is getting pretty hefty

Ships:

Shadow Peach (Past mention)

Shadow Peach (Slow burn/One-sided for a time?)

Macaque X The Mayor (past Mention) (this one is really wild guys.)

My Art: None so far

Fan Art: None so far

Status: It's on it's way

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6/10

--------

Eternal

Summary: When Macaque was killed, he expected his soul to be taken to the Diyu. Instead, he finds himself stuck to Wukong- the very man who ended his life. When Soul collectors come to see what the hold up is, they inform him that as the two had been tethered in life, so too are they in death. Macaque will only ever be free when Wukong has found peace and moves on. This goes on for a long time, yet when Macaque feels the tether start to loosen, he panics and realizes- he doesn't want Wukong to let him go.

Fanfic: I have too many Word docs and this is one of them~

Ships: ShadowPeach

My Art: None yet

Fan Art: None Yet

Status: Stuck in the world doc abyss

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 7/10

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Torn Between A Star

(A sort of alternate direction for "The Day The World Eclipsed)

Summary: Macaque survives the fight against Wukong, forced to return home. Terribly weakened and knowing he could not defend the egg that housed Wukong and his child, he flees to his Sister- Princess Iron Fan. Together they live there until the child is born. 5 years later, Wukong's Journey To the West is done. Returning home to no mate or child, he is desperate to track them down and bring them home. A certain Bull King and Iron Fan stand in his way.

Fanfic: So... Word doc. Big one. Real sad.

Ships: Shadow Peach (Past mention and struggling with current romance)

My Art: There will be some

Fan Art: Maybe one day?

Status: THE DOC HAS IT IN IT'S CLUTCHES~

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 5/10

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When Lions and Dragons Meet

Summary: Taking place in the years of Wukong's Journey Westward, Wukong stumbles upon his Brothers. Wanting to settle things Wukong meets up with Azure Lion to find peace- and surprisingly finds it. For a second. That is until he finds out that Azure Lion has had... relations, with a certain Dragon that currently accompanies Wukong and the other Pilgrims in the form of a horse. And is not keen on letting Azure continue this courting.

Fanfic: I swear guys- I got- I got soo many words docs. There aint a fanfic but there will beeee one day.

Ships:

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Shadow Peach (Kind of a mention?)

My Art You are getting some art. It's cute

Fan Art: ...I mean... if ya want to?

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

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Seen Through My Eyes

Summary: Wukong thought Macaque had abandoned him when he was trapped below the mountain. His Mate never visited, never once showed his face. Then, many years into his imprisonment, someone stumbles into his cave. They blindly feel around, unable to see anything in front of their face. To Wukongs shock, it's Macaque. His Mate's pure white fur is tainted black, his ears bigger than normal, and his eyes- his eyes are gone. He smiles, however, hearing Wukong's heart. "I finally found you".

Fanfic: None yet

Ships:

ShadowPeach

My Art: I personally drew some stuff but never posted it

Fan Art: I dare you all XD

Status: Sitting in a Google doc, festering away from the angst

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 8/10

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The choices we make, and the regrets we take with us

Summary: Lady Bone Demon had whispered a secret into MK's ear just seconds before Wukong arrived. Now safe from her clutches and seeking the Samadhi fire, surprisingly with Macaque helping them out, Wukong notices that MK can't stand to look at him. What had that Witch whispered to make MK's gaze so steely?

Fanfic: Nope~ Not yet~

Ships:

FreeNoodles

ShadowPeach (Past Mention)

My Art: yes!

Fan Art: None

Status: In my Google Docs and covered with sobbing emotions from the one person I let read it

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 9 or 10/10

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Au’s of Au’s:

I'll have you all know that ALL of these were given to me by YOU GUYS. You are to blame for putting these in my head! XD

UnTaken

Summary : A "What if" to my Taken Story. What if MK was never Taken and actually got a chance to grow up with Xiaoxiao and his parents? Xiaotian would probably be called Xiaohua in this one, and MK would go back to being Qi Xiaotian.

Fanfic: No, but it's on its way

Ships:

ShadowPeach

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Red Son X MK? Maybe Red Son X Xiaohua? Maybe they both fight over him?? Maybe they share him?? I dunno yet.

Tang X Pigsy

My Art

This will lead to all art

Fan Art: Would be cute but none yet~

Status: Tumblr grown so far but I got a good amount of stuff written in a google doc

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0 or 1 /10

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Taken Apprentice

Summary: Based on Taken once more, but with the twist that instead of taking MK to the human world, Nezha took MK with him to the celestial Realm. From there he raised MK himself as his apprentice. Hiding him with a glamor and instilling a misguided loyalty to the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor is insistent one of the twins must still die, but agrees to keep MK around, hoping to find a chance to kill the other twin instead and keep the loyal MK as his own bodyguard.

Fanfic: I... I don't think it'll be a fanfic. Like- Oh my gosh, so much writing. I wouldn't know how to stop.

Ships:

Shadowpeach, of course.

Probably Red Son X Xiaoxiao again

Some Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Uuuuuuuuu- other wise I dunno?

My Art

Only one thing so far

Fan Art: I would die if you did

Status: Tumblr based so far. I haven't written anything for this. I will only if begged and bribed.

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4/10

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Taken Reverse/Swapped

Summary: Another Taken Au. XiaoXiao and MK are born, but instead of MK being taken Xiaoxiao is instead. He would be Xiaohua in this one. Xiaohua, who is abandoned at an orphanage, winds up being taken in by the Spider Queen when he shows promise as a thief. Xiaohua is iving the life of crime, while in return MK (Xiaotian) is being raised to follow in his Father's footsteps as a hero. The two eventually meet and clash.

Fanfic: I haven't even finished Taken there is no way XD

Ships:

Hmmmmmm. Mabe MK X Red Son?

Maybe Enemy to lovers Xiaoxiao X Red Son? I dunno

ShadowPeach

Sandy X Huntsman Spider

My art

The start of the madness

Fan Art (looks into your very soul)

Status: It exists in tumblr and thats it right now

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4/10

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Parent Trap

Summary: Based on Taken once more. Isn't quite like the normal LMK lore. When MK and his twin brother Xiaohua were babies, their parents separated, each taking one of the infants with them. MK went with Wukong, and Xiaohua with Macaque. When the two get older, they manage to miraculously meet at a Summer Camp and discover the truth. Now these two working on a plan to reunite their parents.

Fanfic .... T-There might be one in the future... maybe...

Ships:

ShadowPeach (Past Mention and reunion)

Ao Lie X Azure (Slow burn)

Macaque X Mayor (The kids are trying to end this one)

My art:

Only this so far

Fan art: None currently

Status: This one is in a word doc, okay?? There is writing on it!

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

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The cancelled Au’s??

Strange title I Know, but it’s the best way to describe this section

-The Day the World Eclipsed (the Original Plot)

-most may know this, but I changed the plot of the Story within the first few chapters. When Wukong left to head to the City, intent on finding a new home for his son… he was originally intended to go through with that.

I have Many MANY chapters of this unfolding- of Wukong actually going through with abandoning MK.

It was farrrr different than what the story has changed to now. And I love the direction the story is now going, but I had a lot of angst planned for the original :)

One day I might even post what originally was intended to happen.

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 10/10

---

You did it! You are at the end! Feel free to either comment here or ask in my ask box about any of these~!

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk mk #taken au #lmk oc art #shadowpeach #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #red son #Xiaoxiao #LMK au #Master Post #Tragedy of Six #Fix and Mend #The Day the world eclipsed #Fading Moon #SO MANY

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bbhfanfics · 1 month ago

Text

Baekhyun Fanfics (aff)

GIF CREDIT Links in Green - Completed fanfics.

Links in Red - Incomplete/Not updated for a long time.

Links in Blue - Ongoing fanfics with regular updates.

Links in Pink - Ongoing fanfics with irregular updates.

Baekismet || Amorous Designs || Sleeping into Darkness || The Third Bride || His Plus-One Dilemma || Resonant || Ephemeral || 56% || Flirt 'n Flair || Straight To Hell || Distant Torment || There's Magic in You || Light Years || Finding Atlantis || Weeping Monsters || Crescendo || Bride of the Virtuous || Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea || The Color Red || R U Ridin'? || all the time in the world || Transit of Venus || Young & Clockwork (Sequel) || Between Day and Night || here's a fact, hating someone is exhausting || Blooming Day || Just one night || Meet Me At Sundown || CARUSO || Message in a Bottle || Nothing like us || Redamancy || Privacy || Mess We Made || Irreplaceable || 7 || Mellifluous || The Melody of His Heart || Touch It For Real || Scribble on my Skin || Strawberry Champagne on Ice || Feel it ||

Last Updated On - 15th October, 2024

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queenendless · 1 month ago

Text

ÆŁŁ ƏŸƏ§ ØŊ MƏ

A/n: This was gonna be for another series. But this idea popped up for this one instead.

Pairing: Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi x F!Reader.

Self aware AU. Inspired by Cross Duel and Duel Links; especially plot wise. Other YGO sequel series mentioned. But mostly DM. Mainly on these two.

CW: Depression, dysphoria and dysmorphia implied, chronic ailments; based off my own issues. Brief swearing, blood, violence. But also fluff, hurt/comfort, and romance/dark romance.

You spend many a day into the late nights, wasting the hours away by watching whatever and every other thing to dash away the emptiness you have inside. Whether on the TV, your laptop, to even your phone, you get lost into the vibrant, upbeat, tear-jerking moments of your favorite media. Shows, movies, games and beyond.

Like an iconic anime on a trading card game.

Having gotten late to the party, you quickly fell for the series, the plot, and its cast. Most of all, the reincarnated Pharaoh and his fated rival for his life.

The appeal of a brand new game peaked your interest. More so a fan game. The mechanics of Duel Links paired with the 2D CG moving models of Cross Duel. An immersive app combining all the series.

While you weren't the best at such competitive games, you still found yourself enjoying the experience. With every series up to the present day. So many characters to unlock and many decks to make. You weren't good at memorizing names, though. But your top two would be your #1 priority.

Anything to help you get through the days. Your job less, disabled days. Cooped up in your room, blocking out the yelling and slamming doors and intrusive thoughts.

Focusing on their handsome faces and familiar voices kept you calm and elated as you always switched between the two throughout your playthrough.

"You're a long way from become a true duelist ... but I can see you have the interest and potential for it. Stick with me and I'll make it worth your while."

"Not to fret. Each battle helps you learn and improve. So long as I am at your side, you'll be amazed at how far you'll go. I'm looking forward to it."

Hearing their voices, seeing those beautiful faces, gave you such serotonin as you stay cooped up in your own little safe haven, escaping from the suffocating cracked home life into the YGO verse.

You spent the next few days grinding in this immersive game, your free time spent leveling up, collecting your favorite cards, and raising the trust level of your other liked favorites. Especially to see the interactions, crossovers, and more as you picked up their voices.

The surprising sight of tapping all over your screen to see their hair and attire rustle paired with such flushed alarmed expressions poking their faces.

"You've got a lot of nerve to mess with the President of Kaiba Corp ..." The sight of him flicking you followed by the immediate firm tap on your forehead made you yelp loudly, nearing dropping the phone. Seeing Seto's laughing face on screen made your strewn expression lighten. "Well deserved."

Yami's raised brow look made you look away in shame. "Pardon me, but I'm right here. There was no need for that." The firm poke to your cheek made you jump in alarm and drop your phone on your bed, gaping at Yami's chuckling face. "Now that was well called for."

It had been a week when that happened. The real world influence from the digital world held in your hand. Startled, alarmed, concerned you had to close the app and take a while to process your racing, anxious self. The app flickered from blue to red. Your phone screen glitches.

Escaping to your laptop proved fruitless. For seeing your lockscreen darken and distort yourself, only to show the cast walking and chatting along the metropolis setting of the game you just checked out of in alarm. A certain white trench coat wearing giant walked along the screen, only to stop and turn to face you. Frozen in place, you watched as he walked head on in, getting closer when he started speaking in his usual snide, sarcastic tone.

"(Username) huh? To tell the truth, Y/n sounds better to say. How do I know your name, you ask? From your account profile, obviously." The roll of those piercing blue eyes was in character. The low soft words that came after were not. "I didn't mean to scare you off earlier. I was actually starting to enjoy myself around you. You're tolerable, at best."

The tri colored star shaped head of his rival peaked out from the side, guilt laced in his features, when he came in fully. "He won't bite you, if that's your concern. But, I too apologize for alarming you. We mean you no harm, Y/n. Honest."

The uncertainty of this meta phenomenon taking place before you was mellowed out at the sight of THE rival pair acknowledging you. Pinching yourself hard to smacking your cheeks to make sure you weren't in lala land now.

Dopamine and endorphins came hand in hand as their eyes widened in astonishment at the way your entire expression lite up, covering your now squealing mouth, not wanting to draw unwanted attention from your folks, your lips curving peaking out beneath your hands. It's all real.

You spent the remainder of that night asking them anything and everything you ever wanted to tell them, curled up in bed, smiling dazedly, lost in the nostalgic fuzzy experience that is these self aware anime baes, bouncing off each other in prideful, sparky conversation. The corner of their eyes caught sight of you sound asleep, Yami smiling tenderly at the sight and Seto's eyes giving off the same aura.

The following week since that night, you felt more energized and motivated than you have in a long time. You were curious if any other fellow players experienced such a phenomenon. Being able to interact with them, actually talk to them outside the contrivances, even offline was a relief. Even your old dead TV was brought to life by the sights of the vibrant series setting; Domino City. Numbers, Dueltaining, Links, and beyond. The world of dueling was seemingly endless.

"Artificial intelligence is more real now than ever. Not to mention virtual reality. So it was only a matter of time. This game is experimental proof of that self awarness. Not all of us are that bright, though."

Joey's pinched face cameo over that comment didn't go unnoticed by as evidence by Seto's snide face. Mai dragging Joey off screen to see kisses literally flying off in the background had the CEO turn pink at the PDA.

"I'd rather glimpse into the real world to broaden my knowledge. Every single being that's connected to us gives us insight. Getting to know you Y/n has been the best experience in all of it."

Waving to Yugi, Jaden and Yusei driving recklessly on the latter's duel runner in the off distance made you crack out a laugh. The charmin smile Yami gave at the sight of your expression caught your eye, turning you a bashful pink, to which he deeply chuckled in kind.

But even you need a break every now and then. You have bad days. And by bad, it gets BAD. Constant styes or eye irritations. Circulation issues in the feet. Swollen ankles. Depression, stress and many intrusive thoughts becoming hyperactive in that tired scarred mind.

Demented suffocating folks. Dysfunctional argumentative drama. And you? Walled up in their corner, feeling years older than their actual age, self pity and self hate over this defective body. The thoughts of self made wounds made on every defective part of you brought on tears every time.

So, fights like the one you just experienced today brought tears, swelling, and the truth to light. Your own fault for believing your own flesh and blood would provide genuine professional help, for the body and mind. But all they can afford is gaslighting, dogpiling criticism. Slamming doors, holing up in your room and blasting tunes through your ear buds was your only affordable escapism.

Black, blue and red glitches overtake your phone. It all happened in such a blur. Layers of warmth swallowed you whole, brushing away those tears, as you felt your face pressed gently against such support, protectivness enveloping you.

"Now that's just bullshit. Everyone’s flawed. If you count me and my many attempts at dethroning my one and only rival myself as one, go right ahead. Point being, screw them. You're genuine. Flaws and all ... you're perfect."

"You should never feel ashamed of yourself or your appearance. You should feel comfortable in your own skin. Regardless of what others choose to believe, your own feelings matter the most. When I look at you, I see nothing but a goddess in my eyes."

Digital character gaining form in reality before you changed things. Just as soon as they were there, they were gone, leaving you fuzzy or better ... and for worse?

The rare times when you had to go out on trips or even taking walks by yourself around your area meant you waving your phone around, being their window into more of your life. Even giving a room tour meant them blushing at spotting chibi plushies of them on your nightstand; their egos rising at further proof of you being smitten with them.

Only when everyone else in your household went to bed would you go hogging up the living room couch and be on your laptop and phone to get lost in watching your movies, shows or whatever to lift your spirits. Yet these late night binges bring with them chronic headaches that would kick in during your all night bends, leaving you closing your eyes and falling sound asleep to drive off the pain on top of your flared up feet covered in cold compresses.

Your laptop flickered and buffered in distortions as whatever you were watching is halted as entities literally come out of your screen. Warmth brushed your flushed cheeks, rubbed your scalp to soothe your aches, rewarded by your hums of content, as murmurs of their names parted your lips, causing the seed of possessiveness to grow at such a rate.

"They don't deserve your tears. They don't even deserve you. None of them are worth it. Unlike them, you've always been deserving of greater and better things. And I'll make sure of it."

"Please dream sweet dears, my dear. It hurts me to see you like this. Things will get better ... they will be better ... you will not suffer alone anymore."

But all good things come to an end. And this was no exception. For there came that time when you were in so much agony, suffering to the point where you wanted the rest of your ignorant home to suffer with you. Eyes too Strained to open. Feet too swollen to walk. Even your neck and scalp were stiff in pain. Your own body fell apart and all you could do was cry in silence, stuck in bed, as you just wanted to be free of it all.

A cold storm raged outside, tipping things over the edge. Your phone vibrating and dinging with notifications were left unchecked. The various reports of disapperances over your fellow real life players and the like. The strong voices of your kings calling out to you were left unanswered as you were too still and quiet.

So they animated right out of your phone screen. The eye of Udjat glowing as the Pharaoh dealt the fatal blows. Thrown furniture exploding. Glass shattering. Ear shattering screams cut off midway. Gurgling cries of agony follow right after. Thumps hitting the floor. The tall shadow of his megalomaniac partner covered your frail weak body as he carefully took you in his arms. It was now or never.

"Seto, are you sure about this? Bringing an actual human over to our side is too risky. Her body will not survive it."

"Please. My next gen solid vision system is visionary. Finding you across dimensions, for example. Connecting others across time and space through dueling has broken boundaries. Linking the cerebrum of those that have accessed my side project app has allowed us to view everyones memories and knowledge of our counterparts in this world has expanded our reach. Sharing our energy with her shall give the strength she needs to cross over. And besides, you practically begged me to take her with us from the start."

"Don't tell me THE Seto Kaiba is jealous about sharing me with another now. As if dragging me out of the afterlife wasn't enough for you. Part of me is still wrapping around your experiment on cross dimensional expansion. Regardless if we're just avatar copies based on fiction, we're still alive. We're past the point of no return. I just hope Y/n will understand."

"Take me ... take me away from here ... please."

Your consent was the trigger. Crimson met solid hologram as their combined hold made you feel at peace at last, blue and golden energy seeping into you, falling fast asleep. The next time you woke up, all the pain left your body, replaced with such looseness. Such levity. Basking in the endless streams of code and ethereal light. The faces of many familiar characters standing about among those like you that now obtained their virtual anime counterparts.

Smothered in between such defined sturdy bodies to remind you of your situation, your heart hammered on in the blue eyed and violet eyed gazes of your two Kings gazing down at you with such fervor, pristine looking with no signs of crimson staining their attire, right before they both layered gentle kisses all over your face. Their sculpted veiny hands held each of yours, tracing your very real skin, squeezing them to assure you that this is all happening. Tears of joy filled your healthy e/c eyes and giggles filled their ears as the sight of you brimming with happiness made their own hearts tremble at the hold you have on them. And vice versa.

Reshaping the future of dueling outsides the confines of an app game takes so much work, you know. Gaining sentience and all that. And it means everything to them to have you there with them for their journey across the Yu-Gi-Oh! multiverse. Hand in hand in hand. For life. These two Kings have finally found their Queen.

"Welcome home."

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